Stories to Read in the Dark

—— oh, but the children ——

“Governess Lady. Governess Lady. Governess Lady.”

Standing in front of the airport mirror, Japonica Lady spoke her new title over and over. She changed the emphasis on the words and tried to imagine them in a genuine English accent rather than her fake one. One of the stall doors clicked open and a woman eyed her warily as she moved to a sink. Nica only smiled. Travel-weary strangers couldn’t stamp out her excitement. She dried off her hands and grabbed the handle of her ratty suitcase.

Her phone jangled from the pocket of her coat while she headed for Ground Transportation. She unbuttoned the pocket and dug the device out. The number wasn’t familiar to her so she hastily answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Japanika?”

She chuckled. Her name in the lilted accent sounded nearly romantic.

“This is she,” she responded.

“This is Harry from Camden Manor. I’m here at the airport to collect you. Have you deplaned yet, Miss?”

“I have and I’ll be outside in just a second!”

“Splendid. I will be waiting in a black sedan by Door Five. If you have any troubles, phone me back at this number.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be right out.”

Her strides hastened as she hurried towards the transportation exits. Ads for London tours flashed across televisions and hung on banners along the walls. Uniformed people and restless family members stood about with whiteboards and “Welcome Home” signs. She read the placards on the ceilings, maneuvering around lost foreigners. At finding the correct number, she pushed through the door and stepped outside. A brisk wind flushed out the line of taxis and cars picking up pedestrians. Nica squinted in the brightness of the sun until she spotted a black sedan that wasn’t a taxi. She beelined for it.

A man stepped out of the right side of the vehicle just once she was within reaching distance. She stopped short with a breathless smile.

“Please tell me you’re Harry.”

He turned to her, a thick mop of dark hair hanging over his forehead. A set of coal-black eyes peeked out from the fringe. His lips were a rosy, chapped red. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen or so—no facial hair or wrinkles that she could see. Though she might have expected a butler’s uniform or something similar, he was dressed in dark jeans and a sweater with a knit vest on top. His figure was thin and long, almost exaggerated in proportion.

“I am. And you are Miss Japanika, I hope?” He also smiled but it was close-lipped.

“Nica is best,” she said, though she liked how her name sounded on his tongue.

“Nica it is then.” He took her suitcase and stowed it in the trunk. “How do you do? How was the flight?”

“Long.” She laughed in spite of herself as he opened the door to the backseat.

On the drive, they discussed her delay due to the snowstorms in Chicago and how rude people in a hurry could be. Harry assured her that the pace in Camden would be significantly slower.

“How are the children?” she finally asked. “Oliver and Katie?”

“Oliver has been fishing at the pond all morning and Katie was putting her dolls together for you when I left.”

Nica’s heart fluttered. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“They have hardly been sleeping since their aunt informed them of your hire.”

“Me either,” she said quietly, grinning.

The ride to Camden lasted for two hours. They stopped halfway to use the restroom and eat lunch. Harry had brought along ham and cheese sandwiches with a steel thermos of black tea. Sitting at a bench beside a willow tree at a rest park, they nibbled on the sandwiches and sipped the warm brew from small travel mugs. Nica’s mouth twisted up at the flavor.

“Is the tea not to your liking, Miss Nica?”

She glanced at Harry with a shy smile, admitting, “I usually add milk and sugar.”

“As do I.” He chuckled. They ate and sipped more in quiet. “Tell me why you left America.”

“I’ve babysat and nannied since I was sixteen. The same families, mostly. I just wanted a change.”

“Coming to England is quite the change.”

Swallowing down another bitter mouthful, she grinned. “Just the change I needed.”

They finished their lunch before getting back on the road. Nica pressed her face to the window for the last hour. Harry played his CDs to keep the cab from silence, but she wouldn’t have minded the quiet. She was about to live and breathe these two British adolescents, who would be anything but quiet. She wanted to fling herself into their lives but also, in these last few moments of peace, she wanted to just wait.

Camden Manor was, as it sounded, a manor. A massive stone edifice perched above snowy gardens and vast, sprawling fields peppered with trees. The sun hung low in the sky and within a few hours it would be snatched away by the other stars.

When Harry pulled into the colonnade and parked, Nica jumped out of the backseat. A single twelve-foot wooden door remained the last obstacle between her and her future. It swung open just in time for a gust of wind to toss open her coat flaps and pierce her clothes. A little girl charged out into the cold.

“Katie!” scolded Harry.

“Oh, you must be our new governess!” the little girl of eight bellowed.

Nica scooped her up, laughing, and carried her inside. Heat swathed their frosted bodies as the foyer engulfed them. Harry followed with Nica’s suitcase and closed the door.

“Aren’t you so pretty, Miss Katie,” Nica remarked while setting the girl down. “You’ll have to show me how you braid your hair like that.”

“Adaira can show you! She always does my hair.”

“Ah, I would love to meet her sometime.”

A throat cleared. Nica straightened, blowing out a breath, and faced the waiting person.

“You can meet Adaira now!” Katie giggled beside her.

Adaira stood square and tall, scorching auburn curls flowing down her narrow shoulders. Her glacial eyes assessed Nica from either side of her slender, freckled nose and above her pursed, pink mouth. She wore a fitted, long-sleeved shirt with a heavy wool skirt. Nica could feel how her thighs would rub and sweat under such hot materials, even in the ice age outside.

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” Adaira spoke, voice low and firm. Her accent was deeper than Harry and Katie’s. The words twisted around themselves in a way that made Nica’s pulse race.

Nica recognized the housekeeper’s voice from the phone and Skype interviews. She recognized the furrowed brows and delicate cheekbones. A woman she had tasted and touched in her dreams. She shook her head in surprise. Maybe half her excitement for taking this job was sharing an old mansion with a sexy Scottish woman.

“Finally,” Nica said, “it’s nice to meet you in person. I’ve been anticipating this moment for weeks now.”

“Five weeks.” Adaira’s intense, unrelenting gaze held Nica’s while she specified just how long they had waited.

She can’t be, Nica thought to herself. In all her fantasies, Adaira was a traditional, heterosexual Scot who would be seduced by Nica’s plush figure and mocha skin. The idea of Adaira being an eager lesbian had not even been considered. Nica blushed under the coolness of her tan cheeks.

“Harry is taking your bags to your room,” Adaira continued, whirling around.

Nica noticed the way the thick skirt draped across the woman’s shapely hips. She was much thinner than Nica, but that wasn’t something Nica minded. So long as the woman could admire the fullness of a womanly body. There was no end to her American-fed curves.

“Let’s give Miss Lady a tour, shall we, Katie?” suggested the housekeeper.

Katie shrilly shouted and seized Nica’s hand. “There is so much to see, Miss Governess! My mum is a painter and her art studio is the best part. You will just live our home, I know it.”

“Show me everything, Katie. I want to see every room.” Nica looked up as the little girl led her to the grand sloping staircase centered on the foyer.

Adaira watched her closely with just a hint of interest behind those arctic eyes.

The suite assigned to the new governess was spacious with polished wood floors, high ceilings, gray silk curtains, and a four-poster Queen-sized bed. Nica thought that the British only slept in tiny beds, but she was happily proven otherwise.

She was given the evening to settle in. Zipping open her suitcase, she unpacked the outfits she had brought along. At some point, she would need to go shopping for more. She hung the necessary articles in the white vintage armoire and tucked the rest into dresser drawers. Her perfume and makeup necessities were organized along the vanity, as the bathroom sink lacked a counter. Once her belongings were sorted, she pulled out her laptop and sent an email to her mother. She told her she was safe and warm in her new home. She suggested they schedule a time to Skype later and then sent the email.

Sighing, she stretched out on the fresh cotton linens of her bed and stared at the ceiling. The fatigue from her travels was catching up. She needed to tuck-in early tonight. She was expected to start with the children in the morning, though she hadn’t met Oliver yet. At least Katie liked her so far. Nica knew better than to expect much after the initial enthusiasm wore off.

After giving herself a moment to breathe, she stripped out of her leggings and tunic, tossed them onto the chair with her coat. She kicked off her leather boots and knee socks. Down to her black thong and lace bra, she moved to the vanity to examine herself. Her breasts gathered comfortably in the confines of the bra. She could feel her nipples hardening. Her pussy moistening in command. She couldn’t believe she was here at last. Her dream job. Her dream house. Perhaps her dream woman.

She stripped the articles off her figure and padded into the bathroom for a shower. The hot water felt blessed after the dirtiness of the planes and airports. After scrubbing her scalp and rinsing out her hair, Nica exfoliated her legs and arms, belly and breasts. She shaved the prickles away from her underarms and gently around her tender cunt lips. They felt slippery between her fingers.

Clean and soft, she toweled off in the bedroom and opened her jar of cream. She smeared the moisturizing lotion across her body until her skin glided under a touch. She felt like a newly born calf, slick and ready for the world. She felt like a flower after a summer rain. Her petals hung heavy with raindrops but were spread open with bloom.

Darkness had fallen outside the windows. Nica turned off the lights in her room and settled under the sheets. She thought about Adaira’s eyes, how much more intense they were in real life. She thought about Katie’s toothy smile. She thought about meeting Oliver and hoping he wouldn’t be a smug little bastard.

Somewhere close to sleep, in the cloudiness of fatigue, the lock to her bedroom door clicked open. The door eased inward. A svelte figure cloaked in a thin nightgown slipped inside. Nica hardly noticed the door shut or the lock click back in place. She felt the mattress droop under added weight, but she thought little of it and turned onto her side.

A single finger caressed her bare shoulder. It ran down the soft curve of her arm and then down the pillowy rolls of her side. The finger swooped up with her expansive hip and around the soft underside of her ass. Nica sighed. Her legs parted naturally to the tender touch. Her body remembered the proper response to intimacy.

The finger slid farther down, following the shape of her globular cheeks. They paused where the cheeks met the tops of cellulite-dotted thighs. Gel-like wetness greeted the finger. It invited the member into the hot warmth of Nica’s core. The finger sunk into the heat and Nica’s pussy twitched around it. Her legs widened as she moaned softly, dreaming now.

The hand opposite of the one fondling Nica’s peach reached over her side. It gently knocked the arm away from the smooshed fit. Five fingers took hold of the breast and felt its softness and weight. The brown nipple hardened under the attention. The thumb brushed over the pebbled surface, earning another moan.

With gentle torment at the tit, the hand at the pussy got back to work. The finger plunged into the sopping hole and rubbed at the tight, gripping walls. The thumb on this hand pushed up through the folds until it met the swollen pearl. These fingers danced until Nica’s thighs trembled, her cunt squeezed the finger, and her tits grew taut. She came with a cry and a violent shudder. The hands retreated. Sighing, Nica curled her knees up to her chest and nestled into the pillows with a soft snore.