One

“Good morning, sir.” Samantha stood at the foot of the bed and cocked her head to one side. “Mmm, I was right. That colour really suits you.” 

She had knocked on the door and walked straight in without waiting for an answer. Sandy had kicked off the duvet again during the night and vainly tried to cover himself. The nightgown had wrapped itself around him, revealing his knickers.

“Sam,” he wailed, “Can I have some privacy, please?”

She ignored him and stood with her hands on her hips as he yanked the hem of the nightgown down. He looked up at her, and the events of his dream rushed back into his mind, leaving his face burning.

“Are you okay, sir?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. “You look a little flushed.”

He couldn’t look her in the eye and turned away, mortified by the memories of the dream and by how much it had excited him. He tried to change the subject, “Sam, shouldn’t you wait before coming in after you’ve knocked?” 

“Er, no. The knock is to let you know I’m coming in. Duh.”

“Don’t tell me. It’s what you used to do with Lady Eleanor.”

“Of course, sir. I wouldn’t treat you any differently.” She smiled sweetly.

He yawned and stretched. There was an audible crack from his back. He had spent too much time sitting in the library. “Oww! I need a massage or some exercise.”

Samantha grinned wickedly. “If you want a massage, I could speak to Miss Mhairi. She often gave Lady Eleanor a massage. She would love to get her hands on you.” 

Two thoughts flashed into Sandy’s mind at the same time. After what happened in his dream, the idea of Mhairi getting her hands on him made him blush even harder and made him instinctively clench his buttocks, while the thought of Mhairi giving Lady Eleanor a massage led Sandy to wonder exactly what had gone on at Wychwood.

Samantha eyed him curiously before saying, “Or there’s a swimming pool here you can use.”

“Mm-hmm, no offence to Mhairi, Sam, but I would prefer a swim. Are you sure it would be okay?”

“Yes, of course. Go through the library doors, turn left, and it’s through the gap in the hedge. There are towels in the pool cabin.” 

He frowned. “I didn’t bring anything to swim in.”

“You could go skinny-dipping, sir. Nobody can see you from the house.”

He looked horrified. “No. No, I couldn’t do that, Sam.”

“Wait, give me a minute, sir.” She disappeared into the dressing room, and he could hear her say, “No, no, yes, maybe, no, yes.” He had a sudden premonition of what she was doing, his heart skipping a beat. She emerged from the dressing room with an armful of colourful swimwear. She held up a one-piece swimsuit. “This is lovely, but not for you, I think.” She muttered something under her breath.
Sandy thought she had said, ‘At least, not yet.’

“What did you say?” Sandy asked,

“Nothing, sir. How about these?” She laid three bikinis on the bed. “Of course, you don't need the tops.” She looked down at his groin and smirked. “But the bottoms will be fine for you.” She paused for a beat, then added with a sweet smile, “Unless you want to wear the tops as well?” 

He ignored her and said, “Sam, I couldn’t wear these.” His voice trailed off as he wondered what it would be like to wear them.

 “Why not?” she said. “They are brand new and still have their labels. Look.” She pushed one under his nose so he could read the label. “Try this one on for size,” she said, forcing it into his hands. Sandy looked down at the scrap of material, thinking it wouldn't be so different from his usual Speedos. He swallowed, then walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

After dropping his trousers and underwear, he hesitated for a moment before stepping into the bikini brief and sliding it up his legs. The briefs were cut high at the waist and back, with a small strip of material in between, and they revealed an alarming amount of his buttocks. He shivered with delight as the bikini pulled tight around him, and let out a sigh as the material pulled between his legs. The style and vivid tropical pattern could not be mistaken for Speedos, but they held his admittedly small bulge so well that he almost looked flat down there. He twisted to see himself from the back in the mirror, and he liked the way the bikini made his backside look even rounder. Pretty good, he told himself. 

The door opened, and Samantha looked in. He squealed, “Sam! Some privacy, please.” 

Ignoring him, she glanced down and said, “Sir, if you don’t mind me saying, you need to do some gardening down there.” Following her gaze, Sandy looked down and, to his horror, saw a ridge of pubic hair poking over the top of the bikini.

“There’s a lady razor in the cabinet and some cream. You should do your armpits as well while you’re at it.” She grinned, “Or I can do it for you if you want.”

If she thought he would let her near his privates with a razor, she had to think again.

“Thank you, Sam, I can manage,” he said, rather primly.

He shut the door, thinking, yet again, that he would have to talk to Samantha about her behaviour. However, she did have a point. He found the razor and cream, and fifteen minutes later, he was baby-bare. 

Sam had laid out a cover-up that matched the bikini, together with a pair of gold-coloured slip-on sandals. He hesitated, biting his lip. Should he? Dare he? Yet again, his resistance crumbled as he touched the cover-up. He slipped it on, feeling it glide sensuously across his skin. Only when he checked the mirror did he realise the cover-up was sheer, not completely opaque, and that the outline of the bikini was visible through it. Oh well, he thought, nobody’s going to see me.

The sandals had a small heel, which he found awkward at first, but he soon got used to wearing them. Sam had also left a swimming cap in the same shade of gold as the sandals. He always wore one when he went swimming. Sandy hesitated, suddenly unsure whether he could go out dressed like this, but his back twinged, and the idea of a swim was too strong to worry too much. And surely the bikini would do for now.

He walked carefully down the stairs, praying he wouldn’t bump into Mhairi. He dreaded to think what her reaction would be, but true to his luck, he had reached the door leading to the library when he heard.

“Good morning, Mister Rossi.”

He froze, his heart pounding, and turned to face Mhairi, his face bright red.

“I’m sorry, Mhairi. I wanted to go for a swim, and Samantha said it would be all right to borrow…” His voice faltered as she looked him up and down, her expression inscrutable. “I’ll go back and change. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have worn these.”

“No, you don't need to do that, Mister Rossi. I think you look delightful in that outfit. Please go ahead and enjoy your swim.”

Sandy stared at her in astonishment, and he managed to stammer in reply. “Oh, oh. Thank you, Mhairi.”

She turned to go before stopping and saying, “By the way, we’ve had a problem with our washing machine. It’s broken, and we can't get your washing out. The engineer should be here today, but I’ll let you know.”

 “Oh, thanks, Mhairi.”

Two

Confused by her response, Sandy made his way to the pool, desperately trying to make sense of what had happened. The pool was sheltered from view by tall, dense hedging, and in one corner stood a magnificent oak tree. He hung his cover-up in the pool cabin before stepping out cautiously, looking around, not expecting to see anyone, though he wanted to be sure. He blew out his cheeks in relief, as the only spectators were the local rooks, screeching and cawing from their rookery. Even so, Sandy had an uneasy feeling he was being watched. He looked up to see a large rook perched on the cabin roof. He tried to shoo it away, but it paid no attention and stared down at him. He gave up and looked around.

Next to the cabin stood what looked like a fully equipped outdoor kitchen and bar, with tables set out beneath a roof that extended from the cabin. Sunbeds and umbrellas lined the pool edges. Overstrand obviously liked to entertain out here. In the corner, Sandy noticed a hot tub under a cover. Might be fun to try it sometime, he thought. 

After pulling on a pair of goggles he found in the cabin, he slipped into the cool water. He swam gentle lengths for half an hour, enjoying the water flowing around him and letting the exercise ease the cricks in his back. Only when he reached the end of the pool near the cabin did he hear a man’s voice say, “Sorry, Miss. I didn't think anyone would be using the pool.”

Sandy almost fainted with shock. At the edge of the pool stood a good-looking young man in shorts and a tight white T-shirt that emphasised his well-developed torso. “I’m here to clean the pool, miss. I do it at this time every week.”

Shit, Sandy thought. Had he just called him miss? The man was looking at him, waiting for a reply. He must have mistaken Sandy for a girl because of the gold swim cap and the goggles. What should he do? He couldn’t stay in the pool while the man cleaned it. Fortunately, he was at the deep end, so only his head was visible. He smiled and, in as sweet a voice as he could manage, said, “Would you give me a few minutes? I don’t have a top on. I’ll get out and let you carry on.”

The young man blushed scarlet. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss. I’ll wait outside the hedge so you can get out.” 

“Thank you so much. What’s your name?”

“Adam, miss.”

“Thanks, Adam.” As Adam slipped through the gap in the hedge, Sandy scrambled out of the pool, his heart thumping. He hurriedly dried himself with a towel, then pulled on his cover-up and sandals. Sneaking a peek outside to check the coast was clear, he walked out of the cabin, through the gap in the hedge, and straight into Adam. “Sorry, miss,” Adam said, grinning. Flustered, Sandy went red, lowered his eyes, and mumbled, “All yours, Adam.”

“Thanks, Miss. And sorry again.”

Sandy thought he heard a soft whistle from behind as he hurried back to the house, where he bumped into Samantha. 

“Sam, why didn't you warn me the pool guy was going to be there?”

She grinned. “You met Adam, then? He’s a real studmuffin, don't you think?”

Sandy almost stamped his foot. “Not the point, Sam. He thought I was a girl. He called me Miss.”

She arched an eyebrow and looked Sandy up and down. “Are you surprised, sir? Looking like that?”Three

Taken aback for a moment, Sandy stared at her before bursting into laughter. “No, I guess not.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I know for a fact that Adam is gay,” Samantha said, smirking.

“Oh, well, in that case, it’s all fine then,” Sandy said sarcastically, but Samantha ignored it. 

“I bet he liked what he saw,” she muttered, loud enough for Sandy to hear.

Sandy had thought Adam extremely attractive, but he wasn’t going to tell Samantha. But, he thought to himself, he might find himself by the swimming pool again next week.

A frown crossed Samantha’s face. “I have some bad news, sir. The engineer can't get here until tomorrow to fix the washing machine.”

“Is that a problem, Sam?”

“Only that all your clothes are still in there.”

Sandy stared at her. “All of them?”

“Yes. We didn't know this would happen to the washing machine. Sorry, sir.”

“Damn. What can I do?” He had an uneasy feeling about what was coming as a slow smile spread across Samantha’s face. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “You can help me. Can’t I borrow something from Sir Robert?” 

She regarded him like you might a slightly slow child. “Yes, you could, if you want to look like a scarecrow. He is, what, over six feet tall? And you are?”

 “Okay, okay,” Sandy grumbled. “You’ve made your point. What do you suggest?”

With a broad grin, she said, “Follow me, sir, and we’ll find something for you to wear.”
Sandy had a sinking feeling as Samantha led the way up the stairs, leaving him to trail after her. He wondered whether she was wiggling more than usual on purpose. She stopped and turned around, catching him staring. “Do you like the view?”

He went scarlet and mumbled something, and she grinned at him before turning back and climbing the rest of the stairs. Once inside the bedroom, Samantha disappeared into the dressing room, and Sandy went to the bathroom to take off the wet bikini. He took a quick shower and, once more, used the jasmine-scented shower gel, whose fragrance he now adored. There was a knock on the door, and Samantha walked in. Shocked, he quickly covered his genitals with his hands. “Sam, please! Is there nowhere private here?”

“I just wanted to know if you were going to be much longer. I have work to do, but I’ve left some things for you on your bed. You’ll love them. I have to go now, but don't forget to moisturise.” She closed the door, but he heard her giggle outside. Only later did he wonder how she knew he used moisturiser.

 

Four

Back in the bedroom after his shower, and yes, he had used the moisturiser, he found Samantha had laid out a white shirt, the collar embroidered with tiny pink roses, a fuchsia-pink cardigan, and a pair of black trousers. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the black lace knickers half-hidden beneath the shirt.

He felt giddy, staring down at them. They were almost begging him to try them on. He wrestled with himself for a moment before his willpower evaporated like rain from a puddle in the midday sun. He picked them up with trembling fingers and read the label, Aubade. He pointed his toes and slipped one foot, then the other, into the knickers before pulling them up his legs. His eyes closed as the lace kissed his legs, then settled around his hips. He smoothed them over his backside, and he almost fainted as the soft lace caressed his skin. 

It would be fine, he thought. Nobody would see them under a pair of trousers, and he couldn't bear to take them off because they made him feel so, well, there’s no other word for it, feminine. Before he could change his mind, he put on the trousers, momentarily confused before he found the zip at the side, not the front. They were a tight fit, ending just above his ankles. 

He pulled on the shirt and buttoned it as fast as his shaking fingers would allow, then picked up the cardigan, which turned out to be the softest cashmere. He held it up in front of him and examined his reflection in the mirror. It felt so luxurious and looked so pretty that he didn't hesitate any longer and slid his arms into the sleeves. On the floor was a pair of pink slingbacks, mirroring the colour of the cardigan. Sandy sat on the edge of the bed, holding them in his hands, his tummy fluttering with excitement. He swallowed a couple of times before slipping his feet into them and standing up. The kitten heel was higher than the sandals he had worn earlier, and it had been a while since he had worn heels. He took a few steps and wobbled a bit, but after a few more, he was confident he could manage them.

Standing before the mirror, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and peered through his fingers at his reflection. He would never forget that moment. Gone was the nerdy boy with hair in a ponytail. In his place stood someone he almost recognised. Someone pretty and feminine. Someone with glowing auburn hair, a crisp white blouse and a cardigan giving a soft, feminine look. The trousers tapered at the bottom, making his legs look longer, and they hugged his backside, shaping and emphasising it. He watched his smile widen in the mirror.

He heard a knock on the door, and a few seconds later, Samantha’s head appeared around the bedroom door.

“Oh my, sir. You look divine. I knew that would be the right look for daytime.” Sandy had left the cardigan unbuttoned, but Samantha tutted and fastened the top button, leaving the blouse collar to show over the cardigan. “Mm-hmm, that's better. It looks much more chic that way.”

Sandy turned to her, his eyes sparkling. “Do you think so? Nobody will mind if I wear this, will they?”

“Of course not. We’re all girls here, after all.” But before he could correct her, Samantha carried on, “I've got an idea for something that will set it all off.” She opened the jewellery box on the dressing table and took something out. 

“Turn around and close your eyes,” she said, then fastened something around his neck. He opened his eyes to find a double strand of large, brilliant white pearls around his neck. He was stunned for a moment. “Oh, my,” was all he managed to say.

“You look quite the secretary in that outfit, sir.” She said as she fluffed his hair. “There, that's perfect now.”

He fingered the string of pearls, trying to decide if they were fake or real. Samantha must have read his mind. “Before you ask, they are real.”

 “Sam, are you really sure I should wear this?” His voice was trembling a little.

”Of course, you look wonderful.” 

“No. I mean, is it okay if I wear all this?”

“I told you. You can use anything from here. Now come on. Your breakfast will be waiting, and then you can get to work.” She patted his backside and said, “Get a move on. We’ve all got work to do.”Five

Taking a deep breath, he followed Samantha carefully down the stairs, nervous in his slingbacks. He was anxious about how Mhairi would react to what he was wearing. He need not have worried. Mhairi met them both at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Good morning, Mr Rossi. I apologise for the issue with the washing machine. They should fix it later today. I see Samantha has looked after you in the meantime. You look charming, if I may say so. Breakfast is in the library, and I will bring you lunch later. Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?”

“Oh, yes, Mhairi. I would love to join you.” Relieved by her reaction, he let out the breath he had been holding with a sigh.

“Of course. I will tell Allegra.”

“Oh, one thing, Mhairi. Do you know when Sir Robert will come back to Wychwood?”

“I’m afraid not. We sometimes only get a few hours' notice of his arrival. I will ask his PA and let you know.”

He sat in the library, picking at his breakfast, pondering Mhairi’s reaction. He was wearing clothes and jewellery that had belonged to Lady Eleanor. Yet she had behaved as if everything were as it should be. He guessed that Samantha wouldn’t be doing anything that Mhairi would disapprove of.
It got him to wonder about their relationship. The young, cheeky Samantha and the older, dour Mhairi seemed an unlikely couple. However, he had seen enough gay relationships to know that age difference doesn’t always matter. Mhairi was the dominant one. That was clear. The power dynamic in the house seemed to reinforce it. Mhairi was the boss, and Samantha deferred to her. It hit him that although he was the guest here, the dynamic between him and Samantha had somehow reversed, and he had become deferential to her.

It had started innocently enough when Samantha had suggested he wear Lady Eleanor’s red silk pair. But after the first night, he had gone along with everything she had suggested. To be fair, she never insisted. Instead, she put an idea into his head, and he would eventually go along with it. It was as if she knew he would accept before he did. He could and should have called a stop to it at any point. But he had chosen to go along with everything. Deep down, he knew why. He was enjoying it all too much to stop. Our most secret desires lead us into temptation, and who among us is strong enough to resist?Six

Focused on the diary, Sandy soon forgot what he was wearing, although he got an occasional reminder when he felt the pearls brush his neck. Veronica’s diary was revealing more and more of her life. Like her mother before her, she was what the Venetians called an ‘Honest Courtesan’. She was an escort who derived her position from her refinement and cultural prowess. It was no surprise that Veronica’s clients were from the intellectual and political elites of Venetian society. She ‌recorded names and dates, even the fees she would charge, which were paid to her mother as her go-between. 

The most intriguing parts of the diary lay in her views on her clients. She noted down their gossip as well as their sexual preferences. She even had a code for their performance in bed. Her clients might not have liked to see how she marked them.

He worked through lunch and another divine salad, and around mid-afternoon, he needed a stretch. Taking a bottle of water, he wandered through the walled garden at the rear of the house, following a path past borders filled with drifts of bright flowers and shrubs until he found a rose garden with an ornate fountain surrounded by a small lawn. He sat for a while on a bench in the sunshine, watching as a large rook pecked at the grass for worms.

The warm sun and the scent from the roses combined to make him drowsy. His eyes slowly closed, and he nodded off. When he opened them, the bird had perched on the arm of the bench, looking straight at him. The bird’s feathers shimmered with iridescent colours in the sunlight, and its pale green eyes held his gaze. They stared at each other for a few minutes, and Sandy had the uncomfortable feeling that the creature was studying him. The bird cawed three times and, with one last look at Sandy, flew up into the nearby trees. On his way back to the house, a thought struck him. He knew young rooks have blue eyes that turn brown when they mature. But do they ever have green eyes?

Back in the library, he sat at the desk and noticed the lid of his laptop was raised. Strange, he thought. He was sure he had closed it when he left. He pressed a key to wake the computer, and was surprised when a photograph appeared on the screen. It was blurry and taken at night, but it was clear enough for Sandy to make out a man and a woman embracing. Where had the photograph come from? He had never seen it before and had no idea why it had appeared on his screen. He zoomed in on the man as tightly as possible before it became too fuzzy. It was difficult to be certain because the man was facing away from the camera, and Sandy could see only a small part of his profile, but it slowly dawned on him that the man looked a lot like Overstrand. 

He sat back in surprise. He zoomed in again, this time on the woman. The man had his arms around the woman, and she was clearer in the picture, but something didn't quite add up. He frowned and looked more closely. He recoiled in surprise when it clicked that it was a man and not a woman. Sure, it was a small, slender man with long hair, but Sandy was certain. It was a man.

What the fuck? Where had this come from? Could this ‌be Overstrand? Sandy looked again, and he was even more convinced it was Overstrand. Could he be gay? Or maybe bi? Sandy’s heart raced at the thought.
Seven

He had googled Overstrand before meeting him at his club, but this time he did it with a fresh eye. He could find nothing salacious or gossipy about his sex life, at least on the mainstream media pages. There was a hint of something on an Italian website specialising in muckraking stories. Someone claimed he had ”been fucked in a gay brothel in Venice by a man who said he was Sir Overstrand." It sounded far-fetched, but Sandy recalled the rumour about the super-injunction Overstrand had taken out. Was this what it was about? He was sure the rich and powerful could get negative stories quashed.

Could the photo be fake? But even if it was, why would anyone send it to him? He checked his emails and social media accounts, and there was no sign anyone had sent him anything. Somebody must have put it on his laptop. He pressed the call button, and a few minutes later, Mhairi appeared.

“What can I do for you, Mister Rossi?” She asked with her usual calm demeanour.

“Mhairi, have you or Samantha touched my laptop?” It came out more aggressively than he had meant, and Mhairi bristled. “Certainly not, Mister Rossi. I can assure you that we would never do such a thing. Why do you think we would have touched it?”

“The lid was open when I came back from my walk.” He realised it sounded lame, but he couldn’t show her the photograph.

“Could it be you left it up accidentally?” It was clear she thought he was being a prima donna.

He shook his head. “And has anyone else been to the house today?” 

“No, nobody, Mister Rossi. Is there something wrong?” 

“No, it’s nothing. You’re right, of course. I must be mistaken. I was worried someone had been tampering with my translation. I overreacted, and I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that you or Samantha had done anything wrong. That was never my intention. Please accept my apologies. ”

“No apologies are necessary, Mister Rossi,” she said rather stiffly. “Shall we see you at dinner?” He wasn’t sure whether his grovelling apology had mollified her. He shivered as he remembered the dream had shown him the cost of getting on the wrong side of her. But that had been just a dream, hadn’t it?

“Yes, of course. I’d be delighted. Thank you.” He replied.

Sandy was still thinking about what had happened when the clock struck six. He wanted to rest before dinner, so he went back to the apartment, still puzzled by the photograph. It was yet another one of the weird things that had happened since his arrival. Just a series of unrelated events, he reasoned to himself. But he had a nagging feeling there was more to it.
He saw that Samantha had turned down the bed and left more clothes out on it. He guessed he should change out of the clothes he had worn all day, ready for the evening. She had left a white T-shirt and a pair of red linen trousers. He breathed a sigh of relief. That won't be too bad, he thought.

He was running late, so he hurried to undress, carefully hanging his day clothes before taking a shower. Samantha had left out fresh underwear, and he quickly put on the blouse and trousers. The cropped, wide-legged trousers ended halfway down his shin and were tied with a bow at the front, in an undeniably feminine style. The t-shirt was tight, with a scoop neck and cap sleeves. Not too bad, he thought. But when he pulled the t-shirt over his head, there was a gap between the trousers and the t-shirt, leaving his tummy bare. Shit, he thought. I can’t go down to dinner like this. There must be something I can wear instead. 

He tried to open the dressing room door, but it wouldn’t budge. For the first time, he noticed a lock on the door. He rattled the handle in frustration as he realised Samantha had locked it. She must have done it deliberately, he thought, so he would have to wear this. He’d tell her tomorrow to stop these games. He checked himself in the mirror, and despite his anger, he felt a thrill as he saw how he looked. He decided he had little choice but to brazen it out. Still furious with Samantha, he headed down to the kitchen.Eight 

Allegra clapped her hands when she saw Sandy. “Oh, bella, Mister Sandy.”

He blushed and said, “Grazie, Allegra.”

He caught Samantha’s eye and glared at her, but she just smiled sweetly back at him, which only made him madder. More unexpectedly, Mhairi smiled as well, a first for her in Sandy’s experience. He had expected to feel awkward and embarrassed, but nobody seemed to pay any attention, and he quickly joined in the chatter around the table. 

Allegra had made tortelli with brown butter and sage, a green salad, and a vanilla panna cotta. He thought he might never eat so well again. He had even relaxed enough not to want to murder Samantha for her prank. When they had finished the meal, cleared the dishes, and sat with a cup of Allegra’s wonderful coffee, Sandy asked, “Are there any stories about Wychwood? Sam told me about the woman’s murder during the war, but are there any other strange events that happened here? My taxi driver said that local people tell stories about the house.” Allegra crossed herself at the mention of the murdered woman. 

“There have always been stories about this place,” Mhairi replied. “It has a dark reputation. One story says it was a place of execution, and another says it was the site of a plague pit. I don’t know if either is true, but the locals tend to be wary of the place. They call the river you cross on the way to the house the Dead River. Of course, the house itself isn't that old, but I believe the builders unearthed some ancient graves while digging the foundations. A few of the bodies were buried face down. I understand they thought it would stop the dead from coming back to life.” Allegra crossed herself again. “The remains were reinterred in a nearby churchyard. The locals at the time were up in arms, I believe. Disturbing the dead and all that.”

“What about the parties Sir Robert’s grandfather held here? They were notorious, I heard.” Sandy said.

Mhairi frowned. “Before my time, Sandy, but aye, they were wild by all accounts. Sir Robert’s predecessors were a strange bunch. He seems to be the first of his line to be straightforward.”

Sandy almost missed the look that passed between Samantha and Mhairi. He wondered what it was all about.

“And what about Wychwood, the name I mean?” Sandy asked. “Isn’t that something to do with witches?”

“Not at all,” she said. “It’s from a tree called the wych elm. They were all around here once, which is why it's called Wychwood. Dutch elm disease killed them. The drive was once lined with them, but they all had to be removed.” He remembered the mounds of earth along the drive. “Why do you ask?” she said, looking puzzled.

​​“I’m just curious about the house and its history.” He yawned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep too well last night. I think I’ll have an early night, if nobody minds.” He turned to Allegra. “I tortellini erano deliziosi, grazie, Allegra.”

He returned to his bedroom to find a new nightdress on the bed. It was a shocking scarlet, short and virtually transparent. Sandy swallowed, held it up at arm’s length, and thought it looked way too short, but he didn't hesitate even for a heartbeat. He undressed as fast as he could and pulled the nightie over his head, settling the thin straps on his shoulders. There were two small triangles of lace at the bodice, and he could see his nipples through the lace as he looked down. As he had suspected, it was extremely short, falling only to the top of his thighs, and he eagerly pulled on a skimpy pair of knickers, equally sheer. 

Sandy had always thought his legs were one of his better features, but the tiny nightdress made them look longer and somehow more shapely.  When he looked in the mirror, he almost fainted. The nightie was completely see-through, his cock clearly visible in the knickers, and he felt himself stiffen with excitement. One hand went to his nipple, and the other stroked his cock under the nightdress. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Overstrand’s hands and fingers on his body. His cock stiffened even more, and Sandy edged himself, staving off the moment when his knees would shake and his cock twitch, before he spurted into his hand. He opened his eyes, looked down at what was in his hand, and slowly brought it up to his mouth and licked the palm of his hand with his tongue. Oh, God, he thought. If only that were Overstrand’s.

This was his moment of crisis, his tipping point. Should he stick or twist? Stay as he was, an academic, closeted and lonely, or take a wild gamble on the unknown? To hell with it, he thought. He couldn’t go back. He had gone too far to turn back. He had to keep moving forward, towards what he didn’t know, only that his life would change forever. Nine

Overstrand stepped out of the shower, towelling his hair dry, with another towel knotted around his waist. Sandy watched a grin spread across Overstrand’s face as he caught sight of him lying on the bed. Sandy had covered himself with a sheet and threw it aside, revealing the minuscule nightdress and knickers he was wearing. He watched Overstrand’s eyes widen as he slid the knickers slowly down his legs and kicked them away. Sandy felt his pulse quicken and his heart race as Overstrand bent over the bed to kiss him with the taste of toothpaste on his lips and the scent of his cologne making Sandy hunger for him.

Overstrand untied the towel, letting it drop to the floor, and Sandy licked his lips at the sight of Overstrand’s stiffening cock before wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling Overstrand urgently down on top of him for a kiss. Sandy's head reeled, and his body quivered as Overstrand’s tongue slipped between his lips. He reached one hand down to take hold of Overstrand's cock, which twitched in his fingers and made Overstrand kiss him even more fiercely. Eventually, Overstrand broke the kiss and pushed up Sandy's flimsy nightdress with his hands, before lapping a nipple with his tongue like a cat, before sucking it into his mouth and nipping it with his teeth, making Sandy close his eyes and arch his back, moaning aloud with delight. Overstrand repeated the action on the other nipple, making sparks flash and flicker behind Sandy’s eyelids. 

Sandy wriggled the nightdress off over his head, and Overstrand gently pushed Sandy’s head back to lick and kiss his throat. Sandy shivered as he felt Overstrand’s soft breath on his neck, and his skin flamed with heat at each kiss. Sandy moaned again; only this time it was guttural, animalistic, and primitive, coming from deep within him. Aching for Overstrand to kiss him, Sandy pulled him down onto his lips and snaked his tongue into Overstrand’s mouth. They fenced with their tongues for a while before Sandy nipped Overstrand’s bottom lip with his teeth, making him rear up. Overstrand stroked his fingers slowly down Sandy’s back to cup his buttocks, pulling their bodies closer together. Sandy felt something stiff pressing into his groin and reached down to wrap his fingers around Overstrand’s cock; it was hard and hot to his touch, and Sandy was desperate to taste it in his mouth.

Somehow, he managed to flip Overstrand onto his back and slowly kiss his way down Overstrand’s chest, tweaking his nipples on the way, until his chin bumped into Overstrand’s cock, making him giggle. It wasn't the biggest cock Sandy had experienced, but it was a beautiful shape, thick, uncut, and with a slight curve to the left, erupting from a bush of thick pubic hair. He licked up and down the shaft from root to head, relishing its heat and hardness against his tongue. 

Unable to resist any longer, he wrapped his lips around the head, rolling back the foreskin and letting his tongue swirl around the soft mushroom head, producing a grunt from Overstrand. He looked up to see him staring down at him, eyes narrowed with pleasure. Still looking straight at him, Sandy pushed Overstrand’s cock flat against his stomach and flicked his tongue like a snake tasting the air against the sensitive spot where the head meets the shaft, rewarding him with another grunt from Overstrand. Encouraged, he slipped his lips over the head once more, savouring the taste of it on his tongue before taking it deeper and deeper into his mouth until he gagged and had to let it slip out. He took a deep breath and plunged his mouth over it once more, this time taking its full length inside. Overstrand’s hands were on the back of his head, holding it in place as Sandy moved up and down in time to an ancient rhythm playing in his head. 

Overstrand’s cock twitched, and Sandy, guessing he must be close to climaxing, let it slip from his mouth, and with an agility he didn't know he had, he straddled Overstrand’s chest so that he could look down at his face. His little cock was stiff, and taking a deep breath, he let it brush against Overstrand’s lips. Overstrand looked up as he gently blew across the tip, making Sandy suck in through his teeth, then kissed it and drew it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Sandy let out the breath he had been holding, slid backwards, and raised himself on his knees before reaching back to find Overstrand’s cock, placing it against his waiting hole. Sandy gently lowered himself onto it, letting it slip in a little way before raising himself again, deeper and deeper each time, until finally he pushed down hard and forced it past his resistance, closing his eyes and hissing with the pain, before he relaxed and the pleasure began. He raised himself slowly, relishing every inch of Overstrand’s cock sliding out before impaling himself again, again and again. Overstrand thrust his hips up as Sandy plunged back down on him, their bodies smashing together as sweat trickled down Sandy’s face and back as he bounced up and down. One savage thrust made Sandy arch his back and throw back his head in ecstasy as if every nerve ending in his body had fired at once. 

“Fuuuccckkk”, he screamed, and his eyes rolled up into his head. He lost all control as Overstrand’s cock filled him again and again, deeper and deeper each time, and he wanted Overstrand to fuck him like this forever. 

Overstrand took over and, still inside Sandy, rolled them both over on the bed until he was on top. There was a hunger inside Sandy that he hadn’t felt for a long time. His desire for Overstrand blocked out everything. Sandy wanted, needed, to feel Overstrand inside him. He wrapped his legs around Overstrand's back, locking him in place as he thrust savagely into Sandy, making him grunt and sending wave after wave of hormones coursing through his body. Sandy felt he was being split open with each thrust, and his grunts became louder and louder as Overstrand kept driving harder and harder into him. One massive thrust moved him so far up the bed that his head hit the headboard. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sandy shouted, feeling Overstrand grow bigger and bigger inside, and Sandy knew he was ready to come. Sandy, driven by the hormones flooding his body, arched his back and closed his eyes, desperate to feel the final explosive thrusts.

Instead, Sandy heard a loud caw, caw, caw and snapped open his eyes to see the flapping wings and piercing green eye of a massive rook that was impaling him. Sandy screamed.

He jerked awake, desperately gulping air, his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst from his chest. Was it really possible to die of fright in your sleep? He sat bolt upright to look around, anxiously trying to reassure himself that it had only been a dream. Covered in sweat and with his mind scrambled by the dream, he flopped back onto the bed, and it took him a long time to calm down again.

It was the fourth night in a row at Wychwood that he had had such a vivid dream. Nightmare, more like, he thought. Part of it wasn’t hard to understand. Sure, Sandy had a massive crush on Overstrand, but the rook had been terrifying. Whatever it meant, he didn’t want to understand it. He couldn’t remember having so many wild dreams before. Was it something about Wychwood? Or was his imagination running away with him? Whatever was causing it, he wanted a good night's sleep without being scared to death by a dream.