Emily's Boarding House
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Safe Sex, Oral Sex,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Emily runs a boarding house in Frederick, Maryland. Most of her boarders are local college students, but Randy Sinclair is a minor league baseball player for the Frederick Keys. The boarding house is a kind-of a special place, and Emily is a very special landlady.
I’m Randy Sinclair. The Orioles drafted me this year in the third round, and after agreeing to wait until I graduated from Vanderbilt in June, they sent me to the Frederick (Maryland) Keys, their high-A farm in the Carolina League. I’m going to be twenty-three years old in September.
I was a late arrival, but the Keys weren’t too happy with their shortstop so he got sent to Delmarva and I took his place. Sal Bishop, the Frederick manager, told me to relax, learn my way around the club as quick as I could, and try to fit in.
I hit a triple my first time at bat as a pro in Frederick and then went oh-for-eleven the next three home games. Hard to relax, but I tried.
Bishop moved me from sixth to ninth in the batting order, but he just smiled and told me, again, to relax.
After asking around for a few days about a good place to rent, I rejected the available-but-substandard digs vacated by the kid they sent down to Delmarva and started looking for myself. That’s when I heard about Emily’s Boarding House.
The Boarding House was only a block away from the local college, and all the boarders, I found out, were students there. That wasn’t a requirement — it’s just the way it was. The team trainer — the guy who told me about the place — said the food was exceptionally good and the rent was reasonable.
I figured if I was going to be in Frederick for the next four months or more, a boarding house room would make sense. When I got to the boarding house, I found a very large, very old, well-maintained three-story white house with a big inviting wrap-around porch and a well-tended lawn.
I talked to Emily Chambers herself, the handsome, forty-something proprietor. “What do you want with a boarding house?” she asked me skeptically after we’d talked for a bit. “You’re a ballplayer, and you’re going to be out-of-town half the time.”
“I hear the food here is really good,” I told her. “It’s bad enough, living on cheeseburgers on road trips. If I lived here I could at least have home-cooked meals when the club is home.”
“I don’t have any rooms available anyway,” Emily told me. “I’ve got an empty apartment on the third floor. Just the one bedroom in it, but with a lot more room to spread out. It’s, like, one big long room, but there’s a little kitchen at the back, and a big space in the middle for, like a living room. There’s a desk in there, too. Then there’s a full-sized bed at the front end.”
“Sounds pretty good,” I said.
“Well, it costs a lot more than just a room, and it doesn’t even have its own bathroom. There’s a bathroom right outside the door — in the little hallway at the top of the stairs — but technically, it’s also available for any of the people on the second floor. They have two bathrooms of their own, but there are five boarders up there, and sometimes in a pinch one of them will go up to the top floor and use that one.”
“Still sounds pretty good. You don’t seem very enthusiastic about renting it.”
“Well, it’s been empty since Mr. Farnsworth died last fall,” Emily said. “He was an older man. A widower from right here in town. I haven’t made any effort to rent it out since then.”
“Well, can I have it? You’ll find I’m quiet and well-behaved and, like you said, I’ll be gone almost half the time.”
“Mabel — my cook — won’t like your irregular schedule much.”
“I can give her a copy of the Keys’ schedule. And I’ll keep her informed. She’ll know when I’ll be in town, and when I won’t.”
Emily Chambers still seemed a little reluctant. “I guess there’s no reason, really, not to rent it to you.”
“I’ll pay you two months in advance,” I told her.
“That’s a nice piece of change for a brand-new minor league ballplayer,” she said. “I know they don’t pay you much.”
They don’t pay us much, it’s true,” I said. “But they paid me a good bit to sign a contract. I can afford the rent.”
“What happens if you get sent to Bowie?”
Bowie was the Orioles’ Double-A Eastern League club — the next rung up the ladder for me. I was surprised that Emily Chambers knew that. “I’ll probably be here until at least the end of the season,” I told her. “But if I get lucky, I can pay you an extra month’s rent as a penalty for leaving early.”
“Not necessary,” she said. “Let me show you the apartment.”
My new home was a two-story walkup from Emily’s office on the main floor. A broad, substantial stairway led up to the second floor, where, she explained, five of her seven boarders lived. Two more had rooms on the main floor, and my little apartment shared the top floor with Emily’s own apartment, which took up most of the third level.
The stairway to the third floor was narrower and steeper. At the top, the bathroom that would, she said, be “mostly mine” was just off the stairs.
“That’s my place,” Emily said, indicating the door to the left. “You’re over there, on the right.”
As advertised, my new home was a long, sparingly furnished open space with two curtained windows at the front and four more along the far side. There was an attractive view of large trees in the back, and the windows all looked down upon smaller dwellings.
“What do you think?” Emily asked.
“I think it’s great. Better than I expected.”
“I hope you like it. Dinner is at six, but you can come in later — until 7:15 — and be served.”
I’m probably going to have to make friends with your cook — Mabel? I’m due at the ballpark at six for night games. I’ll have to arrange to eat earlier.”
“She lives in,” Emily said. “And she’s easy to get along with. Talk to her, see what you can arrange.”
“No game tonight,” I said. “We’re leaving for Wilmington at two tomorrow afternoon. Will it be okay to have dinner here tonight?”