Like most couples, they didn’t agree on everything. What they were both equally certain about was the fact that they weren’t making any money. Hardly anyone was.

The country was in a state. The world was in a state.

1929 had seen a Great Crash on the US Stock market. And, when America sneezed, Europe caught a cold. Working-class people lost their jobs and middle-class people lost their savings.

It was the professional types that the couple had relied upon to keep their Swanage guest house thriving. The business had boasted superior rooms with luxury furnishings very close to the seafront. Roderick and Lakmé Crawford had tried reducing their prices to no avail, the customers just didn’t come. If anything the exclusive nature of the three-bedroomed establishment was now to its detriment.

They were fairly confident that it was Mrs Crawford who was first to suggest that it was young men from rich families who appeared to be the only ones who had money to fritter away. The couple were in agreement that that was the sort of clientele that they needed to attract.

Mr Crawford had laughed, he was of the opinion that rich young men were mainly attracted by sex but that was something that rich young men had no trouble finding.

It was several days before Lakmé Crawford had asked, “But what about bashful rich young men?” Her parents had been avid opera enthusiasts, hence her rather exotic Christian name. As well as lovers of music, her mother and father had been rather Bohemian in their outlook. As a result, their daughter had inherited an open mind and often thought about matters of a sexual nature.

“What about them?” replied Roderick.

“Well, a shy but immature gentleman with means at his disposal may not find it very easy to procure a solution for his emerging untutored lust.”

“That may well be true but I fail to see how a seaside holiday in a sleepy town like Swanage would be an answer to their prayers,” laughed her husband.

Mrs Crawford thought for a while before saying, “But suppose that a week on the Dorset coast included lessons?”

“Lessons?”

“Yes, lessons.”

“What do you mean...?”

“Yes, precisely just that.”

A brief silence ensued before he asked, “You think that we could tempt these sons of the wealthy here and then employ women to teach them about sex?”

“No, that would involve unnecessary expense, not to mention incalculable complexity. I would have to do it.”

Roderick Crawford nearly choked.

“You could do that?” he enquired, sheepishly.

“Certainly, we have been married for twenty-five years. In that time neither of us has ever been disappointed in bed so I know what skills are required.”

“I suppose that I should take that as a compliment but I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with the idea.”

“Well, all these years and you have never shown this jealous streak before.”

Roderick considered before replying, “I don’t think that I have one. There is no doubt that you are a desirable woman who has grown even more attractive over the years but there has never been one moment when I thought that you would be unfaithful.”

Lakmé laughed, “But that’s just it, I wouldn’t be being unfaithful, it would simply be business.”

“And you think that enough of these shy rich young men would be tempted by a mature lady like yourself?”

“Very tactfully put. Cast your mind back to when you were a callow youth, would you have been tempted by a mature lady of fifty-one like me?”

Lakmé Crawford’s husband conceded the point, “Yes, I see what you mean.

“I will need to think about this.”

“While you are thinking about it, perhaps you could come up with a better idea,” concluded Lakmé.

“As I explained, it’s quite simple. You are well placed to spot suitable young gentlemen. Just explain what’s on offer. Write your name and the name of the club on the back of one of these cards. Tell him to present it when he arrives and I will send you a postal order for ten shillings,” Roderick Crawford informed the porter at the Obtusi Club. He had done the same routine at several other London Gentlemen’s Clubs.

The man understood completely but wanted him to believe that he didn’t. “So, you want me to give one of your cards to any spotty gent who looks like he can’t shake his own todger. I’m to explain that if he books a week’s stay at your guest house, a mature lady will make a man of the world out of him. Is that right?”

The porter turned over the card in his hand, printed upon on it was the vague phrase, ‘Educational Seaside Luxury Holidays for Discerning Young Gentlemen. Telephone Swanage 4278.”

“Precisely, but you must be discreet, neither of us wants the law on us, do we?” said Roderick in a hushed tone.

“How do I know that you will send me the postal order?”

“Well, if I don’t you won’t steer any more business my way and that wouldn’t do either of us any good, would it?”

“I suppose not.

“If we can agree on a pound then you have a deal,” concluded the man in the dark green uniform as he took a pile of cards from Roderick Crawford.

“How much of our savings do we have left?” enquired Lakmé Crawford.

“Not really sure,” replied her husband, “a couple of hundred, maybe. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we will need to invest a little more if this project is to be a success.”

“Getting the cards printed and me spending two days in London wasn’t cheap. What other outlay will there be?”

Lakmé took a deep breath before replying, “I will need to spend a little on some suitable under clothing plus a few other things.”

“You have obviously given a lot of thought to the technicalities, so whatever you think best. Please don’t be reckless, if things don’t go to plan we could be deeper in the mire,” said Roderick.

Swanage had progressed from a small quarrying port to become a seaside resort in the Edwardian era. A second growth spurt took place in the 1920s. As a consequence, it had guest houses and small hotels in abundance. When Roderick Crawford and his new bride had inherited ‘The Mount’ it was just one guest house amongst so many similar establishments. It was Lakmé who recognised that they needed to find a unique area in the tourist market and it was she who suggested that they should invest in the kind of luxurious decor that would appeal to more middle-class couples.

In the succeeding years The Mount flourished.

Their principal clientele were older couples with no children and honeymoon couples with no children. Both were enticed by the fact that The Mount had a strict rule of no children.

Both Lakmé and Roderick Crawford were of the same opinion that if the business was to succeed they should resolve to have no children.

Mrs Crawford, when she was still Miss Hartley, had purchased a copy of Marie Stopes’ book ‘Married Love’. As a result, from the very first occasion that the couple had indulged in sexual intercourse, every time that Roderick had ejaculated inside Lakmé he had been wearing a prophylactic sheath. These were made from vulcanised rubber by the London Rubber Company.

When I say every time, that is up until, at the age of forty-seven, when her doctor had suggested, for medical reasons, that as her child-bearing days were probably over she might allow her husband to ride her bare-back (although he may have phrased it slightly more delicately).

Now, it is safe to say that up to this point she had always enjoyed sex particularly as Roderick was rather talented at bringing her to a crescendo (be it by finger, tongue, or the more traditional method) but once her husband was permitted to blast his sperms into her, the pleasure she received had intensified enormously.

It is equally safe to say that Roderick had always enjoyed his wife’s body. Now that she was a beautiful mature woman who loved to be fucked without the thick rubber barrier between them, he enjoyed it even more.

“Seventy guineas sounds quite reasonable for the week,” said a nervous upper class voice at the end of the line.

He went on, “Do you have a vacancy for Saturday next?”

“As it happens we do Mr, err, Smith,” replied Roderick Crawford.

“Sorry for the haste, but I am to be married in three months’ time and my fiancé has made it very clear that I should be takin’ the lead in the bedroom department and, frankly, I don’t have a clue.

“Your educational course couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment.”

“As I explained, you would be free to explore the delights of the town during the day, Mrs Crawford will provide breakfast and evening meals and the usual niceties will be observed. Each evening will be taken up with more academic endeavours.

“My wife has devised a thorough programme that will cover everything that a young man of the world would ever need to know.

“Having said this, do not feel that you have to stay within these confines. If you have any proclivity or speciality that Sir wishes to explore, my wife is more than willing to oblige, all within the quoted price.”

“No no, the thorough course sounds just what I am lookin’ for,” enthused Mr Smith.

He hesitated before adding, “The only thing is, will there be a demonstration on the first evening?”

“A demonstration, Sir?” asked Roderick, seeking clarification.

“Well I rather thought that if I could observe how things are done it would better prepare me for my part in the subsequent evenings. That is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“I don’t see why not, Sir,” concluded Roderick Crawford.

“Mr Algernon Smith will be arriving on Saturday the fourth. He has had no experience and would like the comprehensive package. His only deviation is that he wants to watch us at it, but only on the first night.”

“My goodness, that should add a certain frisson to it, I’ve sometimes wondered what it would feel like to have an audience,” laughed Lakmé.

“Have you now? You never mentioned this before,” chuckled her husband.

The somewhat shy, nervous, and slightly built aristocrat proved to be just the type of young man that Lakmé had visualised as being in need of her instruction.

‘Mr Smith’ was polite and well mannered, although it was fairly obvious that he had never set foot in a guest house before, even one as well appointed as The Mount. The seventy guineas was paid without comment. Roderick took the recommendation card, noted the names, and placed it in his bureau with the determination to send off the postal order promptly. As requested, the gentleman observed the accepted social norms once he had been settled into his room.

“That was a most excellent dinner, Mrs Crawford,” he announced, “Cook and her staff could not have done better.”

“Thank you Mr Smith,” she replied, putting particular emphasis on his recently adopted pseudonym. Inside she was quite pleased with the compliment.

“If you would care to retire to the withdrawing room there are cigars and brandy available as well as a selection of reading material.

“We will commence the first lesson in your room at nine sharp. May I suggest pyjamas and a dressing gown would be appropriate as you won’t actually be taking part. That will give you free access, should you feel the need.”

“Right, yes. No time for a faint heart, what? One has to learn one’s lesson and the wedding day looms.”

With Algernon Smith lounging in a bedroom chair, Lakmé explained, “To keep things simple, Mr Crawford and I will copulate in a fairly straightforward manner. There will be no commentary and no comment from yourself.

“You and I will explore more exotic variations as the week progresses, if that suits you?”

“Perfect! A gradual run up is just what I need,” confirmed the student, colouring slightly.

Mrs Crawford said, as she turned her back on her husband “If you wouldn’t mind please, Mr Crawford?”

Roderick unfastened the three buttons at the neck of Lakmé’s sage green paisley-patterned cotton dress and slipped it from her shoulders. It dropped to the floor and his wife stepped out of it. Lakmé reached under her left arm and undid the buttons of the apricot Princess-line full length slip. She pushed the thin straps aside allowing this to drop also.

“Crikey!” exclaimed Algernon, as the older woman stood in just her apricot underwear, rayon stockings and court shoes.

“Mr Smith, if you please!” reprimanded Mrs Crawford, gently.

“S’sorry,” stammered her pupil.

She twisted slightly to permit her husband to unfasten the hooks and eyes at the rear of the newly fashionable brassiere. This was rather a new experience for Roderick too, in the past Lakmé had worn less structured bralettes. Her new acquisitions had far more constricting shaped cups. He rather liked it.

As Lakmé released her breasts and allowed the garment to fall revealing her well separated full breasts and expansive brown nipples, Algernon put his hand to his mouth stifling any sound. She was pleased, he appeared to be a quick learner.

Roderick Crawford stepped back a little as he began to remove his cardigan. His wife slipped her finger into the waistband of her silky French knickers. Their wide legs allowed gravity to come into play as she dropped them easily over her stockings and onto her shoes.

The sight of the great bush of luxurious dark pubic hair produced a deep intake of air from young Algernon. Lakmé raised her eyebrows slightly.

She placed one foot a little in front of the other and stood completely motionless, tableaux fashion, in just her elasticated girdle, stockings and shoes. This was partially to allow the young man time to take in, what was possibly, his first view of the female form in real life and also to provide Roderick with time to remove his clothing.

Now attired in nothing but his white Wolsey undershorts, Mr Crawford approached his wife. He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She responded.

He brought his right hand slowly upwards and over her back, finally gripping a handful of her dark curls and pulling it just sufficiently to raise her chin. Their lips met once more.

Releasing his grip on Lakmé’s hair, Roderick returned his hand to her waist. There it hovered momentarily before being raised to cup her left breast. He squeezed gently thrice, she sighed softly. Skillfully, he passed his thumb back and forth across the erect nipple. Each time the firm mound sprang back to attention.

Roderick grasped the pronounced dimpled cone between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it backwards and forwards. Algernon Smith slipped his hand under his dressing gown and into the opening of his pyjamas.