Tom Fisher had been totally smitten by the beauty of Arielle Dumonde. Furthermore, she had said she would see him sometime this day, and his excitable part kept twitching every time this thought went through his mind. He wanted to lurk outside the big house as early as possible, in order not to miss her when she looked for him, but his father had reminded him of his responsibilities to sweep the floor, and get a rabbit ready for the pot. He sat on the rustic bench outside their hut and got to work on it quickly.

In the big house, Arielle had been learning her way around, and discussing Lady Astley's collection of clothing and couture with her. It had not been long after they began the enjoyable business of sorting through dresses, suits, skirts, and summer clothing, that Arielle found a long red winter cape thrown carelessly in the back of the wardrobe. She pulled it out and examined it.

It was in need of a wash. The fur edging had bits of greenery and several stalks that she recognised as hay stuck in it. Wondering, she glanced at her mistress. Lady Astley's eyes were fixed on the garment, and a blush suffused her delicate skin, even as Arielle stared. She looked back at the debris covering the cape, and examined it more closely. The inner surface, she found, bore traces of dried fluids. She bent to sniff, and her employer reacted by reaching forward and pulling the cape from her grasp.

'Leave it alone, ' she told Arielle.

Arielle was now quite certain of the reason for the cape's condition. The recollection of yesterday's brief meeting with Tom Fisher popped into her mind, and she wondered if it were possible ... The debris could easily have resulted from contact with the ground in a rustic setting. Wasn't hay used for beds by the lower classes who couldn't afford better, as well as animal feed? She put the garment back in the wardrobe.

'It was once a fine garment, ' she commented. 'Nothing that proper cleaning wouldn't restore.'

'I want it left alone, ' said her ladyship.

'May I change the subject a moment?' asked Arielle.

Lady Astley was momentarily relieved. 'Yes. What about?'

'I met a young man on the estate yesterday, called Tom Fisher. Do you know him?'

Blood rushed to Lady Astley's face again. 'Yes. He is the game-keeper's son.'

Arielle laughed briefly. 'Ah, when I saw him, I thought he had an entirely different purpose round here.'

'What?'

'He had obviously just finished pleasuring one of the maids — Belinda Stourton, she said. I thought, judging by the size of him, that maybe his job was keeping the ladies of the house contented.'

'How did you know what he'd been doing?' asked Lady Astley, curious.

'He had a rather impressive appurtenance in his hand, and it was covered with juices when I examined it.'

Her employer glanced at her, slightly shocked. 'You examined it?'

'Only a little. I didn't like handling it while it was still bore evidence of recent activity.'

'No, I can well understand that, ' said her Ladyship faintly. 'It's not like it was your own, ' she added, perhaps unwisely.

Arielle pursed her lips and studied her employer astutely. 'Was he good?' she asked.

'Oh, god, yes!' said Lady Astley, before the impropriety of discussing her sex life with a servant could put the brake on her tongue. 'And his father.'

'Mon Dieu! Two of them!' breathed Arielle, the image of Tom and his father ravaging her mistress causing a sudden feeling of heaviness to arise in her belly. Her nipples stiffened, as the fantasy developed where she was the object of both men's attentions. Her hands moved to grip her breasts before she could stop them.

Lady Astley caught the movement and the distant look in her dresser's eyes. She glanced at the cape, lying on the floor of the wardrobe. The idea came to her that, if Arielle was so excited at the idea of Tom and his father, then perhaps it would be amusing to arrange for such an interlude.

'I've changed my mind, Arielle, ' she said, her voice jerking the dresser out of her trance. 'Clean the cape, and this afternoon, you and I shall go for a walk in the woods.'

Arielle stared at her mistress, then glanced at the cape before looking back. 'You would like to wear the cape again?' she asked.

'It would be most appropriate, ' said Lady Astley.

By mid-afternoon, the activities of the household were in abeyance: the morning's work was done, and there was an interlude of calm before that of the evening got under way. The sun beat down, and bees bumbled happily between the flowers. In the trees, wood-pigeons cooed, and somewhere a cuckoo uttered its distinctive cry, time and again.

Tom Fisher was walking along the wall which protected the kitchen garden, in the general direction of the doorway, when from out of the side door of the house, Lady Astley and Arielle Dumonde appeared. He stopped dead in his tracks, at the sight of her Ladyship in the fur-trimmed cape she had worn on the day she had turned up at their hut and entertained both him and his father. It occurred to him that the day was too hot for the cape, and that therefore she was wearing it for a purpose not unconnected with the occasion in question.

Arielle was wearing a strapless white top with a broad blue-grey belt, and a full skirt in gold cotton. She wore high-heeled gold shoes to match. Tom thought she was ravishingly beautiful. The women approached him, and he respectfully knuckled his forehead at her Ladyship. She smiled.

'Ah, Tom. We were going for a stroll in the woods. Perhaps you would be our guide.'

'Aye, milady.' He glanced at Arielle and caught a glint of mischief in her eyes before he turned and walked with them to the path through the trees. Inside the wood, the trees soon cut off the view from the house, and the shade they gave was welcome. Raucous birdcalls and rustlings in the undergrowth betrayed the busy activities of the creatures which inhabited the place. Lady Astley led them in the general direction of a deep pool fed by a stream of pure water. At its shore was a small beach. The sun shone through the clearing, and the ground was warm.

'I think I'll go for a swim, ' Lady Astley announced, and slipped the cape off her shoulders. For a moment, she turned to face Tom, watching his interested gaze take in the diaphanous crepe de chine slip and knickers which was all she wore beneath it. Holding his shoulder for balance, she lifted her feet and pulled off her shoes. In the process, she bent forward, allowing him a good view of her breasts. Their pink tips were erect, and pushed the thin fabric of her slip out. Tom licked his lips, and felt his male part pulse into life.

'Why don't you two get to know each other while I test the water.'

She walked into the pool, and Tom watched her until only her head and arms were visible, and she began a leisurely crawl stroke towards the opposite bank. He felt a hand on the back of his knee, and looked round, to find that Arielle was sitting on the ground, her skirt rumpled up to reveal her legs to the tops of her stockings. She grinned up at him.

'I said we should get to know each other, Tom, ' she said, her hand busily unfastening his trousers until she could release the part of him which had been straining against the thick tweed. She gently pulled it towards her lips, peering at it and rubbing it as she did.

She put out the tip of her small pink tongue and ran it round the head experimentally, as if checking the taste and size before committing the massive organ to her mouth en masse. Gradually, she eased it into her mouth, feeling it pulse against her palate, and gagging before she took it out again.

'Sorry, Tom, you'll have to lie down. I can't manage it all from this angle, ' she said.

He sat on the warm grass and lay back. Arielle gripped again, and kneeling beside him, she slipped him once more between her lips. He felt her tongue lapping at the ridges on it, and realised she had allowed the tip to travel deeply into her throat, making her neck swell. Her throat muscles gripped and pulled at the tip, in a way he found entirely agreeable.

Tom rolled his head to the side, and saw how her skirt followed the curve of her bottom as she knelt there, and he ran a hand over the curve, following her thigh down into the hollow at the back of her knees. Below that, the skirt hem was rucked up so he could feel the silk stockings which encased her legs. Moving his hand back upwards, but this time under the skirt, and along the insides of her thighs he came to the leg of her knickers, and pushing up that, the hair-lined vee at the base of her belly.