The Dames of Wayward Inn: Part 1
The ghost of Bernadette guides the pub back to it's past glory.
Based on a post by Big galute. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Life, death and fun photography.
My name's Steve Potter. For the last thirty odd years I've been a pub manager. For the last seven years I've managed the Wayward Inn, an historic coaching Inn that has apparently hosted both royalty and rogue bandits over its checkered history. It no longer offers lodging accommodation, so is more just a pub, but the history is still interesting and a great pull for visitors.
Bernie and I lived upstairs, where 4 of the lodging rooms were converted into a rather ornate apartment, still holding the 18th century charm of the landmark inn. Across the hall we had two large meeting rooms for large group reservations. The meeting rooms were originally barracks-style lodging with 10 double-stack bunks in each room, One for men and boys, the other for women and girls. Until 20 years ago, they were a hostel. At the back end of the upstairs, a 2-story addition was built, bringing modern plumbing to the complex. Downstairs restrooms and an expanded kitchen, and upstairs hall restrooms, plus a kitchen which adjoined the apartment dwelling of the proprietors.
Until last year, I managed it with my wife Bernadette, known to one and all as Bernie. Unfortunately Bernie got sick and, despite fighting so hard, she didn't get better. After Bernie died I was in grieving despair, convinced there was nothing left for me in life. I was in a dark place and nearly gave up.
I still miss Bernie every day. Her wisdom, her laughter, and positive energy. And, if I have to be honest, I miss our sex life, too. We never managed to have children, but we had a lot of fun trying.
As the years went by we kept it interesting by trying new things. One of these is that we started reading erotica together, our favorite site being Literotica. Bernie's favorite categories were 'Loving Wives' and 'Group Sex.' When I asked her why, she said that if you're going to have fantasies you might as well make them big ones, like having an affair with a well hung stud bull; or getting fucked senseless by a group of horny strangers. It made a sort of sense, I suppose.
For my part, I had a far less fertile imagination. My favorite stories were mainly in the Exhibitionist/Voyeur section, which often fed into my interest in photography. I'd always been a keen photographer and had even won some local awards for some nature photography. Some of my better pictures of the local area are displayed on the walls of the pub.
When we red these stories, we would sometimes role play; me being the randy photographer and Bernie the sexy model who I persuade to show more and more skin, before finally seducing her. Needless to say, these photos are certainly not up on the walls of the pub.
I didn't give up on life, and what's mainly got me through this last year; is the support of the staff that worked with us in the pub. Many of them have been with us from the beginning. They are more like family than employees.
One of these staffers is Karen; a single mum in her late twenties who's been with us for over five years now. She normally works as a waitress during our busy lunch times when her children are at school; and occasionally behind the bar in the evenings, if she has a babysitter or the kids are with their father. She's very popular with our regular lunchtime crowd but is equally at home behind the bar, giving it a sassy barmaid vibe and well able for any cheeky customers who think that a pretty young girl is easy game. She just has a way of talking and listening to people that leaves them feeling better about themselves. As you can tell, I'm very fond of her.
Recently I'd noticed that she hadn't been herself, looking distracted as if she had a lot on her mind. I'd asked her in passing whether everything was okay, and she'd given me her usual lovely smile and assured me it was. Then a couple of days at work she just disappeared for short periods and was sometimes late coming back from her breaks, something she would normally not do. I was worried that she might be unwell or pregnant or that something else was bothering her. I didn't want to confront her about it, in case I made things worse; instead asking one of her friends if she knew what was going on. She said Karen wasn't unwell but that I needed to talk to her, myself.
It sounded a bit ominous, but I waited till things had quietened down and asked Karen if I could have a quick word with her. I explained that I'd noticed her work had changed and that I was more worried about her than the work, asking her what was going on.
She looked worried and I could see her thinking about what to say. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I've got an 'Only-Fans' page, and things have gotten a bit out of hand."
I thought I knew what an Only-Fans page was and was a bit shocked. But I couldn't see how that affected her work at the pub,
"First of all;” I said in a relieved tone; “I'm really glad you're not ill or something. Second of all, how is that affecting what you do here?"
She was starting to blush, "Well I took some photos here, when I was at work and they were really popular. And now it's what a lot of my fans are asking for." She was now fully embarrassed, and struggling to look at me.
I was struggling myself. Struggling to get my head around it and what it actually meant. "So you took some photos here in the pub and put them on your page?"
She nodded.
"Can I presume these were saucy photos?" I softly asked.
She nodded again, saying;"I can understand if you need to fire me, I'm really sorry." Her head was down, rubbing her hands nervously.
"God no,” I said emphatically. “I don't want to fire you, I just need to get my head straight with this. Where did you take these photos?
"In the staff changing room, mainly."
"Mainly?" I inquired.
"Well I took some on the stairs, and some in the lady's toilets, also." She confided.
I shook my head in disbelief ; “And did you have your pub uniform on?"
"Well; on and off." Karen suppressed a bashful grin.
This was such a funny, mad answer that I couldn't help but smile, Karen looking at me and the two of us laughing.
"You are crazy." I finally chuckled out.
"I know, but I promise that I always covered the embroidered pub logo on my shirt, so no one could identify it. I also made sure there was nothing in any of the pictures that could identify the pub."
"That's something, I suppose. And whatever about it being embarrassing for the pub, there's also the fact that if strange people know you work here, you could attract all sorts of stalkers."
"I know, That's one of the reasons I've been so careful."
I finally summed up my response; "I've no problem with people doing Only Fans pages and such like. That's your business. But I'm not sure how I feel about you taking photos here. I'll have to think about that part. And it's not fair to the other staff if you keep disappearing and being late, that'll have to stop."
"It will. I promise, and thank you for being so understanding." Karen now had a visibly releaved countenance. She took in a deep breath, followed by silence.
I decided to go further; "I've got to ask you, I've read about girls making significant money doing this sort of thing. Is it true."
Karen went red again, but said she'd only been doing it a few weeks, but was already making good money. When she told me how much I nearly fell out of the chair.
"That's wild. Why are you still working here then? “ I was honestly stunned. “Also if you're making that sort of money I'm amazed more of the staff aren't doing it."
"I love working here. All my friends are here, and I don't want to give it up.” Karen said in a most sincere tone. “You're a fair boss and you value your team. No one wants to work for someone who threats them like shit. About the fans gig, some others are considering doing it, especially Jess. She says half the town have already seen most or all of her tits for nothing; so she's going to start charging them for it, now."
We both laughed at this, Jess was the chef, a big, buxom, peroxide blond whirlwind of a milf woman, and this was a typical comment for her to make. But it was all bluff. Jess had been with Bob, her man since she was eighteen. She only said things like that to get a reaction. I know because Jess and Bob were my and Bernie's closest friends.
"Nah I don't think Jess will do it,” I speculated. “But I's suspect Mable might." Mable was the feisty old cleaner and so old that she said she'd worked here since it opened, nearly three hundred years ago.
Karen smiled, "Yeah, Mable might, but I think you're right about Jess, she's got too much on her plate organizing the calendar, as it is."
"What Calendar?" I asked.
"Shit, you don't know?" Karen grimaced.
I shook my head to confirm I didn't know, "Shit shit shit. I mustn't say anymore, you have to ask Jess." Karen said as she stood, hoping to end the meeting.
The lunch time service was smooth, and soon over, and I just caught Jess before she left, already changed into her typical summertime attire of cargo-style pants and a tank top that always seemed to struggle to contain her big wobbly boobs, even with a bra on.
"Alright my love, how's it going?" Jess called everyone 'my love' and with her West Country accent, it always sounded endearing.
"It's going good, I was just having a word with Karen, and she happened to mention something about a calendar."
"The Silly cow. Not only can't she keep her clothes on, now she can't keep her mouth shut." It was said with a 'that's bloody typical' smile and a half laugh. The kind of dismissing way a parent would relegate youthful irresponsible choices of their kid's behavior after leaving home.
I smiled back, "So what's going on, what's the calendar about?"
"First of all, were you talking to Karen about her, um, little sideline?" Jess wanted to know.
I nodded.
"You're not going to sack her are you?" Jess kept changing the subject.
"Of course I'm not. Why does everyone think I'd sack her?" Jess now got me to change the topic away from the calendar question.
"Well it's a bit out there, and I told her she was using poor judgment, taking photo's here.” Jess made sure I knew she was looking after the pub's best interests. “But I'm glad you're not sacking her, we would have all hated you if you did." This was said with a smile but I knew there was some truth to it. The staff were a tight knit bunch and looked out for each other.
"So calendar, spill the beans." I got back to my first topic.
Jess took a breath and inwardly conceded that she couldn't refuse my question any longer. "Well, you remember a few years ago, that a group of local firefighter's wives in a village up north posed for some saucy photos and made a calendar for a beloved charity?"
I did remember, and they'd even made a film and play of it.
“Well a few of us here thought we could do the same, do it in memory of Bernie and raise money for breast cancer research or whatever charity you wanted." Jess explained with a nervous tone, hoping I would buy into the sentiment.
I nodded and for a moment we both looked sad, remembering Bernie, but Jess, not being especially sappy, broke the spell, "Actually I just wanted a chance to properly flash my tits at the camera."
It was funny, but my silly grin was mixed with sadness and with happiness and pride that they would think to do such a thing.
"So what do you think?" Jess appealed. “Would Bernie disapprove?”
I can be a silly old sod sometimes, emotionally anyway, and was starting to well up as I said, "I think it's a brilliant idea."
I thought I saw tears in Jess's eyes as she almost man handled me into a hug, saying 'Come here you idiot,' as she held me tight. It was still a painful remembrance of Bernie, for Jess.
Jess explained that the reason she hadn't told me already was that she wanted to make sure she had enough volunteers willing to pose, "I think we need about fourteen.” She elaborated. “That will give us a bit of leeway if someone gets cold feet. At the moment I have eleven, nine girls from here and a couple of my friends. Close friends who are patrons of the pub."
"You can make that twelve." I said to her stunned silence.
"How?, You aren't a tranny, are you? Please tell me no."
I got a bit embarrassed but explained about the photos I used to take of Bernie, saying I was sure that we could find one that was suitable for the calendar.
"You sly dog, I thought you only took photos of long legged warblers and dewy sunrises. Turns out you were taking pictures of the other type of long legged bird."
I don't think there's such a bird as the long legged warbler but that didn't matter. My Bernie did have great legs and I was smiling as Jess said, "You have to show me the pictures, I bet Bernie was really photogenic and looked stunning. Tell you what, I'm off this evening, why don't you take an evening off for a change and come round for dinner. Bob would love to see you and you can bring your laptop and show us some select photos of Bernie. and we can get a bit soused and tearful, it'll do us all good."
I knew from previous experience that there wasn't much point in arguing with Jess, but I wasn't sure about showing those sort of photos of Bernie, especially with Bob there. He was a good guy, but the thought of it just seemed invasive of Bernie's dignity.
Before I went to Jess's, I spent some time going through my computer, looking at the photos, I hadn't done it since before she died. The 'saucy' photos spanned about ten years, right up until she got sick. God, she was beautiful and incredibly sexy. I used to tell her she could be a professional model and she used to laugh, saying I was only saying that to get into her knickers, which was true, but looking at these photos, she really could have been. Beautiful face, great legs and bum, pendulous boobs that had swayed more a little with her approaching forties; but were still wonderful. And a defiant, wild spirit in her eye that almost challenged me to admire her as I looked through the camera lens. The photos were her gift to me and our marriage. Now I had to find a way to advance that gift for the sake of a charity she would be proud of.
I'd planned on moving some of the photos to other folders so Jess and Bob wouldn't see them; but as I looked at them I decided I wanted them to see them. Some of them were quite graphic for sure, leaving nothing to the imagination, but they weren't prurient or pornographic. I thought they were artistically shot and really showed my love for Bernie, I hoped they agreed.
The meal was lovely. We spoke about the calendar a little; Jess explaining how the idea came about and who was promising to be involved. I didn't say anything but there were a few names who I'd love to see undressed. I actually think it was the wine kicking in.
After the table was cleared and Bob had poured more drinks, Jess less than subtly brought the subject around to my photos of Bernie. She said; “Say, Bob; turns out Steve likes taking photos of long legged birds, as well as other nature, he's brought his laptop around to show us some of them."
Bob played along and pretended he was surprised. I just took a gulp of my drink for some Dutch courage. There was one set of photos, one of our first; where Bernie started off in an evening gown and slowly showed more skin, I'd taken photos from lots of different angles, so there were a lot of photos. After we'd gotten past Jess and Bob saying nice things about how beautiful she was; they became noticeably quieter as the shots got more risque; Bernie basically doing a slow strip for the camera as she laid across our four poster bed, a remnant of the pub's previous glory. Her elegant red silky gown. was now off and she was wearing very sexy lingerie, bending and pouting as the photos got hotter. I smiled as Bob rearranged his jeans to give himself more room and even Jess was looking a bit flushed. I can count on one had, the number of times I witnessed Jess blushing. At the first topless photo, I nearly lost my nerve but could tell by their faces that they really wanted me to continue.
The album finished with Bernie lying naked on the black satin bedding, on her back, her legs spread obscenely wide but the minimal lighting done in such a way as to cast shadows on her most intimate glory, so that the picture really wasn't showing anything.
"Wow, I don't know what to say." Said Jess.
"Well I know what to say, they were fucking amazing.” Bob said resolutely. “I like a bit of porn, but was pleased we couldn't see too much, I felt teased all the way through." He explained his refined dignity on the matter.
"I know what Bob means.” Jess agreed. “Bernie told me she'd posed for a few photos for you. but I didn't think it was anything this hot or this well taken. You've got the job, Steve."
"What job?" I asked.
"Well, Bob had volunteered to take the photos for the calendar, obviously with no alternative motives other than to help out." Jess glared at Bob who tried to give an innocent smile back, "But bless him, he doesn't know a tripod from a turnip. You'll have to take the photos for the calendar."
“Can I submit a pictorial spread of You, Jess?” Bob asserted his services. “Perhaps I can further hone my craft and learn from doing?”
“Bob you can do me any time, any way you fancy. But that's an aside, right now.” Jess reset her man's place in this venture.
I was a bit surprised and shocked by this but could see it made sense, in fact as I thought of some of the women who had said they would pose. I was already looking forward to it, and already thinking of possible shoots and themes.
"I think I'll need Bob as my assistant though." I said this as a joke but his face lit up until he saw the look he got off of Jess.
Bob got us all another drink and then raised a toast to Bernie.
Then Jess raised a toast to sexy, strong women everywhere.
I happily raised my cup to both.
Before I left we decided that we'd meet the next afternoon and come up with a proper plan for the calendar; all agreeing that we needed to have it completed and printed fairly shortly if we were going to sell as many as possible before Christmas.
I got home and felt a little drunk. I also felt a weird mixture of excitement, melancholy and horniness. I didn't know whether to look at more pictures of Bernie, or just switch on some fresh porn and have a quick wank. I was veering towards the porn when my phone texting app dinged with a text message. I expected it was Jess, mothering me and checking that I got home okay. But it was from Karen,
'thanks for being kind and supportive earlier in the day. I have an idea about work and we'll talk tomorrow. '
That was the end of the text, no bye or anything. I thought it a bit strange, but just shrugged my shoulders.
My phone dinged again,
'I know you were a bit concerned about me identifying the pub in my pictures, I checked them again and think they're okay. Below is a password for my site so you can check for yourself, Bye, see you tomorrow, Karen xx'
I had to read it a second time.
Wow. I sat on my seat in disbelief, what a day. I'd shown friends very revealing pictures of Bernie, I'd been asked to photograph some of my friends and employees for a saucy calendar, and now I'd been sent a trial access username with the password to a beautiful young woman's Only Fans account.
I wasn't much of a drinker, which is a good thing when you run a pub; but looking at the password. I felt I needed another drink.
I got changed into my jammies and took my whiskey and computer to bed with me. I found Young Karen's page and was pleased to see she'd used a different pen name. There was a good photo of her in a red knickers and bra set, her stiff arms down and pressing her tits into each other for bountiful cleavage, accentuating her already very decent natural assets. She wasn't overly made up and seemed to be going for a natural, 'girl next door' look. There was some caption telling you all the delights you'd find inside the pay portal, but this was the only photo you could see unless you joined up and paid your monthly subscription.
I was nervous. Did I really want to see pictures of Karen flashing all her marvelous goods? If she hadn't sent me the password, I'd have just taken her word that there was nothing identifying the pub in the pictures, I could still do that. There was also the possibility that she just wanted to show me her page, nothing to do with the pub, this made me feel even more uncomfortable. I regarded Karen as the ideal daughter I never had. but was honored to be in her life, even just as her employer.
I took another sip of my whiskey and entered the access credentials. I wasn't familiar with Only Fans pages and didn't know what to expect, Karen had three galleries, simply named Home, Work and Outdoors.
I clicked on the Work gallery and found there were twenty or so images. The first one showed a smiling Karen, standing in the messy staff room, Lockers behind her along one wall, A time clock and bulletin board on the other wall.
She was pointing her phone at the mirror. She had her work polo shirt on, with the logo covered by a pink badge. Zooming in I found it was the type of badge you might see on a ladies hen night, a monochrome sketch of a cock head on it. The next few pics showed her lifting her top and showing her lacy bra and cleavage, that same lovely smile there the whole time, she looked like a joyful wholesome girl and she was enjoying it.
She progressed to ones of her showing her thong-clad ass, bending a little but still aiming the camera at the mirror. She really did have a great body and smile and it was easy to see why people would pay money to look at her. The last photo was a selfie style, Karen pulling the front of her thong up between her shaven, moist-looking pussy lips, a caption underneath saying, 'This is the effect you looking at me has.' Corny, but probably effective.
The outdoor gallery only had four pictures in it. Three in a local park I recognized and one on a bridge over a road. They were all selfies, with Karen flashing her tits and grinning madly, whilst either people or cars passed behind her, unaware of her public exposure, because her back was toward them.
The home ones were the worst quality, maybe taken with a self timer and showing Karen knelt on a bed, some with a thong on. And still others naked.
I closed the computer and lay there thinking, I wasn't turned on and found I was actually thinking about the poor quality of most of the pictures, it annoyed my aesthetic. She was obviously getting plenty of people following her and making good money, but she was a beautiful girl with a great body and could look amazing with the right photographer, I could dream on.
Jess was the first one I met the next morning, and she greeted me with a big smile, saying she'd loved the previous evening and was now really excited about the calendar. She had so many excited questions: "When do you think we can start? Maybe once we take the first photo set, everyone else will be more relaxed about their own shoots. Shall we shoot it month by month, January first and so on, what month do you want Bernie to be."
I just sat there smiling back at her, loving her enthusiasm.
I was sitting in the back office when Karen knocked on the door, just before eleven. I think we were both a bit embarrassed, knowing what I'd been looking at the night before. I thought about starting out by saying something stupid about hardly recognizing her with her clothes on, but thankfully stopped myself. I just smiled and tried to relax her, telling her to have a seat. I thanked her for sending me the passcodes, but said it hadn't been necessary, I believed her about the logo.
"What did you think of them, the photos I mean?"
"Well; you're a beautiful girl with a great body, and some of the pictures were sexy."
"But?" She pressed me to give her the bad news.
From the way I'd spoken it must have been obvious that there was a 'But?' So I added; "Well if I'm honest, some of the photos weren't technically great. Some didn't do you justice at all. They did nothing to show off how great you look. But regardless, people are paying money to see them, so that's all that matters."
"It matters to me. I know most fellas are just paying to see my tits and pussy but I want to look my best. When I was younger I always dreamed about being a model. My mum had been a model when she was younger and she really encouraged me, then I had the kids and half forgot about it."
"What did your dad say about it?"
"He'd fucked off with a blond bimbo when we kids were young, left mum with my brother and me."
I nodded, "So how did you start with the fan's site?"
She looked a bit embarrassed, "It was my mum actually. I was at her house and complaining about never having any money. She said she seen a TV program about girls who did cam work and had fan pages; and that I had a better body and was prettier than any of them." Karen started laughing,
“She's right.” I nodded.
"What she actually said was 'You've got bigger tits and a better bum than any of them, why don't you use them to make a few bucks.' I was nervous with the first photos, but she was there and just told me to relax and be myself."
I started laughing, "Well I can't disagree with your mum."
Karen smiled but I could see she was serious. "I know it's not high art or photography, but I want to do it the best I can, and to look the best I can, will you help me?"
I liked Karen and wanted to help her, but I had to be honest, "I know nothing about taking selfies and very little about taking photos with a phone, but I do know about stuff like lighting and composition. I know there are devices and equipment you can get that helps you take better pics with your phone. Looking at your photos last night, I think decent lighting would make a huge difference. If you want I'll read up on a few sources of technology and tell you what I think is best."
"That'll be great, I'd really appreciate that."
"I was briefed on the calendar project and I volunteered to help produce it.” I let Karen know. “Are you still up for the calendar shoot?"
She nodded her desire.
"I'm taking the photos for it now, and I've got a few ideas that I'm talking to Jess about later.” I detailed. “If she agrees then we'll start this week. I was going to make you 'Miss January' and do an outside shoot."
"That sounds brilliant." She was almost giggly with excitement but then her expression changed, something obviously on her mind. "If people see the calendar with me in it, and then see my online page, will they then be able to associate me with the pub."
I hadn't thought about this, she continued, "I think most people are okay, even those who spend their time and money wanking over my photos, but some might not be okay."
Her talking so crudely and frankly surprised me, but she was right; and it was obvious she'd thought about these things, which was good. I also found I liked the crudeness, so much easier to deal with blunt language, than pussyfooting around the subject.
"You're right.” I concurred. “Let me think about it, I'm sure we can come up with a solution. Actually, it might even make the photo shoot more interesting."
After lunch rush, I met with Jess and we went through who had said they'd pose, and discussed ideas for different shoots. It wasn't to be too explicit.
Jess thinks bums and boobs are about as far as we can go. “Even then I think we should avoid full nipples. More cheeky tease and implied, than full frontal stuff." was her summation.
I agreed.
I had a few ideas clear in my mind, including the one for Jess herself. She asked about it, but I enjoyed teasing her so wouldn't give away any secrets. I also explained about Karen, and what I had in mind; which Jess thought was a great idea.
I arranged to do Jess's shoot the following Monday ,before we opened up. Even before that, I hoped to do Karen's over the weekend, if she's free and the weather is right.
I explained to Karen that as she was Miss January I wanted to do an early morning shoot with her, hoping I could make the misty early morning look like a cold winter's day. She said her ex was having the kids that weekend but that she was going out Friday night with friends. We arranged that I would pick her up at 4am on Sunday morning, I wouldn't be finishing in the pub till about one, but it would be worth it.
"What will I wear?"
"Do you have a long coat?“
She nodded yes.
“Wear that." I instructed.
"What else?"
"Nothing else, just sensible shoes." I quipped.
Karen giggled at this imagery, and thought I was joking.
But I explained that I had a costume for her to wear, and that it would just be easier if she didn't have to mess around with underwear.
She agreed, but I could see she wasn't fully convinced.
Years ago, as part of our photographic fun, Bernie often bought dresses in second hand or charity shops that she would then wear for one of our shoots. They were all still in the upstairs wardrobe and there was one that I thought would be perfect for Karen. It was a full length red dress with what I believe is called an A-line skirting and the bodice was white lace and fairly see through. Karen had bigger boobs than Bernie, but I didn't think this would be a problem, in fact, it might enhance the photo. There were also a few cheap wigs that Bernie had picked up along the way. I was hoping these would provide enough disguise, should I use a photo with Karen's face in it.
Once I'd closed the bar on Saturday I'd planned on getting some sleep but found I was wired, both excited and nervous. I actually arrived early, around 3:30 but Karen was ready, looking out the window as I pulled up, quickly leaving her house in her buttoned up coat.
"I couldn't sleep,” Karen admitted. “It seems silly to be so nervous."
I told her I was also nervous, and that you'd never guess she'd been up all night, her face looked radiant and beautiful.
"Ah, thank you."
Karen and I were heading for a wilderness area about forty minutes out of town. There were a few trails there and I hoped we'd have it to ourselves. As I started driving ,we fell into easy conversation. Just small talk about nothing in particular, but I think it took both our minds off the photo shoot.
I hadn't been out this way in quite a while, and as I got onto a main road I gave an involuntary sigh, remembering when I was last there.
"What's the matter?" Karen inquired.
"After Bernie died, I found I couldn't sleep very well. Rather than take the sleeping pills the doctor gave me, I used to go driving at night, sometimes for hours on end. That was the last time I was on this road."
Karen put her hand on my knee, it felt both kind and comforting.