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“The same company that owns the village owns this hotel, too. Not surprising I guess since they are both ‘Berisford.’ So I suppose that means good old Jeremiah J. Curlin himself owns this place, too.”
“Jeremiah who?” asked Morgan, wandering around the room.
“Jeremiah J. Curlin. He’s a respected client at HR Resources, but at present, he’s driving everyone mad, wanting to hire women aged eighteen to thirty to work at the village and only offering minimum wage so no one wants to work for him.”
“Minimum wage? That’s a bit rough. Those people were working hard. I wouldn’t like to be that blacksmith pounding metal bars in all that heat. Or those women bent over dipping candles,” said Morgan.
“We haven’t been to the houses yet, but I understand he’s having trouble finding young women to iron and bake there, too. It would be hard work on minimum wage. Plus there’s the hour commute each way,” she said thoughtfully.
“Remember in the bakery it said all the bread was baked fresh on site? That’s likely what the women in the houses have to do. They make their own butter and cheese, too, so maybe the women have to do that, too. That’s hard work, that sort of thing,” said Glenn.
“I just assumed they used modern technology for the butter and cheese. Churning butter isn’t easy to do. Well, so I’ve heard. I’ve never actually done it myself.” She laughed.
“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow when we get to that side of the village,” said Morgan, picking up the restaurant menus. “More importantly, which restaurant do you want to dine at tonight?”
They discussed their favorite meals for a while, and then Morgan checked on the water in the hot tub, and pronounced it full enough for them to get in.
Gratefully, Xonra shrugged out of her sweaty clothes, packing them into a laundry bag before following the others into the bathroom.
Glenn and Morgan were bickering about whether or not to add bubbles and scent to the water, so Xonra solved the argument by dumping in the entire bottle of lemon bubble bath.
“Aghh, I’ll stink like a girl,” moaned Morgan.
“It’s lemon, not a feminine scent,” explained Xonra.
“It’s not too bad, really,” added Glenn, holding a handful of bubbles up to his nose and sniffing.
“The guys at work will never let me live this down,” Morgan moaned again, but less stridently.
“I won’t tell on you,” Glenn soothed.
“You had a lemon scent on your own towels, so don’t try to tell me you don’t like it,” added Xonra.
She stepped into the tub and sank down into the water, almost purring as the heat soothed her muscles, muscles she was only just realizing were quite tense. Sitting with water almost to her neck, she drew in a deep breath of sharp, lemony scent, accompanied by heat and steam and man. “Wonderful,” she said.
They chatted quietly about the various things they’d seen, relaxing in the water, and planning the next day’s sightseeing. Several times, Xonra thought of talking to them about her vague niggling feelings about the village, but to do that seemed crazy, ungracious, and basically rude. There was no logic behind her feelings, no evidence. Why would she be privy to something wrong that hundreds of thousands of tourists hadn’t noticed? It wasn’t as though she was a trained observer or a spy or even a security guard.
Besides, what had she seen? A child disobeying his father? A schoolboy being chastised for bad behavior? Young women tired and hot after a hard day’s work? An employer who preferred sexy young chicks to older women on his staff? All one-hundred-percent normal. So why was that itch in her brain about Berisford Village?
Get a grip, woman. You’re naked in a hot tub with the two most delicious men on planet Earth and you’re thinking about work. Are you insane or something?
While they’d been soaking, the bubbles had dissipated and Xonra became aware of the men’s gaze fixed on her breasts, which were now clearly visible under the water. She stared down through the water and was pleased to notice two upstanding cocks.
“I could help you out with your problems,” she offered, glancing from the men’s cocks to their faces.
“I don’t want to waste it. I’d rather save it for a little later,” Morgan said huskily.
“Me, too.” Glenn slid across the tub and pulled her toward them both, holding her lightly in front of them, one hand trailing across her breast reverently.
The men looked at each other, nodded, and then spoke in tag-team fashion. “How do you feel about taking the two of us inside you?”
“Together.”
“Double penetration.”
Sweat broke out across Xonra’s forehead, her heart started to beat faster and harder, and a flood of cream dripped from her pussy. “I’ve been thinking about that. I want it so much.”
“You do?” A huge grin split Morgan’s face and he tugged her legs onto his thighs. “We’ll make sure you are properly ready for us. You will enjoy it, we promise.”
