Hello, my name is Deborah. I am twenty-four and I have followed Joshua, my better half, to Toulouse in France. He is an engineer with British Aerospace, detached with Airbus Industries. We have a lovely house in the Airbus Village and so far I have only socialized with English speakers, like the spouses of the German engineers, because my French isn't the best.
She picked it up with quite a blush, and returned it onto its small hook by the side of that cloth rack. I hadn't noticed it upon our arrival, although it wasn't actually hidden.
I was waiting at the Coiffure et Beauté Salon when I read in the Maisons et Jardins monthly. Vacances à la ferme. I understood that local farms are advertising holidays with full board at the family's table. Discounts were offered to guests helping out with farm work. I thought that it could be fun, and an opportunity to practice my French. The young hairdresser allowed me to pull out the page.
When Johnny was back from work, I told him about that advertisement and showed him the add of a mansion like farm. "They have horses for countryside riding, a tennis court and a large pool. They also offer a discount for helping out with farm work."
"Excellent, I'll relax and you work for a change!"
"I do work! I maintain our house, do the laundry and the shopping, cook our meals, and iron your shirts!"
"I was only teasing!"
"And you need more exercise than walking to your office's coffee machine."
"OK! I'll take a few days off by the end of the month. You make the booking!"
Three weeks later we loaded our Peugeot SUV and took the road to Peyzac in Dordogne, a département well known of British retirees.
After a two-hour drive, we discovered a lovely castle like farm set in the middle of fields and woods, and next to a large pond.
We were welcomed by a huge flock of geese and ducks. I remembered that we are in foie gras region, and had heard that geese aren't too friendly.
A young lady, probably no older than twenty-two, wearing a short summer dress, chased them with a broom made of twigs and greeted us. "You must be Monsieur et Madame Gillingham?"
"Yes, please call us Debbie and Josh!"
"Welcome to Montfort. I am Claudine de Montfort. I will show you to your room. You can unpack, refresh, and join us for lunch."
She helped with our bags, and we discovered a large room with a fourposter bed, antic furniture and an attached bathroom. It also had a great view of the pond with hundreds of ducks.
We joined our hosts for lunch. It was an impressive castle like dining room with a massive wooden table by a large fireplace. Claudine introduced her husband, who asked to be called Henri. In turn, he introduced his brother Charles and his wife Manon. Next, the men's father and mother joined us. They introduced themselves as Louis and Henriette. They looked like stern old aristocrats.
Josh asked about foie gras. "Your brochures say that you don't force feed."
Charles proudly answered. "That's right, we have an animal ethical label and an organic certification." Manon, his wife, who isn't much older than her sister-in-law, further explained. "The ducks are natural gluttons. They develop a fat liver on their own."
Henri mentioned. "Their livers are smaller, but it doesn't matter to us as we are dealing with the upscale market."
Claudine chimed. "Since our ducks are free range raised and not overly fat we also sell them to better cassoulet brands."
Louis, the men's father, crossed the t and dotted the i. "Force feeding is only about making money as fast as possible."
We had tasted their fine products and agreed. Henriette offered seconds. We indulged!
After lunch, Manon offered to take us on a tour of the castle by telling us its history. "It is quite expensive to maintain." With a mischievous smile, she added. "Since the Revolution, the Montforts are no longer allowed to raise taxes from the local farmers, so they became farmers themselves!"
There was a sudden draft, and a coat fell from a nearby coat rack with a surprising clatter. As Manon picked it up the coats, I saw the reason for that noise. It was a French martinet with a wooden handle and leather tongs.
As if trying to distract us from that embarrassing discovery, she hurriedly mentioned. "We have five guest rooms, but you are our only guests this week. It is the end of the season."
Claudine must have witnessed the scene, as she also had a blush when she took us on a tour of the grounds. Next were the stables, pool, tennis court and the ducks' hangar. Although it was half empty because most of the ducks were roaming around the pond, their quacking was deafening.
One of the huge fans decided that it was its turn to recycle the air, and Claudine's dress was briefly blown up. She immediately tugged it down. Josh seemed to have missed the incident, but I didn't. I saw reddish streaks escaping her knickers, and decorating her upper thighs.
For our first day, we took it easy by the pool. That night, while drifting asleep, I imagined that martinet decorating Claudine's bare bottom while her white knickers had dropped around her ankles. I woke up Josh for an encore. He was surprised, but he energetically soothed my urgent itch without asking questions. I shyly kept my naughty dream to myself.
Debbie and Josh
To be continued...
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