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 f****d 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 t**s 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
