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Murder Mystery Weekend Pt. 01

By: AspernEssling



Part 1 will set up the situation and introduce the characters. If you're looking for the sex, there's some steam, but you'll have to be patient. I like a story and character development. As always, your comments and suggestions are most welcome. 

************** 

When Teresa invited me out for a coffee, I accepted quite happily. I had no idea that it was going to lead to one of the greatest weekends of my life. 

I first met Teresa at university, when we were seniors. It took me three months to convince her to go out with me, then three more months to persuade her to sleep with me. Teresa never did anything by halves: once we consummated the relationship, so to speak, she was well-nigh insatiable. We had sex everywhere, anywhere, anytime. 

But she was also a wonderful companion, and a superb conversationalist who frequently challenged me. Teresa was at least my intellectual equal, if not my superior. 

And she was beautiful. She had long auburn hair, flawless skin, full lips, and the most amazing expression. I don't quite know how to describe it: Teresa rarely showed her teeth when she laughed, or smiled. Instead, a half-smile would slowly grow and spread across her face, until she looked like the Mona Lisa's happier - and hotter - sister. 

As for her body - She was 5'8", with 37-23-35 measurements. I know, because I took her dress shopping. She was comfortable in the nude, so that I got to admire her naked form on many occasions. And that's all I'm going to tell you - for now. 

After a phenomenal, passionate year and a half, she dumped me. She kept it simple, straightforward, and brutally honest: 'You're not ready, Colin'. 

I wasn't sure what she meant: not ready for what? Marriage? Of course not. A serious relationship? I thought we were in one. 

She was probably right, though. I was still pretty immature. But I wasn't ready to give up hope that we could possibly have a second chance. Over the next year, she dated a couple of guys - nothing serious, though. I went out with a few girls, too, but they didn't last very long. It was impossible not to compare them with Teresa, and none of them could survive that. In the meantime, we remained good friends. We socialized frequently; many times just the two of us. 

There was no pretence between us. Teresa knew that I still wanted her. She made it plain that she wasn't interested in me that way. Instead, she would ask about whatever girl I might be seeing, or interested in. Teresa often had good advice for me in the dating department. I have to admit, it's a bit odd when your ex-girlfriend is helping you score with your next girlfriend. 

Teresa was waiting for me at the cafe, wearing a pair of very short white shorts, and a loose t-shirt. She saw me, and rewarded me with that patented smile. She stood up, greeting me with a kiss on both cheeks, and a warm hug that told me quite clearly that her wonderful breasts were not encumbered by a bra. 

I got a coffee, and joined her. Teresa had her laptop open on the table. 

"What's on your mind?" I asked her. 

- "Are you free Thanksgiving weekend?" she asked. (Canadian Thanksgiving falls on the 2nd Monday in October - it's always a long weekend) 

- "That's almost two months away." 

- "Put it on your calendar. You won't want to miss this." she said. 

- "Miss what?" 

- "Murder Mystery Weekend." said Teresa. 

I grinned. She was right: I would not want to miss that. When we were still a couple, we had co-hosted a murder mystery dinner. You may know the type: you can buy a boxed game version, or download one online. The guests all play a part, and try to uncover the identity of the murderer among them. People dress up, when the story has a theme, and most really get into the role-playing, or solving the mystery. For those who don't, there's good food, good company, and plenty to drink. 

- "Did you say weekend?" I asked. "A whole weekend? Where?" 

- "Eliza's cottage. The whole weekend." she said. 

- "I'm in." 

Teresa just smiled at me, as if to say 'Of course you are'. Damn right I was. Girls and costumes? Somebody was going to get lucky - hopefully me. And I had already been to Eliza's cottage. If you're picturing a rustic cabin in the woods, think again: it was more like a mansion by the lake. 

- "It was partly Eliza's idea. Her family are all away, and they asked her to close the cottage for the winter. You know: take the boat and the dock out of the water, clean up, close the boathouse." 

- "Many hands make short work." I said. 

- "Right. So Eliza thought she should invite a gang up, and make it into a party. Then Claire said the party should have a theme ..." 

- "God Bless her. So you suggested the Murder Mystery?" 

- "I most certainly did." said Teresa. 

- "Do you have one in mind?" I asked "All of the ones I saw before were for a dinner party - a single night. Are you looking for something that will stretch over the entire long weekend?" 

- "That's the plan." she said. 

- "Boxed version, or download?" 

Teresa shook her head. "I'm going to write it myself." 

"Really? Wow! I'm impressed." And I was. Teresa is a smart cookie. If anyone could pull it off, she could. "Do you need help? I mean - is there anything I can do to help you?" 

- "Since you mention it ... yes, I could use your help." 

- "Name it." I said. 

- "I need you to help persuade the other guests to get costumes. The better they dress up, the more they'll get into it, and the more fun it will be." she told me. 

- "Can do. What kind of costumes? What's the theme?" I asked. 

- "Pirate ship." said Teresa, and that half-smile crept across her face. 

- "Niiice." I liked the sound of that. "You mean skull and crossbones, Pirates of the Caribbean - that sort of thing?" I was picturing sexy pirate women in my head. 

- "Exactly. Buccaneers and freebooters. The women just as much as the men. Can you locate some good costumes for people who may not know where to look?" 

- "Costume rental company, theatrical suppliers - I can do that." I told her. 

- "Thanks." she said. "Then I also need your help to round out the guest list. I have nine so far, but we need eleven. People willing to dress up and role play, preferably - but also people who aren't tied down by family commitments. They have to be able to get away for Thanksgiving." 

- "Who do you have so far?" I wondered. 

- "You and me. Eliza, Claire, and Leo." 

I nodded. Eliza and Claire were best friends, inseparable since grade school. Leo was Claire's older brother, and my best buddy from high school. We were still close. 

"Ben, and Barbara." continued Teresa. 

I didn't nod this time. I knew Ben well, but didn't particularly care for him. He was good-looking and personable - which I didn't hold against him - but in the past, he had also gone after a few girls that I was actively pursuing. That didn't sit so well with me. He was also ultra-competitive, just like me. 

Barbara was a bit of a surprise choice. Teresa knew her from grad school, but I didn't think that they got along. Barbara was extroverted, high energy, and brazenly sexy. She talked loud, and lived large. 

- "Barbara?" I said, with one eyebrow raised. 

- "She'll be perfect." said Teresa. "And I've invited Craig, too." 

No problem there. I didn't know Craig very well, but he seemed to be one of those rare guys that everybody likes - a prince. A bit shy, but always ready to help out, never boastful or pushy. 

- "Good choice, if we can get him to dress up." I observed. 

- "That's your job." Teresa reminded me. 

- "That makes eight. And the ninth?" 

- "I think you'll like her. Her name is Lena, and she's studying here on exchange for a year. Professor Hand put her in my tutorial group, and asked me to keep an eye on her." 

- "Why you?" I asked. 'Because you're so warm and welcoming?" 

Teresa smiled. "No. Get this. He said: 'You two should understand each other. You're practically neighbours.'" 

- "Where is she from?" I asked. 

- "Slovenia." 

I had to laugh. Teresa was born in Romania, before her parents emigrated when she was about six. Romania and Slovenia are only about 1,000 kilometers apart. Say, 700 miles. And the languages? Slovenian is a Slavic language, while Romanian is Latin-based. 

- "Do you get along?" I asked her. 

- "We're fine." said Teresa. "She's sweet. But she's painfully shy because her English isn't very good yet. I already know that she'll be at loose ends for Thanksgiving, so I invited her. That just leaves two spots, and I'm fresh out of ideas." 

- "Has to be 11?" I asked. 

- "I've already written the parts." she confirmed. 

The first people Teresa had chosen were mostly friends of mine. I had introduced her to them, or we both knew them from grad school. I tried to think of people she might know who would fit the part. 

"Sheila." I suggested. 

- "The English teacher?" she said. "Would she be up for it?" 

- "She loves theatre. And she goes all out on Halloween." 

- "Single? Or in a relationship?" asked Teresa. 

- "I'm pretty sure she's single - but I'll double check." I said. 

- "I liked Sheila. If you can get her, that would be great. One more, Colin. Should be a male. For balance. And so I don't have to change a part." 

It took me several minutes, and a second coffee, to think of someone. 

"Eric?" I said it with some hesitation. 

I have to give her credit; Teresa didn't make a face. She had only met Eric once, and my old friend from 1st year political science had not covered himself in glory. At a dinner for six people, he arrived drunk, polished off another bottle of wine, and then passed out on our couch before the dessert could be served. 

- "Why Eric?" she asked. She was giving me a chance to convince her. 

I listed my reasons on my fingertips. "One, he's pretty bright, and he would probably love a murder mystery. Second, he's a history buff, so the pirate theme would work for him. Third, I don't think he has any close family, so he's definitely free for Thanksgiving. Fourth ... I think you might actually like him, if he wasn't passed out on the couch and ruining your dinner party." 

- "Maybe." she conceded. 

- "And fifth." I added. "I can't think of anyone else. I mean, I can think of lots of people who would enjoy the weekend, and the murder mystery ... it's just that so many of them have family obligations." 

- "Eric snores." said Teresa. 

- "I know." 

- "Alright." she said. "Eric it is. You can share a room with him." 

************ 

As I expected, Eric had no plans for Thanksgiving weekend. He found the whole concept a bit twisted. He understood the appeal of trying to solve the mystery, but not the costumes. 

- "You mean people dress up to do this shit?" he asked. 

- "They do indeed." I told him. "And so will you." 

- "Alright. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. There will be rum, right?" 

Sheila was a lot more enthusiastic, when she answered my phone call. 

- "And we get to dress up? Like pirates?" she asked. 

- "That's the plan." I agreed. 

- "I don't have to be a saucy wench, or a watery tart?" 

- "No." I laughed. "That's Monty Python, as you well know. This is Teresa we're talking about: women can be pirate captains, and swashbuckle like the men. If that's a word." 

- "What part do I get?" Sheila wanted to know. 

- "Teresa will be letting us know once we're all aboard." I said. 

- "Ooh - ship puns. Or is it that shit puns?" she said. "I better start practicing." She held the phone a few inches from her face, and let loose a loud 'Aaaaargh, matey!' With her deep, mannish voice, it sounded awesome. "I love the idea, Colin. You can tell her I'm in for sure." 

I called Teresa with the good news. 

- "Perfect." she said. "Thank you, Colin. We're almost ready to start. I'll send out the introduction and the character descriptions. But I'd like to use you as a guinea pig, if you don't mind. Can I show you what I'm planning to send the others, and get your feedback?" 

- "I would be glad to help." I told her. 

We met at the cafe again. Teresa greeted me warmly once again, and then turned her laptop around to show me the screen. 

- "Here's the intro." she said. 

For more than three decades, the dread pirate Redbeard terrorized the Caribbean, plundering and pillaging far and wide. No one was safe: Spanish, Dutch, English and French ships and towns were all targets of his insatiable greed and bloodlust. In the course of his far-flung depredations, Redbeard was said to have accumulated a considerable treasure hoard. According to legend, the old pirate was too paranoid to bury his ill-gotten gains on some deserted island. Instead, he carried them with him, aboard his pirate ship, the notorious Sea Demon. 

Finally, justice caught up with the dread pirate. An anonymous tip led the Governor of Jamaica's soldiers to the Mouldy Maggot, a dockside tavern where Redbeard and members of his crew were drinking and roistering while the Sea Demon rode at anchor in Kingston harbour. Thoroughly inebriated, Redbeard was easily overcome by the redcoats, and captured. His erstwhile crew scattered to the four winds. The Governor loaded the dread pirate with chains, and confiscated his ship, the Sea Demon. The vessel was appropriated by the Royal Navy, and re-christened HMS Retribution. 

The Governor has ordered Captain Teresa Fairwind to transport the prisoner to Bermuda, where he will face a swift trial and public execution. Captain Fairwind has been given the Royal Navy's newest vessel, HMS Retribution. A new crew was swiftly recruited from the experienced local sailors and sea-dogs. 

YOU are a member of the crew. 

Read the description of your character, and dress appropriately. Further instructions will be made available upon arrival. 

When I had finished reading, I looked up at her. 

- "What do you think?" she asked. 

- "Honestly?" 

- Aren't you always honest with me?" she asked, with that bewitching half-smile. It had been one of our favourite 'pet' phrases when we were dating. 

- "It's cute." I said. "A bit melodramatic, a bit campy - like an old Errol Flynn movie." 

- "That's fine." she said. "Kind of what I was aiming for." 

- "And you're the Captain?" 

She nodded. "I thought it would be easier than coming up with complicated instructions for one of the players. Speaking of which: here are your instructions." Teresa spun the laptop around, opened a new file, and then turned it back to face me again. 

You are NED MULLIGAN. 

- "Ned Mulligan?" I asked her. "Really?" 

- "Remember that time you took me golfing?" she reminded me. 

I did. Like most novices, Teresa missed the ball completely several times, but she also managed to knock three golf balls into the water, and hit two golf carts and a vending machine. She was able to laugh at herself, and enjoyed the outing, but she found the whole concept of a 'mulligan' fascinating'. 

- "You mean I get to hit it again?" she wanted to know. 

- "Yeah. Go ahead and tee it up again." I said. 

- "And it doesn't count as a stroke?" She looked at me sideways, squinting, as if suspicious that I was trying to trick her. 

- "That's the whole idea." I confirmed. 

- "Isn't that cheating?" she asked. 

- "You wouldn't do it in a tournament, or if you were playing for money. But it's only a friendly game, and I'm the one inviting you to take a mulligan. A do-over." 

Now she just smiled at me. "Keep reading." she said. 

As a young man, you were a pirate, and a member of Redbeard's crew. You were brave and clever, so that Redbeard made you one of his lieutenants. But he grew too bloodthirsty for your taste, and also promoted some unsavoury characters alongside you, including the Falcon, and the Scar. 

You chose to leave his crew, and jumped ship at Tortuga, taking a bag of doubloons with you. Redbeard swore revenge, and offered a bounty for your head. Both the Falcon and the Scar vowed that they would earn that bounty. The Scar, in particular, promised to drink a toast from your skull. You have been on the run ever since. 

You were in Kingston, Jamaica, and horrified to learn that the Sea Demon was in port. But you were equally delighted to learn of Redbeard's capture - serves him right. You hear the gossip in the dockside taverns: Redbeard's crew are all over the place. What if one of them recognizes you? The ship HMS Retribution is leaving for Bermuda. Is Redbeard's treasure still hidden aboard? 

You sign on as a sailor ... 

YOU HAVE - A PISTOL 

YOU KNOW: 

- THERE IS A PLOT TO FREE REDBEARD AND HELP HIM ESCAPE 

- THE FALCON IS ABOARD, DISGUISED AS A MEMBER OF THE CREW 

- THE TREASURE IS HIDDEN SOMEWHERE ABOARD THE SHIP 

- YOU ONCE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF A LETTER BELONGING TO REDBEARD. IT MAY HAVE CONTAINED THE SECRET OF THE TREASURE'S LOCATION. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU ONLY SAW ONE LETTER ... IT WAS THE LETTER 'C' 

- "There's a treasure, too?" I asked. "Or is that instead of a murder?" 

- "Both." said Teresa. "I'm going to space out the murder mystery clues, so that no one can solve it on the first day. But I thought a treasure made sense. This will keep people searching. Plus, we can have multiple winners - solving the mystery, or finding the treasure." 

- "Very clever." I told her. 

- "How about the character description? What do you think?" she asked me. 

- "Couldn't I be 'Wicked Ned', or 'Lusty Ned Longsword'?" 

- "You're Ned Mulligan." she told me, firmly. "Get used to it. If it's any consolation, that's your secret identity. Until somebody else guesses or uncovers who you really are, they'll only know you as Able Seaman Colin. Everybody will use their real name as an alias." 

- "How many letters are there in the treasure code?" I had to try. 

She wagged a finger at me. "No more clues for you. Seriously, Colin - what do you think?" 

- "I love it. The description gives me enough of an idea to base my character on. And I'm all pumped up to go out and get a costume. How does the pistol work? Do I have to get a replica pistol?" 

- "No." she said. "I'll put the items on pieces of paper, so that people can hide them in a pocket, or wherever." 

We discussed the mechanics of the game, without getting too specific. Knowing the people who were participating, I thought it would work well. I was more than looking forward to it: I was ready to start that very day. 

Teresa and I discussed the weekend and the game for a long time. We both had two large coffees, and were beginning to feel the effects of too much caffeine. 

- "Walk me home?" she asked. 

As we walked, we continued to discuss her ideas. She seemed quite taken with some of my suggestions, but wouldn't give me any hints about whether she planned to use them or not. 

- "And you'll help people get costumes?" she asked, again. 

- "I promised." I reminded her. 

- "I'll hold you to that." 

Just before we got to her apartment, Teresa stopped, and pointed to a park bench. 

"Can we sit here for a minute?" It was a lovely spot, opposite a pretty little park. The late summer day was bright and sunny, without the excessive humidity that had tortured us through the month of July. Yet I felt a sudden chill. 

We sat down together. Teresa slowly swept her long hair back, and turned to face me. 

"Colin, I have to tell you something." she said. Normally, I'm a pretty optimistic guy, but those words sounded like the footsteps of doom. I swallowed, and nodded. 

"I really, really appreciate your help with this." she continued. "And I'm looking forward to seeing how it will all turn out. But I have to tell you now: this weekend won't be about you and me. Do you understand?" 


Murder Mystery Weekend Pt. 01



I didn't understand at all, but I nodded as if I did. Teresa was watching me closely - did I mention that she was very bright? 

"We aren't going to be getting back together this weekend, Colin. I'm going to be very busy running the game, for one thing. And then there's Lena to look after - she won't know anybody else but me, at first. You could help me out there - be nice to her." 

"I want you to make this long weekend about you. Have fun. Solve the puzzles. Don't spend your time flirting with me, or going out of your way to be helpful. You don't have to try to impress me. I want you to just relax and enjoy yourself." 

"Flirt with the other women. Sleep with them." Teresa saw the look of surprise in my eyes. "I mean it, Colin. We've always been frank with each other on that subject. I don't want you to think about me romantically this weekend. Get drunk, if you want. Have a fling. Flings." 

- "This is one of the weirdest conversations I've ever had." I said. 

Teresa took me by the hand. "Colin, please. This is very important to me: tell me that you understand." 

- "I do. I get it." I told her. 

And I did understand. If I was busy chasing Teresa all weekend, trying to get back together with her, it would interfere with her running the murder mystery. It would also leave me frustrated; she was making it clear. 

But I did say that I was an optimist. I understood something else very clearly: Teresa said that we weren't 'going to be getting back together this weekend'. She also said that she didn't want me to 'think about her romantically this weekend'. 

Those were her exact words. 

Why would she specifically say 'this weekend'? Not once, but twice. She could have said that there was no chance of us getting back together, ever. Period. But she didn't. 

Which meant that there was hope for us yet. 

We parted with a hug, and a kiss on the cheek. Then I went on my way. I waited until she was out of sight before I started to smile. 

************** 

I offered to show Craig a good place to get costumes. But I had to practically threaten Eric to get him to show up. The three of us went to the Lido, the costume supplier for several downtown theatres. 

Some guys would roll their eyes at the thought of going into such a place. But Craig and Eric were pleasantly surprised. First of all, the place was immense, with an incredible selection. Second, the mannequins on display looked fantastic. There was a roman centurion, a renaissance courtier ... And third, most of the costumes were real. Not cheap plastic, not imitation, but real, quality cloth. 

Craig was impressed by a Captain Morgan outfit, but wouldn't rent it. 

- "That looks too fancy. I think I'm just a common sailor." He settled on an oversized, brightly coloured, striped shirt. It looked like a rugby jersey, to me, except that it had laces at the throat. He liked the look of a polka-dotted headscarf, too. 

We found him some black boots made out of soft leather, and a wide sash to wear around his waist. Black pants that he could tuck into his boots completed the outfit. 

- "I like the sash. Good for tucking a knife in, or hiding your driver's licence." I told him. 

- "Should I get an eye patch?" he wondered. 

Just then Eric came around the corner, with a bundle of clothing over his arm. He was wearing two eye patches - one over each eye. 

- "Where are you guys? Ahoy, mateys!" he called. 

Craig and I exchanged a look. 

- "Maybe not." he said. 

Eric fell in love with a dark grey thing that looked like a vest. It was long enough to reach below his knees. It might have been appropriate if we were doing a samurai murder mystery. 

But he had found a pair of boots from the Three Musketeers era, and a huge tricorne hat. I left Craig to help him find a shirt and pants, and wandered off to find my own costume. 

Some people would hesitate to spend $200 - or even $100 - on a costume. I'm not one of them. I've lost count of how many times I've spent that much on a fancy restaurant meal, or a sports event, or concert tickets. Some of those outings were memorable, others not so much. But a really cool costume can create a memory that will last a lifetime. 

I found what I wanted: a black coat with silver trim and enormous cuffs, a soft tricorne hat, soft black boots, and a wide black belt with an ornate silver buckle. Add a large white shirt with a high collar and black knee-breeches, and I was good to go. 

Perhaps a bit too splendid for Ned Mulligan, you might say. Too bad. Let the others think that I was some sort of gentleman pirate. A little deception can go a long way. Besides, when I tried it on, it felt remarkably good. And a glance in the mirror confirmed that it looked great, too. 

Eric had somehow found a scruffy grey beard. 

- "Doesn't this look awesome?" he asked me. 

- "It looks itchy." said Craig. 

- "How can you put a price on art?" retorted Eric. It made no sense, of course, but he never let that hold him back. 

- "You look like Captain Child Molester." I told him. 

- "Precisely!" he roared. "I'll take it!" 

I took them out for beer and wings afterwards. Craig turned out to be a decent guy, as I had anticipated. He found Eric funny, and we had a few laughs. 

My next excursion to the Lido was even more interesting. Leo wanted my help getting a costume. He also insisted that we go with his sister Claire, and Eliza, even though the two of them were more than capable of shopping for costumes by themselves. I had promised Teresa, so off I went. 

Leo has been a close friend since high school. We know just about everything there is to know about each other, with two glaring exceptions. 

We have acted as each other's wingman on a hundred occasions. My buddy Leo is outgoing, dresses well, and exudes confidence. He is utterly fearless, and will approach the best-looking woman in the place. Bar, club, party, any social situation whatsoever - it makes no difference. And he strikes out every single time. 

You see, Leo is 5' 5", has the body of Pee Wee Herman, and a face that only a mother could love. Yet when he looks in the mirror, Leo sees something completely different. Believe me, I've tried to tell him. I have suggested that he adjust his sights, and try to hit on the second best-looking woman he sees. I've tried to set him up with a less glamorous girl, or find him someone 'in his league', so to speak. No dice. He rejected all of my suggestions - they weren't good enough for him. 

The odd thing is, Leo has had a crush on Eliza since we were in high school. Eliza is his sister's best friend. And she's about the farthest thing from the type of woman he usually pursues as you could possibly imagine. 

Eliza is tiny. She might be 5' 1'', as she claims, but I doubt it. She has straw-coloured hair and cute freckles. In my opinion, Eliza is quite pretty when she smiles (which she does a lot). She may be small, with no ass or hips to speak of, but she proudly carries a sizeable chest. Her boobs are probably not that large, but on her diminutive frame, they look huge. I've always thought of a pigeon when I see her in profile. 

She's a wonderful girl, and a good friend. We all called her "Ee". I just can't understand how Leo could obsess over her for a decade without approaching her once, while he has no hesitation at all when it comes to supermodels. I've never told him to give up his illusions. 

The other thing I've never told Leo is that I would love to fuck his sister. 

Claire is not the brightest bulb in the package, if you get my drift. Sometimes, you open the fridge door, and the light doesn't come on. She also has an annoying nasal laugh, that sounds a bit like the neighing of a horse. To top it all off, Claire has a sizeable gap between her front teeth. 

But Claire has long, dark hair, and a cute face, even with the gap in her teeth. And she has a body that would make a bishop horny. High, pert breasts - I think they're 34Bs - a slim waist, swelling hips, and an ass like an apricot. Round, tight, and juicy sweet. She dresses well, like her brother, and when she doesn't overdo the make-up, Claire looks quite good. 

She has given me signs, over the years, that she was interested. There was a party, one time, when we were dancing. I can't forget the song: it was 'Love is the Drug', by Roxy Music. In my defence, it's a damn sexy song. Watching Claire sway to the music was mesmerizing. When she turned around and began flexing that shapely little ass, I was lost. 

We ended up on the couch, with her sitting on my lap. The lights were low, and we necked for a while, with a little groping. Then we heard Leo coming down the stairs, and leapt apart as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water on us. 

I didn't want to date Claire, and I don't believe that she was interested in a relationship either. Neither of us wanted to deal with her protective brother. We were a bit wary around each other after that. But there was no denying that the sexual chemistry had been there. 

I met the three of them downtown. We exchanged hugs and greetings. 

- "Ee," I said, "it's really nice of you to host us all for the long weekend." 

- "Are you kidding?" she replied. "You guys are doing me a favour. I can't close the cottage by myself. As for the murder mystery, Teresa is doing all of the work." 

- "It's going to be so much fun!" enthused Claire. Was she looking at me when she said that? 

- "Epic." said Leo. "C'mon, wingman - let's get this show on the road." 

It was fun. Leo found his costume quickly, because he knew exactly what he wanted: Jack Sparrow. I tried to talk him out of it, but for once, Leo was right. He looked like Johnny Depp's shorter and uglier brother, but he did bear a bit of a resemblance to Keith Richards. He also insisted on every accessory he could find, stuck in his belt, tucked into his sash, or somehow dangling from his coat. He looked like some kind of pirate Christmas tree. 

The overall effect was quite comical, but the more I looked at it, the more I began to think that it might work. The girls laughed, of course. But then Eliza said: "You look great!". Leo turned to me with a look of pure triumph, and preened like a peacock. 

With his gear stowed away, we could then turn to a more enjoyable pastime: watching the two girls try on costumes. Eliza didn't think she could pull off a pirate, and they didn't have much in her size anyway. But then she had an idea. 

- "What if I went as a tavern wench? A tempting trollop, or something like that?" 

- "A tempting trollop?" I echoed. "Did you just say that?" 

- "Shut up Colin. You know what I meant." She punched my arm playfully. 

Eliza tried on a couple of costumes, each of which featured low-cut tops. I'm not ashamed to say that Leo and I both stood up to get a better view. 

She found a pair of high-heeled leather boots, and a brightly-patterned skirt, with a fluffy petticoat. Then she uncovered a broad leather belt, and a supple leather vest. It was probably a couple of sizes too big for her, but she needed room for her oversize chest, and the belt held it all together. The piece de resistance, though, was the frilly white shirt. It left her shoulders bare, and revealed a considerable expanse of her bosom. 

Leo and I were too afraid to say anything. She looked ... scorching hot. Did I mention that costumes were an aphrodisiac? If this had really been the 17th century, I would have wanted to take her into a back room, bend her over, flip up her skirts, and fuck her from behind like a madman. Forget the 17th century - I wanted to do that now. I glanced at Leo. From the look on his face, he was having similar thoughts. 

Claire saved us. "Oh, Ee - that's it. That one." Her neighing laugh broke the spell. The girls went for a closer look in a mirror. 

"Ho-ly shit." whispered Leo. 

- "Amen, brother." I whispered back. 

Luckily for me, Eliza kept her provocative costume on while Claire continued to go in and out of the change room. Lucky, because Leo's attention was occupied while his sister put on a show. And what a show. The little minx kept trying on more and more revealing combinations. 

Claire found a scarlet head scarf, and a huge pair of hoop earrings. She really liked a dark red skirt with black trim, and liked it even better when she pulled up one side and tucked it into her little belt. This revealed one leg to the knee, but the other leg was uncovered to mid-thigh. If you're old enough to remember Cyd Charisse, you can imagine what Claire looked like. 

She added a little black bustier with laces that looked like crossed bones, attached to skull-shaped buttons. She found another shirt like Eliza's, with short, puffy sleeves, that left her shoulders and upper chest bare. She wasn't showing much cleavage, but the little bustier lifted her boobs and thrust them forward. That's when I noticed the magic of the shirt she wore. It did nothing to hide her breasts. Instead, it simply accentuated their shape. 

Claire looked incredible. Just looking at her made me think of sex. I would have to rethink my costume, if I was going to have an erection most of the weekend. 

- "Jesus, Claire!" said her brother. "How much skin you gonna show?" 

She struck a pose, with one hand on her hip. "I didn't hear you complain about Ee's costume." she said. 

Eliza and I moved a bit further away, to let the siblings have one of their traditional arguments. 

- "Is this too revealing? What do you think, Colin?" Eliza asked me, indicating her costume. 

- "Ee, you look fantastic." I answered. "Very, very sexy. A tempting trollop indeed." 

- "What about you? What are you going to get?" 

- "Already did." I told her. "It's at home." 

- "Aww." she said. "You get to see ours, but we don't get to see yours?" 

- "You will." 

If Eliza and Claire were going to look like this, I could only imagine what the four other women would be wearing. I was going to be rock hard the whole weekend. 

************* 

The days crawled by. I saw just about everybody on the list in September, individually or in small groups. But it proved impossible to find an occasion when all 11 of us were free. 

Finally, Thanksgiving weekend loomed. Leo and I both skipped off that Friday. We packed our overnight bags and the costumes in the backseat, along with some food supplies Teresa had asked us to pick up. 

Then we went shopping for the booze. Everybody had given us their requests. We got six cases of beer (two-fours, in Canadian slang), and three cases of wine. I wasn't sure that we had enough wine. Then we added a case of liquor. Most of it was rum, or flavoured rum, but there was also vodka, tequila, scotch, and even a bottle of peppermint schnapps (Leo was on a schnapps kick). 

- "Schnapps?" I asked him. "For pirates?" 

- "It won't go to waste." he said. "Just imagine that we're sailing past some German island." 

As you can probably guess, geography and history weren't Leo's strong suits. 

- "You psyched?" he asked me. 

- "Just a little." I admitted. 

While he was rearranging things in the backseat, I saw that Leo had packed a box of 12 condoms in his overnight bag. 

- "Somebody's optimistic." I commented. 

- "Hey - Be Prepared. That's my motto." 

- "You have about 100 mottos, Leo." I said. 

- "You can never have enough mottos." he replied. 

- "That's 101." 

I didn't kid him too much about the condoms. After all, I had packed a dozen of my own. I was hoping for an epic weekend, too.



Murder Mystery Weekend Pt. 02



Friday 

Leo and I got off to an early start, beating most of the holiday traffic. We arrived at Eliza's cottage by mid-afternoon. She and Claire were already there, and so were Teresa and her friend Lena. All four of them came out to greet us, and to help us unload. 

Teresa introduced us. 

- "Colin, Leo - this is my friend Lena." 

- "Umm ... hi." was the best I could manage. It took me another moment to gather my wits. You see, Teresa had neglected to mention that Lena was tall. Like, over 6 feet tall. (I learned later that she was 6'1") She was remarkably attractive, with long, straight blonde hair, big brown eyes, and those classic east European features: a narrow face, accentuated by long, straight hair, and high cheekbones. 

- "Hello." she said, offering me her hand. "I have heard much about you." Then she corrected herself. "Teresa tell me much about you." If Lena was learning to speak English, she had a lot of work to do, but her accent was quite appealing. 

- "You too." I said, shaking her hand. "I mean, Teresa has also told me about you." Damn, I was having trouble concentrating. If her pretty face wasn't enough of a distraction, she had long arms, and incredibly long legs. She made Eliza look like a hobbit. 

Leo was no better. He just stared, with his mouth open. I gave him a nudge. "Let's get the car unloaded." 

Eliza's cottage was a very large 2 storey, 4 bedroom house, with an attached garage and a basement. It was more like a house than a cottage. Leo and I carried the beer downstairs, where there was a second fridge specifically for the chilling of sudsy beverages. 

Upstairs, Teresa inspected the wines we had brought, and gave our selections the seal of approval. "Great job, guys." she said. 

Eliza was going through the liquor bottles. "White rum, dark rum, spiced rum ... yeesh! Did you get enough rum?" 

- "If you need more, we can make a liquor run tomorrow." said Leo. 

Eliza rolled her eyes. "I was being sarcastic." she said. 

- "So was I." said Leo. 

- "Can we do anything to help?" I volunteered. 

- "We've got everything under control here." said Teresa. 

- "How about outside?" I asked Eliza. "Did you want the grass cut?" 

- "That's right. "answered Eliza. "You've been here for closing before. Sure, the grass needs to be cut this weekend. Might as well do it now, if you're willing." 

- "I'll help him." said Leo. 

We got the lawnmower out of the garage, and filled it up with gas. 

- "Did you see that girl?" he said. 

- "Lena? Pretty face, right?" 

- "Face? I couldn't see that high! Christ, her tits were over my head." said Leo. 

Eliza's cottage sat on two acres of prime lakefront land. There was a copse of trees behind the house, but most of the grass was out front, between the house and the lake. There was a boathouse and a dock, and a large stone patio with a firepit and a massive barbecue. Overlooking that was a large deck, adjacent to the kitchen. Still, there was quite an expanse of grass to cut. It took us well over an hour, with Leo taking over about halfway. I used the trimmer while he finished up. 

By the time we were done, we were both a bit sweaty. I realized then that with 11 people staying over, hot showers were not going to be easy to come by. 

- "Feel like a swim?" I asked him. 

- "You nuts? It'll be fuckin' freezing in there." 

I explained the shower issue. "Besides," I said, "it'll be a great way to wake up in the morning. Hell, we'll have to go in tomorrow to get the dock out." 

- "Somebody will have to go in tomorrow." said Leo. "Why do you assume that person is going to be me? Even if I have to go in, I can wait. For now, I'm grabbing a shower." 

Undeterred, I changed into shorts for swimming, and got my towel. There was no point in delaying the inevitable: I dove off the end of the dock. It was cold enough to make me catch my breath, but as I surfaced and began treading water, I realized that it wasn't that bad. Our unseasonably warm summer had phased into an unusually warm autumn. 

Teresa and Lena had heard the splash, and were standing on the deck when I emerged. 

- "How is it?" called Teresa. 

- "Better than I expected." I told her. "Too cool for swimming, but a quick dip won't cause heart failure." 

She laughed, and then translated for Lena. As I dried off, another car arrived. It was Craig, arriving with Ben. Eric was with them. I shook hands with all three, and thanked Craig for bringing Eric, as I had asked him to. 

- "No problem. Glad to." he replied. 

- "Hope you're ready to go, Colin." said Ben. "Of course, I'm going to win this thing, but it's always better if you make it a challenge." 

- "I'll try my best." I answered. I was never quite sure how to take Ben. In my humble opinion, he was an arrogant asshole. But others seemed to like him, so I might have been wrong. 

It was the first time up here for all three, so Eliza eventually took them on a quick tour of the outside of the house. I went inside to change into jeans and a t-shirt. I found everybody gathering in the kitchen. The guys had brought food, which had to be unpacked, and no one objected when Leo suggested a round of drinks. 

I did notice one thing: there was a piece of paper taped to the kitchen wall. On it were listed the names of everyone who was participating in our weekend. Curiously, they were numbered. I was struck by that, and by the order we were in. 

1- CLAIRE 

2- ELIZA 

3- LEO 

4- CRAIG 

5- BARBARA 

6- BEN 

7- ERIC 

8- SHEILA 

9- LENA 

10- COLIN (me) 

Curious - why had Teresa left herself off the list? Why was I last? Teresa had not compiled this list when she first told me about her idea; if she had, Sheila and Eric would have been the last two names. Teresa didn't do things 'by accident'. There was a clue here. 

Sheila arrived next. I went out to greet her with Eliza. 

- "You found it OK?" asked Eliza. 

- "GPS got me close, but your directions were spot on." replied Sheila. I should mention at this point that Sheila has the deepest, gruffest voice I have ever heard from a female. People usually do a double-take the first time they hear her speak, and then they still turn their heads the second time they hear her. Her voice is also raspy, which is part natural, and partly the consequence of years of heavy smoking. 

Sheila has short, punky hair, which she likes to style in spikes, or absurd waves. She also likes to dye it; today's colour was green. It's a bit funny, considering that she's a high school English teacher. Apparently the School Board doesn't object to spiked purple or orange hair, or to tattoos either - Sheila has seven of them, two of which I have not seen. 

She's handsome, rather than pretty. She sounds like a man, and could probably pass for one. Her face is all sharp angles, and she is completely flat-chested. She has no hips to speak of, and she prefers loose, shapeless clothing, so I couldn't tell you anything about her ass. She shops in second-hand clothing stores, and finds unusual bargains. 

It may sound odd, but I had a crush on Sheila through most of first year (before I met Teresa). See, Sheila is a sweetheart, as generous as she is smart. She also has amazing green eyes, and a certain 'je ne sais quoi', as the French would say. I can't explain it. 

- "Nobody's dressed up yet?" she asked. 

- "Not until everyone's here." I told her. "Teresa has plans, but she won't tell anyone anything." 

- "This is going to be such fun!" said Sheila. "Thank you for hosting us, Eliza." 

- "My pleasure." said Ee. "Let me show you around." 

Barbara arrived last. That girl was constantly late. One day, she would be late for her own funeral. But, as she liked to say, she was 'worth the wait'. I was in the garage when she pulled in, gathering the tools we would need tomorrow, for taking the dock out of the water and closing the boathouse. That meant I was the first to greet her. 

She had changed her clothes before getting into the car, that much was for sure. There was no way that she could have gone out in public with what she was wearing - not without getting arrested for indecent exposure. She had on a short denim skirt that covered very, very little. On top, she was wearing a white shirt, knotted just under her magnificent breasts. Her lacy black bra showed through quite plainly. 

I wouldn't have been surprised if you told me that Barbara purchased her bras from a parachute manufacturer. She had extra-large hooters, and went to great pains to make sure that everyone knew it. The rest of her body was nothing special.  

But Barbara's face was like the Portrait of Dorian Gray: it revealed every vice and every sin that she had ever committed, considered, or even contemplated. She wore just that little extra bit of eye make-up, and her lipstick was always freshly applied. She was far from shy. I have to give her this much credit: Barbara was no home-wrecker. Guys in relationships were perfectly safe from her attentions. But single men - and, if the rumours had any truth to them, single women - were certainly fair game. 

Teresa let Barb greet everyone and get settled in. Perhaps half an hour later, she called us all together. By then, most of us were on our second or third drink. Anticipation was growing, and tongues were beginning to wag more freely. 

"Welcome, everyone!" said Teresa. "I want to thank our hostess, Eliza, for sharing her wonderful cottage and providing us with a place to play." 

- "You can pay me back tomorrow." responded Eliza. 

Teresa carried on. "The main floor of the house will be our main deck. The kitchen will be our communal galley." She turned to point in the opposite direction. "The master bedroom - thanks again, Ee - will henceforth be the Captain's cabin. As such, it is off limits to you scurvy dogs. Except for Lena, who will be sharing it with me." 

That led to a chorus of "Ooohs", led by Ben and Barb. 

- "Not like that." said Teresa. There is a bathroom off the master bedroom, if the need is urgent. Otherwise, there is a very large bathroom upstairs, and another downstairs. Upstairs will now be known as the upper deck, and that is where most of you will be bunking. There are four bedrooms: Eliza and Claire get the first, Barb and Sheila share the second. Gentlemen, you are at the end of the hall. Ben and Craig will share, and Leo bunks with Eric." 

Leo looked at me, mildly concerned. He was a fussy sleeper, and did not know Eric well. 

- "Teresa - sorry." I interrupted. "I thought you had me rooming with Eric." 

- "I drew lots among the guys, Colin - and you lost. You'll be camping in the den, right over there. I brought along an air mattress and a sleeping bag." The den was on the other side of the stairs from the master bedroom. 

Teresa then led us downstairs. "This area will be known as the hold." she said. There was a bathroom, and a very large games room, featuring a pool table and a ping pong table (or table tennis, if you prefer). Further off, there was a storage room, and a laundry room. 

That is where Teresa led us. "This room is off limits." she said, indicating the laundry room. "It is the brig. This is where the dread pirate Redbeard is imprisoned. As Captain Fairwind, I will have the only key. Redbeard will not be leaving this room until we arrive in Barbados - for his hanging." 

"As for outside - for our purposes, everything between the house and the dock is considered part of the ship. That includes the deck, leading outside from the kitchen, the garage, the patio, and the boathouse. Your cars are not considered part of the ship. If you need to go back to your car, you are out of character there." 

"I have a copy here of your character sketch and the introduction, in case you've misplaced yours. These envelopes also contain some new instructions, as well as any items or money that you may be carrying." 

"We're ready to begin. I want everyone to go and put on their costume. Then get yourself a drink, and we will gather on the main deck. Claire - here's your envelope. Eliza ..." 

I was last - Teresa was sticking to the order she had posted in the kitchen. She handed me my envelope, with that lovely half-smile on her face, and whispered: "Good luck." 

I grabbed my gear, and headed for the den. Once inside, with the door closed, I opened my envelope. It had a copy of the information she already given me. 

You are NED MULLIGAN 

As a young man, you were a pirate, and a member of Redbeard's crew. You were brave and clever, so that Redbeard made you one of his lieutenants. But he grew too bloodthirsty for your taste, and also promoted some unsavoury characters alongside you, including the Falcon, and the Scar. 

You chose to leave his crew, and jumped ship at Tortuga, taking a bag of doubloons with you. Redbeard swore revenge, and offered a bounty for your head. Both the Falcon and the Scar vowed that they would earn that bounty. The Scar, in particular, promised to drink a toast from your skull. You have been on the run ever since. 

You were in Kingston, Jamaica, and horrified to learn that the Sea Demon was in port. But you were equally delighted to learn of Redbeard's capture - serves him right. You hear the gossip in the dockside taverns: Redbeard's crew are all over the place. What if one of them recognizes you? The ship HMS Retribution is leaving for Bermuda. Is Redbeard's treasure still hidden aboard? 

You sign on as a sailor ... 

YOU HAVE - A PISTOL 

YOU KNOW: 

- THERE IS A PLOT TO FREE REDBEARD AND HELP HIM ESCAPE 

- THE FALCON IS ABOARD, DISGUISED AS A MEMBER OF THE CREW 

- THE TREASURE IS HIDDEN SOMEWHERE ABOARD THE SHIP 

- YOU ONCE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF A LETTER BELONGING TO REDBEARD. IT MAY HAVE CONTAINED THE SECRET OF THE TREASURE'S LOCATION. UNFORTUNATELY, YOU ONLY SAW ONE LETTER ... IT WAS THE LETTER 'C' 

But there was more. 

Teresa had included a small square of parchment, with the word 'Pistol' written on it with a fine calligraphy pen. And there was another note in the envelope. 

- YOU REMEMBER THE SECRET RECOGNITION SIGNAL OF REDBEARD'S CREW: THREE FINGERS PLACED AGAINST THE RIGHT EARLOBE 

I read everything through one more time, but there was nothing new except for the pistol, and the last clue. 

There was no need to rush; the girls would take a while to get dressed and apply makeup. I decided to blow up the air mattress first. When that was done, I took out my costume and got dressed. 

Craig and Eric were already in the living room. Craig had his striped shirt deckhand look; Eric was still wearing that ridiculous beard. I went downstairs to get us all another beer. 

Claire was the first of the ladies to join us. If anything, she looked even hotter than she had that day at the Lido. It was a bit awkward for a moment, with three guys leering at her. Craig found a voice first. 

- "Wow, Claire. You look ... awesome." he said. 

Lena emerged from the Captain's cabin. She had a scarf, or a veil, covering her head and half of her face. Her top looked like a frilly bandeau, covering her breasts, but not much else. She wore a long black skirt with gold tassels. She had some flimsy, translucent veils hanging from her shoulders, but they did nothing to hide all of that delectable skin. Between the bandeau and the skirt, her midriff was bare - and there was a lot of uncovered torso to be seen. She was so damned tall ... 

She looked a bit like a gypsy fortune-teller, or the girl from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. This time, I remembered my manners first. 

- "Lena! That looks amazing. Where did you get your costume?" 

- "Teresa take me. It is OK?" 

- "More than OK." I reassured her. "You look wonderful." 

Ben made his grand entrance down the stairs. I don't know where he got his costume, but it wasn't from the Lido. Ben was dressed like ... Assassin's Creed. White hood, extra long black leather vest, with a black leather crossbelt. He had a long white shirt, with blue trim, wrist guards, and high leather boots. OK - I admit it - he looked pretty cool. But Assassin's Creed? Really? 

Eliza and Sheila came down together. I had already seen Ee's costume, but I was certainly not tired of looking at it. Sheila, though, had gotten quite creative. She had a black kerchief on her head, and long dark hair hanging down to her waist. It was a wig! She also had a white lace shirt that left her shoulders bare, a lace-up corset, and a burgundy-coloured skirt down to her ankles. She had a petticoat, too, but it was transparent. When she lifted her skirts, you could see quite a bit of leg over the top of her high-heeled, lace-up boots. Add to that a black velvet choker ... and Sheila looked pretty good. 

- "Fantastic." I told her. "You look sexy and dangerous at the same time." 

- "Good." she said. "That's kind of what I was hoping for." 

- "Love the wig, too." I added. 

- "You would." 

Leo finally came down, in his Jack Sparrow costume. He got a round of applause. I had to laugh - he had added the eye makeup. 

Then Teresa came out, and she got applause, too. My ex was very, very smart: she didn't try to upstage any of the players. Her costume was deliberately less sexy than any of the others. She had a tricorne hat, and a really cute dress that looked like a gentleman's long coat, except that it ended in a skirt. It was burgundy colour, with wide black lapels and large brass buttons down the front. Her white shirt was buttoned at the neck, so that she showed no cleavage whatsoever. The shirt had wide, elaborate lace cuffs. The skirt reached to her knees, but high boots and a thick, frilly petticoat meant that she was showing only a couple of inches of skin. For a final touch, she had a replica pistol tucked into a broad black belt. 

Compared to Claire and the others, Teresa's costume made her look like a pirate Mother Superior. She was attractive and authoritative, without the blatant, outrageous sexuality of the others. It suited her, somehow, as if she truly belonged in another century. Understated, yet effective. 

- "Very, very impressive." I told her. 

- "Thank you." she said, with her classic half-smile. "Are we all here?" she asked. 

- "Everyone except Barbara." said Eliza. 

- "Ah. Well, then - everybody should make sure that they have a fresh drink." said Teresa. 

Barbara was last, of course. No one was surprised. She got to make her grand entrance. And she still managed to exceed our expectations. 

Barbara wore a long coat - yes, burgundy-coloured. What was it with that colour for pirate costumes? The wide lapels were black, and the lining of her coat featured a swirling pattern of black and gold. She had a white shirt with cuffs like Teresa's, but the resemblance ended there; Barbara's neckline was scandalously low, showing an insane amount of cleavage. I wanted to get a ruler or a tape measure and stick my hands in there. 

She had a tight little corset lifting and supporting her large boobs, and a gold chain around her neck. There may have been a pendant attached, but I couldn't see one, as it disappeared into the enormous crevasse between her tits. Her belt had a large, ornate brass buckle. Her legs were snugly sheathed in black tights, tucked into knee-high black high-heeled boots. On top, she had a wide-brimmed black felt hat with a fake ostrich feather. 

And would you believe it: she was wearing an eyepatch. 

Barbara must have spent hours combing all of the costume shops to find the most outrageously sexy components they had. She also wore makeup to match - lots and lots around her eyes. She came down the stairs, slowly, and struck a pose. 

I would have bet a sizeable fortune that every guy there was hard as a rock. It wasn't just Barbara - though she could have cause a riot in a monastery - it was the combined effect of six very attractive women dressed to match a variety of male fantasies. 




Murder Mystery Weekend Pt. 02



- "Wonderful!" said Teresa. "Let's get started." 

We all made space, and ceded the centre stage to her. 

"We are playing fast and loose with history here. Imagine a time when women could be pirates, and just as bloodthirsty and ferocious as the men - if not more." That got a hoot of agreement from the ladies, and when Sheila chimed in with a deep-voiced 'Aaargh!', everyone laughed. 

"You can all use your real names as an alias." continued Teresa. "Everyone here has a secret identity. One of your tasks is to find out everyone else's secrets, without giving away all of your own. Everyone here is in disguise. That might explain why you will not recognize former shipmates, or even old friends. Later on, there will be a murder, and you will try to discover the identity of the killer among you. Finally, there is that rumour about a treasure ..." 

"Last rule. Everyone must return their character instruction sheets to me. I will keep them safe, and you can return at any time to consult your own instructions. You may also, if you wish, write down any piece of information on those sheets - but you can't keep the originals." 

"The reason for that is very simple: you could easily prove to someone that you're telling the truth, just by showing them your secret instructions. This way, you will have to convince them, without any paper to back you up. No one, except me, of course, will ever know if you are truly trustworthy ..." 

I saw heads nodding around the room. There were gamers among us, who certainly appreciated Teresa's little ploy. 

"Then ... we are ready to begin." 

- "Wait." said Ben. "Who's been murdered?" 

- "No one." said Teresa. "Yet ..." 

She gave us one hour to circulate, and to talk to other players, while dinner was being prepared. Leo and I got barbecue duty. We were going to cook up shish kebabs, cubes of beef or chicken on skewers, with green and red peppers, onions, zucchini and so on. By some sort of unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned our characters, or the mystery roles. There were too many people hovering around. 

- "I've got this." said Leo. "Go talk to people. Or get me another beer. Or both." 

I took the hint, and moved away. Ben was standing by myself, so I approached him. He was the person I least wanted to talk, so I decided to get it over with early. 

- "Great costume." I told him. 

- "Thanks. You look alright, too." 

- "What do you think, so far?" I asked him. 

- "Are you kidding? Did you see Barb? Or Claire? Shit, all of them look incredible." 

- "I hear you. Lena, too. She makes me wish I was six foot four." 

- "In your dreams." he laughed. I was barely 5'10". 

Then he transferred his beer to his left hand, and raised his right hand to scratch his ear. Ben looked right at me, and touched three fingers to his ear lobe. It was the recognition signal for Redbeard's crew. For a moment, I considered replying in kind. Instead, I played dumb. 

Ben narrowed his eyes and looked at me suspiciously. I'm not sure if I passed his scrutiny, but he gave it up and changed the subject. 

I moved off, and settled next to Eric, who was cradling a rum punch while he looked out over the lake. I guess the beard was itching him, or maybe interfering with his drinking: he had pulled it down so that it circled his neck. 

- "You look like an Amish pirate." I said. 

- "An improvement, then? Never mind. I gladly accept your compliment." he answered. 

- "Is that you speaking, or your character?" I asked. 

- "Why can't it be both?" 

Just for the hell of it, I used the recognition signal that Ben had tried out on me. Eric didn't even flinch. 

- "You're not a pirate, are you?" I asked. 

- "Depends." he said. "Are you the Falcon?" 

Interesting. That was one name I had to fear. "No. I have to watch out for him, too. Or her." 

- "So you're the one called the Scar?" Eric asked me. 

- "Nope. Not me either." 

- "Cool nicknames, though." he said. "I'm glad you invited me. This could be a lot of fun. So then you're here to rescue Redbeard?" 

I shook my head. "No. Far as I'm concerned, he can stay right where he is." 

- "Really?" said Eric. "And you're not the Falcon?" 

- "Said I wasn't." Just then I saw Lena come out onto the patio. She looked around rather hesitantly. Mindful of Teresa's request, I decided to be polite. 

- "Your costume is wonderful." I said. "You look very exotic." From the expression on her face, I don't think she understood me. Keep it simple, stupid, I reminded myself. There was no internet service at the cottage, or I might have tried to find an online English-Slovenian dictionary. Lena was smiling at me tentatively, a drink in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. 

- "Why do you have a paper?" I asked her. 

- "Ah. My instructions." she said. 

- "Really? You must be the only one who still has them. Did Teresa forget to take them from you?" 

Lena shook her head. "No. Teresa give them to me." She showed me the paper. I needn't have worried about sneaking a peek at her secrets; they were written in Slovenian. I think. 

- "What does your language sound like, Lena? Can you say something for me?" 

- "What I should say?" she asked. 

- "Anything. Read me your instructions - I won't understand anything, anyway." 

Lena smiled, and started reading. It was quite funny, really. Lena read slowly, and enunciated very clearly, as if there was a chance that I might understand. I did catch 'piratsko' more than once - but that was about it. She did have a lovely voice, though. And while I watched her, I decided that her face was quite beautiful. But she was so damned tall! 

I excused myself a few minutes later, and went inside to get a couple of beers. I ran into Craig coming up the stairs, with a beer in each hand. On impulse, I gave him the pirate recognition signal. His face lit up. Craig tucked one of the beer bottles under his arm, and placed three fingers against his earlobe. Only then did he look around to see if anyone was observing us. 

- "You too?" he asked. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "You here to rescue Redbeard?" 

I wasn't expecting that, but I responded fairly quickly. "Depends. Nice to know I'm not alone. But we'll need some weapons to pull it off." 

- "You're right." he agreed. "I'll let you know if I come across any. You'll do the same?" 

- "Absolutely." I said. Nice to know. Unless Craig was a far more accomplished liar than he appeared to be, he had just told me that he didn't have a weapon. 

I returned to the patio and handed Leo a beer. Teresa was there. 

- "Colin, could you do me a favour?" she asked. "Would you go downstairs for me? There's a red cooler down there, next to the pool table. Could you fill it with beer, and some of those vodka drinks? There are a couple of bags of ice in the freezer. It'll be more convenient to have some of the drinks up here." 

- "As you wish." 

I picked up the cooler and headed back in. I was just beginning to go down the stairs when Eliza appeared at the foot of the staircase, with a bottle of wine in each hand.. I backed up, and told her to come ahead. There was no way I was going to be able to pass her on the stairs with this cooler. 

I will admit that I looked down her blouse as she came up. Mother of Mercy ... I was going to need to put some of the ice in my pants, to reduce the swelling. 

We ate a great meal out on the patio, and admired each other's costumes. The conversation and the booze flowed freely. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. When we were finished eating, Teresa assigned galley duty to Ben, Sheila, Eric and Claire - they had to clean up and do the dishes. We would all get a turn or two, so no one complained. 

Teresa took charge again once the cleaning up was done, and ordered us all into the basement. She was really acting like a Captain. Then she gave us the news. 

"Redbeard is dead." she said. "Sometime this evening, or during dinner, someone came down here and murdered him. That person has cheated the hangman. They must be found." 

We all looked at each other. Anyone could have come down here. I had seen Craig and Eliza coming up from the basement, and Leo, and Ben ... who hadn't been in the basement? 

- "How did he die?" asked Sheila. 

- "He was shot." said Teresa. "Here are your clues: he was lying on a pallet, with his head towards the door. It was made of iron bars, and locked - only the Captain had the key. He may have been sleeping - we can't know for sure." 

"He did not finish his lunch. There was vomit on the front of his shirt. Perhaps he was seasick, or still feeling the effects of his heavy drinking before he was arrested." 

- "A seasick pirate?" mused Eric. 

- "He was shot in the head, by a pistol." continued Teresa. "No one heard the shot. That is all we know, for now. I am still under orders to deliver Redbeard's body to Barbados. We will arrive late Sunday night. That's when our game ends. Until then, the ship's business must continue. From time to time, each of you will have assigned duties and locations." 

Teresa then produced a gym bag, and pulled out a big brass bell. She whacked it once with a mallet - it was surprisingly loud, but it didn't reverberate like a church bell or a gong. "This is the ship's bell. At 9:00, I will strike it twice: 2 bells. An hour later will be 4 bells, and at 11:00, six bells. Here are your duty rosters, with the locations you must be in for the first half of that hour. After that, you are free to move about the ship." 

Everyone got another sheet of paper. "These are NOT secret." said Teresa. "But that doesn't mean that you have to tell everyone where you will be." 

I glanced at mine. 

2 bells - the hold (the basement) 

4 bells - the crow's nest (the deck above the patio) 

6 bells - the point, the dock or the boathouse 

I looked at the players while they read their instructions. Which of them was the murderer? Which one was the Falcon? So far, I was pretty sure that Craig wasn't the Falcon, based mostly on his choice of costume. And I didn't think that it was Lena, based on her language difficulties. Would Teresa make her a pivotal character, when she had such difficulty communicating? Or was that precisely what Teresa would do? I came to the simple conclusion that I knew nothing. 

People got drinks, and began to migrate in the direction of their 'duty stations'. Teresa took the bell upstairs. Only two people remained in the basement when we clearly heard the two bells. Me - and Sheila. 

- "You look fantastic." I told her. 

- "You've already said so. But thank you, kind sir." she said, with a bow, and then a curtsey. "Not sure which one is more appropriate." 

- "What do you think so far?" I asked. 

- "It would make a fascinating psychological study." said Sheila. "I know the alcohol doesn't hurt, but isn't is amazing how people act when they're in costume?" 

- "Lowers inhibitions?" 

- "For sure. But it makes them more outgoing. You have something to talk about with everyone else. Where did you get your costume? How did you find that? You may not think about it, because you know everybody here, but for someone like me? I've only met half of them, and only a few times. Yet we all have so much to talk about. It's great." 

- "You're right. I had to twist Eric's arm to get him to come this weekend, but once the costumes came out, he got right into it." 

- "I should hope so." said Sheila. "And then there's the hotness factor. The other girls look spectacular, and the guys look scrumptious, too. You look quite dashing yourself, Colin ... but maybe that's the wine talking." 

- "Are you flirting with me?" I asked. "You're just trying to get me to divulge all my secrets." 

Sheila's eyes lit up. "Oooh - secrets! Have you got any?" 

- "What would you give me for them?" I asked, playing along. 

- "That depends on how good they are." said Sheila. She was twirling her long hair (the wig) with her fingertips. "I don't know ... a kiss, maybe?" 

- "I have some really good secrets." I told her. 

We both laughed. I had spent almost all of my freshman year with a mad crush on Sheila. She resolutely kept me at arm's length, despite the obvious attraction between us. Well, obvious to me, at least. Once I accepted her decision, we became solid friends. We could flirt, and laugh at ourselves. 

"You're good." I said. 

- "C'mon: tell me one secret. I'll tell you one in return." 

- "Deal." I said. This is exactly how these games work. You have to trade information to gain information. But which clue to give her? "How about this: there was a plot afoot, to rescue Redbeard." 

Sheila made a face. "Already knew that. Were you a member of Redbeard's crew?" she asked, suddenly. 

Shit - could she be the Falcon? I didn't know whether to trust her or not. So I answered a question with a question with a question. "Are you?" 

- "I asked you first. Oh, c'mon. Give me something, Colin." 

- "I know one of the letters in the code for the treasure map." I said. 

- "So do I." she admitted. "But I'm not sure if I'm ready to trade that." 

- "OK." I told her. "Here you go: The Falcon is aboard. One of Redbeard's old lieutenants." 

Sheila mulled that over for a moment. "That's fair. Are you the Falcon?" 

- "No. Are you?" 

- "No." she laughed. "All right, you actually gave me something. Not much, but something. You can have this in return: the Scar is also aboard." 

I decided to play dumb. "Who is the Scar?" 

- "You don't know? The Scar is another of Redbeard's lieutenants." she said. 

- "Oh. So we have a ship full of his former crew. Are you the Scar?" I asked. 

- "That's a separate question." she replied, with a grin. "What will give me for the answer?" 

- "A kiss?" What the hell; it was worth a shot. 

Sheila laughed. "Nice try. You can get me a drink, though." She held up her empty wine glass. 

- "Am I allowed to go upstairs yet? I don't think it's been half an hour yet." 

- "So crack open another bottle." she said. "They're right behind you." 

We drank some more, and she fenced with me, alternating between flirty and coy. We also discussed the other players, and aired our suspicions of who was the most likely murderer. After a while, I decided to gamble. I showed her the pirate recognition signal. 

- "What is that for?" she asked, intrigued. 

- "The recognition signal for Redbeard's crew. It's how they'll know each other." 

- "So you're one of them?" said Sheila. 

- "Craig showed it to me earlier, and told me what it was." I answered. This way, Sheila could not be sure: she might think that I was not a pirate. But I could tell that she was very pleased with that piece of information. For one thing, she asked me to show her the signal again. 

- "Alright, then. I'll give you something in exchange." she said. "If you're looking for the treasure, there are twelve letters to find." 

That was very useful. I had assumed that since I had one letter, that everyone else had one, too. Eleven of us. So there was an extra letter. 

- "You still don't want to trade letters." I asked. 

- "Not yet, Colin. I still don't know whose side you're on. But if I want to trade, I'll find you." 

Both of us were caught by surprise when we heard the bell ring. Four times. 

- "That was an hour?" I said. 

- "An hour well spent." said Sheila. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. Then we went off to our next stations. I was supposed to be in the crow's nest - the deck outside the kitchen, overlooking the patio. 

On the way there, I ran into Leo. He drew me aside. 

- "You the Falcon?" he asked. "Or the Scar?' 

- "No. Neither. You?" 

- "No and no. My letter is 'E'. What's yours?" 

- "I have 'C'." I told him. Amazing, isn't it, how much information you can pass on, and how quickly, when you trust the other person. Even if Leo and I were on opposite sides, we would find some way to cooperate. 

- "Who was your first date?" he asked me. 

I was surprised. Date? And then it struck me. Teresa could be playing matchmaker. She had told me to play around. Maybe she was trying to help. 

- "Sheila." I said. "You?" 

- "Lena." he said, with a sigh. "Caught me staring at her tits at least three times. I'm not sure that I heard a word she said. What could I do? They were at eye level." 

He went off on his way, and I stepped out onto the deck. My 'date' was already there, leaning out over the railing. It was Lena. 

God damn, but she was tall! I know, I keep saying it. But standing anywhere near her was physically intimidating. And she was showing so much skin, even if it was covered by thin layers of sheer fabric. Best to look at her face, I decided. 

She seemed happy to see me. She had a lovely, lovely smile, and an angelic face. I asked her how she was enjoying the game. 

- "I am not sure." she said. "I not always know what to do. Find the murder, I understand. Find the treasure, yes. But how to do this?" 

- "Well, you have to trade information." I suggested. "Tell the other person something you know, and in return, they should tell you something." 

She looked doubtful. "What if they do not?" 

- "They will. Here: let me start. Did you know that there was a plot to rescue Redbeard? Some of his former crew are on 'our' ship." 

- "Please. What is 'plot'?" she asked. 

And that was how our conversation went. I spoke slowly, and as clearly as I could. She asked for explanations when she did not know a word, which was rather frequently. I began to wonder how this girl had ever been picked for an overseas exchange when her English was so weak. But she was sweet, and remarkably innocent. 

I traded her my information, some of which was news to her, like the pirate recognition signal. You have to be pretty suspicious to play this game, but I couldn't believe that she was faking. She wasn't part of Redbeard's crew, which meant that she was neither the Falcon nor the Scar. In fact, she was worried about the Scar. Afraid? 

Lena was more than willing to trade letters. 

- "I know the letter 'O'." she told me. 

When we had covered the murder mystery, I started to ask her about her home in Slovenia, her family, and her studies. It was hard work, for both of us. She had to find the right words, and so did I. But we were both surprised when we heard the bell. Six bells, to be exact. 

I thanked Lena, and wished her good luck. I headed outside, and grabbed another beer from the cooler. I was feeling no pain, but I wasn't all that drunk. 

My next station was outside. I went out to the dock, to look out over the water. The wind was beginning to pick up, and there were clouds rolling in. Dark clouds. Then I heard footsteps on the other end of the dock. It was my next 'date'. 

Claire. 

She looked smoking hot. "Moonlight suits you." I told her. 

She giggled. "Thank you." 

- "I bet you've been hearing compliments all night. You look phenomenal" 

She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "A girl doesn't get tired of hearing that." she said. 

At that moment, I felt a drop of moisture on my hand. I looked up. Wouldn't you know it? It was starting to rain - just a fine mist at the moment, but we couldn't let our costumes get wet. Then I got an inspiration. I grabbed Claire by the hand, and led her to the boathouse. 

- "Here?" she asked. 

- "It's part of our duty location." I said. Then I had a second inspiration, and I sprinted for the patio. Eliza, or maybe Teresa, had put out half a dozen large lanterns. They looked like storm lanterns, really, but they were only battery-powered decorations. I grabbed two and hurried back to the boathouse. 




Murder Mystery Weekend Pt. 02



It was dark inside the boathouse, so Claire was standing just inside the door, out of the rain, which was beginning to pick up. The lanterns worked even better than I hoped: they bathed the boathouse in soft light, but failed to reach the dark corners. The overall effect was a bit spooky, a bit romantic. Claire stayed near the lanterns, which meant that she stayed close to me. 

- "That was quick thinking." she said. 

- "I couldn't give up this chance to learn your secrets. Now we have privacy." 

- "All of my secrets?" she said, tilting her head. 

- "As many as you're willing to share." I said. 

Claire's first three clues were things I already knew: there was a plot to rescue Redbeard, the treasure is aboard the ship, and so is the Scar. She was a bit disappointed that she couldn't surprise me. 

- "Here." I said. "Let me give you one." I told her that the Falcon was on board. 

- "Really?" Her eyes widened. Claire was interested. "Do you know who it is? Is it you?" 

I smiled. "You might very well think that. But I couldn't possibly comment. Yet." 

- "I want to give you something in return." she said. "But you already know all my clues." 

- "What about one letter of the treasure code?" I suggested. 

She wagged a finger at me. "I'm not that stupid." But that did confirm that Claire did indeed have a letter. 

- "OK. But you owe me something for my clue. Besides, I have another clue you don't know, but I'm not giving it away for nothing." I don't know what I was expecting - maybe a kiss - but Claire reached into her sash, and pulled out a piece of folded paper. 

- "What about this?" she asked. "I got it at the beginning, but I don't know what it's for." 

Teresa's calligraphy was on the front. It said, simply, "BIBLE". I opened it. On the inside, she had written 

YEA, VERILY, THE FIRST SHALL BE LAST, AND THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST: 

" KNOW THIS, MY BRETHREN - BLESSED ARE YOU 

IF YOU CAN DO UNTO OTHERS 

BEFORE THEY DO UNTO YOU" 

- "Do you know what it means?" asked Claire. Or what I'm supposed to do with it?" 

This required some quick thinking on my part. First of all, I had no idea what it was for. But I suspected that it was important, or would become important later. When we first played a murder mystery, Teresa had complained about the 'red herrings' inserted by the writers. Sometimes, she said, players are led down the wrong path, and they never come back. Something told me to hang on to this 'Bible'. 

- "It could be valuable to us, Claire." I said. "We may need it later." Yes, I was trying to plant the idea that we were on the same side in her pretty head. Then I gambled. "Do you have a weapon?" 

She shook her head. "Just that - and some money. Doubloons." 

- "Keep them." I said. "We may need those later, too." Then I produced my little piece of paper that said 'PISTOL'. "I can protect the Bible, if someone tries to steal it from us." 

- "You want to hold it?" said Claire. "But I'm not sure if I should give it to you." 

- "Claire. If I was on the other side, I could use my pistol to take it. And the money. But I can keep others from taking it from us. And ... I can share my final secret." 

She couldn't help it. She was curious. "What is it?" 

I showed her the pirate recognition signal, and told her what it meant. She was so excited, she pumped her fist. "Yes! You're one of Redbeard's crew? I've been looking for you. That's awesome - I want to join. I'm supposed to help." 

I know - candy from a baby. I felt guilty for a few seconds. "There are others on board, Claire. You can find them using that signal." 

- "And you'll keep the Bible safe for me?" she asked. 

- "I will make absolutely sure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands." I said, with conviction. 

- "So you are the Falcon?" 

- "I can't say - yet." I repeated. 

When we stopped talking for a moment, we both heard the rattle of raindrops on the boathouse roof. Claire went to the door, which had a window. "It's really starting to come down." she said. I stood behind her, to look over her shoulder. 

- "It would be a shame to get that lovely costume wet." I told her. 

- "I guess we have to stay here, then." she decided. "What should we do?" She looked over her shoulder at me. 

Instinct took over. I leaned in and kissed her. Her lips were soft, and wet. Her tongue met mine halfway. My arms went around her, pulling her close. My coat was a little too bulky for Claire to get her arms around. Instead, she put them inside, against my loose shirt. 

Our tongues swirled together. Claire clutched at my shirt, and moaned into my mouth. I pulled her tighter, but she resisted. I pulled back. 

- "Your belt buckle." she whispered. 

- "Sorry." I hadn't realized that by pulling her close, I was stabbing her in the belly with my belt. 

- "It's OK." Claire smiled. "Here. Let me." She reached for the buckle, and began undoing it. This was progressing rather rapidly, but all I could hear in my head was 'Love is the Drug'. 

- "You are so hot." I told her. 

- "My costume? Or me?" 

- "You. Always you. The costume just increases the temperature." I said. 

- "Good answer." Claire pulled the belt away, and tossed it on the floor. I pulled her close again. This time, when my tongue entered her mouth, she sucked on it. That gave me a sensation that I felt all the way down to my cock. 

My hands wandered down her hips, then around to take hold of her magnificent ass cheeks. Clair was not shy: she pressed herself against me, rubbing her crotch against mine. I trailed kisses down her neck, onto her bare shoulder. 

The little bustier she was wearing offered such excellent support that I didn't realize she wasn't wearing a bra until my hand crept up and cupped her breast. She moaned again, and undid my pants. Then she reached in with both hands and took hold of my cock. She stroked it from root to tip with one hand, while the other dug in deeper, and gently cradled my balls. 

I retaliated by pulling her shirt down, exposing her tits. I ran my tongue down the slopes of her perfect breast, and took a nipple into my mouth. I flicked it, gently, against my teeth, then began to suck on it softly. 

Claire arched her back for a moment, and released her hold on my cock. She wrapped her arms around me, and began to lick my earlobe. She chewed on it for a moment, while I transferred my attention to her other nipple. Then Claire whispered in my ear. "Do you have a condom?" 

I lifted my head, to look her in the eye. I nodded, slowly. "I do." But as badly as I wanted her at that moment, Claire was a friend. I didn't want her to regret it afterwards. "Are you sure you want to?" I asked her. 

- "I've wanted to for years." she answered. She steered me away from the door, to the middle of the boathouse. There was a low workbench on one side. Claire looked at it for a moment. It was probably not the cleanest spot for a tryst. I quickly removed my coat, and spread it across the bench. 

She hopped up onto it, and reached under her skirt. She began to pull her panties off. I gave her a hand, sliding them down her legs and over her shoes. The opportunity was too good to resist: I dropped to one knee and slid my hands under her skirt. I caressed her thighs, and gently spread her legs. I slid one hand under her ass, and with the other started to explore the junction of her thighs. 

Claire's bush was neatly trimmed. I ran my fingers through her pubic hair, then lower until I was tracing the outline of her vaginal lips. I teased her for a little while. She rocked her hips forward, indicating that she wanted more. I slid my finger between her lips, and into her pussy. She was wet, and very, very hot. 

I stood up, and sought her mouth for a kiss. Our tongues resumed their swirling match as I continued to finger her. I fit a second finger inside her, and began running my thumb in circles around her clit. But I wanted her wetter. 

Back to one knee, then, and I spread her legs with my hands. Then I kissed the inside of her thigh, and worked my way north. Just before reaching her pussy, I pulled back, and started on the other thigh. Claire was having none of that: she grabbed my head, and pulled me closer. When I first kissed her pussy, as if it was a mouth, she let out a deep sigh. 

I stopped teasing her, and began to eat her pussy in earnest. She was a little salty, but tasty nonetheless. She ran her fingers through my hair as I licked and sucked on her lower lips. When I finally reached her clit, she groaned. 

It wasn't part of my plan to bring her off orally. It was awkward, half-crouching and half-kneeling. Besides, I was horny as hell, and couldn't wait any longer. Claire showed that she was eager as well, pulling me up with her hands.  

I retrieved a condom from my coat pocket, and skinned it on. Claire spread her legs as wide as she could, and I stood between them. I entered her slowly, in one smooth movement. She was quite wet, but it wasn't until the third stroke that I got inside her all the way. She threw her arms around me, and drew me into a passionate kiss. 

I got my hands under that succulent ass, and began to slide into her. Each long, slow stroke felt marvelous. But Claire was more impatient, as she pumped her hips forward, almost falling off the bench in her attempts to get me deeper. We started picking up speed, bodies coming together with a slap. Thank goodness for all the alcohol I had consumed that day; otherwise, I would have been spraying the inside of that condom right about now. 

Claire lifted her knees up, and I got my arms under them. Finally she hooked her legs over my shoulders. Now there was nothing between us, and I began to drive into her hard and fast. We were both panting, slamming together on each lunge. I reached between and found her clit. 

She gasped, and came hard, her whole body shuddering. A moment later I grunted and exploded inside her. I stopped thrusting, to savour each and every spurt of semen from my twitching cock. 

It took a few more moments before we resumed normal breathing. 

- "You're amazing." I said. 

She kissed me. "As good as you hoped?" she asked. 

- "You knew?" 

- "That you wanted me? Ever since that night we necked on the couch." she said. 

- "It was your dancing that did it to me." I confessed. 

- "That's why I did it. I've had a crush on you since we first met." Claire climbed down off the bench. She walked around a bit, to restore circulation in her legs. She looked out the window. "Still raining. A bit harder." 

- "We're trapped." I said. 

- "Oh, no." she said, with a grin. "Whatever shall we do?" 

I took her in my arms, and kissed her. "That was fantastic, Claire. Thank you." 

- "Who said we were finished." she said. "Since we're stuck here ..." 

She steered me back to the workbench, and pushed me onto it. Then she pulled my pants back down. She had to pull one boot off to get my pants off one leg. By the time she took hold of my knob again, I was three-quarters hard. It was partly anticipation. But if you could have seen her, this woman out of a fantasy, with her scarf and those huge earrings, that bustier and the wonderful shirt that accentuated, but did little to hide her wonderful breasts, and that incredible skirt that revealed so much delicious leg ... well, you'd have been hard, too. 

Claire lowered her head to my groin and took me in her mouth. I soon discovered that she wasn't particularly good at sucking cock. I would have given her an 'A-' for effort, but there was lots of room for improvement. I wasn't about to complain, being a Charter member of the 'Any blowjob is a good blowjob' Fraternity. But I wasn't about to come this way. And I did want to fuck her again. 

I told her so. She just grinned and said "How do you want me?" 

I turned her around, and let her rest her hands on the workbench. With a second condom on, I got into position behind her. I lifted that lovely skirt, to reveal her luscious ass. I took a cheek in each hand, and spread them apart. She reached back between her legs, and took hold of my cock, guiding me. She inserted the tip between her lips, got me a firm lodgment, and I drove it the rest of the way home. 

We started off easy, with me gliding in and out of her while I squeezed and caressed her ass. But Claire began dancing a bit, wiggling her hips. She wanted more, and she wanted it fast. I took hold of her, and lunged all the way, balls deep. She spread her feet wider, giving me even better access. I started pumping my cock into her, slapping her ass cheeks with my groin. 

Claire was grunting with each thrust. I was afraid that I might be hurting her, so I stopped. 

- "You OK?" I asked her. 

- "Yeah. Don't stop." 

I fucked her from behind, counting the slaps, watching her ass cheeks begin to turn red. I reached around with one hand, to cup one of her breasts. She grabbed my hand with one of hers, and squeezed. I found her nipple, and pinched it, eliciting a squeal from her. 

My orgasm was fast approaching. I should have lasted longer, between the booze and already having come once tonight. But her ass was too exciting, or maybe it was the fantasy aspect. I groaned, and seized her by the hips again. Then I slammed my cock into her, hard, as fast as I could, until I came, shooting a second load inside her. 

As soon as I could see straight, I took Claire into my arms, and held her close. Eventually, we got dressed again. 

The rain had stopped. We took advantage of the lull to return to the cottage. Most everybody else was still on the main deck, drinking and laughing. Barbara was loudly leading a rather drunken game of Jenga with Ben and Leo. Sheila was talking to Eliza and Lena, while Eric and Craig watched the game. I didn't see Teresa. 

I gave Claire's hand a squeeze, then released it - it wouldn't have been wise to kiss her in front of her brother, or to hold her hand. I wasn't even sure if she would want me to. 

- "Where were you guys?" said Eliza. "We were getting worried." 

- "The rain." said Claire. "We didn't want to get wet, so we went into the boathouse." 

- "The rain stopped ten minutes ago." said Eliza. 

- "We lost track of time." I said. "Besides - we had a lot to talk to about. Claire told me who the murderer is. And where the treasure is." 

- "I did not!" neighed Claire, as she punched me on the arm. 

We got another drink, and joined the others. I listened to the chatter with one ear. Meanwhile, I was thinking. Hearing Claire's neighing laugh had reminded me. I wasn't in love with her. I didn't want to date her, or have her as my girlfriend. She was a beautiful, sexy woman, and the boathouse would be fixed in my memory, indelibly, forever. I had lived out a fantasy. 

But we didn't make love in the boathouse. We fucked. It was passionate, physically stimulating, and one of the sexiest experiences of my life. But I felt no urge to repeat it. And I knew that I would feel the same in the morning. 

How was Claire going to feel? 

It was pretty late before everyone went to bed.