5 comments/ 33342 views/ 17 favorites Our House By: JukeboxEMCSA Sometimes, when she was panhandling, Kit liked to pass the time by imagining what she might look like to the people who walked past her. Dark, greasy, matted hair; torn, faded clothes bundled onto her, and don't forget the stink--it wasn't like she got many opportunities to wash herself, let alone the six or seven layers of clothes she wore. In the early spring, like it was now, she wore them for protection from the cold; shelters weren't always safe for a teenage girl, and warm places to sleep were hard to come by. In the summer, she just wore them because if she didn't, they'd get stolen, and warm clothes were hard to come by in the fall and winter. They got sweaty and dirty and ripped and faded, but Kit had long gone past the point where she cared about her appearance. Still, people probably noticed some intelligence in her cloudy blue eyes, some sign that life on the streets hadn't yet eaten her alive, and on good days, that made her enough money that she could go to a supermarket and buy a can of Spaghetti-Os to eat cold. Today wasn't one of the good days. Three times, she'd had to gather up her stuff and move quick; a girl her age always had to have good instincts, had to learn the lessons that the street taught very quickly or not at all. The street was always full of lessons, from "Those kids are looking for someone to brutalize who won't call the cops" to "He's recruiting streetwalkers" to "Don't make eye contact, just run." Kit was good at learning lessons. She'd learned the first one a long time ago. "It's still better than home." The woman walking towards her now almost made Kit run again, but all her instincts were confused. She was rich, that much was obvious from thirty feet away. She wore a white silk dress that hung by a single thin strap around her neck, exposing bare shoulders of perfect, paper-white flesh. It was tailored to accentuate her figure, which was the kind of perfect human beings don't attain without expensive help. Her hair was blonde, long, and perfectly straight. She looked, in short, like a rich model or an actress, usually the kind of person that was a soft touch. But something deep within Kit's hindbrain bared its teeth and growled, like a wolf seeing a bear. She almost ran. But it wasn't one of the good days, and Kit's stomach was growling, and she felt her skin tight against her ribs. So she held her ground, and as the woman passed, she said, "Spare change?" The woman stopped, turned, and looked at her. She had violet eyes. Kit had never seen anyone with violet eyes before, but there they were, a perfect shade of lavender. "Oh, you poor thing," the woman said. A part of Kit was still stuck in fight-or-flight mode, but that voice stopped her. She'd never heard anyone speak with such total sincerity before. "No place to go?" Kit shook her head wordlessly. The expression on the woman's face quieted the hindbrain fear a little. Nobody faked pity that well. "Oh, my poor dear," the woman said. "I'm Sara." She knelt down and reached out a hand with a pearl bracelet on it, very slowly, like she was trying to pet a stray. In a sense, Kit supposed, she was. "This is no night to be sleeping on the streets. They said it's going to get below freezing again tonight." A scent of sandalwood drifted off of Sara as she spoke, stronger than the grime and stink Kit no longer even noticed. "I live with my sisters; if you'd like, you can come to our house for the night. It'll be a little cramped, but there's always room for one more." Kit didn't move for a long moment as she sized up Sara and her offer. She spotted three possibilities. First, Sara could be some sort of crazy person, planning to take her home and kill her. She dismissed that. Her instincts were all confused, giving off crazy jangling signals, but she could tell Sara wasn't violent. Second, she could be some sort of lesbo, and there'd be a price to pay for lodgings for the night. Kit didn't swing that way, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten into a warm bed knowing she'd have to share it. She wasn't a hooker, but she got cold. Third, Sara could be a real live good Samaritan. Didn't seem likely, but those big, luminous, violet eyes spoke of someone who took in strays. Kit sized up the risks, the rewards, looked down at the cardboard box that held the pitifully small takings from a day of begging for change, and took Sara's soft hand in her own. "I'm Kit," she said, her tone guarded. Sara smiled. "That's a girl. You won't regret this. You'll love our house." ***** Kit smelled that sandalwood the whole walk to the house. She'd never seen a house that big, not in person. It was the kind of house they call a mansion, and it probably had a full-time staff to clean it and maintain it. Wild dreams of asking to get a job as a maid flitted through Kit's head for a moment, but she stilled them. She'd need to see if Sara was really a soft touch or just a perv dyke before she thought about playing the 'give me a leg up' card. Whether soft touch or perv dyke, though, one thing was clear. Sara and her sisters were rich. "How do you afford this place?" she asked, a little surprised by the quiet awe in her voice. Sara smiled just a little. "We've been provided for. For a long time now." "Your parents are dead?" Kit tried to make it sound sympathetic, instead of envious. "I haven't thought about them in a long time." Sara opened the door, and they went inside. The lighting was dim and cold, but the rooms were warm, and Kit could feel the heat seeping back into bones already chilled by the early evening air. Sara led her into the kitchen, saying, "First, we'll get some food into you. Then you can use the shower, and..." But Kit wasn't listening to the rest of it. She just stared at the woman waiting in the kitchen when she walked in. She looked so much like Sara that Kit actually looked behind her for a moment to make sure Sara hadn't somehow darted in front of her. It wasn't just a physical resemblance, even though the two of them were clearly identical twins; they dressed alike, the same white silk dress, the same shoes, the same pearl bracelet. If Kit closed her eyes for a minute, she had no doubt that when she opened them she wouldn't be able to tell the two apart. They even had the same violet eyes. "Hi!" the new woman announced. "I'm Lana, and you are...?" "This is Kit," Sara said. "She'll be staying with us." Lana smiled. "Oh, that's wonderful. You'll love it at our house, Kit." She went to the fridge and pulled out some cold cuts. "Let me make you a sandwich." Kit just nodded, staring at the two identical women. Everything was the same, even their cleavage. Their hairstyles were identical. Everything about them was identical. It gave her a sudden chill, something she couldn't understand. Human beings weren't supposed to look that similar. But it didn't stop her from wolfing down her sandwich, and drinking a glass of milk with it. Sara and Lana just watched her eat, smiling warmly at her obvious hunger. "Now, dear," Sara said, "I'll show you to your room for the night." Kit felt another shiver of uncertainty as they passed through the dim hallways. She'd lost track of the number of lefts and rights and staircases a few turns back, and it occurred to her that she would have a hard time finding her way out if she had to. But that worry suddenly took a backseat when she saw two other women out of the corner of her eye, walking down a side passage. Before Sara could say anything, Kit doubled back and darted down the side passage, catching just one more glimpse of the two women as they moved out of sight again. But that one glimpse was enough to confirm her initial impression. Both women looked just like Sara and Lana. It hadn't been a mirror, or her imagination. They both wore white silk, they both had blonde hair. The same body, the same outfit, the same pearl bracelet. All four, precisely identical. She hadn't even seen their eyes, but she knew they were violet. Sara walked over to her. "This way," she said. She looked at Kit with an expression of sincere concern, and some of Kit's fear loosened a bit. "Are you alright?" "I..." Kit tried to vocalize her concerns, but didn't want to be rude to the woman that was keeping her off the streets for the night. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with being quadruplets. It just felt...creepy. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." "Then let's get you off to bed." Sara's concern melted into compassion, and she opened a door into a large bedroom. A fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the room a warmth and light that the hallways had lacked. In the center of the room, an enormous double bed soaked up the heat of the fire, silk sheets covering a mattress that looked like you could sail it across the Atlantic. "Bathroom's through there if you want a shower. I'll come and check up on you in the morning." She gave Kit a little peck on the cheek, and Kit wasn't sure whether to recoil or smile. She didn't have the right instincts for this. She didn't know how to react to kindness, she just hadn't ever experienced enough to learn. Wordlessly, she closed the door. Kit thought about wedging a chair under the door handle, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to antagonize any of her hosts if they came by in the night. Then she thought about it, and wedged a chair under the door handle. Only when that was done did she pull off her clothes and take a long, hot shower, rinsing off weeks of grime and filth and washing her hair over and over again until it felt clean. She even took the clothes and ran the shower over them, using a bar of soap to work some suds into the cloth and then draping them on the floor next to the fireplace to dry overnight. Only then, completely clean, did she slip into the big, warm bed and let her eyes shut. ***** At first, she thought it was a dream. Not even a surprising dream, really. The warm, soft silk felt so good enfolding her as she let her guard down and drifted off to sleep; every time she shifted position, it felt like a little caress of satiny cloth on her body. It felt good in a way she hadn't felt in, well...ever. She'd heard that sex was supposed to feel good, but her personal experiences didn't bear it out. All she ever got was mild discomfort and a squishy sensation between her legs. Nobody ever seemed to care if it was good for her. But in the dream, someone did. She didn't know who. It was a faceless someone, like a shadow of a person instead of a person themselves. But they slid the silken sheets back and forth across her nipples, and Kit was surprised to feel stirrings of lust between her legs. The someone teased her, never touching her body directly, just touching her through the soft silk, but Kit smiled dreamily to find that she liked that even more. The silk slid over her body without a whisper of friction, so smooth but oh so very real, and her nipples stiffened as she let out a tiny gasp. She felt the someone stroking her legs, up and down her legs one at a time, then both at a time, and then other caresses, gentle circles on her stomach, and then she gasped sharply when she felt the pressure of the silk conforming perfectly to the outline of her pussy. The silk felt like a second skin now, stroking her everywhere, and she writhed under its touch as it rubbed at her clit, circling it with a perfect, precise knowledge of how to give her pleasure. With pleasure came a lazy awareness that she wasn't just dreaming it all; the touches felt too real for that, the someone must actually be someone. Muddily, through a haze of sleep and near-orgasmic bliss, Kit realized that the chair must not have held, and that one--or, from the feel of it, several--of the sisters must have come in. Well, if this was what she had to do, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it felt--oh, it felt very good. It felt like...like...her climax hit her hard, and she lost herself for a long moment. If she'd ever felt an orgasm before, it certainly hadn't been like that. The hands kept touching her through the silk. Kit's eyes began to open, slowly and dreamily. Then they opened all the way, wide awake and terrified. There was nobody in the room. The chair remained lodged under the door handle. But she could still feel the hands on her. She looked down. There were no hands. There was no someone. Instead, she watched in mounting horror that didn't quite dampen mounting arousal as the silken sheet itself moved over her body, undulating and caressing her like a living thing. She looked down between her legs as the silk insinuated itself into her pussy, and she shuddered in a mix of horror and pleasure at the sensations in her cunt. The paralysis of shock quickly gave over to the spastic motions of fear as she dived off of the bed, but the sheets tangled themselves up in her legs and she fell gracelessly to the floor. She kicked and flailed at the thing that held her, feeling a little like she was still dreaming, wrestling with the bedclothes in a fevered imagination that they were grabbing her. But it was no imagination, they were grabbing her, and it took her several minutes of struggle to extricate herself. She grabbed at her clothes, pulled them on, and kicked the chair away from the door, yanking it open as she fled the room. Any second, she expected the sheet to come slithering down the hallway after her. The flight through the house took on a surreal quality, like she was caught in a maze. She ran down flights of stairs, through side passages, looping back on places she'd been before in a rat-scrabble of panic and terror. She burst through a set of double doors, and saw that she hadn't seen the worst yet. The room she entered was large, some sort of formal dining room. But the floor had been strewn with silken cushions and sheets to turn it into some sort of improvised grand bedroom, and everywhere...everywhere, she saw women. Dozens of them. She couldn't count them all. They curled up against each other like a flock of birds roosting together, all nestled up cheek to breast and thigh to thigh, and Kit wasn't even sure if there were silken cushions on the floor or if it was just more of the women, all exactly alike. Every single one looked like Sara and Lana and who knew how many other names, they were all perfectly alike. She looked back and forth across the room, even up and down--some had curled up in the rafters, seeming perfectly happy to roost ten feet off the ground. The scent of sandalwood was overwhelming, and Kit felt like she might swoon, except that she was afraid she'd fall onto a silk-clad female form. She bit her knuckle to keep from screaming, but it wasn't quite enough. At the sound of her entrance, some of the women woke up. They looked at her. "Hello, Kit," one said. That sound woke others, and they began to join in the chorus. "Hello Kit," "Hello, Kit," and soon it became a susurration of echoes in the semi-darkness of the room. Kit turned and sprinted headlong back the way she'd came, but she could hear the sound of footsteps behind her. She no longer cared about "out", now she was just looking for "away." She ran as hard as she could, but the women behind her never stopped, and they knew the house better than she did. Eventually, her luck ran out in a dead end. One of the women walked up. "Is everything alright, Kit?" That expression of concern on her face still looked real, but Kit was too freaked to care. "I want out, let me out right now, I swear, I'll...I'll..." The fact that she didn't have anything she could do lent desperation to her voice as it trailed off. "It's alright, Kit. It's me, Sara. Of course you can leave." She was lying, it was a trick, it had to be. "Follow me, I'll show you to the door." The other women parted aside like a human curtain, an optical illusion of mirror images suddenly revealing a perfectly normal hallway. Sara reached out her hand, and out of options, Kit took it. At every step, she expected the women to fall upon her, but Sara led her through the halls to the same door they'd come in through. She opened it onto the early morning chill. "Good-bye, Kit," she said with a bit of sorrow in her voice. "I hope you understand that you're always welcome at our house." Kit didn't answer. She just ran. ***** She spent most of the rest of the day on the move, her flight instincts now wired into permanent overdrive. She kept looking over her shoulder, flinching every time she saw a glimpse of white clothing, catching a faint hint of sandalwood on the air and flying into a panicked run. Her nerves felt all jangly, and she knew she had to calm herself down--if a cop saw her looking this freaked, they'd bring her in, and then from there it'd be a long set of trips through police station and courtroom back to a house she'd just have to run away from all over again. Kit took a deep breath, looked down at her reasonably clean, if faded and torn clothes, and decided she looked presentable enough to use a restroom without being asked to leave. She went into a McDonald's and headed for the ladies' room, trying to calm the knot of panic in her stomach. Once inside, she bent over the sink and splashed cold water on her face, letting the sensation shock her back to rationality. Whatever was going on, whatever that house had been, whatever those women had been, they weren't after her. It was over. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were violet. The rest of the day passed in a blur of panic. She didn't even remember leaving the restaurant. She just walked the streets in a daze, not daring to look at her reflection in shop windows, not even trying to beg for change, just utterly lost in a haze of pure terror. She managed to find a place to sleep out of the wind, and eventually her fried nerves caused her to crash into sleep out of sheer exhaustion. When she woke up, she could smell sandalwood all around her. Frantic, she rolled over and opened her eyes, expecting to see a coven of strange women in silk standing over her, but she was alone. The scent of sandalwood was still strong, though, and it took her long moments to realize it was coming from her. She looked down at herself and let out a tiny scream. Her clothes had faded more, over the course of a single night. They'd gone from powder blue and dingy tan and pinkish red to a uniform cream color, almost...white. Some of the rips had repaired themselves. Kit tried to peel off the top layer, but the different outfits seemed to be stuck together now. They'd congealed onto her body. Kit wanted to run some more, but she didn't know who to run to. Who would she talk to? Could she tell the police that she was changing, would they believe her? Would a social worker understand about the mansion on the hill, the hordes of perfect women roosting in their halls? They'd call her crazy. Right now, she wished she was. She decided to head for the free clinic on the north of town. She didn't really think this was something they had a pill for, but whatever was happening to her, it was real, it was progressive, and maybe that meant it was medical. As she walked, she caught glimpses of herself in street windows. Her hair was a foot longer, lighter in shade. By the time she got to midtown, it was pure blonde. Her clothes were pure white now, and she could actually feel the changes in her body. Her breasts were getting bigger. Her waist was getting smaller. She didn't know if she could get to a doctor in time. She didn't know if a doctor could help her. It got harder to move. She looked down and realized that the legs of her pants were slowly fusing together into a single tube, with both her legs inside it. The fabric seemed softer, silkier, and the rips and tears were now completely gone. She half-walked, half-waddled to a bench and sat down before she fell over. Once the outfit had completely become a dress, she thought, she'd keep going. She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes and waited. Our House Our House One -- Scene setting Our house is a very nice house, to paraphrase the song. It's called Bourton Hall and it came into our possession in the will of my Uncle Charles. He was a widower and my mother's only brother. He died childless, so his estate was left to my sister, Laura and myself, Andy. Unlike my parents, who had both preceded him to the afterlife, Uncle Charles was a very rich man and like a lot of rich people he collected possessions. One of those possessions was this fine old nineteenth century mansion. After death duties and funeral costs there was precious little left apart from the old house and as a consequence, a family rift developed about what to do with it. Laura and her husband, Bernie wanted to sell it and split the proceeds, but my wife, Sonja and I had other plans! She was an experienced Hotel manager and I was a qualified chef with a good reputation locally and we saw an opportunity to become our own masters. Sonja and I were employed straight from college to manage a modest country hotel business on the south coast. For many years it had been rather neglected and failing. Something had to be done, so the owners took a chance on the pair of us to allow us free rein to re-establish the business from what had been a rather run down establishment to an upmarket facility. It was not a large establishment, only twelve double rooms and a banqueting suite. We threw ourselves into it and Sonja persuaded the owners to part with some capital to upgrade the kitchens and public rooms first. Once the kitchen's reputation for excellent food and the refurbished dining facilities became successful locally, she started on the bedrooms. Over those first five or six years, the business returned to profit and the owners of the hotel were happy. Sonja renegotiated our remuneration package and got the owners to agree to a profit share deal, so we were rewarded for our hard work. Sonja managed the front of house, web-site, office and customer contact, while I as a chef, ran the kitchen and housekeeping side. We had no kids as yet, but as we were only approaching thirty, we felt there was time enough for that yet. Sonja was a confident young woman and with her good looks and fabulous figure, she had no problem charming the customers to our business, much of which was of a repeat nature, referenced from local businesses. Soon after we started the business, she had approached some of the larger companies that operated in the town and convinced many of them that their visiting executives would be far more comfortable in a family run establishment rather than in a plastic hotel chain. She had put together a good presentation and we soon had a year round clientele and more importantly reduced our dependence on seasonal holiday traffic. OK, we had done well, but the lion's share of the profits were going to the owners. We held no resentment about that, they took the risk and were now benefitting from the rewards, but Sonja and I yearned to be our own masters. That is why we looked on the inheritance as an opportunity, but first, we had to persuade my sister and her waster husband! My sister, Laura was five years older than me and married to a bit of a waster called Bernard or Bernie as he liked to be called. When he worked, it was usually as a barman until such times as his penchant for drinking just too much of the stock caught up with him. Somehow, he always managed to land on his feet, mainly due to his ability to be very charming and sociable when sober. Laura was the main breadwinner in their house. She was an accountant and had by some means managed to bring up their two kids and hold her family together. Sorry it's taken so long to set the background to this tale but there is one other bit of information and that is a description of Our House! Laura and I used to play in the house during our many short breaks there. Uncle Charles and his wife liked us visit, often during the school holidays. We had many happy memories of the place. As I intimated earlier, our inheritance comprised of a Nineteenth Century mansion consisting of on the ground floor, four public rooms, a large hall, dining room, library, kitchen and snooker room. All these rooms were linked by a long corridor running the length of the house. In the centre was a grand staircase linking the ground and first floors. There was also a basement, with countless store rooms and even some rooms where staff used to be housed in the days that people could afford servants! The first floor had been modernised in the nineteen eighties, and some of the dressing rooms attached to the main bedrooms were converted into en-suite facilities. Uncle liked to entertain and have guests stay over. In all, there were sixteen bedrooms, all but four en-suite. The attic was something else. As a boy I remember the feeling of awe when we were allowed to enter this space. Access was via a back stair from running from the kitchen to the attic. It was the stair that the servants would have used on the old days. It was still there and useful for transporting bed linen and laundry direct to the laundry in the basement. The star attraction in the attic was the model train set! It was a huge layout, thirty feet long and at lease fifteen across. It had multiple tracks, scenery and landscapes, everything a boy could wish for. All things considered, the house was still in good order, but the running costs were massive. In addition to the main building, there was a coach house, now converted to garages and several small out buildings and around 3 acres of lawns and gardens. Two -- The Search Quest 1 The family debate regarding the future was held in Laura's home. Sonja and I were too handy for our staff if we held it at the hotel where we resided in a small annexe. Sonja had prepared a full presentation explaining what she and I wanted to do with our inheritance. Laura and Bernie listened as she proposed converting it into a hotel. She had projections on cash flow and potential business growth. She would be the Manager, of course and I the Chef. Laura could see the potential, but was worried about the cost of setting it up as a hotel. Bernie's objection was purely mercenary, when would he and Laura get their half of the inheritance? Sonja handled the objections one by one, but the sticking point was as always cash. Bernie asked if we intended getting a mortgage to buy the whole place and pay them their fair share. There was no way we could do that, we had some money saved from our present employment, but that would soon be swallowed up in set up costs. We were at an impasse! We didn't have the cash to buy out Laura and Bernie, we had barely enough to get the business up and running. It was Laura who came up with a solution. She and Bernie would sell their home and invest the profits in the hotel. Bernie would run the bar and restaurant and she would look after the back stairs accounting and house keeping service. She hastened to add that the profits from the sale of their house wouldn't be much, given the state of the house market, maybe £15K or so after the legal bills were paid. That pretty much matched what Sonja and I could contribute so we would be equal partners in the new company. Ever practical, Sonja asked her where they would live and Laura relied in the basement or in the flat in the old coach house! Well, Sonja and I had earmarked the coach house for ourselves, but with two small children, it would be a better proposition for them to live there, isolated from the guests. Sonja and I had no problem living in the basement apartments, they were ideal for us. Laura and I knew that Uncle Charles was terminally ill and had spent a lot of time with him as he slowly deteriorated. I had talked to him about the possibility of converting the house and he had been happy to see it being used for entertaining once more. He told me that he had made some alterations to his will, 'just to protect you and Laura' he said. During the next few weeks, the four of us spent a lot of time finalising the details and setting up the new company, all legal and above board. I was glad that Laura insisted on that and we agreed that the company had only four shareholders, Laura and myself sharing 95% and Sonja and Bernie with a nominal 2.5% each. This division was as a direct result of certain stipulations that Uncle Charles and our family solicitor had concocted. Uncle Charles was worried about what would happen if either Laura or myself got divorced. He wanted to ensure that the bulk of his estate remained within the control of his direct descendants or sold and the proceeds divided equally between us. He had even stipulated that in the event of the hotel proposal gaining favour, the shareholding would be split as we had agreed. Sonja had no issue with the contract, but Bernie was a bit disgruntled and was at pains to say so. Since there was not a lot he could do about it, he eventually came round and signed the partnership agreement. Once the legalities had been settled, it was full steam ahead, getting the planning consents and change of use agreed and so on. The volume of red tape and hurdles we had to jump to get to the stage where we could open was nothing short of horrendous and our programme slipped and slithered. Both Sonja and I had packed up work rather foolishly as things worked out. The plan was to supervise the alterations, but six months down and the work had yet to be started. We were all living in the mansion now, Sonja and I because we had nowhere else to go and Laura and Bernie because they thought selling the house empty would be easier and an empty house meant savings in the community charges. We were rapidly running out of money. I looked around and got a job as a breakfast and lunchtime chef in a country pub, not ideal, but the income was essential. We were in a dire financial state, Laura and Bernie were having problems getting the profit they required from the sale of their house so they couldn't contribute much to the basic running costs of a property as large as the one we had inherited. All in all a bad situation! One night the four of us sat around in the library discussing what we were going to do. Bernie said, "I don't understand, Uncle Charles was loaded, where did all his money go. I know death duties are high, but he was a canny old bird and he must have stashed some away somewhere." I had to agree with him on that point. How exactly how Uncle Charles had earned his money was a mystery, it was whispered that he wasn't slow about bending the law a little in his business dealings, but we had never figured out just what his business was! It was just by chance that I was exploring what had used to be the dressing room in one of the bedrooms that had not been converted to en-suite. I was assessing what would be needed to make the conversion when I stumbled onto part of the answer. I had opened one of the built in wardrobes and found a pile of dusty old boxes. A quick check revealed them to old bank statements or some such. I didn't understand what they were, but I was sure that Laura would so I set them aside for her to check out. At the back of the cupboard was a lever and I pulled it down and a hidden door opened. My immediate thought was 'priest hole' but the house wasn't old enough for that and on closer examination the fitting was not that old. I peered inside and found a light switch and flicked it on. To my surprise, there was a view into the bedroom, next door. I recognised the room on view. It as the one that Uncle Charles used to put Sonja and I in every time we stopped over! That dirty old bastard, he must have been watching us as we made love on that big bed! I was so angry that I almost smashed the mirror glass in front of me, in fact I was looking for something to use to do just that when I spotted an envelope. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a letter addressed to me and I recognised the handwriting straight away, so I started to read; Dear Andy, If you're reading this now , I guess you have found my little pleasure palace and are feeling extremely angry. Please bear with me and take the time to read the books in the library on the top shelf next to the fire place. I think they will explain many of the questions you must have regarding my fortune and also why this room was built. I fit's any consolation to you, you have a beautiful and charming wife and watching you in bed made me feel quite young again! Laura and Bernie have also used the room, but their sex life was a bit boring to watch. If you found this, then I'm dead and it doesn't matter to me what they think about my little bit voyeurism, at one time I would have been embarrassed, but the only good thing about being old is you don't give a flying fuck about what people think! Us e the information you find in the library as you see fit, it may shock you and Sonja, it will certainly appal Laura, so break it to her gently. Your loving Uncle, Charles I rushed to the library and found the books he was talking about. There were five bound volumes and according to the spines, they were in chronological order. Each journal had a lock that required a tiny key to open it. I could have simply cut the leather strap, but that would ruin the book and I had too much respect for books to inflict wanton damage on them. The spine on the first journal told journal covered the year 1975 and as I picked it up the lock sprang open. Once more, Uncle Charles's spidery handwriting was on the fly page, but behind the fly page was a well disguised cut out and within it a DVD! I thought, 'and I was worried about damaging the books!' I started to read the fly page; Dear Andy, I guess you are looking for explanations and I will start by telling you that the DVD inside this book covers only the year indicated. You may be shocked by what you find on it. It was originally recorded on Super 8, but, I converted it to digital myself. The originals have been destroyed, as have the intervening years until the next little conundrum I have set you becomes active! I have indeed left you with a mystery and it will be up to you to decide how far you wish to go down the trail. Each quest you solve will provide you with access to some of my missing millions, but with each discovery, you will have to face some disturbing aspects of your life that you would rather avoid, that's why I said, only you can decide just how far you are willing to go. I would urge you strongly, not reveal any of this to your wife or sister, it will only serve to more pain.. First, watch the DVD all the way through for the first clue leading to part of my fortune is in there. This DVD only last 22 minutes! Solving the first mystery, will gain you access to the next journal. Good Luck! Uncle Charles My first thought was one of curiosity. Why had the old goat set me such an elaborate challenge and what was this about keeping it secret from my wife and sister? I considered my options and decided, I had to follow this through and decision made, I slipped the DVD into the player in the library, but not before locking both doors to ensure some privacy. The picture quality was poor, but the opening scene was dated, 22nd June 1975, my parents wedding day! The picture was easily recognisable as my Mum and Dad coming out of the church and looking very happy as one would expect. There was no sound with the movie and I assumed either the camera didn't have the facility or the editor erased it! The usual family poses for photographs followed by a cut to the Reception where, also present were Uncle Charles and Aunt Mary, they made a happy looking foursome. The next clip was obviously shot in a a bedroom and featured a naked man on the bed, to indistinct in the poor lighting to be identified. Then, a blur as a naked female form moved between the camera and the recumbent man before refocusing and the woman was astride the man fucking him. The picture zoomed in and I was shocked to see that the man was Uncle Charles and the woman, was my Mother, his sister! I had to pause at that point and collect myself. Incest! My mother and Uncle Charles fucking and on her wedding night as well! Where the fuck was my dad during all this? The cameraman, someone had to be operating the camera and this was confirmed when I restarted the DVD. There was a switch of scene and I watched as my father joined his wife and brother on the bed and watched as my mother took his erect prick into her mouth and started to fellate him. Something must have been said off camera, because she broke off from her bow job to smile into the camera and say something to the operator before returning to her task. The clip stopped there and a few seconds later the next clip started. Aunt Mary was also in this scene lying on top of my mother in a classic 69 position, and the two men were sitting by the bed watching their wives as they made love to one another. The camera must have been fixed, because shortly thereafter my dad could be seen approaching the camera, just before the image vanished. A short pause and the DVD started once more, this time it was an image of a much older Uncle Charles who said, "I warned you that if you chose to run down the clues to my fortune, you would be disturbing to you. Just for clarification, we were invited into their honey moon suite that night and everything that took place was by mutual consent. I loved your mother all my life and we had been lovers since out teens. Your aunt was well aware of this and accepted the situation as did your father. Now, I promised you a clue, so here it is;" The picture scrolled to a sheet of typing and it bore these cryptic words; Where the roof touches the sky, Where the trains run on high, By the breast and the mould, There you will find the clue to my gold! I shut down the DVD and removed it from the player and replaced it in the journal. I pondered the clue and had it figured out quite quickly. Roof touches the sky, could only be the attic. The trains run on high confirmed it, but the breast bit eluded me until I was in the attic, of course the chimney breast, but which one? There were a about a dozen of the damned things. I checked each out in turn and I was about to give up for the night, I had dinner to prepare, when it struck me, mould! Where had I seen mould. I had been looking for signs of fungus, but the mould he was referring to was the mould for the scenery on the train set. The scenery was made of fibreglass and he had used moulds when constructing it! I searched again and beside one of the chimney breasts was a modeller's mould! I turned it over and underneath was a heavy box. I struggled to lift it up and ended up hauling it across the floor to where there was a bit more light, near the model train set bench. Naturally, the box was locked with a combination lock comprising of four digits and I wracked my brains for the answer. I tried numbers at random with no success, then I remembered what my uncle had said, 'the clue is in the DVD'! Excitedly, I tried 1975 and the damned thing worked! I pulled open the box to find coins, hundreds of gold coins. Unable to contain myself, I let out a whoop and picked one up to examine it more closely. It was an American 1oz Gold Eagle and I started to stack then up in tens. I counted the stacks, 75 stacks! I had 750 US Gold Eagles Coins. I checked the box one last time before returning the coins and found a small key that similar to what I needed to open the lock on the journals and put it in my pocket. Then, I carefully locked the gold coins away and hid the box back where I found it. The next step was to calculate what the find was worth, so I headed back down to the room we were using as a temporary site office. Sonja and Bernie were in there and sprang apart as I entered. I was too excited to notice the flushed look on their faces and they must have been in a similar state not to recognise my face flushed red with excitement. My valuation would have to wait and I muttered something about preparing the dinner and fled to my kitchen. Our House All through dinner, I was sorely tempted to blurt out about my find. Laura noticed my high levels of energy and asked me if I was feeling OK? I said I was on a sugar rush as I had eaten a Mars bar earlier. It was a bit lame, but it was all I could think of at the time. Sonja and Bernie were still huddled close together after dinner looking at the Architect's plans for the Ground Floor. They said they reviewing the bar and reception area, as they were concerned about the ergonomics of the area! I accepted that, it was their field of expertise, mine was the kitchen and as long as they got that right, I wasn't to bothered, I trusted them to get it right. Laura said she was tired and after outing her children to bed, she was going to take a bath and retire. I took the opportunity to slip into the office and check about the price of gold coins. I was astonished, my 750 coins were worth over £800K! Out of interest, I checked the weight and discovered those coins weighed in at just under 22 Kilos. NO wonder I struggled to lift the box, it was way heavier than the baggage allowance allowed by the airlines! I checked on Sonja and Bernie, but they were engrossed in the plans, so I didn't disturb them and instead went into the library and took down the second journal dated 1993. The key worked and once more I was reading the fly leaf annotated by my uncle; Three - The Search Quest 2 My Dear nephew, I guess that you have been successful in finding my gold! A cautionary word, please don't sell the cache as a single sale, that will draw far too much attention. It would be more advisable to take a few at a time to France or Belgium and sell them discretely there. Our solicitor will give you a name in France that will buy them from you at a fair price, no questions asked! Now your next quest, again the DVD must be watched carefully. The reason should now be obvious to you. This time you are seeking Bearer Bonds! Good luck. I decided against viewing the DVD that night and went back to the drawing room to find Bernie and Sonja sitting together on the settee laughing at the comedy show on the TV. I told her that I was going to bed and she said, "Hold on and I'll come up with you." She turned and kissed Bernie on the cheek and said goodnight to him and followed me to our bedroom. As we were preparing for bed, I mentioned the secret room and the one way mirror and she insisted that I show her right there and then. We went to the dressing room and I showed her how open the door at the rear of the cupboard. She peered into the one way mirror but in the darkness, there was nothing to see. I left her and went into the bedroom with the mirror and turned on the lights. I could hear her scream from the corridor and the next thing was Bernie and Laura reached the dressing room before I did. When I rushed in, it was to find my crying wife in the arms of Bernie, clutching him like she never wanted to let go. He was not objecting any as his hands were running up and down her back and a little too far down her bum for my liking. It was Laura emerging from the hidey hole, her face as white as a sheet that screamed at him, "Get your fucking hands off her before I forget I'm a lady!" He dropped his hands immediately and tried to take Laura into his arms, but she brushed him aside and walked purposefully away! "Library now!" She commanded and we all obeyed like lambs to the slaughter. The atmosphere in the library was like ice. The revelation about the one way mirror was new to both women and Bernie, who hadn't bothered to look into the room and was therefore on ignorance of the true facts, looked bewildered. Laura looked at me and demanded, "when did you discover the one way mirror?" "Just today and I was going to tell you about it tomorrow." I replied realising that I should have shared the information earlier. My only excuse was that I was so caught up in the gold coins that I ignored the significance of how the knowledge that they had been spied on by a dirty old man. I knew that Laura and Bernie also used that room when they visited our uncle and should have warned them, but I didn't, not that I made the slightest difference, Laura was going to explode and her target would be me. "Why didn't you tell us straight away when you discovered it?" she spat. "Because, just before I found the door in the back of the cupboard, I discovered some interesting documents. I thought they may explain where all the money had gone." I replied with a distinct whine in my voice. I was angry at myself for letting her play out the big sister act that she had used to suborn me when we were little, so I fought back and in a more even voice, I asked, "Look, about the mirror thing, what possible difference did it make? The last time you stopped over in that room, must have been more than a year ago. Sonja and I have been using that room regularly since before the old pervert took ill. Christ Almighty, the sights he must have seen!" I looked at Sonja and she had the grace to blush at the memory. I could see the anger in my sister's eyes, she has an icy stare that could freeze your balls and I laughed and said, "I guess you and Bernie must have put up a good show for the old bastard as well?" She suddenly saw the funny side of it, smiled and replied, "You could say that. Now what was in these documents you found that was so important that you 'forgot' to tell us that we had been performing under the watchful eyes of an old pervert?" I rose from the armchair and went behind the Chesterfield settee that she was sitting on and pulled the box with all the stuff I had found and gave it to her. "Some light bedtime reading matter. They look like bank statements to me, so that's your speciality, so over to you to tell us what they all mean." It had become our custom at this time each evening to review the day's events and discuss our plans for the next day. This was to keep everyone fully aware of what each of us was planning to do. In my case. The following day was simple, I was working 06.00 to 10.00 and again from 11.30 to 14.00, then I would be clearing out the flat above the Coach House. This was one of the reasons that Laura and Bernie were still living in the main house, the Coach House was a tip and needed to be remodelled before anyone could live in it. Laura too was straightforward, work and then home to see to the kids. Sonja told us she was going to see our builder and also check to status of the planning consent, while Bernie, as usual was doing as little as possible. He said, "I have to get the kids up and ready for school, them take them there before returning here and clearing out the basement rooms. He had been reputedly doing this for the last 3 months and had little progress to show for it. I stir the pot a little and asked, "How far have you got with that? I only aske because the skip hire people have been mithering for their skip. It's been here for weeks now and is still almost empty!" I watched him wriggle for a bit and it was Laura who, typically defended him, "He's had a very stressful time lately and you really shouldn't pressurise him into overdoing it!" It was time to stop pussyfooting around, so I said, "We are in a partnership and we each have to pull our weight, otherwise we are doomed before we start! I was down in the basement today and nothings been touched down there! Now either he starts pulling his weight or I throw him out!" Well, that must have touched a nerve, because Berne came out fighting and retorted, "I have had to spend so much time helping Sonja with finalising the plans that I have not been able to make a start downstairs!" I looked at my wife and she shrugged her shoulders and looked a little guilty, but she to defended the lazy bastard. She said, "He's been a great help getting the plans sorted and annotating the changes we need." "Since, I'm in the minority here, I apologise, but I want to see some progress in the basement or I'll down tools as well! I'm working my arse off on a part time job and coming back here and putting in a full shift here as well. Laura is also working all day and looking after the kids at night, but you two seem to be having a bit of a holiday and it had better change! It does not take two of you a week to go over drawings that we have already proofed once. It should only be a matter of a few minutes to check that our alterations have been implemented in this drawing release. You agreed that I was to act as manager for the whole project and as such, I demand that you two start making some progress on the tasks assigned to you!" I was fuming at my wife and brother and my sister seemed to be content to let things drift on. "Do I need to remind you that we have a limited budget and if we are to succeed, we must do a lot of the labouring work ourselves. We must be ready to start immediately the planning consent comes through and I have been told we will get outline approval within ten days! Ten days to get the cellars cleared out and the Coach House habitable. I will meet that deadline in the Coach House, but the cellars are way behind plan. Need I say any more?" I felt a bit crass for cracking the whip on then, when I knew that our budget problems were over, but they were not going to know that until I was ready. I was torn about keeping it secret from my sister, she of all people had a right to know, after all half of it was hers. I knew my sister too well and if I disclosed the secret of the gold to her, she could never keep it a secret from her waster husband. He would want to sit back and let someone else do the donkey work. That wasn't going to happen! I had had enough for one day, so I said, "I'm off to bed. Coming, Sonja?" I held my hand out to pull her up off the armchair she had parked herself on. She stood up and said, "Good night again. I still can't believe it! Some of the things that old bugger saw me do, would have shamed a sailor!" We went to bed and I reflected on the events of the evening. I even started to wonder about Sonja and Bernie, was there something going on between them? Surely not, he was older than me, fatter than me and going bald, but that apart, he could charm the hind legs off a donkey. I dismissed it from my head when Sonja slipped into bed and cuddled up to me. We talked about what uncle might had witnessed and tried to remember exactly what we had done the last few times we stayed here. The problem was, Sonja and I had an uninhibited sex life, we screwed like bunnies and nothing was taboo to her. Try as we might, we could not recall if we had done anything outrageous. Privately, I wondered if the old man had DVD's depicting our performance in one of those journals. I decided to concentrate on pleasuring Sonja, who was obviously turned on by the idea that she had been observed in her moments of passion with me. She had come to bed missing her normal PJ'S, it gets really cold in this old house at times. Instead she was wearing a sexy, short nightie that left most of her generous breasts exposed and short enough to reveal she had also left off her panties. We made love twice that night and again in the morning. I was up and out the door at 05.00 to make the short drive to the pub/hotel where I worked and preparing the breakfast took my mind off the question of uncle's legacy. I didn't bother going home and used my hours break to update the project plan on my laptop. When lunch was finished and the kitchen once more pristine, I drove home and fund Bernie actually doing some work for once. I was pleased that he had taken my talk last night to heart. I assumed that Sonja was still out seeing the builder and harassing the Planning people about our permit, so I rushed to the library and retrieved the second journal. Reading the notes on the fly page once more left me wondering, just how did he make his fortune? The warnings pretty well indicated that he had obtained the gold, if not illegally, then in some nefarious fashion that would raise the interest of the police or taxman. I locked the doors once more and sat and viewed the second DVD. This time the quality was much better and there was a sound track, obviously he had bought a more modern camera. This time the venue was this very house and more specifically the large hall. There were around ten or twelve couples in the hall, all in fancy dress. The men were a mix of clerics and devils with the odd Superman but it was the ladies that captured my attention! They were dressed as nuns or in some cases schoolgirls complete with gymslip and pigtails. Except these costumes were unlike any I had seen before. There was lots of bare flesh exposed and even more surprising was the amount of groping and caressing going on! The sound track was a voice over the background buzz of conversation and I recognised my uncle's voice. "Welcome to Bourton Hall. Tonight we are celebrating Halloween 1993. Just a reminder to all those present tonight, the party may get a little frisky later on. If you want join in, that's fine, if you don't, just leave. As usual, NO means NO, no exceptions!" The video continued for another few minutes and it was clear that the guests were itching for the next bit of the evening. The scene changed to the bigger of the public rooms and by this time most of the ladies were stripped of everything apart from the stockings, suspenders and high heels. The men were similarly disrobed and I could clearly identify my mother and aunt, despite their masks among the revellers and watched as they were fucked on the couch and floor. Not everyone participated, but most of them seemed to be engaged in sexual relations in one form or another. The next clip displayed the view from behind the mirror and I watched fascinated as a young girl was led blindfolded into the room by an older man I couldn't recognise because he also had a masks that disguised his features. He stripped her, but left her blindfold on and tied her to the bed using cord already in place for that purpose. She had her arms and legs bound and the man, started by gently stroking her breasts, an act to which she was not objecting. She was clearly not resisting his attentions and seemed to be moving her hips in response to his ministrations. After a few minutes of this treatment, the man moved between her legs and entered her pussy. She reacted as if she had been scalded and humped back at him, her proud breasts jiggling as she writhed beneath him. He proceeded to hump her willing pussy and his movements slowed and increased in tempo as he tried to delay his orgasm. Suddenly, he made a final thrust at her and I could see her lips open in a silent scream. It may have been loud, but as this part of the film had no sound track, it was impossible to tell. The man finished and quickly dressed as the girl lay panting on the bed, still secured by her bonds. The camera zoomed in and the residue from her fucking oozing out of her pussy and dripping onto the bed cover. The fact that the camera was not a fixed mount one, told me that someone was enjoying the erotic scene from behind the mirror. As the first man left, two more men entered and stripped off. One of the men approached he bed and started sucking on her hard nipples and when he lifted his head, he had clearly left his mark on her tit. The other man did likewise and the girl really started to twist and struggle as she shook her head and protested! Even without sound, it was clear that she was not consenting any more, but one of the men stuffed a gag into her mouth and silenced her protests. They resumed their attack on her breasts and while one guy bit and pulled at her breasts, the other entered her dripping pussy and proceeded to fuck her. As they worked on her, her protests stopped and she must have reached her first orgasm of the night as her whole body convulsed as the man fucking her climaxed. The first man finished and stood back to allow his colleague to have his turn at ravishing this beautiful young woman. This man untied her legs and arms and as he mounted her, she realised that she what was going to happen and with the new freedom of her limbs, she started to fight back, still with the gag firmly in her mouth. Clearly, this was what the man wanted and he was smiling as he slapped her face and tits in an effort to subdue her. Still she fought on and in a moment of respite, managed to pull the gag out of her mouth and scream! There was no stopping her attacker, and he continue to screw at her writhing body as he tried to crush her into the mattress! She was still fighting though, her nails were leaving scratch marks on his back as he and she approached their climax and with a final heave, he pumped himself into her as he came. By the time he had ejaculated into her swollen pussy, she was clearly exhausted and after he had risen from her, she just lay there, crying, legs wide open displaying her swollen and leaking cunt. The men departed and after a few moments, she arose and tried to stop sobbing while clean herself up before putting on a dressing gown. The door opened and my uncle and father came into the room and it was clear they realised what had happened as they stormed out the room. The girl moved to the mirror and it was when she looked directly into the mirror and removed her mask, that I got the shock of my life. The girl was Laura, my big sister Laura! It was Laura who had been raped! I watched as my mother entered the room and reached out for her daughter. At that point the film ceased. No fucking wonder she was as white as a ghost last night, it wasn't what she and Bernie had been up to that worried her, it was all the fact that her rape may have been filmed that concerned her! The DVD finished at that point and I took it out and read the postscript from my uncle; My dear nephew, I know by now you will be thoroughly shocked and appalled by these events. My behaviour was criminal and I have no excuse to offer. I had invited these men into my home and yes , I admit we had some wild parties in those days, but they abused my hospitality and ignored my rules when the attacked your sister. In my own defence, all I can say is the parties ceased after that evening. Your parents and I had no knowledge of your sister's attendance that night, she wangled an invite from a regular attendee who did not know of the connection. She was over sixteen at the time and submitted willingly to have sex with the first man. Do not condemn your sister for her actions, it may help you to understand her better and her reluctance at displays of affection. As far as the bonds are concerned, you can sell exchange them for the current market value. Any bank will advise you on this, in fact Laura probably knows better than me how to dispose of them. Now for your next clue; The treasure you seek can be found as you walk the main hall, It's not on the floor so look at the walls. Behind the large chest, You will discover the answer to your quest. With that clue fixed in my mind, I walked the entire length of the main hallway and couldn't see the chest he talked about. Sure, there was furniture here and there, all firmly floor standing, nothing on the walls! I stopped and walked back down, this time studying the walls. Like most old houses, there were paintings, some oils, some water colours, landscapes and portraits a complete miss mash of styles. I stopped at one, a portrait of a woman, not just that a woman wearing a long formal dress cut very low across her breasts! Breasts ... chests, was that it? I moved the portrait and it swung outwards revealing a small safe set into the wall! My excitement bounded, my heart was hammering as I tried the same combination as before, 1975 and pulled the knob, but it was still locked! I thought maybe it was the year marked on the journal, 1993! This time the safe opened and as I peered inside, all I could see was an envelope, nothing else, just a single envelope. I took it out and slipped ten certificates. From my quick scan they had varying face values and I mentally added them up to over £6M! I shoved them back in the safe. Locked it and replaced the portrait. This I needed to think about and hard. I couldn't keep this to myself for long, I knew that much, but I wanted to finish the quests before revealing all to my wife, sister and Bernie. Our House I checked the time and decided to check up on Bernie so went down into the basement expecting to find him there. He wasn't but at least he had cleared a few of the twenty odd rooms down there. I went searching and found him on the computer, which he swiftly shut down as soon as I entered the room. "What you up then? I thought you were clearing out the basement rooms?" I asked. He smiled and said, "I got a call and had to respond to some emails, so I took a break. I am allowed a break aren't I? he asked the sarcasm clear in his voice. "Sure." I responded, "Just as long as the rooms are cleared by the end of this week. Something's come up that may change our plans!" That made him curious, but I refused to answer any more questions and retreated to the library. I had to see what the final journal had to say! Four -- The Search Quest 3 I took the final journal dated 2011 and opened it to find once more my uncle's distinctive script covered the first page; My dearest nephew, please think very carefully before you view the enclosed DVD. If you ignore my warning, be aware that the contents could destroy your concept of love and fidelity! Your final quest, if you choose to continue, will bring you diamonds. I won't wish you luck, because I think you are the luckiest of men to have a wife like Sonja and as long as you have her, you don't really need anything else. I read and reread this final message. It was clear that he was warning me off, as if he didn't want me to pursue the matter further, but at the same time dangling the bait of finding the diamonds to encourage my greed. Was he trying to tell me that Sonja was cuckolding me? Why else the warning about love and fidelity? I was pretty sure that Sonja would never do that and that she loved me too much to betray me, but as I pondered that another thought struck me. Why else would he intentionally lead me down the path of suspicion if he did not want to pursue it! He knew that one could never put the genie back in the bottle once it had escaped and the evil bastard had deliberately handed me the magic lantern! Fuck it! I decided to watch the DVD and let the cards fall as they may. Once more the doors were locked and I pressed the play button with some feelings of dread. I wondered what I would find? Once more the scene was the main reception room and the date time reading told me that it was Christmas 2011. I stopped the player and tried to I remember the events of that party, Sonja and I, Laura and Bernie were all there, Uncle Charles had insisted on our attendance but, shortly after we arrived, I had to return home to respond to a reported fire alarm from our business. We had been having trouble with the damned thing for weeks, but it was a simple matter to reset it and I would only be gone an hour. As it turned out it was no false alarm, but by the time that I got there it was out, but I had to wait while reports were completed and a repair firm called out to fix the door that the Firemen had broken to gain access. I tried calling Sonja, but it went straight to message. It was to be the next morning before I got everything sorted and made my way back to Bourton Hall. I struggled with my memory and could not remember anything significant about that morning. Sonja was her normal self in the morning, pretty grumpy, Laura gave me no indication of anything amiss, but come to think of it, Bernie was pretty damn pleased with himself! Curiosity got the better of me and I restarted the player. The video was playing and I watched as Sonja, Bernie and Laura worked the room talking and joking with the other guests. As the party thinned out the scene changed to what I have decided to call the voyeur room. Bernie was the first to arrive and I assumed that he and Laura had been given the room by Uncle Charles, but it was not Laura who entered, it was Sonja! She had no sooner closed and locked the door, than she was stripping off her evening dress to reveal her naked body. "I see you've come ready for action?" Bernie, lying on the bed said as he slowly wanked his cock. I noted that he was not any bigger than me and wondered what the great attraction was that would persuade my wife to willingly throw herself at him. They were soon hard at it and I listened as he goaded her into doing exactly what he demanded. The final ignominy for me was when he said, "Tell who's the best, me or your husband?" Her reply cut me to more than the visual image of them fucking. "You know that it's always been you and only you that could make me come like this" As she uttered those words she screamed to her first climax. He still had not come and turned her onto her knees and pushed his cock up her puckered arse, it wasn't puckered long as she opened up to accommodate his pulsating cock. They fucked that way for another ten minutes or so before he pulled out and grabbed her hair forcing her round to accept his slimy cock into her mouth and I watched with horror as she sucked him to completion. As they rested afterwards, he said, "I've told Laura to join us just as soon as she gets rid of the other guests and gives uncle his nightly blow job. Poor bugger lives for that now, maybe we should get him to join us for a foursome?" They laughed quietly at the thought and then she said, "You know, that's not a bad idea, it would probably kill the old pervert, especially if Laura and I do him together." Another laugh and then he said, "We just need to keep Andy sweet for the time being and that's still got to be your job. We need his culinary skills and reputation to help build this place up, before we can gradually ease him out." "That's easy for you to say, but I'm that one that has to fuck him and stroke his ego just to keep him happy. You realise that if he gets one hint that we've been screwing around, then he will walk and we will be fucked, so you need to stop mooning around me, he nearly caught us yesterday. He's a bit thick when it comes to me, but he's not entirely blind." They were interrupted at that point and Bernie got up and opened the door for my loving sister, Laura. She smiled and shrugged off her clothes and stood there silently until Sonja said, You're your arse over here lick me out!" Like she was on auto pilot, Laura got into bed with Sonja and started licking her pussy until, Sonja stopped her and the pair started kissing passionately, finally ending up in a sixty nine. After a short while of this, Bernie joined them on the bed and proceeded to stick his cock first in Laura's pussy for a few thrusts, then coming out and starting on Sonja. He kept this up for ages until he exploded into their faces. As I watched them, I realised that my marriage was over! The film stopped then and I struggled to recall the incident she was talking about. Last Christmas, the fire at the business, then my 6AM early morning arrival back at Bourton Hall. I had entered using the kitchen door as the car was parked outside the coach house and practically ran into Sonja in the kitchen. I was beat after being up most of the night and all I wanted was to get some sleep. Sonja is never a morning person, but for her to rise so early was completely out of character. I even made a joke about it and she blocked my way out of the kitchen and insisted in cooking me some breakfast. When I finally got to our room, the one with the mirror, I just lay down on the bed and slept. Now, as I recall the incident, I remember that the bed was freshly made, with clean, crisp, freshly laundered sheets. This was also out of character for Sonja, she rarely made the bed in the morning. Seemingly simple little things but when they are put in context of what I had just heard and seen, it started to add up. Then again, yesterday, when I entered the room and they broke apart, was that me interrupting something? Poor old Uncle Charles, he died shortly after Christmas of a heart attack! I started to wonder about that, but then reflected, that was done and he had been cremated so there was no mileage in going there, let the poor bugger rest in peace. My marriage may well be over, but I was damned if any of them was going to benefit from that! I had to plan carefully, uncles legacy was still my secret and I was determined that it would remain that way. First plan, find the diamonds; To help you find the stones, You need to search the place of moans, On the bedstead you may discover, That bed accommodates more than cheating lovers! The bed of moans, could only be the one in the mirror room, what used to be our regular room, but where on the bedstead could you hide diamonds? I went to the bedroom and inspected the bedstead. It was an old solid oak frame with metal tubular uprights at each corner and each topped with a rounded plastic knob. I tested the two on the bottom of the bed and they were fixed solid! I moved to the bed head and tried them, they too were fixed solidly. I had been so sure that this was where he would have hidden them, but they were definitely secure. I checked over the rest of the bed headrest and found nothing to give any indication of a secret compartment. I then moved to the bottom of the bed and inspected the panelling and again nothing that looked like a secret compartment. Just as I was about to give up and in frustration, I twisted the knob nearest me quite savagely as I pulled himself from my knees. It gave and started to unscrew! I had tried turning it before but in the conventional counter clockwise fashion to loosen. All I was doing was tightening the thread, this knob was a left hand thread an operated in the opposite manner! I unscrewed it and lifted it off and peered inside the hollow post, nothing! It was empty! Disappointment flowed through me, but I made myself check the other three knobs as well and it was the last one I checked that I hit pay dirt. A soft leather pouch that turned out to be about nine inches long was tied by a drawstring to a hook on the underside of the knob. I tugged at the drawstring and slowly pulled the pouch out of the tubular recess and held the sack in my hands. I went over to the dressing table and carefully opened the drawstring and tipped some of the contents on the dresser top. I know nothing about diamonds, but the bag I was holding must contain scores of them! I suddenly became conscious of the mirror and realised that this was probably not the best place to make an assessment as to how many stones were contained in the bag, so I hurriedly replaced the ones that I had spilled out of the pouch and drew the drawstring tight. I slipped the pouch into my pocket and went to prepare dinner. After dinner we all sat down to review the progress made that day. Sonja went first and confirmed the planning consent had been given the nod and it only waited for the committee to rubber stamp it then we could start. The builder was ready to go and suggested that as we had more or less received the necessary permissions, maybe he could start the following Monday, he had lots to do that didn't need approval and we agreed to that. At last some progress! Laura went next and reported that we had sufficient funds to at least get the works started, but that we had to get some more funds or we would be bust! She told us that our budget was now looking around £100K short! I said, "I may have an idea of where I can get some additional funding, but I can't tell you who the benefactor is, only that he is prepared to grant us such a loan as long as we can convince him that we will be able to pay him back within three years." "Three years! That is a very short time frame, to try and repay that sort sum," cried Laura. Bernie joined in saying, "It's not that bad, we may have to cut back a bit on the refit side, but the kitchen is a priority. It's the kitchen that is going to make or break this hotel. We need to ensure that Andy has everything he needs to provide top quality food!" Sonja then has say and she objected to the change in the budget and said, "I get it that Andy must have a good kitchen, but don't forget the paying customers will want the decorative state of the rooms to reflect the building! I f we cut corners, I twill show and business will suffer as a result." All this was manna to my ears for I wanted them to stretch themselves to the limit before I pulled the rug out from under them! "Look Laura, just how much will we need to bring this place up to the standard we set originally?" "£75K should be enough to bring us up to a decent standard, but for top quality, another £20K would be ideal," she answered. "Ok. I'll ask him for £100K repayable over ten years. Everyone happy with that?" They all nodded, so I continued, "I'll need to make a trip to France to make the arrangements and while I'm there, I'll check out some wines for the cellar. Do you want to accompany, Sonja?" It came as no surprise to me when she said, "I'm sorry, I'd love to, but there's too much to do here. Maybe, next time?" I smiled to myself, I knew exactly what she had to do, fuck fat Bernie and my sister. I'd given her the opportunity to spend some alone time with me and she had turned it down in favour the chance of some uninterrupted screwing with Bernie. Her last chance had gone, now I would screw them, but royally! The next day, I drove to the Chunnel and loaded he car aboard the train and was soon in France. I had taken the diamonds and the gold coins with me, for I intended to return home via Antwerp and dispose of some of the diamonds there. The coins, I would sell in France, not too many, maybe one hundred per transaction. I sold the first those, to a Jewish merchant in Paris and obtained a good price. I now had enough money for the 'loan' to my sister. As she was the major shareholder, she would have to sign the agreement. I then proceeded to several other merchants and unloaded another five hundred, the rest I decided to hold as a reserve. I restocked the wine cellar en-route to Switzerland, where I set up a numbered account and deposited about half of the I set up a bank account in a small bank in Zurich and at another, opened a safety deposit box. I put the remainder of the gold and the bonds in there and moved onto Antwerp. Again, made some discreet enquiries and found a dealer prepared to give me a valuation on the gems. I was absolutely astonished at the valuation of fifteen million Euros. He offered to sell them on my behalf, but I thanked him and left. At yet another bank, I opened another safety deposit and left the diamonds in there for the time being. The whole trip took five days and I had not bothered to talk to Sonja during the entire trip, though I did email her every day. When I returned, they were all waiting for me to tell them about the loan. I had all the papers ready and thanks to an old friend in Zurich, I had a legal loan agreement prepared and ready for signature. I explained that the best deal I could get from the lender, was £75K, but not over ten years, but seven! Naturally, they were disappointed with this deal, but they had no option but to sign. That night, Sonja made a token effort and offered to have sex with me, but I pleaded that I was exhausted and maybe it would be better to try in the morning. With the project now underway, I threw myself into the project management role and right on schedule the work was completed and we were ready to open. Laura packed in her job to concentrate on the house management and Bernie, he tried to look busy, but he followed Sonja around with is tongue hanging out. They tried to be discrete about it, but once I knew they were having an affair and that my own sister was also involved, it wasn't hard to note the times where they contrived to find alone time. I must admit, I made it easy for them. I had no interest in fucking Sonja anymore and when she did make overtures in that department, I rejected them pleading exhaustion and stress. She seemed to accept that explanation, but quite honestly, I didn't give a fuck whether she did or not. In advance of the opening day, advertising was commissioned and open days held to show potential patrons the facilities and for them to sample the cuisine from my kitchen. The events were successful and the advance bookings looked promising and it was at that point I made my preparations. I had consulted a lawyer and set the wheels in motion for Sonja to be served at noon on opening day. The morning we were supposed to open, I walked out the door and drove away. I caught a plane to Paris and spent a few days there before moving on. One of the tasks I did before leaving our house was to arrange for a private detective to keep an occasional eye on the house and provide regular monthly reports on how our business was progressing. At first they managed fairly well and overcame the lack of having a great chef available on day one and managed to make the loan repayments on time. Then the cracks began to appear, first they started getting into arguments about the hotel, the kitchen and the final straw was when Bernie reverted to form and started drinking heavily. It took Laura and Sonja four months to get him out and even then, they had to buy him off with a substantial lump sum, borrowed from a close friend of Sonja's. The reports coming back from the PI started to change, the house was getting a reputation for being a place where you went if you wanted to score, with the other sex that is, not drugs, well not yet anyway. There were even some evidence to suggest that rooms were also available at short notice and for the hour as well. Despite all the money coming in from that source, they still missed a loan repayment, then another and another. This was what I had been waiting for and I got my lawyer to write to them insisting on immediate payment of the back log repayments. They failed once more, so this time, I got the lawyer to make them an offer, I would waive the outstanding payments in lieu of a 25% stake in the business. Laura refused immediately, so I waited another month and when the next instalment failed to materialise, I had another letter sent, demanding 30% or I would sue them. This would force the hotel into bankruptcy and I could always buy the house at that point. All this had been done through intermediaries and I refused Laura's plea's for a face to face meeting. I decided to offer her an olive branch, it didn't really matter at this stage how big the percentage was, as long it was greater than 5%, I would have effective control of the business and the house! In any case, I would have it all sooner or later. I told my representatives to strike a deal in excess of 10% and was jubilant when they confirmed that she had agreed to 18% of her shares in the business. It was time for me to make my reappearance. My divorce was final and I was ready to confront the cheating bitch and my equally treacherous sister! I drove up in my new Bentley and walked past the unstaffed Reception and into the back office, also vacant. I wandered around he familiar rooms and sizing up on the state they were in and decided a redecoration was the first priority for the public rooms. There was a barman behind the bar and I asked him where the boss was. He grinned and indicated that they were both upstairs at the moment and could not be disturbed. I asked him his name and he said, "Trevor, I'm Trevor Stone. Who are you, then?" I slipped him a twenty and told him, "I'm your new boss and if you want to continue working here, keep your mouth shut, because it's like a surprise for your ex bosses!" I went upstairs and there was some activity going on in the corridor. A maid was servicing the rooms and I walked past her and into what had been our bedroom. I guess I should have been surprised, but somehow it seemed fitting to find my ex on her back getting rammed by a large coloured gent. He was pretty well endowed and while he was fucking at the slut under him, my sister was reaming out his arsehole with her tongue. They were all naked and far too occupied to notice me standing watching. All I could hear was Sonja begging Victor to fuck her harder and he grunted and wheezed as he tried to comply! I waited until he had finished and while he was still in that post orgasmic state, I pulled him off Sonja and ordered him to get dressed and leave as I had business to conduct with the sluts. He was a bit antsy about leaving and he turned to face me and unseen by Sonja or Laura, he winked at me and said, "Look man, whatever business you have here also concerns me. These two sluts are into me for a lot of money and you could say that what you seen just now was me collecting the interest! I want to know just what is your connection with these two women." Our House It's been a while but I'm back to Feed That Need! I see you there standing in our living room, looking so sweet sexy and vulnerable. The late day sunlight sets your body aglow and I can't help but pause to admire your raving hot beauty with promises of a hot night of passionate steamy sex. Your 4 ½ ", see-through heels, display your pretty feet and toenails, with a shinny coat of silver nail polish. From your ankles, calves, behind your knees, up to your creamy thighs which subtly disappear beneath your hot pink negligee, causes me to clench my hands and move closer behind you for a better view. My hard muscular chocolate colored body, covered with a light coat of sweat, from my work out in our basement. I lick my lips, seeing your heart-shaped ass. Your tight waist, flairs out revealing the small of your lower back, but once again disappears behind your long flowing hair. I feel a jolt go through my growing cock and I am now only inches away. I can also measure this distance because my cock presses and pushes it's way out my boxers. Softy, I move your hair to the side. Staring down at your back, I feel my hot breath escaping my lips and down on your tender shoulders. I gently rub my dark brown fingers along your shoulder, followed by my wet and hot tongue, as I trace along your smooth skin. "I'm hot for you my white wife," I whisper softly in your ear, then tenderly bite your earlobe. Your breath is heavy, and I feel your body tremble slightly as I wrap my arms around your waist. Slowly my hands drift up your body, foundling and massaging your firm round breast. Gentle but firmly I pinch your nipples, making them hard and erect. A wave of passion sweeps over me and I bite down on to your shoulders. You tremble, shutter, falling back into my arms, throwing your head back and you softly moan. "Oh my strong black husband, I surrender myself to you." "Damn right you will," I growl in response. Feeling your foot raise up and rub against my muscular leg, I then take hold of and snatch you back by your hair, yanking your head around as I press my lips against yours, shoving my tongue into your mouth. Releasing your hair, I slide my black hand around your neck, locking your head in position as our tongues flicker in a red hot dance of lust and urgency. Your body slides against my big black dick and my lips quivers. Grabbing your hip with one hand, I grind against your gyrating ass and pull you close as if trying merge with you. You take my hand urgently, pulling it up and slide my fingers into your mouth, licking each finger freely displaying your yearning hunger for me. Suddenly I spin you around to face me, wrap my hands around your ass and pull you close to continue our passionate kiss. I pull away, and immediately attack your neck and breasts, as your hands smoothly massage my hard muscular chest and shoulders. I rip open your negligee, freeing your sexy round breasts and inviting cleavage. I immediately bury my dark brown, bald head between your tits. Bending you backward, I groan, smelling your hot sassy perfume. Glancing over at the mirrored wall, I see your long hair dangling behind you and my dick grows harder, as I witness me ravishing your luscious body. The sight of your hands and painted fingernails, sliding along my sweat covered muscles, causes me to growl like an animal, a wild beast in heat. In one swift motion, I sweep you off your feet carry you in to our bedroom, laying you down on the bed, our bed, yes, the bed where I will fuck you royally, like a king captures his queen. "You are mine now my beautiful white wife," I exclaim, mounting and moving between your legs, which quickly wrap around my lower back. Once again our lips lock in romantic lust. I feel your fingernails dig into my skin. I ignore the stinging as it blends into the overall passion of the moment. Your breasts feel like hot satin pillows against my face, as I fondle, kiss and bite each nipple. Taking my time, I slow and deliberately run my tongue, between your tits, venturing down, and poking into your belly button. Gripping your hips I slide my tongue down to your clit, along your thighs, calves ankles and finally stopping at your feet. Taking your each of your feet, I kiss and lick your toes. My head spins just a little, as the sweet scent of your hot funky sweet pussy fills my nostrils. I slide back up the length of your body, however, you place your hand on my hard wide chest and push me back. I watch anxiously as your hands reach out, taking hold of my big black cock, stroking it tightly. You now take my throbbing tool with your hands and gently pull back the tight foreskin, admiring its length and coarse veins. A soft and gentle moan escapes from your lips as you lean forward, planting a loving smooch at the crown and causes it to jolt up, slapping against your nose. "You think he likes it," you giggle. "Hell yeah," I reply flexing my cock in cadence. We share a warm laugh, before you kiss it once again, and then slow and purposefully slide it inside your warm wet mouth, causing it to flex tightly on its own. Like a warm wet velvet cloth, I feel your tongue slide up and down the length of my cock, licking along the cylindrical sides, and occasionally sucking my balls into your mouth, before ascending my rock hard ebony tower, rolling the pulsing crown in your mouth, as you rapidly flicker your tongue. Taking advantage of my imbalance you push me back on our king size bed. Gently you stroke my feet, cradling them in your hands, and kissing my toes. From there you journey up to my chest. Sucking my hard pectorals and leaving a huge hickey. You suck my nipples, making them hard, and stroke your fingers along my six-pack abs. You stare up coyly at me, giving me just a hint of your intentions. Then you plunge down the length of my cock, forcing it into and stretching your throat. The sloppy wet sounds of your jaws, tongue and lips smacking against my pipe has my toes curling and I feel your burning desire to worship my big black cock. I push your head away as I feel my hot jizz boiling up and threatening to explode inside your hungry mouth. Tonight I prefer to bust this nutt inside your sexy tight ass. "So you think you can take the cream of my passion when you want to huh, bullshit wifey slut, I'm in charge here," I bark. I get off the bed, leave the room, but return shortly with a lit joint and a bottle of our favorite champagne. I take a long mouthful of the bubbly, snatch you over and kiss you and together we share the chilly liquid. I do this several times and by the time I pull away, we're dizzy with high-powered lust. Flipping you on your back, I pour champagne all over and inside your ass. "I draw back my breath seeing how the soft mounds quiver about. I climb to the top of the bed and position myself beside you, I pull you close, kiss your cheeks and eyelids and then I state in a deep sultry voice, "I've made your sexy body my personal champagne glass, now serve me a drink." "Oh god yes, by black strong husband." Quickly you climb to the very top of the bed, facing toward me, positioning your ass right above my face and lower yourself down upon my puckered lips. "Oh...oh shit...yes...yes...ooh my sweet lord...oooh," you cry out, feeling my hot moist tongue penetrating your yearning insides, probing, and sticking about. Instantly your body jumps as if sparked by surging electricity, as my tongue shuttles and circles from your hot pink vagina to your tight sphincter and probes you deeply. I drink the warming champagne down, allowing some to dribble down my chin. With each passing second, your body becomes more and more charged with electric sexual energy and soon, your ass is rotating and twisting. "Oh my husband, what...what are you...you doing to me!" I manage to smile through my ass-pussy covered lips, knowing I have you just where I want you. You try to raise up to lesson my oral assault, but my strong muscular arms lock around your waist, preventing any escape. I see you vaguely twisting your head left and right, back and forth, as you begin to lose control. You glance back and see my black granite tower, shinning and gleaming with hot dripping precum and you cry; "Please fuck me, fuck me my big black dick husband, oooh yes!" I ignore your pleas and cries, I'm in control and my goal is to get you deliriously hot before I invade your hot entrance. When I feel your ass-ring clench my tongue and your entire body convulses, I know you're releasing your liquid nectar for me and now I'm ready to fuck the living shit out of you. I roar lowly, tossing a pillow across the bed. I glance menacingly down at you. I see the fear, and exhilaration in your eyes. The look upon my face, let's you know that the savage beast inside me is free and is now in control. I turn you away from me. Snatching a long pillow case I wrap it around your waist, trapping your hands against your body, while wrapping the other end around my hand. "I have you now, you hot sexy bitch." "What...what are you going to do to me?" "You're about to find out," I growl in a deep guttural voice, and slap you sharply on her ass cheeks. "Ouch...oooh daddy it...it hurts," "Good that's the price you pay for turning me on so Goddamn much, now take this spanking bitch...take it, take it," I shout. I stop to watch your body trembling, shivering awaiting my next blow. Instead, I pour champagne on your back, cooling down your red cheeks that must have been burning by now. I leaned down, plant a soft kiss on your ass and then raise back up, and growl like an angry animal, as I listen to your soft whimpering. In one swift motion, I locate your tight hole and plow my way inside your stinky pussy. I can feel your hot pink canal stretching about my Nubian spear and I slowly stroke at a methodical pace. I yank you back and hold your body close to mind. "You like all this dick inside you wifey?" "You know I do...oooh my husband, I love what you do to me," you cry out. "Keep that in mind from this point on cause I think you already know what I'm gonna do to you...right...you already know what I'm gonna do, don't you," I growl. "Yes" "Huh, what's that bitch," I snap. "Yes...oooh shit," you sheepishly moan. Your body's shivering and your breath is short. I slide my tongue inside your ear, then bite your lobe gently. "I'm gonna tear your ass up so bad, you're gonna think I'm rapping you." With that said, I launch a maniacal assault on your pussy, stroking and slamming hard into it. I ignore your screams and pound you like a wild man. "I love you my strong bla...black husband oh wow...oooh I'm cumin...I'm cumin!" I pause to enjoy feeling your convulsing love chamber implode around my swollen spear. I can almost feel the hot misty spray coating my tool with it's steamy nectar. When I feel your body begin to relax, I continue my powerful thrusts, pushing you right over the edge again and again until I can literally feel your love juice cascading down my shaft before dripping down on the bed. I slow down and watch my slippery wet pipe slide and out of you. I smile menacingly knowing I've successfully set you up for the kill. I slide away from your sopping wet pink chamber and immediately force my tool inside your unsuspecting anal cavity. "Ohh...oooh my husband...aarghhh...ahhhh...ahhhh," you scream as your helpless sphincter gives way and I slide down inside you. With every inch, you cry louder, clutching at the pillow, the headboard, and anything you can to pull yourself away from my power tool. It takes a while for your tight ass to loosen up but soon, I feel it stretch to accommodate my big black fuck drill. I pull out slowly, leaving just the crown inside to stretch your ass ring, then I growl and plow down putting every inch of me inside you. Playfully I pull out teasing your ass, only to drive back inside, harder and faster. Futilely you attempt to pull away, but I pull you back with the sheet, wrapped around my hands and soon, I'm pounding you with the force of a jackhammer. I pull you off the bed and across the room next to a small chair. "Grab the back of the chair," I order. You quickly comply and as you do, I jam forward, knocking you nearly over a rocking- chair, before pulling you back with the sheet. At one point I slam you so hard, your knees buckle but I refuse to let you fall, dipping and thrusting up, nearly bumping you off your feet. Stepping back I loosen the towel, giving you just enough slack, to snatch you back and continue pounding you harder and harder. Releasing the towel I turn you around and we kiss again. Guiding you over to the edge of the bed but keep your feet on the floor I push you down on your knees and fuck you doggy style. I steady myself, snatch back your hair and snarl "I own you bitch, ahhh, take my black dick inside your hole." I thrust up, slapping my body into your ass cheeks, causing you to climb to your feet, but as soon as you do, I pummel up inside you and see your pretty feet jitter about trying to maintain your balance and it only fuels my rage. "Whose ass is this bitch," I snap "Yours my hus...my husband," she cries. "Then give it to me, give it all to me Goddamnit, give me it," I shout fucking you harder and harder, faster and faster, deeper and deeper until... "Ooh shit, ooh my fucking white wifey...here it cums...here it cums...here it fuckin cums!" I buck like a wild bull or a enraged colt, jamming, growling and roaring, as I feel my hot jizz raising up inside my cock, making it steel hard, aching and throbbing.. I stop, my body stiffens and becomes as hard as my cock, every muscle flexed and tight. I glance into the mirror beside our bed, and see my face frozen, my powerfully hard body pressed and as one with yours, and then I fire blast after, blast after blast inside your twitching ass, splattering hot white juice along your walls. I urgently reach around you and take hold of your clit, squeezing it tightly and then slide my fingers inside your pussy and I hear you scream..."Oh my strong black husband," as your pussy sporadically contracts around my fingers. I pick you up and lay you down on the bed, climb beside you. We hug and kiss, never saying a word, totally embracing our moment of heaven. I feel your hands wiping the sweat from my face and brow, and then lick the sweat from my heaving chest. "You know you stopped me from fixing the steaks for dinner," You giggle softly. "Maybe we can order out tonight," I reply. "Well what would you like?" "I like you right here in our house, in our bed, sliding up and down on your husband's big black cock." I answer, pulling you in to a spoon position. "But I'm starving," you cry. "Really, well come get this protein shake, that should hold you till we eat," I smile flexing and rubbing my flesh spear against you. "Oh my strong black sexy husband," you cry. THE END...for now... Our House - Our Home Marquis was a double letter man in high school. He played basketball and ran track. His god-like physique had not stood the test of time. Not blubbery. Just pudgy. 32 loomed in the air, just two months away. Marquis worked third shift at Wally World. Finally!! He had made management! Today was Marquis' forth month as manager and his second year on the "C-Team". He had long since gotten used to the shift and needing to wake up at 5:00 pm. Not a problem. He lived about 45 minutes from work (maybe less -- depending on how fast he drove). That meant he had about two hours to eat, get dressed, and spend time with his fiancée. Wanda, aged 30, usually got home around six. Since his promotion, they had recently had a house built not far from the complex where they had been living for the last seven years. Five o'clock rolled around again, today. Marquis had a plate of lasagna left over from last night and put his plate in the dishwasher. He began pealing away his pj's while brushing his teeth. Fresh breath and naked; Marquis set his water and realized there were no wash clothes in the bathroom. Off went the shower. He headed to the linen closet, but was brusquely reminded that yesterday was laundry day. He was supposed to fold cloths -- the disadvantage of procrastination. Off to the dryer, he got mad at himself for eating into his at-home time. The return trip from the dryer to the shower is when Wanda walked in the door. Furious, she asked, "Why the HELL are you walking around our house naked?" ********************************* Wanda wasn't the model student Marquis was. Her father wanted to be in her life. He had this little problem. He didn't see anything wrong with smacking her mother around when her mother "stepped out of line." Wanda's hid this from her children (or thought she did) as much as possible. She bounced around foster homes and juvenile centers from age nine to sixteen. Therefore, the concept of "home" didn't mean as much as it should have meant for a child. She was really a smart kid. She, probably, would have been in advanced classes and on the fast track to a successful college career. The "what-if's" in life can be funny like that. Thanks to counseling and an OTJ training program, she started making moves to straighten her life out. She had gotten her GED. Wanda worked at Carl's Jr. for a little over a year before "moving up" to a job at a buffet. Just like anyone, old habits don't just disappear forever. Mike met Wanda when she worked at Carl's Jr. Mike never hit Wanda with his hands. He did his abusing emotionally. That's how she wound up pregnant in a relationship that -- if she had thought about it -- would have ended as soon as it started. She found out she was pregnant about a month and a half into working at the buffet. At her second trimester, she had a miscarriage and discovered how fortunate she was. Wanda wasn't the woman of Mike's dreams. He had always wanted to become a parent. Wanda just needed to be a woman. When she was no longer with child; she was no longer with Mike. It's said, "The best revenge is a life well lived." Wanda was not in that "well lived" category; she had, pretty much written-off the American dream they tell you about. But she was in a place of contentment. Seven years in her own apartment, she had grown strong in her belief that the picket fence wouldn't be hers AND that she would be OK without it. Wanda met a guy named Marquis at the gas station where he worked, at the time. He fell in love at first site. She told him that she had problems with men in the past, but that didn't stop Marquis from pursuing her. Maybe there's something to persistence. He was able to convince Wanda that he was different from the men in her past. He made her laugh, but he had the maturity to know -- to let her know he was a grown man. He learned that from his family. They were tightly knit. It was Marquis' family that continually nagged him about moving in Wanda while they were just dating. He decided they were right and proposed. ********************************* That was about a week before you came in. Newly engaged, a big party would add to her joy. Smith, Goldman, and Trotter won a particularly important case, and went to her restaurant to celebrate. That night, the wait staff got tips as big as the rest of the week. Wanda invited a couple of her girlfriends from work to a party at her place. Cindy and Diane agreed and followed Wanda. On the way, Diane started coming down with a head-ache. Diane being Cindy's ride the celebration was going to be just Wanda and her man. Yes, she probably should have called to let Marquis know she was bringing home company. As she turned the key to see her groom-to-be nude, that thought was not at the forefront. Her only thought was the fact that her co-workers may have walked in on him had Diane not been worn out from her double shift. "Why the HELL are you walking around our house naked? ...Because my friends don't need to see you naked." "...Because we have neighbors." "...Because you are grown enough to know better." Anger, worry and relief turned to confusion. As though joining in on the argument, he shouted his response, "Where?" "OUR H--." She got it. He had turned the confrontation into some other animal. It started a mucky pig. Now it had become the ever allusive unicorn. Wanda was living the life she was never supposed to have. She didn't owe her success to Marquis. He helped them get there **together**. He smiled a grinchy smile when he saw he had gotten what he had wanted. Her eyes started to water tears of joy. That didn't happen too often; her being so hardened. He got the emotions from her he had been feeling since they signed their paper work. He said nothing because she said nothing. Marquis' past wasn't as rough as Wanda's, but who doesn't like moving up in life? "That's right! Say it with me... ...'our house.'" "Our House. Our House. Our House." They said in unison. He took his lady in his arms and told her he was DEFINITELY going to have to call-in. They spent the evening warming as much of their home as possible.