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The Gentleman

By: ayrelia



As I woke up, I felt a little woozy and definitely drugged. I realized as I came to that my eyes were covered and that my hands were cuffed to what felt like a rung of a stool. I tried to move my feet but my legs were braced apart. I heard a voice whisper behind my ear that I was well secured and would not move until he choose me to. I felt a burning sensation in my nipple as he rolled it hard between his fingers. I squealed and tried to pull away, but it was quite obvious I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not. I felt fingernails scratch up the back of my thigh and then nails dig into my ass, followed but a hard slap. I lurched forward a bit and let out a whimper. 

"That's a good little girl, whimper for me," He whispered in my ear.

His words rang in my ears as another slap landed on my ass. I winced as the fire spread across my ass. His voice familiar to me but I was not in a position really to ponder his identity. I felt another hard slap on my ass. A sudden surge ran through my body as his fingers grazed my clit with his harsh smack. I leaned into the chair as the hand landed on my ass several more times. I was sobbing slightly. I squirmed trying to guard the more tender parts from each slap, which made him respond unmercifully.

His hands left my body, but I heard a deep cackle behind me.

I felt something hard and cold begin to probe me. The sensation as the object passed over my clit sent a shiver through my body. I felt my pussy begin to drip as he continued. He slid the tip up and down my lips before slowly teasing my dripping hole. I could feel the tip begin to stretch the opening and then retreat to rubbing my clit. I couldn't help the little moans and sighs escaping my lips.

"That's a good girl. You like being fucked don't you?" I could not have formed words if I tried. He skillfully fucked me and I really didn't want him to stop.

"This my dear is my favorite Pyrex dildo. I am going to use it to loosen you up a little bit. I don't want any rug burn on my cock," He cackled at his own joke. "You will do everything I tell you to do and you will enjoy every moment. And tomorrow morning, you will wake up in your own bed, well fucked with the sense that this was just a wild fever induced dream. Do you understand me, slut?"

He didn't wait for me to answer him. He began to fuck my pussy quite roughly. I felt waves of orgasm build deep inside and then the dildo was abruptly ripped from deep inside. I heard a zipper and I knew what was going to happen next. I felt the head of his cock poking at my pussy then with one stroke he submerged himself to the hilt. I let out with a yelp and leaned into the stool. He wrapped his hands around my waist and began a slow steady thrusting pattern. I felt his fingers travel up to my nipples as he pinched and rubbed my tits. We quickly developed a steady rhythm between his thrusts and my muscle spasms. I was beginning to love his cock. He began to twitch deep inside the walls of pussy. I knew he was about to cum. I lurched forward violently trying to dislodge his cock before he bathed my insides with cum but it was met with firm hands on my shoulders and a hard thrust slamming his rigid cock back deep into my pussy. I felt the warm geyser. He followed with little thrusts, as my cunt milked his cock for every drop.

I felt his hands wrap in my hair and he yanked my ear to his lips, "If I wanted to cum anywhere else but your cunt I would of." He growled and bit my earlobe, "Remember our agreement, you do as your told." He dislodged his cock from me and slapped my clit for my disobedience I let out a squeak and lurched forward with the impact trying to soften the blow. "Bad little girls get punished. Are you going to be a good little girl from now on and do what you're told?" He punctuated his question with a pinch to my clit. I squirmed under his fingers.

"Yes, I will be a good little girl for you," I stammered. He made little circles over my burning, sore clit in approval of my willingness to be obedient. He pinched my clit and tugged on it as he let it go.

I felt his hands leave my body and I heard something being fussed with above me. I felt my handcuffs being undone from the stool. He place me on the stool then raised my hands and fastened them to something above my head. I sat on the stool for a few moments shivering and feeling exposed before his fingers returned to probing my pussy. He tugged and fondled my clit. I could feel my juices puddling under me. He pulled his fingers from my pussy.

"Open your mouth. I want you to taste how wet you are," I did as I was told. I opened my mouth and sucked his fingers thoroughly licking and sucking every drop into my mouth. It made me want to taste his cock after he fucked me.

"That's a good little slut," He pulled his fingers from my mouth and bent down and licked my lips. 

"Mmm...you taste good. I think I want a taste of you." I felt him grab the bar between my legs and slowly pull it up. He fastened it somewhere near my hands while my lower body rested on the stool. I felt his breath on my pussy lips. I felt his hands find my hips and grasp them firmly. His tongue slowly began to trace the folds, lingering as he lapped up the puddles of wetness. His tongue began to dart in between my lips, grazing my clit more and more with each flick. He artfully teased me to the brink of cumming before he stopped. His lips covered my clit as he sucked it hard into his mouth. I started to buck against his face. His fingers slipped in and sent me over the edge. My legs and arms pulled against their restraints as I convulsed under his tongue. He sucked and licked until the waves subsided.

"Mmm...that's my good little slut. Do you like it when I make you cum? Has anyone every fucked you this way?"

"I love it when you make me cum. and no one has ever fucked me like you are," I panted. 

"Would you like me to continue fucking you?" He began running his fingertip lightly over my clit.

"Yyyeeessss mmmm yes, " I shivered. 

"What if I fucked you like this once a week, would you like that?" He rolled my clit between his fingertips.

"Oh please, yes. I would do anything." I tried to force out between sighs and moans.

"That's my good little girl," pleased with himself he bent down and kissed my lips. His fingers continued to dance in between my thighs. My nipples were hard and straining for his attention as he kissed me. His kisses trailed down my neck. I felt his cock fully recovered and pressing against my ass. His kisses trailed down my chest. He took my left nipple in his mouth, the warm wet sensation of his lips on my nipple and his hardening cock pressing at me made my pussy quiver with anticipation. He trailed kisses across my chest and to my right nipple. His tongue made circle around the area of my nipple, teasing it with little flicks and nips before he took it in his mouth and worked it over with his teeth and tongue. I squirmed and wiggled my ass, trying to get it to slide in. He caught what I was doing and pulled away.

"Not yet," He laughed, "I'm glad to see you want my cock." I felt his hands travel up my legs. He unfastened my legs from the brace and rested them on his shoulders. He teased my clit with the head of his cock. He slowly poked himself deep inside. I moaned as he penetrated me. He moved slowly. My pussy quaked with every inch. With a very steady rhythm his thrusting began. His fingertips found my nipples. I felt his hands travel up my arms to the place where my hands were fastened. He moved my hands from above me to behind his neck. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he continued to pound. He put his hands under my ass and lifted me off the chair. Our lips met. He carried me a few steps and laid me down. His thrusting was unmerciful, hard and deep. Exactly, what I was needing after all of his teasing. His lips found my nipple. He sucked it hard into his mouth. Waves of orgasm splashed over me. I could feel him begin to twitch. He exhaled a guttural moan and slammed his cock deep into me. We twitched and convulsed together for a few moments and then melted into a puddle of flesh. He kissed me with deep passion I felt his fingertips stroke from my cheek, down my neck, to the valley between my breasts and down my stomach. We laid there for a few minutes, before he eventually got up.

"This is going to sting and then you will fall asleep. After that I will take you back to your bed. Don't worry my dear I will see you again Friday afternoon, but I will send you a package on Wednesday with your instructions," I smelled alcohol. Then felt a prick and a stinging sensation. 

The next morning I woke up in my dorm room, in my night clothes. My poor pussy ached as I turned over. A shiver ran through my body as my right nipple grazed the mattress. 

I rolled over with luscious thoughts of my new gentleman and drifted back to a heavenly sleep...

The Gentleman



I re-read your electronic messages a dozen times imagining your voice, the way your lips move, your hands stretching over your face, removing your glasses, rubbing your eyes. The notes allow me to imagine that we actually spoke, in person. Another chance to be near you, to smell you and watch your hands dance in the air as you talk, move close to me and then pull away.

When we're together, each gesture you make is exaggerated, twisted to satisfy my desire for your touch -- a simple move to brush dust from your knee turns into your long fingers reaching out to tangle in my hair pulling my head close to yours, your lips at my ear, breath moving in and out so loudly that I can't think about what I'm doing or the right way to respond and so each response is involuntary. Each movement of my body feels as if it's driven by your touch. Each fingertip you use to trace my jaw burns a flame that's hot and cold at the same time. Your fingers create thoughts and memories in my mind without my permission. 

I watch your legs cross and uncross imagining the muscles below quivering and flexing. I tear my eyes away when it feels obvious that I'm staring. My cheeks burn with the arrested fantasy and I try to refocus on your words, your sentences, the conversation without watching your mouth directly.

I distract myself with papers, folders, a pen, a napkin to tear into pieces. Watching my fingers twirl a pen, I can see them, instead, trailing across your shoulders over your starched shirt feeling the stretched, smooth fabric over the heat of your skin. My fingers find their way down to your ribs and then waist where they pause to rest on your hips. The overwhelming and obvious need to press my body against yours is one I'm finding difficult to fight but also to imagine. 

If I used your hips to draw us closer would you hesitate? Or worse, resist and pull back? Unthinkable. In my mind, you hesitate slightly before yielding to my desire to be closer to you, to be against you. Your hesitation translates to your need for me to be certain. To give me a chance to slow down the movement, to halt the eventual contact. But I won't, I can't. Once the shift is initiated, I have to have the contact; am mad for it. I feel the pressure of your chest, stomach, hips, pressed to me; a sigh escapes my mind through my lips and nose. The expressed breath moves the fabric of your shirt and I breathe back in slightly, losing myself in the smell of your skin. 

There is very little light but it's not necessary to see when the need to touch and smell is so forceful. With your body against mine, I press my face to the cloth of your shirt. The buttons are small, unyielding disks meant to inject a small bit of reality. Is this what you want? What I want? Though the buttons are easily overcome, their boundary is obvious. Still, their warm, smooth surfaces are a welcome distraction to the crushing waterfall of your nearness.

My face is lost in the hardness of your chest, breathing deeply, my fingers explore your lower back, tips meeting briefly as they trace your spine, roaming, memorizing. They move slowly still waiting for your muscles to tense, for your tiny step backward. 

At any moment, either of us could stop this, lend an ear to a suspicious voice cloaked in smug judgment, take that step back and lose the contact. And in thinking of this, I take a deeper breath, force these memories to sear themselves into my mind, absorbing every single second that I stand here, desperate not to forget any part of this.

I float back to the surface, your warm, soft words flowing around me still. I try to refocus on the conversation, the wall, any required responses that I need to offer. Have I been caught? Do you know where I am as you sit there, offering your friendship, your conversation? Can you read my eyes? Can you hear my heart beating differently? I realize that I'm holding my breath as I check your eyes and face for discovery. Am I safe?

I spiral back into what I can only hope is the future. I can feel your breath in my hair; your face is tilted down toward the top of my head as I stare into the darkened fabric of your shirt, my eyes wide open. Why am I holding my breath? It's as if I've willed my heart to stop beating; as if I'm trying to simply freeze the moment because I'm afraid of the next second, minute, hour.

I find my way back to you and release my lungs slowly, silently, hoping you haven't noticed. I re-focus on you; forgetting myself and my brain's unrelenting suppositions. Where are your hands now? Where will they go? Will they stop? When? At what point will you draw the line? It will have to be you who alters the course of this encounter. Whether subconscious or otherwise, I decided weeks ago that I would do nothing to stop this moment if I were to find myself lost here; caught between my dreams and reality, unwilling to force myself to realize on which plane I'm standing: one that's too enticing to give up, the other too undeserved to ask for . 

My hands reach up toward your shoulders, the detail of your back quickly memorized and cataloged by my palms. I pause. To be able to remember this moment later, I need to know where your hands are as well as what you feel like during my own exploration. 

As I was lost in my head, your fingers were dancing across my jaw burning an ancient pattern of longing where they trailed. I feel your hand rest under my ear, in my hair, the large, flat surface of your palm against the side of my cheek while your other hand still exploring my face.

Eyes closed now, I rest my hands on your hips. I concentrate on them, not pulling or pushing you, exerting no pressure on you while still maintaining contact. I re-focus on what you're doing. I am careful not to lose myself in the moment because I'm afraid I'll lose the memory and am desperate to ensure that the memory remains even if the touch doesn't.

Both hands are resting on my face, cradling my jaw line. The difference in height is obvious as I stand here with my eyes squeezed shut trying to guess what's in your thoughts, how we must look together, and the distance from your mouth to mine. 

A slight movement. From where? Above me or below? Your hands remain on my face but something is moving. Panic bubbles up and I fight it back focusing on your flaming touch and its reality.

Your breath is closer, no longer on the top of my head but from the front. Warm, whispering and close. I fight myself to stay here, stay out of the future, out of my head. My skin surges with your sudden nearness and I can almost hear the crackling as I realize that you've arranged your long body to match my stance. I rise up, just slightly, on my toes. The movement connects our lips for a fraction as we both pull back in surprise and more than a little shock.

Quickly and at the same time, we both lean forward to erase the sudden, unbearable distance. Your mouth crushes mine while your hands grasp the back of my head forbidding any movement in the wrong direction. 

My hands clench, gripping your shirt, nails scratching slightly and you shiver. The soft heat of your mouth and your obsidian lips cause my breathing to hitch. As I move into your embrace and shift into the kiss, I feel you sag against the wall capturing my hands and pinning them behind you, my chest crushing against yours and a combined heartbeat thudding without discernible rhythm.

Inventory begins...my eyes are clenched tight, not daring to open, validate that it's a dream or confirm that this is reality. My nose can only breathe in your scent; your skin pressed intoxicatingly close nearly canceling sustaining breath. Your cheeks are deliciously scratchy and as I wrench my hands free from behind your back, they find your hair, its texture incongruous with your beard growth.

Your hands continue to explore my jaws, neck, collar, shoulders, back. I am desperate to remember what each finger feels like, how your hands briefly meet then spread out, how they can nearly cover the back of my head, their size overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

The kiss deepens and I am desperate to stay here forever. Unable to bear the next kiss, next touch, next movement because it's further form the first, closer to the last.

We separate, your face retreats from mine and volcanic tears race to the corners of my eyes. My nose burns instantly with indignant desire coupled with confusion.

In moments, your lips are on my eyes, trailing over my lashes, breathing them and moving across my forehead. Your lips are dry and smooth against my cheeks, my chin and down my jaw. They barely trace my jaw and I'm not even sure they're touching me confused that I'm only imagining their papery touch. 

It's only when the tip of your tongue reaches to taste the saltiness of my jaw and neck that I'm sure of you, your desire and intent. As you continue the course around my neck, I lean my head back and arch myself against you. At this movement, you pause, journey halted, lips slightly parted. My breath stops and I wait. 

Your hands, which, only a moment before, had been supporting my arched back, force me up and against you in one sudden movement. As I gasp, the surf of memory in my mind crashes back onto the beach that is this moment. Your kiss lands hard, once again, on my lips and I force them wide to better taste you, accept you. My open mouth is an invitation and I am instantly unable to resist the need to touch your skin. 

My hands scramble at the waistband of your jeans, loosening your shirt from under the denim and your cinching belt. My fingers are cold and bloodless as they find the warm skin of your waist and my nails involuntarily scratch as my fingers find purchase. My hands snake under your shirt to your back and pull you closer to me willing the fabric between us to dissolve. The feel of your skin is arrhythmic and I struggle to remember what other parts of my body are doing as my hands begin to move on their own, again tracing shapes on your back.

My lips move under yours and forget their own needs answering only yours. Your breathing increases and mine matches. Your hands scour my body, continuously moving over me, never lingering. My skin vibrates with anticipation, the desire, no, demand to be touched. My heart pauses painfully as I feel your fingers find a button and slip it through the opening. Then, again. Finally, a third button is opened and the staccato beating resumes when I feel rough fingers on soft, super-heated skin. 

The undergarments, so carefully chosen for each possible opportunity, fall to the scrutiny of your fingers. They linger over the satin, so thankfully incombustible but terrifyingly suffocating. Everything strains to meet your roaming fingers. 

More buttons slide away and fabric moves over my shoulders to land on the ground. A shiver rises and is quelled but not before being noticed. Your embrace tightens, the kiss deepens and I lose part of my thoughts to the possible failure of my knees, the loss of my ability to stand without assistance. 

The pine needles are soft but scratchy on my shoulder blades; a sharp pebble is shifted away with only the slightest attention to the brief discomfort it caused. The discomfort replaced by the increasing pressure of your chest against mine. Your arms finally let go of me when you realize that I'm steady, safe. Your hands search for mine, your mouth never leaving my own. Our hands connect, first flat, then fingers laced. The top of your body rests on mine but our hips are side by side. The absence of your weight atop my hips and legs is noticeable and aching.

Your lips leave mine without preamble. My every effort is unable to contain the low sound that escapes my throat. Panic rising hesitantly but quickly. Now? Is this the cut-off point? Did I miss something? Did an errant, irrational thought insert itself in an unknown fissure? 

I realize that I've tensed every muscle and am rigid with confusion quickly moving into a well of sadness. Almost before I can stack up the reasons why this should not stop, I force myself to open my eyes. You are looking at me, waiting. Were you able to read my thoughts? Do you know how badly I want this to never end? Are those your thoughts or am I alone? 

I am unable to read your eyes but notice an almost imperceptible dip in your head. With agonizing slowness and while your eyes remain locked on my own, your lips return but not to mine. They are barely felt on my chin and down my jaw. Lips feather across my neck and to the hollow of my throat, tasting the damp skin.

As your mouth moves across my shoulder, I shift my hands from yours and slide your shirt back over your shoulders scratching your skin gently with my fingernails. Once it's off, my hands roam wildly over you remembering, searching, and teasing.

Your breath is hot on my shoulders and down my arms. The anticipation of your touch, your tongue, your breath is overarching. I force myself to stay in the moment and not think about what you're thinking, planning, feeling, seeing. I know your eyes are open though mine are squeezed tightly shut. I force my teeth apart and try to relax my jaw while giving in to the intoxicating feel of you.

Suddenly, I lose my mind to an aerial view. I can see your body across mine; your bare back is a darker slash across my unclothed torso. Glimpses of skin appear and disappear under you. I have one knee raised and can see my other leg sliding under you, encouraging you to rest further atop me and I am desperate to support you and feel your weight on me.

Your mouth burns a trail down my chest and across the tops of my breasts. My back arches, involuntarily, and the pink slippery fabric shifts, whispers against your chest as our bodies move. 

I am unable to understand the passing of time and it is not surprising that I discover we are now skin to skin with the delicious abrasion from the hair on your chest causing my stomach to flip and dance each time you shift over me.

My body flames again as our eyes connect. Your mouth opens and I am terrified that you are about to speak words that I am not ready to hear; words that you can't possibly think of uttering now. Your head cocks, your eyes stay on mine; your mouth closes then opens again.

No, please, no. Don't say anything. Not now. Please know what I'm thinking. I'm begging you with my eyes as I'm unable to do with my mouth and my own words. 

Your mouth opens again and this time, words fall down to my ears.

"I can't stop this."

Before the last word tumbles from your lips, I find myself raised in the air and dragging you back to me. I am grateful that I was wrong and I lose myself in the flavor of your mouth, the strength in your arms and your heat. The fleeting moment of fear and anxiety is dandelion seed.

Time stops, memory halts and my eyes lose focus as I bear your full weight atop my body. I am frozen when your knee slips between my thighs and I involuntarily surge against it. There is a telling, hard heat on my hip and I am, again, lost in what I'm now sure is a burgeoning certainty.

Again comes the surprise of skin on skin and the delicate sandpaper of rough upon smooth. Heat meets heat, hands are relentless, roaming, owning. Legs tangle.

The unyielding strength of your body is at once fearful and necessary. I strain to fit you and am rewarded. My eyes open, my gasp causes a momentary furrow in your brow as your head dips again. Your tongue surges in time with your hips and I am lost in the matched thrusts. 

Were I able, I could not find words, only sounds and so I let them flow around my tongue and from my open mouth as it is pressed against your neck. I close my lips whispering nonsense against your throat while I continue to draw your body further into mine praying that I will be split to give release the increasing crescendo of emotion and desire inside my chest. 

Seconds later, I find myself staring down at you, both of us surprised by the shift, the perspective change, the physical surge of feeling in the spinning movement. I force myself aggressively down against your body now slick with sweat. At the same time, I lower my face to your ear whispering secrets and nonsense. 

Your hands are on my shoulders, downward pressure, then on my hips, pressing harder. I can feel your muscles tighten and release and know that we are here and nowhere. 

Your body stiffens and we move closer, locking hands again. Our lips and tongues fighting to best the other movements of our bodies but knowing the battle is futile and successful at that same.

The waves are without end. I open my eyes to find yours tightly closed. Were I to try, I could not release myself from your grip. 

The night air begins to cool my skin although where it touches yours, it remains overheated. Our eyes are open, again, searching, wondering, waiting for words when we know there are none. An easy smile from you and my own lips curve upward, my eyelids close and a small need that began months ago escapes me in a wracking shudder. 

At that, a thought flashes across your eyes that I can't read clearly. Confusion? Doubt? I put my hand on your chest, scratching gently with my nails while barely shaking my head. 

"No, none of those," I whisper. "Content."

Your smile flickers and grows. The stars dim as the breeze picks up. We don't notice. 



The Gentleman



I'm somewhat a gentleman, so I won't put my cock in your mouth or pussy unless you ask. I do know that you won't ask- the only words you'll get out of that pretty little mouth before I'm upon you are "no" and "please..." however neither of these is our safe word, and to an outsider you'll appear far from safe. 

I'll throw you down onto the bed, beautiful but weak. My thoughts won't concern how to overpower you, but rather-would I like to see that lovely face from the front, it turn you over and feel your round ass under me? I'll decide to start with your pretty face, and an appetizer. In all senses of the word really...

When I tell you to take my already hard cock into your mouth, you won't say a word, but you'll continue to struggle, trying to turn your head as far away from me as possible. I'll respond by gently, but effectively, choking you over and over- stoping to let you breathe... breaths during which you'll have the opportunity to say yes. While waiting, I'll rip and strip your shirt, skirt, and bra off, leaving nothing but your panties. Your nipples will need to be pinched and bit, to become harder like I am. I'll tell you to beg, to beg to suck me dry. 

Before I tire of this game you'll plead with me to let you breathe, you promise to open your mouth wide for my cock. I'll push in, fistfuls of your hair in hand controlling you. Driving in and out, fucking your warmth, staring at your pretty face. 

When I'm about to come I'll finally thrust deep into your throat, all the way, ignoring your convulsions, pinning you to the bed so deep, where I shouldn't fit. I'll let you taste all of it, as your reward for being a good girl. Having my cum exploding toward your belly won't satiate me, I'm waiting for you to beg me, beg me to fuck your pussy. 

I'll slap you, spank you, bite your nipples... and ask politely if I may fuck your beautiful pussy. You're still a bad girl and say no? I'll fingerfuck you till you cum, giving your pussy exactly what she wants... and while you plead with me to stop she is getting wetter, asking for more. I'll explore inside and outside of her, finding out where she loves to be handled. 

I'll wonder by your surprised moans if you knew all of those places yourself. 

I'm kind- I'll give you a second chance to nod yes, while my wet hand is in your mouth being cleaned off. If you're *still* a bad girl, I'll thrust firmly, deep, into your ass while using a vibrator on your clit, until you squirm in agony. Gentle at first, then very, very hard. 

Initially it will seem that you are pulling back against the restraints I've forced upon you, attempting to escape my cock. Your first anal experience perhaps? You'll then briefly join my thrusts, as your clit builds to a climax. You'll writhe under me, unable to take the relentless assault of the machine, as I drive into your dark unknown below it. 

When you finally plead for me to stop, to fuck you with my cock like you know sex should be, I won't be easy on you- you've been so bad. I might untie you, but I will pin you to the bed, fucking you forcefully as punishment for waiting so long to beg. Pulling your hair and spanking you... not gently, or to damage you either, but so you understand that I can do anything I want with you, to you. I can take anything from you. 

Your body and senses are my stage and my page. When I'm about to cum I'll withdraw, and mark you as mine... spraying cum forcefully on your pretty face, in your eyes and nostrils. I'll make you neatly push all of my juices into your mouth with your fingers, so that you may eat it. 

Afterwords I'll tie you up again and use the vibrator on you, till you cease begging me to stop and simply collapse in wasted pleasure and numbness and beautiful pain...

You will learn how to give in, to give yourself up. I'll teach you two commands to begin with... when to be a doll and when to be a whore. When I wish to enjoy your body and when you can let your desire show. I can't wait to enjoy you...



The Gentleman and The Tramps



I turned away from the grave with tears pouring down my face. My best buddy Ken put an arm round my shoulders and handed me his, thankfully clean, handkerchief. Whomever it was that said men didn't cry was entirely wrong in my case. I teared up at emotional stories. And now I was weeping for my loss. We'd been married for nearly forty years and best of friends. It was doubly hard, because we'd planned a very special fortieth celebration, and I had to cancel. It wasn't that I minded missing it. I minded missing it with her.

Life goes on. I went back to work. I was lucky to have a part time job I loved. I rattled around in the house a bit. It crossed my mind to sell it and move, but was conscious of the received wisdom not to make changes too soon. Most of all, I was lonely in the house.

The life insurance meant that the house was paid for with a substantial sum besides. I'd given away a tithe of it (ten percent), something we'd always done. Some of it went to a charity we'd supported for years that is run by a good friend in a town quite a way from us. It is a town centre coffee shop for mothers and pre-school children. It's deliberately in the bad end of town, and serves not only proper coffee shop coffee, but also dirt cheap instant, as it's aimed at destitute mothers. You probably wouldn't believe some of the things our friend told us. Mums come in and when she asks whether they'd like a drink, they refuse, as otherwise they wouldn't have enough money for food for their evening meal, And in the winter, several of them come in as soon as the coffee shop opens, and leave when it closes so that they're not at home in the cold -- heating's too expensive.

Why have I told you all this? Well, it explains what happened to me about six months later. I was driving home from the airport late after a long business trip. It was a bitter evening, and I had the heater turned right up. As I drove past a bus stop, I saw this dejected looking figure hunched up on the seat with bags at their feet. I'm ashamed to say that I drove on. Well, you know what they say about picking up strangers. But things started bothering me. First I realised that the figure I had seen must be frozen stiff -- no coat. Then I realised that there were no more buses that evening. Then those coffee shop mothers flitted through my brain.

I swore, and turned round. What was the point in supporting my friend's charity helping people in a town far away if I wasn't prepared to put myself out for local people? As I drove back, I was turning over in my mind the best approach. I knew it would be kind of scary to be approached in the dark by a stranger.

I drew up before the bus stop, figuring that it was less intimidating if the car was a way away. As I walked towards the figure, I could see that my approach was causing a certain amount of tension, but the figure remained hunched up. Nearer, I could see long dark hair -- not necessarily female, but likely.

"Excuse me." I stopped several feet away to try to reduce the tension.

"It's OK. I'll move on."

The voice was despairing, and female. I wasn't trying to move her on. She started to get up, and I was shocked and suddenly aware of why she was hunched. She was trying to protect a baby from the cold. Her coat swaddled the baby, and she was shivering.

"Excuse me, miss. I'm not trying to move you on. I'm offering help."

She snorted. "I don't need your kind of help."

I was at a complete loss to understand what she meant. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not a prostitute. Please leave me and my baby alone." She whispered.

I was shocked. It hadn't even entered my mind that she might think that. "I ... I ... I didn't mean to upset you. I ... well I just wondered if you needed a lift, as there aren't any more buses tonight." I stuttered. "I couldn't leave you out in the cold with no coat." I could see that I'd surprised her.

"Listen, I've got a blanket in the car. If I can't help you in any other way, at least let me give you that."

"You'd give me that?"

"Of course I would. Then at least you'd have a chance to survive and look after your baby."

Very tentatively she asked, "What else would you do if I was prepared to accept your help?"

"Well, I could take you somewhere to find shelter. Or you could use one of my spare rooms and I'd make a hot meal for you."

She blinked at me. "What are you? Some sort of angel?"

"No, just a lonely old man who lives in a big house and wants to help someone in need rather than just driving by."

"I can't believe you're for real, but I'm so fucked that I'm prepared to give it a chance."

I was slightly offended by the swearing, but given her apparent situation, she was right. She got up slowly, and I reached to steady her as she almost fell. Her arm was so cold, I thought she must be numb.

"Let's get you and the baby into the warm car, and I'll come back for the bags."

She really was numb with cold, and I virtually carried her to the car, settling her in the back with her baby. When I came back with her bags, she was shaking so badly her teeth were chattering as the heat warmed some of the numbness.

"Hold on sweetheart, we'll be there in ten minutes." I was appalled, and wondered what had led up to her attempting to find shelter for the night at a bus stop. I was so glad that I'd stopped. I wasn't sure if she'd have survived the night.

When we got home, I carried her bags and my bag in first then, after I'd turned on a few lights and the fire in the sitting room, went back to help her in. I settled her in front of the fire and got my first look at my impulse guest. She was pale, very pale, from the cold, with hectic spots on her cheeks where the car heater had started making an impression. Her hair was lank, she had dark circles under her eyes and looked incredibly vulnerable. It was obvious that she hadn't been able to wash for a few days. There were smudges of dirt on her face and hands, and her clothes were rumpled. But under all that she was obviously a lovely young woman. Fine bone structure, slim figure, although too slim at the moment, and incredibly petite. Suddenly I understood why she had suspected me of hitting on her. With those looks, she'd probably got nothing but. Suddenly I was ashamed of my fellow man. A steely determination built in my heart to help this overburdened soul reclaim her life.

First we saw to the baby's needs. As we went on, I took note of what she might need so that I could buy it when I visited the store tomorrow. Two nappies left. Wipes. Formula milk (I had to get a bit of paper then to note the brand surreptitiously in the kitchen). I wondered why she paid for formula rather than feeding herself. A few moments later I smacked my forehead in stupidity. Of course she couldn't feed the baby -- she wasn't getting enough to eat and drink herself. She had precious few clothes for the baby, so I resolved to buy at least one item until such time as I could persuade her to come with me and choose what she wanted. I also noticed that most of her bags were things for the baby. Virtually nothing for herself.

I didn't have much in the house, having been away, but I did have eggs and cheese. I went back into the sitting room to ask if that would be OK for her, and stopped short with my cheeks flaming. She obviously fed the baby as much as she was able and used formula to supplement her meagre supply. Clever girl. My reddened cheeks came as a result of her baby latched onto the most perfect swell of B-cup I had ever seen in my life. I immediately turned and quietly went back to the kitchen.

When I came back with the omelette and some toast (I always keep a spare loaf in the freezer), she was changing the baby.

"Can I heat some water for Angela's milk please mister?"

What a stupid idiot. I hadn't thought to tell her who I was, or ask for their names.

"I've boiled the kettle for tea or coffee for us. Tell me what to do while you eat this. And my name's James."

"Kate. Tea please. Thank you." She held out her other hand and I shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, Kate, and Angela too."

She proffered Angela's bottle with the other hand, and asked me to fill it to the second line from the top. There was already the correct measure of formula powder in it. When I came back from the kitchen, she was tearing into the omelette, and I deduced that she hadn't eaten properly for some time. I was shaking the bottle, and tried a bit of liquid on the inside of my wrist.

"Still too hot." I commented.

"You've got children, possibly grandchildren?" She asked. When she saw my reaction she apologised profusely and promised not to ask again.

"It's OK. The bad memories are fading. The whole family were in one of the jets that hit the twin towers."

What she said next shocked me to the core. It was only later that I realised she was probably right. "Horrible, but I think it's better than what happened to me." She saw my expression, but just continued to explain. She'd started dating this lovely guy and she'd invited her parents up to meet him. They were in the Pentagon jet. I didn't see how that was worse until she filled in what had happened after that. Her guy had been really sweet, eventually proposing and marrying her. They'd always used protection, but somehow she'd become pregnant. Far from being sweet, he'd turned into a regular monster, telling her how much he didn't want children.

As she continued her story between mouthfuls, I found the milk was the right temperature, and started feeding Angela.

She'd thought he would come round when he saw the baby, but it seemed to make him worse. Then one day when she was coming back from a visit to show Angela off to her work colleagues, she'd found that her key didn't work in the lock of her apartment. His phone said 'number unobtainable', so she'd called a locksmith. When he arrived, he told her it was a high security lock, and he couldn't open it for her or cut her a key without written permission from the person who bought the lock. She couldn't understand it, but went down a couple of blocks to find a room at the local hotel. That's when her world came tumbling down. They wouldn't accept her card. 'No funds' they said. It turned out he'd cleaned her out of all her parents' money, sold the apartment and done a bunk.

She'd crashed with a work colleague for the first couple of nights, but babies and single colleagues you don't know very well just didn't go together, so she'd left. Her lovely husband had moved her away from the area she knew into the city, so she didn't know anyone else really. James had found her on her third night. After the first horrendous night where she couldn't quite believe she'd survived intact, she'd learnt to choose bus shelters in quieter districts She was at her wits end, with no money left and waiting for her Gran to get back from a cruise in a couple of weeks.

I said two words and shocked myself. "Fucking bastard."

It made Kate laugh. She was even more beautiful when she laughed.

"I realised that when my parents died, they still loved me, and it wasn't their choice to leave. When someone rejects you, chooses not to be with you, and takes you to the cleaners in the process, it hurts so much more. I know I'm probably well rid of him, but it still hurts."

"Listen, while I feed Angela, why don't you go and shower and change into clean clothes."

She blushed adorably. "I really haven't got any."

I grinned at her. "You've got three choices. See what's in my wife's wardrobe, although it will all be too big; use a t-shirt of mine; or use a bathrobe while your clothes are in the washing machine. I'd show you, but I think Angela might object. Just explore upstairs until you find what you need. Choose any room to make your own."

I could see the tears pour down her face as she choked out "Thank you." and quickly turned to hide the tears. "Won't your wife be asleep?"

"She died six months ago. I'm on my own." I could see the flush mounting up the back of her neck. "Don't worry -- you weren't to know." Kate fled up the stairs still crying, presumably unable to speak or take any more emotion.

Angela grumbled as I stopped her sucking to burp her mid-feed. As I paced up and down jiggling Angela, I wondered if there was anything I could do to get her parents' money back for her. It was much too late to do anything now, but I filed a note to myself to ring a lawyer friend of mine, Ken, who might have some clue whether it was possible.

After a few really satisfactory burps, I settled down to give the rest of the bottle to Angela. She was sweet with her little hands reaching for the bottle, and I felt eyelids drooping after my long day and the emotion of Kate's story.

"James. JAMES." Kate's voice penetrated my doze and I felt her trying to take Angela from me. "I need to bath Angela and get to bed."

I jerked awake. "Sorry. Of course." Opening my eyes was definitely a mistake. She'd chosen one of my t-shirts, and even in that baggy garment that came down to her knees, she was drop dead gorgeous with her wet hair off her face in a pony tail, and wonderful legs and feet poking out of the bottom of my t-shirt. I envied it. I let go of Angela.

"Can you tell me where the washer is?"

"Don't worry -- you deal with Angela, and I'll put the clothes in the washer. I expect you'll want to add Angela's to them as well." Actually I had an ulterior motive -- I needed to know her size to get her one more outfit when I bought the baby stuff. "Oh, and while you're bathing her, I'll get the cot out."

"You have a cot?" Surprise showed on her face.

I grinned at her. "It's actually really old. My child and my grandchildren all used it." Surprisingly, it didn't hurt so much knowing it was going to be used again. A sort of adopted grandchild, perhaps?

Kate's face was serious. "Thank you so much. It will be a privilege to use it."

We went upstairs and I got a laundry basket from my room. Kate had started running a bath for Angela, and put the bundle of clothes she's left in the bathroom in the basket, adding Angela's as she stripped them off.

Downstairs, I wrote the sizes down on my list. I couldn't believe how small the dress size was and checked it twice. She really was petite. Shoes -- damn! I slipped upstairs, hoping I had a few seconds to get the size before Angela was finished in the bath. A quick look in all the rooms and I found the few things Kate had in one. Fortunately, the shoe size was embossed on the sole. Again, I was amazed at the small size of her feet.

To cover my need to peek at the shoes, I dragged the cot into the room she had chosen. Then I tapped on the open bathroom door. "Do you want the cost in your room, or one next door?"

"I know this sounds silly, but I want her near me. So many times in the last few days I thought I would lose her. It would make me feel more comfortable."

"That's what I thought. I've already put it in your room with a clean cot sheet. What do you want to put over her?"

"I don't have her sleep suit, so a quilt, if you have a spare?"

"Consider it done." I went and fetched a quilt and cover, and added a sleep suit to my list.

I went into my room and showered and changed. It was now really late. When I came out, I went downstairs to get a drink, and found Kate waiting for me.

"I can't thank you enough..."

I held up my hand. "Please -- it was nothing. I'm so glad to have you in the house. I've really minded being on my own."

She smiled at me and nodded.

"Just so you know. If I'm not here in the morning, I need to go out shopping as there's no food in the house. So don't worry, and help yourself to whatever you need. I've got a spare key, which I'll leave out for you, and the back door key is hanging by the back door if you want to go outside with Angela."

"Thank you." She threw her arms round me and gave me a huge hug. I have to say, it warmed my heart.

I woke briefly in the night hearing Angela whimper, and I figured Kate was feeding her. The whimpers didn't last long, so I drifted back off.

In the morning, I was up late for me, but still before Kate. She'd obviously had precious little sleep over the last few days, not to mention the emotional trauma, so I was glad.

Trailing round the shops, I suddenly realised I had a purpose again, and I was enjoying myself. I gave my fellow shoppers a bit of a surprise when I laughed out loud for the joy of it. It was fun shopping for Kate and Angela. I realised again how petite Angela was when I had to buy children's clothes and shoes to fit her. I don't suppose what I bought was particularly suitable, but it would help until I could persuade her to spend my money on some things she chose.

When I got back, Kate was feeding Angela again. In some ways having a good sleep had made her look worse. She told me she felt exhausted, and I suggested she went back to bed if Angela would sleep. They did. That left me free to ring Ken.

Like me, Ken was appalled at what Kate's husband had done. He offered to get her a divorce for free, and said he would have a word with a couple of people he knew who might also help. I was well satisfied with that. I knew the kind of contacts he had as a lawyer and I was pretty sure he would get some answers.

As I was musing on my new found energy, I realised that I still had either one or two spare bedrooms, depending on whether Kate wanted Angela to sleep in a different room eventually. I wondered how I could find others to help. It gave me a new direction and a new buzz. I resolved to ask Kate later.

When she came back down, she was looking worried. "I've run out of formula and clothes. I'm so sorry -- I don't have any more money. Please would you let me have enough for that?" She was almost in tears, obviously hating having to ask.

"Ah. I bought a few things for you when I got food this morning, but I forgot to tell you when I came back. They're over there."

Kate thanked me profusely and walked over to the bags. "These can't all be for me?" She was incredulous. When she realised what I'd bought she fell to her knees on the floor and sobbed.

I jumped up and went over, putting an arm around her shoulders. "It's OK. It's not as if I can't afford it. I'm pleased to be able to help. It's given me a new purpose and cheered me up enormously."

Kate gave me a watery smile and choked out, "Thank you so much." Then she turned and hugged me hard. We both fell over in a heap on the floor. "So I buy you a couple of things and you knock me over?" I hadn't laughed so much in ages. "Seriously, you are very welcome."

As we got up, she looked me in the eye. "It's so sweet of you, and they're all the right sizes too. Thank you."

"One of the benefits of doing your washing!" I grinned. "Later when you're settled, we need to go out together so you can choose some more clothes for yourself. I'm not very good at women's styles."

The next few days were interesting, to say the least. I felt I had gained the daughter I never had, and a new grandchild. Kate had a few ideas about who might need help. She was especially concerned about a young Hispanic woman who had helped her on her first night to fend off the countless men hitting on her. She had also advised Kate to go to a quieter neighbourhood to avoid it all. Her name was Estelle, and during the long night they had exchanged confidences. Of the few people she had interacted with, Estelle had an underlying honesty and compassion. That and the fact that her parents had died leaving her alone in the world made Kate warm to her.

There were tears in Kate's eyes as she related the few things she knew about Estelle. Her parents had died much younger, and Estelle had to fend for herself. She'd managed to keep clean and out of trouble until her 18th birthday. Then her landlord had hit on her, and she'd had to flee the building to escape. She'd managed to find a job with an older couple who ran a convenience store. There was a room above the store that she was able to rent for a large part of her wages, and they'd also protected her from the endless stream of men.




The Gentleman and The Tramps



Then the unthinkable happened. She was sick in bed, although that turned out to be very lucky, and the couple downstairs running the shop were killed in a raid. Not only was she devastated, but out on the street. There were no jobs, even the most menial, and eventually in desperation she'd started pole dancing in a club. The money was good, and she was able to rent a tiny room and survive. But once again, she was kicked out on her ear when she upset a high rolling customer by refusing to let him touch her.

"So, how do we find Estelle?" I asked.

"The only place I know is where I met her. I don't know if she's still there, but we can sure try."

That night we both went with Angela safely wrapped up in the back. Estelle was nowhere to be found. Kate was despondent, fearing that she's succumbed to the riff raff on the streets. Then she saw an old tramp who'd given her some good advice which at least enabled her to get some food and a hot drink. I stayed in the car. After a bit of discussion, his face had lit up.

"I know the girl. She's sweet. She'd always share what she had with me, and others. She said she was going to one of the suburban districts to try to find a friend with a baby."

Kate came dancing back to the car. "We've got a lead." She was excited as she told me what the tramp had said.

"Here, take this." I handed her a large note. "Take your friend to the cafe over there, get him set up with a meal and a hot drink and give him it."

I watched them walk across to the cafe. There was some sort of an argument going on, but Kate obviously won. When she came back to the car, there were tears in her eyes.

"He wanted me to keep the money for my baby. I had a job persuading him I was OK."

"Hey, we can come back and take him to the cafe again if you like."

Kate looked shyly up at me. "I would like that. When you're down like I was, it means so much."

She also had a hunch that Estelle would be in the bus shelter that I had found her in, or one very near. We didn't find her the first night, but the second she was there. Kate gave her quite a shock when she barrelled into her arms. And another shock when she told her what she hoped would happen. She was, rightly, a bit wary of me to start with. Her life experience didn't exactly allow for men who didn't want to take advantage, despite her good experience with the convenience store couple.

Where Kate was quite quiet, Estelle was a live wire. Not in a bad way, just full of energy and fun. She was also one tough cookie, and I could see why she'd survived unscathed on the streets. I discovered that she was a bright girl too -- a straight A student up to 18 when her life fell apart even more. I wondered.

The next evening, I stopped wondering and called Ken. He was slightly incredulous at what I had done. He made a suggestion that was so much better than my ideas that I jumped at it and invited him over, both to give Kate an update (not that she had an inkling what he was doing) and to put his suggestion to Estelle.

Kate and Estelle were excited that we were having a visitor, even if he was my best friend and far too old for them. They asked if they could cook, and despatched me to buy up the store for ingredients. I have to say it was way worth it. The meal was fabulous.

I didn't have any doubt that Ken would get on well with the girls -- he was such a sweetie. I was concerned that the girls would find the company of two old codgers a bit lame, but they were in fine form and had a ball.

After we'd cleared up and made coffee, I said Ken and I had stuff to discuss with them. They both sobered immediately. Predictably Estelle voiced their fears.

"That's it then? We need to manage on our own from now on?"

My face burned. "No. No. Nothing like that. I wouldn't do that."

Surprisingly, Kate butted in. "No. You wouldn't. I'm sorry we thought that."

I smiled at her. "Thank you. You're right. I wouldn't. This is much more exciting, if you like the ideas. First let's deal with Estelle. Ken, your idea..." I handed over, after all it was his idea.

Ken explained to Estelle how his firm always took on an intern each year, many of whom were still with the firm. He offered for Estelle to do a long term internship, with the firm paying the school fees so she could qualify. What her qualification would be depended upon both her work and her study grades.

Estelle rushed over to him, bounced onto his lap and hugged and kissed him. "I can't believe you would do that for me. Thank you. Thank you."

Ken looked a little wary. "There are conditions. You've got to stay clean..." Estelle's eyes sparked with anger. "...and work hard both at work and at college. Sorry -- I have to be practical."

Estelle was torn, but could see that it wasn't really an insult. "OK. Sounds fair."

I butted in. "You can fix up the details later. First let's move on to Kate and Angela."

Kate looked apprehensive. "I don't think I can work with Angela so little."

I smiled at her. "No need to work. Just listen to Ken."

Ken looked serious. "I'd like to help you too, Kate. I've been trying to track down your ex-husband, but I need a bit more information from you. If you want a divorce, I can do that with the information at the drop of a hat. But I'd really like a shot at getting back your money, if you would allow me to?"

Kate's mouth dropped open. When she'd recovered a little she started to try to speak, but just stuttered. Eventually, she managed to get a confused sentence out. "You'd do that for me? I don't have any money, and I wouldn't want to spend my Gran's money on that." There were tears threatening.

"No, no money. Just a sense of justice! I can't even guess how much you lost or how much you might want returned."

"I ... I ... think I'd like you to try. After what I've been through trying to keep Angela safe ..." Kate's voice cracked and she swallowed convulsively to regain her composure. She went on in a whisper, "He was such a bastard to do that to a baby." Her cheeks coloured with embarrassment.

Ken chuckled. "Don't worry, I think I know a couple of people who can make him pay."

Kate smiled. "Thank you so much." And she started to relate what she'd lost.

Turned out they'd bought the flat with her parent's money, raised from the house sale and their savings. The remainder was in the savings account he'd cleaned out. When Ken found out the sale value of the flat and added it to the savings amount, it totalled well over half a million. She'd planned on using the savings to trade the flat for a place with a garden for Angela, with some left over to start a college fund for her. That made Ken and me hopping mad. Ken just grinned and slapped me on the back, "That's just confirmed for me that my vision of making him pay is exactly right." When I asked, he just said, "You don't want to know, and actually neither do I".

At breakfast the next day, the girls were ecstatic. They were talking nineteen to the dozen and kept saying they didn't know how to thank Ken or me. Eventually I managed to divert their thoughts to the old tramp, and we agreed to mount an expedition to take him to lunch and visit the shops for work clothes for Estelle and some outfits for Kate and Angela. Neither of the girls were happy about taking my money, but they could both see the sense in what I was saying. Kate earnestly and rather sweetly promised to pay me back when she was able to contact her Gran.

I discovered the old guy's name was Bert, and that it was fun buying things for the girls. It was a constant struggle to stop them buying things because they were cheap. I resorted to a few of my management manipulation techniques to get them to say what they would buy if it wasn't my money, and we ended up with a fair compromise and some good clothes for all three. We also managed to set up a deal with the cafe where Bert would keep the street outside the cafe clean in return for hot food and drink. We were well satisfied with our trip.

Over the next week, Estelle started work with Ken. She had a few hiccups, mostly to do with lack of confidence after all she'd been through, but the combination of Kate and I turned out to be brilliant at bolstering her. Both the girls were excellent cooks and we took it in turns, which broadened our horizons. We learnt new things about each other and about food. I started thinking about exercise because it was obvious that my waist was increasing.

Saturday came, and we breathed a sigh of relief to have a weekend to slow up and take stock. After lunch, the girls were out the back relaxing and playing with Angela before her sleep. I was out the front mowing the grass and tidying up. That's when my life turned upside down.

I'd just shut off the mower and emptied the grass box for the last time when a car drew up. I looked up, as it stopped right outside our house. Funny that I already thought of it as "our" house. Out of the driver's seat stepped a stunning petite brunette. I'm sure my eyes must have widened, but she was too polite to comment -- or perhaps she was just used to it. Then I noticed the resemblance to Kate. But surely she was far too young to be Kate's Gran? More like her Mum's age, so it must be an aunt.

I held out my hand. "You must be related to Kate? Pleased to meet you."

"Hello. Yes, I'm Kate's Gran, Liz."

I must have looked startled, because she smiled as she continued.

"Thank you so much for taking her in. I can't believe what she's been through and I'm devastated to have been out of contact when she needed me so badly. I came as soon as I got her message."

"I didn't know she'd left a message. I ... er ... I'm James." I think I must have been beet red and definitely tongue tied. I felt like I was attempting to ask my first girl for a dance. I couldn't understand what the hell was happening to me. How I managed to make enough sense to offer her the facilities and show her through the house out to the back, I don't know.

Well, there was a touching reunion in the garden, with them all talking a mile a minute while I dispensed drinks and worked out what was happening to me. I needed that space. Finally I realised that I was insanely attracted to her, and immediately felt guilty. Guilty because of my wife. Guilty because she was Kate's Gran. Guilty to be thinking of someone who looked so young in that way. Just guilty. God, I needed to sort my head out.

I looked up to find them all staring at me. I glanced down and around to find out why. Nothing. I held out my hands palm up:

"What?"

"We were just trying to involve you in a discussion about dinner." Estelle laughed. "You were miles away."

I was just thankful I hadn't given myself away by muttering.

"We were hoping you'd take me to the shops to buy and we three will cook. That way Kate and Liz can talk while we're shopping."

"Great. Why don't we take Angela with us too? And you'll stay, won't you Liz?"

Kate smiled gratefully at me, and Estelle threw herself into my arms and gave me a bear hug. She whispered in my ear:

"I knew you'd say the right thing you lovely man," then in a quiet sing song voice: "...and you like her!"

I could feel myself blushing. I suppose I hung on to spare my blushes, but when Kate raised one eyebrow and Liz grinned, the ruse failed, because I went beet red and let Estelle go. I realised one thing though. Estelle was right, but I hadn't come to terms with it.

The cooking was fun. The eating was fun. And somehow there was music, and Estelle and Kate were dancing. Liz wasn't far behind, and I was enjoying watching them. Well mainly Liz if I was honest, and if I hadn't kept my mouth shut I'm sure I would have been drooling. Her jeans looked as if they were painted on. She was slim, small breasted, tanned, and her auburn hair shimmered in the light. I couldn't have told you what colour her eyes were; perhaps green; maybe blue? And the sinuous movements of the dance showed off her musculature in a way that was having a stiffening effect on me. Looking good for a woman of her age? Hell she looked spectacular for a woman half her age. In short, out of my league.

Suddenly Estelle swept over to me and yanked me out of the chair. We danced as a four, or rather they danced and I wriggled, until the end of the song. As it ended, Estelle moved towards Kate and took her hands. They started dancing together, and I realised she had known that the next song was a slow one. She'd set me up. Was I pleased. Yes. Embarrassed. Certainly. Was I going to pass up this opportunity? Well, if I'd been the teenager I felt, yes. But I was ancient, which gives you a bit more gravitas. So was I going to pass up this opportunity? Hell no!

I took Liz in my arms, she rested her shiny curls on my chest and sighed in contentment. I thought "God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

Liz's head came up, her eyes twinkling at me. "Well I'm enjoying it."

I blushed again. Just like being a teenager. "I can't believe I said that out loud." But her laugh was infectious. This time I was able to speak.

"You are so out of my league, but I wasn't going to pass up a heaven sent opportunity." As I looked down at her, I was struck anew by her appearance. "God, you are so beautiful." And quite naturally, I bent my head and brushed my lips over hers.

To my intense surprise, her fingers tangled in my hair and pressed my head down onto her lips. Her tongue came out to wipe the seam of my lips, and as I gasped, entered my mouth for an electrifying kiss. As first kisses go, it was a knockout. It was brief, but touched me to the bottom of my soul. We were both panting slightly as we parted. Liz rested her head back on my chest and we moved as if mesmerised until the song ended. I was reluctant to let go of the curves that were plastered against me. In deference to her granddaughter and Estelle I took her hand and led her back to the sofa.

"Anyone for a drink?" Corny, but it gave me something else to occupy my mind until I could talk to Liz on her own.

The next day was Sunday, so church was on the agenda for me. Liz came down to breakfast dressed for church, so I kind of expected that she might go. I realised that they were a Christian family when Kate also said she was coming with Angela. Estelle surprisingly had never been, but was up for trying it, so it was quite a party that set off in my car.

After the service, Ken came over to speak to Kate. He told her he was expecting an update in the middle of the week, so I invited him to supper for Wednesday. After that quite a few of the younger people were talking to Estelle and Kate, which was encouraging. They needed friends more their own age. Liz was, as I expected, quite a live wire, and drew an admiring group of men. She rolled her eyes at me at one point. That made me feel special, but I had to talk to her some more.

I got my chance after lunch. Estelle and Kate had been invited by some of the younger group to walk with them, and a chattering group duly passed the house and picked them up with Angela being passed around and admired. I'd given Kate a small rucksack of mine to put Angela's things in.

I was nervous. I made us coffee, realising that it was a displacement activity, and something to do with my hands. Liz patted the seat next to her, and thankfully I sat with the decision taken away from me.

"I ... I ... er ... I still think you're out of my league. I've got nothing to offer you, and I don't understand why you let me kiss you. You could have a much younger man." Nothing like going for it, I thought, slightly upset with how blunt I'd been.

Liz's hand came up to stroke my cheek. I don't think I flinched, but it was so unexpected.

"You silly man." Her grin took the sting out of her words. "With what you did for Kate and Angela I was pre-disposed to like you before I even met you. When I did meet you, I could see from your behaviour" she laughed "that you were somewhat smitten."

I had to grin back. "I felt like a teenager again. Completely tongue tied and awkward."

She leant over and brushed my lips with a kiss. "It was actually quite endearing. And I saw from your face later that you were confused. I guessed it was because your wife died recently, and that was endearing too."

We held hands. "And because you looked so young." I paused for a second.

"Go on. Say what you are thinking. No secrets."

I blushed slightly. She touched my arm, looking both enquiring and encouraging.

"And, well, because you are so ... oh dear ..."

One eyebrow lifted, and I recognised Kate's enquiring expression. Somehow that steadied me.

"Well, because you are so hot." There, I'd said it. "I .."

Liz just threw herself into my arms, narrowly avoiding spilling coffee over us both, and kissed me hard. She settled into my lap with her head on my shoulder, which felt wonderful to me.

"You lovely, lovely man. No wonder I think I'm falling in love."

I was stunned. I might think I was falling for her, but how could she possible fall for me? What could she see in me when she could have anyone she wanted? Well, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, although looking in her mouth could be fun. No, perhaps kissing it would be better. Just looking is too tame!

Our conversation ranged over all kinds of things as we got to know each other. It was punctuated by kisses when she tilted her head or I put my finger under her chin. I found out that she volunteered at her local shelter as well as fundraising for several charities. She'd worked in a marketing department when she wasn't bringing up her children, and her husband had been an athletics coach. They'd met in a gym. She was still a bit of a fitness fanatic, which explained her wonderful physique. He'd been killed in a horrible accident at a tournament when an errant javelin had caught him in the chest. Her two kids, one of which was Kate's mum, had been twelve and fifteen at the time.

I wept for them, and for her. She was touched at my emotion, and we clung to each other. After a while she whispered in my ear:

"I want to go to bed with you."

I was shocked. And outrageously excited. Which I'm certain she could feel. Then she spoke again, so I knew for certain she could feel:

"Is that a gun, or are you just pleased to see me."

We both broke into uproarious laughter. Strange how the right moment can make something ordinary very special.

"I would love you to be in my bed and to be there with you. What about Kate?"

She pulled back and smiled at me. The love in her smile warmed me.

"You can't see what I see in you? And you care so much about everyone around you. Yes, we need to discuss Kate. Or rather I need to talk to her. I think she'll be happy for us, but it's a bit quick at the moment even for her. She's often asked me why I haven't found anyone else. We've been close since her parents died. I always said I'd never met the right man, and I wasn't going to compromise. John and I really loved each other, and second best, even for all the right reasons, wasn't enough."

"I never thought I'd have another relationship. I was getting really excited about using my house to help others. It was very lonely before Kate, but I thought having her and people like her would fill the gap. It did, but not the same way as I feel about you." I kissed her again. We just couldn't get enough of each other.

Ken rang me on Tuesday. Could he bring a friend to supper on Wednesday? There was never any doubt, and he knew he could have just turned up with him, but knowing means better preparation.

Broncs looked like a typical military man. Buzz haircut. Fit as a fiddle. When I asked Ken about him afterwards, it turned out he was ex-SAS. His job now was a PI and Ken had brought him round figuring it would be best if Kate heard it from the horse's mouth, so to speak. He had a nice habit of calling her Miss Kate, as if he couldn't bring himself to drop the military formality and had adapted it to civilian life.




The Gentleman and The Tramps



"Broncs has been hunting down your ex-husband, and he's found him. I asked him for a plan based on what he knows, and he's come up with a few ideas that I hadn't thought about. I was intending to go for him in the courts, being a lawyer, but Broncs' ideas are a bit different." Ken said wryly.

"Well, Miss Kate, your husband .. er ..." he cleared his throat, obviously aware that the phrase wasn't right "... I mean ex-husband, is doing very nicely thank you. He's got himself a swanky house and has set himself up in business as a venture capitalist. He must have had some money of his own as well, because what you had would not have been enough. He's buried himself in a city, but hasn't changed his name, as he obviously felt it was common enough not to matter." Broncs laughed sarcastically.

Kate was incensed. "How can he have done that in such a short time?"

"Well, I'm afraid it wasn't a short time. He must have started it when you were pregnant. I'm sorry."

Kate was angry now. "The bastard. He must have planned it all. Oh what an idiot I am." She groaned in frustration, and her Gran took her hand to calm her down. I was jealous of even that little contact. How things had changed for me in such a short time.

"Er, Miss Kate? I think I've got a plan that might interest you."

Kate looked up. "OK. Shoot."

"I looked into his business a bit, and he's actually quite good at it. When it's technology or service related, he seems to have the right instincts and makes good investments. He seems to be good at reading people."

"How does this help?" Kate interrupted.

"Well, he's got a weakness. I'm not sure you want to hear this."

Liz held on to Kate's hand more tightly, and Estelle took her other hand supportively.

"His weakness is films. Again he's quite good at reading the producers and gauging whether the films they propose will make money, but if the actresses are involved in the presentations with the director, he's a sucker for a pretty face."

There were snorts of derision all round and Kate was muttering what sounded a lot like swear words and not very complimentary names under her breath.

"He's made a couple of small mistakes with films this way and lost a bit of money. But it's more than made up by his other investments. I think he's been dabbling in this for a long time, but turned it into his full time business when you became pregnant. As far as I can see he was doing it alongside his job, and using his work travel to take him where he needed to go for his side business."

"How come his previous work never noticed?" Ken asked.

"I don't know, but I think he had spare time at most of his destinations. Instead of eating and sightseeing, he made good use of it and his contacts."

"So we can't get him on that?" Ever the lawyer, Ken.

"No. But here's what I propose. I think you'll like this." Broncs smiled at Kate and won a watery smile back. "We set up a fake film company with a couple of model type female starlets and a producer. That's all we'll need, because the rest of us will do all the other work behind the scenes. We pitch a film using both the producer and the starlets, which is quite a bit beyond his normal budget and has extension capability. He won't want to do that, but we'll bring in another 'investor' who promises to double his investment if they can go in together."

"I don't understand. How can we find another investor as well as paying all these people?" I was worried.

"Ah. We won't have anyone to pay, and the other investor will be Ken."

Ken grinned. "Easy when you know how."

"So explain how. And anyway, what's the payoff to this? How does it help Kate?" Liz puzzled.

"We're going to pitch for two million." There was a collective gasp from all of us except Ken, who had obviously heard this already. "He can't do that. His ceiling would normally be about three quarters of a million, but we're going to push him up to a million. We're also going to sabotage a couple of his other deals so he goes bankrupt when we take out our million. Kate doubles her money and he's ruined." Broncs was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"How can you be sure it's going to work?" Kate asked.

"I'm not honestly 100% sure at the moment. But by the time we go for it, I will be, or we don't move and we have to get him another way."

"What do you think?" Ken asked.

"I think it's a good outcome, but you still haven't explained how." I admired Liz's sharp comment and tenaciousness. Broncs looked impressed too, and Ken was outright grinning.

"I'm going to play the role of producer. I've got a mate who owes me who would play one of the starlets, and I had someone in mind for the other, but I've changed it -- my mind I mean."

"Why?" This from Kate.

"Because I've found someone else who I think could do the role and would interest your ex." Broncs was looking straight at Estelle when he said it, and I suddenly realised where this was going. Before I could butt in, he'd continued. "Your ex has a thing for blondes and Hispanics." That confirmed my impression, and made Kate mutter under her breath again.

"You can't use Estelle. She's been through so much, and I won't have her exposed like that." From my point of view, it was a flat out no.

"Wait. We don't know what I'd have to do yet. At least let's consider it before we reject it. I like the idea of bringing down Kate's ex." I think Broncs was the most surprised out of us all that Estelle had jumped in so positively. I had a sudden feeling that I knew where this was coming from. The twinkle I intercepted in Liz's eye showed me she thought the same.

"So what about the rest of us?" Liz asked.

"There's quite a lot of background work to do to make it look real. We need documents, an office -- well at least an appearance of one on the phone and by email -- with several voices in it, and bank accounts. That's where you all come in. The rest is up to me and my mate. Oh and Estelle if she will."

"So explain more about what I have to do?"

"You'll be the second starlet. You've got a nice bubbly character which will go well. My mate will do the main stuff with him, and you'll be like the second course that he'll never get to."

"Your mate is going to ...." I couldn't finish my sentence.

"Don't you worry about her. She's more than capable of standing up for herself, and being with him will be like a rest cure compared to where I rescued her from." Broncs' laugh wasn't pleasant, and I couldn't imagine how awful a life his blonde mate must have led before he rescued her.

Broncs read my face and said softly with a pained expression, "You have no idea." That was sobering.

"If you think this will work, I think it's a much more appropriate way of ... well ... revenge." Kate laughed.

"It's a great deal cheaper than going to law." Ken dropped in smiling.

Kate's face clouded. "Who is going to fund it? I can't, and I don't think Gran has got anything like a million.

Ken was still smiling. "I am. My firm is doing really well, and knowing Broncs, I'll only gain from it anyway."

"Eh? How can you gain from it when you're funding it?" Kate puzzled.

"Broncs has a way of making evil doers pick up the tab." Ken said. "He's never failed before, or I wouldn't even consider it."

I think it was that statement that sealed the deal for those present, and we entered suddenly into an alternate universe run by Broncs.

Broncs didn't hang about. By the following week there was an RV parked in the drive and the dining room was populated with electronics and computers, watched over by an extremely competent, very fit and obviously ex-military mate of his called -- what else -- Sparks.

Broncs already had an outline of a script in his head, as well as a few suggestions for a production company name and what documents we needed to make this work. It was actually great fun brainstorming the script, names and logos. In the end it was Liz that came up with the definitive name Clean Sweep Productions. The logos and branding for the web site which Sparks knocked up in seemingly no time were masterly. After a bit of research of other production company web sites, we all helped with material for the Clean Sweep web site. The script was a collaborative effort between Broncs and Liz, with a bit of help from Sparks.

It was interesting observing Sparks -- captivated by Angela, and helping Kate with her at every opportunity when not needed for anything else. Sparks was bright, cheerful and professional, but under that I'd noticed a careworn, hard face. It softened every time Angela was near and gained a wistful expression. I wondered what Sparks had been through. Then I remembered what Broncs had said: 'You can't imagine'. I felt both profoundly sorry, and at the same time so grateful that Angela gave some comfort and hope.

During this time, Liz had had a heart to heart with Kate. Much to her surprise, Kate had just said, 'Go for it Gran. He's solid gold. I'm so glad you've found him after all this time.' So Liz and I were an item. I still couldn't believe my good fortune.

That night Liz and I were able to be together in my room for the first time. To say I was nervous would be a gross understatement. I was shaking. By contrast Liz was fizzing with excitement. As soon as the door shut behind us, she ran at me and jumped into my arms, kissing my face in a frenzy. The onslaught banished my nerves and I found myself with hands holding her up and squeezing, and kissing her back like a madman. Somehow our clothes disappeared and I stilled.

"Oh God, you are so beautiful." And indeed she was. Trim. Lightly tanned. Curves in all the right places. Small high breasts topped with little cherries. Mischievous grin. Slightly flushed cheeks from nerves. "Unbelievably, wonderfully, beautifully hot."

Liz laughed with pleasure. "You're not so bad yourself." She said as she hugged me.

The feeling of her trim body plastered to mine was unbelievable. I lifted her and placed her gently in the middle of the bed, sinking down beside her. I worshipped her body with my hands and mouth, revelling in the little sighs and mewls, until she came like an express train as I suckled her clit. Moving up over her I slid into her slick channel, and groaned as the silky flesh rubbed exquisitely on my shaft. Capturing her mouth in a kiss, I savoured the feeling of being held in her.

I pulled back and looked at her. She was slightly dishevelled from her first climax. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and smoky with passion. Her lips bee-stung from our kisses. Her voice husky and demanding, "If you're not going to move, let me on top."

The idea had me moving instantly, as images of her on top kaleidoscoped in my mind. "Next time." I huffed as I gently sawed in and out of her grasping wetness.

She laughed. "Promise?"

I couldn't speak. I could hardly nod as our breath quickened and I rushed towards the peak. I could feel her nails digging into my back, and her mewls and sighs as she wiggled her hips to increase the joy. I felt my body clench and feelings and seed rushing around inside me. I couldn't think, see, hear, feel, control, as my body crested and I fell like a rag doll on top of her. I was vaguely aware that she was prolonging my peak by clenching and twitching round me through the end of her climax, and I was eternally grateful that I hadn't left her behind. I tried to raise myself off her, conscious of my weight on her tiny frame.

"Stay. I like it."

So stay I did. We must have drifted off, and I came to still connected but half off her. My lips kissed her shoulder, and my hand brushed her nipples and caressed her breast. Her beauty was breathtaking.

"Mmmm. That's nice. Don't stop." She whispered sleepily.

I could feel myself hardening inside her again. We were both gently pushing against each other, generating a slight friction. I brushed my hand down her torso, tracing her belly button, exploring her curls, then pushing between us to gently stimulate her little button. Her breathing accelerated. A small cry of displeasure accompanied removing my hand, and I moved fully over her, taking her in may arms.

"What are you doing?"

I rolled over with her in my arms. "Fulfilling my promise and my fantasy."

She grinned down at me. "You say the nicest things."

Watching her pleasure herself over me was an equal and opposite pleasure for me. Seeing her face expressing the feelings. Caressing her breasts and nipples. Watching the play of her muscles. Rubbing her button until she exploded over me and collapsed onto my chest. I could have her there for ever.

"Marry me?" I whispered.

Her head jerked up. "Surely you can't be serious?"

"I'm serious. But it's a two way thing, and I'll wait as long as you need. And please don't call me Shirley!" I could feel Liz's explosion of laughter through her inner muscles. Nice feeling. But it was too soon to get hard again.

When her laughter had subsided, she just said one word, "Yes."

I was ecstatic. I hugged and kissed. Then we just cuddled with her still on top of me, and eventually fell asleep. When I woke next it was light, my arm was draped over her hip, her leg was over mine, and her green eyes were looking into mine.

"I love you." She announced.

The memories of what had happened last night poured back into my mind. "I adore you. I must have been extra good to have been given such a prize."

A tear formed in her eye. "You are such a sweetie."

Finally we were ready with the background work, and sent out the first round of funding request emails. Broncs and Sparks gave us instructions on how to operate the phones with the voice disguising software and loads of practice on sounding like a laissez faire production company and an uptight investor company (Ken's investment company was going to be run out of our dining room as well).

When Broncs and Sparks were satisfied we were sufficiently competent and unlikely to mess up, Broncs declared us ready to launch. Broncs went off with Sparks and Estelle to get the outfits they needed, leaving us to send out the second round of funding request emails. We were doing this properly so that the ex wouldn't suspect. Quite a large role for us in the 'office' was simply to turn down offers that weren't from the ex so that the whole operation ran as if real.

A few hours later an expensive white convertible drew up. Out jumped a suited guy with long hair and two drop dead gorgeous bimbos. They all wore ostentatious sunglasses. We couldn't understand what they were doing here. We had a quick discussion and decided Broncs might have sent them, so just to play along. I went to the door.

"Come in, please. I'm James." I took them through to the great room and introduced them to everyone. They didn't say much. Then one of the bimbos tool off her sunglasses and Kate suddenly squealed and threw herself into her arms.

"Estelle! I can't believe it's you. You fooled us all."

Indeed it was Estelle. So the other two must be ... Sparks took off her sunglasses with a tight grin, and Broncs was laughing as he took off his wig.

"Looks like we got the clothes and accessories right then! Think your ex will fall for it?"

"You bet." Kate moved over to give Sparks a hug. Sparks looked a little surprised, but I could see the slight lift to the corners of her mouth. What surprised me was that Kate didn't let go of Sparks' hand. And Sparks didn't take it back either. I glanced at Liz to see her brow slightly furrowed, and resolved to discuss it with her later.

When the excitement and babble quieted, as ever, Liz asked the question. "So what happens now?"

"We wait and tickle." Broncs was laconic.

"What's tickle mean?" Liz persisted.

"Tickle is making ourselves known in a few places where the ex is likely to hear about us and our film plans. It's also writing an abstract of the script and sending it to a few people who know the ex, but not to him."

"Why not him?" Liz again.

"Because we want him to want it. If we try to shove it down his throat, he'll bail if anything gets difficult." Broncs explained the strategy. "When he first asks, we're going to meet him, but tell him nicely he's a little too small. That should make him more desperate to come in with us."

Kate was on edge the whole time the three of them were out on the first trip. I asked if there was anything I could do, but she just said that she was nervous and wanted to hear what happened. When they came back, it felt like a failure. They didn't see the ex at all.

"No, it wasn't wasted. He'll hear about us from the people we met. We also know that he's going to be there the day after tomorrow, so we know we'll meet him then."

"Sparks, I need a private word with you about Angela." Kate sounded serious.

I wondered what was up. It wasn't until after the whole thing was over that Liz and I found out what it was about. They told us together and it wasn't about Angela. Well only partly. Kate had asked what Sparks was going to do with the ex. Sparks said, "Just seduce him till he signs for a million. Oh, and get him to pay some of our expenses." It was a hard laugh that accompanied the words.

Kate burst into tears and sobbed, "I don't want you to seduce him." She hiccupped.

Sparks took Kate in her arms and soothed her with voice and hands until she subsided. Then they sat down on the bed and Sparks started telling Kate why it was not an issue for her. Turned out Sparks was born to an alcoholic father and a drug user mother. As she got older, Sparks realised that they got their money to feed their habit through prostitution. They hadn't treated her badly until her fifteenth birthday.

One day Sparks walked into the house from school to find her parents arguing with a man about rates. What she heard made her turn to leave the house. They were negotiating how much extra he would pay to include Sparks for his mates. It was a lot of money, so there was no way she was going to be able to talk them out of it. It was too late. Her father heard the door and rushed after her, dragging her back. From then on she was fair game. Some men were more considerate. Some were drunk. But the worst ones were sadistic. Kate started crying quietly.

At sixteen she got a job waitressing. She loved the people and she was really good at it. Her tips were amazing, but she was popular with the other waiting staff, so it wasn't an issue. Most of the time she could cover up the bruises from the more brutal men, but occasionally she had to call in sick until the signs had faded. Most of the money went to her parents. She was aware that they were short of money, but not how short. They'd taken a loan that had to be paid back.

She was brought down from her bedroom to meet another man. This one was different. He was dressed well, but she didn't like the look on his face. He was the source of the loan, and she was part payment. She had to go with him. His hand bit into her arm. He shoved her into the car. When she whimpered, he obviously enjoyed it, so she did her best not to show her fear.

His house was huge and expensively decorated, but she was dragged through and down some stairs. What she saw down there terrified her. Among the chains and whips there were devices she hadn't any clue what they were for. She soon found out. Her 'bedroom' was a mattress on the floor. He would come down any time day or night, and her body screamed to be left alone. It seemed like weeks or months she was down there. Then her tormentor brought down some of his 'friends'. She wasn't sure how many times she passed out, or how long she was out for each time. One time when she came round groggily, she realised it was a different set of people altogether. Tears were pouring down Kate's face as she looked at the empty expression on Sparks face.

Sparks wasn't sure how she ended up back at her parents, and it took a long time to recover sufficiently to come down stairs. She couldn't understand why her parents were always staring at her face. When the next thing happened, she realised they were waiting for her face to look good enough to carry on. They suggested that an outing would be good for her, and took her across to a bar where a large group of soldiers were carousing. Sparks realised very quickly that she was being offered with her mother again for money, but she was still too weak to escape. She was terrified of being manhandled by a large group of men again, especially as she hadn't fully recovered.




The Gentleman from Indiana



Thanks to the Hip and Knee doctor for editing assistance.

There is no sex in this story. Sorry.



It wasn't completely dark in the room, but the curtains were closed and I only had one lamp on. I guess I could have been watching TV or drinking, but I just didn't feel like it. I showered and shaved before putting on my most comfortable clothes. It was going to be a long night and I wanted to be prepared. It was important for me to stay sober, even if I wanted to get dead drunk. 

I had experienced quite a busy day and I was dead tired. As I sat there on the couch, I tried to figure out where I had gone wrong and then I decided that I hadn't. She had cheated and it was her fault, not mine. However, I was the one who would be paying for it. It didn't matter what happened it was a done deal.

Twelve years of marriage down the drain. Fortunately, there were no kids involved. Natalie had a bad miscarriage the first time that she gotten pregnant, three years ago, and that ended any chances for a family. We were both upset about the tragedy, but I never imagined that it would end up with her having an affair.

I kept checking the clock. Who would get here first? Would it be my cheating wife or someone from one of the many agencies responsible for peace and serenity in the DC area? It might be the FBI, the CIA, the local or state police, or even the Homeland Security. A cold beer would sure taste good right now.

The farmhouse in Warrenton was far enough away from the city that it allowed me to not be bothered with too much of the political crap. A year after the miscarriage, Natalie got a job as a publicity agent for a political lobbying firm and had to travel across the beltway everyday. She complained about it a little, but the excitement of the work seemed to offset any inconvenience. 

Natalie was excited about her new job at first and enjoyed telling me about all of the interesting people she had been in contact with during her workdays. I always listened and paid attention. It was at a point during the second year that I noticed that there was a certain contact who she regularly had, who she never mentioned. It was an individual that we both knew and were actually friends with. The fact that she avoided any discussion about him was troubling. 

Malcolm Eugene Heard was one of the Senators from our home state of Indiana. Natalie and I went to the University of Indiana with Malcolm and his wife Sonja. As Malcolm rose in the political arena, we sort of drifted apart, but we still exchanged Christmas cards. Natalie's company was responsible for providing publicity for Malcolm's campaign and for his contacts with his constituents back home. Over the last year, I had seen several photos of the Senator in the papers and magazines where Natalie could be seen in the background. There were a few short TV clips where he was meeting people and she would be standing close by while smiling. She would have been invisible to most people under these circumstances, but not to me. She had never once mentioned having seen Malcolm or having talked to him. I certainly felt that this was unusual. 

I worked at home and rarely went into the DC area. I had a small, but successful business managing retirement accounts for companies with less than 100 employees. Most of my competitors wanted to concentrate on the larger clients, so I had an open field. I wasn't making a lot of money, but I was comfortable and I enjoyed my work, especially since I could conduct the entire operation at home with no office staff.

It was easy to make myself paranoid about the whole situation. It was harder to verify if something was actually was going on, or if it was my imagination. A private detective was out of the question. There was no way I could afford to hire someone to get the lowdown on a US Senator.

In desperation, I bought three, small, hand-held GPS units. They had a battery life of eleven hours and would record everywhere that Natalie drove to during her work day. Most of the driving was to the beltway and around it until she hit Alexandria. There was no way that I could use the devices to actually follower her, but I didn't want to do that in DC traffic anyhow. I figured that I could use one of them each day for three days and then use the weekend to follow the bread crumbs. If she was cheating, then maybe something would show up.

Of course, the GPS units worked far better than I had anticipated. The first three days that I used them, she stopped twice at the Executive Suite Apartments near Reston. I had no trouble at all verifying that Suite 214 was leased by US Senator Malcolm Heard. I didn't know how long she had stayed there, but that really didn't matter.

I guess I could have confronted her with my new-found information and allowed her the opportunity to give me an explanation, but I never did.

For the next few days, I left home after Natalie did and drove to Reston. I found a quiet, out of the way spot, and got comfortable. On the second day, Malcolm arrived in a large black Mercedes. Ten minutes later, Natalie showed up. It was over two hours until they came out and left separately. My marriage was over. It was time for planning.

Three different companies made offers to buy my small business. I quietly put the money into a long-term, off-shore account. The house mortgage was more than the current appraisal, so I decided that I could walk away from it. Nothing else seemed to matter. 

They had met twice on Tuesday, so I used that as a planning point. I spent all day on Monday printing letters and address labels. There were over two hundred stamped envelopes ready to go out by four o'clock. 

Everything went off as planned the next day, which also happened to be today. First, I attached a bright orange smoke flare to Malcolm's ignition and then I carefully cut each of Natalie's valve stems. Malcolm's car wouldn't be destroyed, but it would be unusable until it was cleaned. Before returning home, I mailed all of the envelopes. Phase one was completed.

Natalie arrived home before any of the Federal Agents that I was expecting. She took off her coat as she walked into the room. Her purse went on the side table with a resounding plop. I noticed a slight glance, but she said nothing. 

Finally she sat directly across from me and sighed.

"I had to get one of the girls from work to give me a ride home."

I didn't say or do anything.

"That was a pretty drastic thing to do, Robert."

How did she know that it was me? It could have been a vandal, or someone with a political grudge. I didn't respond. 

"You could have said something. Why did you have to do that?"

"Why didn't Malcolm give you a ride home?"

"You know damn well, why. We had to get both cars towed."

"Sorry if I caused you any inconvenience."

"There were police there, and reporters. Two TV crews showed up."

"I know. I called them."

"You son-of-a-bitch. That was horrible and inconsiderate.

Malcolm is up for re-election. If they find out what really happened, it will kill his chances."

"I hope so."

She seemed to be trying not to cry. It wasn't working.

"Natalie, what was I supposed to do? You were cheating on me with someone that I thought was still a friend. Does Sonja know what is going on?"

"No. Of course not. Hopefully, she still doesn't know. They have three children, Robert. Do you have any idea what this would do to their family?"

"Oh, that is nothing. Things are going to get far worse over the next few days."

"How can they get worse? Nothing could be worse than this."

"Well, for starters, the police will be here for me shortly."

"Why? Neither Malcolm nor myself ever mentioned your name."

"How did he explain it to the authorities?"

"He just said it was somebody who didn't agree with his political views."

Well, that sort of screwed up my plan before it got started. I was expecting to be dragged down to some sort of interrogation facility and worked over. 

"Robert, do you want to talk about this? Do I get a chance to explain what happened?"

"No!" I got up and walked to the kitchen. If the police were not coming, then I was going to have a beer. "Natalie, I don't want to know what you did, why you did it, or when you did it. It doesn't matter. You can move out, or you can stay. I simply don't give a damn, but please, don't even try to justify it." I walked out to the front porch. It was chilly for this time of year. The beer tasted good, but coffee would have been better. I had no plan for reconciliation and no idea why she did what she did. I didn't want to know.

When I went back in, Natalie had gone to the bedroom and closed the door. I got another beer and sat back down on the sofa. It was going to be a long night.

About an hour later, my wife returned to the living room. It was evident that she had been crying. She gingerly sat on the chair closest to me and started to wring her hands.

"Robert. What did you mean when you said things were going to get worse?"

"I sent a letter to Sonja today. I also sent two hundred and twenty-one copies of the letter to every newspaper, radio, and TV station in the area. Every member of the US Senate got a copy as well as the FBI, CIA, NSA, and Homeland Security. Everybody in both of our families got one and every name on our Christmas card list. Each commentator on FOX TV got their own letter. Your boss and everyone you work with also got one."

"Oh, God no! What kind of letter? Who do you think is going to believe an accusation from a crazy man? Do you really have rock solid proof that anything was going on, or are you still guessing? You are going to look like a fool, Robert."

"Worse than that. They are going to call me demented and crazy. Do you think I care? I have no life and nothing to look forward to. I am going down, but I am not going down alone."

"I think you are over-estimating the power that your letter will have. Public figures get letters like that all the time. They have a special file for them."

"Then I guess I wasted my time. I guess that is good for you and Malcolm. If it's all right with you, I am going to sleep on the couch tonight."

I pulled the Afghan off the back of the sofa and started making a bed.

"Can I at least see the letter?"

I went to the desk, took a sheet of paper from the top drawer, and handed it to her. It was quite short and only took her a few seconds to read it. "Oh no! Robert, you didn't send this. Please say that you didn't."

She slumped in the chair and started to cry. The letter fell to the floor.

"Dear Sonja, If Malcolm sees or even contacts Natalie one more time, I will kill all three of your children. Your friend, Robert Sorensen."

It was not something that a sane man would write. Of course, I didn't mean a word of it, but I felt it was necessary for the shock effect. I was sure that I would be apprehended as soon as the letter got out and I would receive the harshest treatment. I didn't care. If I had ranted like a cuckolded husband, the letter would have been ignored. Threatening the life of a US Senator's children was sure to get some attention. 

Natalie got up and staggered into the bedroom. The earliest that the mail would get delivered tomorrow, would be about nine o'clock. I figured that I could get one more night of sleep before everything turned to shit. 

I was up bright and early the next morning. Luckily, I had a razor in the car which I used on the way to the closest diner. I had the breakfast special and picked up a pack of gum on the way out. I would have preferred a toothbrush, but the gum would have to do today. I tried to kill as much time as possible, but I knew that eventually I would have to return to the house.

There was a black sedan and a state trooper car in front of the house when I arrived home. I never made it to the door. Natalie was standing on the porch in her bathrobe as the FBI agents drove me away with a trooper escort. 

For the next few days, I was either being interviewed or cooling my heels. I missed out on most of the hoop-la that went on, because of the letter. They never really charged me with anything, but the term 'terroristic threat' was used a lot. I felt a weird contentment during the whole process. People were constantly trying to intimidate me or scare me, and I found it humorous. 

I had not heard from Natalie since I was picked up. There was never any mention of bail. I never even saw a lawyer. 

I was never relocated to an actual jail or prison facility. They kept me in a secure area of the Federal building. I was sort of isolated, but never abused or mistreated in any way. After a while, I got the feeling that people were trying to work around me and avoiding any confrontation. Things were not going as I anticipated, because I thought that I would be charged with something. I guess I did a piss-poor job of planning. For the time being, all I could do was go with the flow. I never asked for a lawyer and one was never offered.

I had been expecting a visit at some time from my wife, but it never happened. Instead, I got a visit from Malcolm's wife, Sonja. They left us alone in a small room. I was not restrained in any manner and there were no guards. I am sure that there were some type of listening devices in the room, and there was the usual, large, one-way mirror on the wall.

"Hi, Robert." All I could bring myself to do was nod. I had done a terrible thing to this woman and had no idea how to make it up to her.

"Can I get an explanation or something similar?"

"I am sorry, Sonja. The best I can do is offer you an apology. What I did was stupid, but I was desperate. I never meant to hurt you or the kids, and I think you know that. It was the only way I could get any attention."

"That was important to you?"

"I couldn't compete with Malcolm and you know that. He is powerful, rich, and quite charismatic. I hated the fact that I had lost Natalie to him, and also that there was no way to pay him back for the pain he had caused me." 

"Well, you seemed to have done a damn good job." All I could do was give her a quizzical look.

"Malcolm was called back to Indiana to sit with the State Democratic Committee and to discuss this recent incident. Robert, this was not the first time he screwed up, but it is the first time that his people have not been able to hush it up. People who back politicians have ways of keeping things looking clean, but you stymied them with your blitz."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Right now, I believe that Malcolm's political career is over."

"That's only fair as so is my marriage." Sonja gave me a weak smile.

"Robert, I need a favor."

"After what I did to you, you would consider asking me for help? What could I possibly do for you?"

"I am planning on divorcing Malcolm and wondered if you had some type of proof concerning his affair with Natalie?"

"Sorry, I can't help you. All I know was that Malcolm had a lease on a condo unit in Reston and the two of them used to go there to be alone. I don't have any videos, photos, or audio recordings. For all I know, they could have been playing Scrabble together."

"Malcolm hates Scrabble." We both had a small laugh together.

Things were silent for a few moments. I felt uncomfortable because I had not been able to shave or clean up for a few days. Sonja was perfect in every way. She looked better now than she had when we were in college. She had grown from a gawky adolescent into a beautiful woman. Malcolm had everything: power, position, a family, and a wonderful wife. Why did the son-of-a-bitch need to take mine? 

Sonja got up from the chair, indicating that our little chat was over. "Can I visit you again, Robert?"

"Absolutely. I would enjoy that."

She left and I felt a little sad. I had threatened the lives of her children in front of the whole world and she never raised her voice to me, nor did she indicate that she was upset with me in any manner. It was as if she known what I was trying to do, and understood why I did it.

Two hours later, I was removed from the Federal building and taken home. They unceremoniously dumped me in front of my house and took off. There was no explaination and nothing was said on the entire trip.

The house was empty. All of Natalie's things were gone. I didn't know where her car was. I disconnected the phone, and spent the next few days watching television. I got a perverse guilty pleasure from watching all of the havoc that I had caused. For some reason, the media seemed to be more interested in the affair, than in my threats. After two days with no outside contact, I finally called my parents to let them know that everything was Okay. 

On my first trip out of the house, I bought two sixpacks of beer and ten frozen TV dinners. I waited until the last of the photographers had left. Hopefully, my fifteen minutes of fame was over.

I thought about calling Natalie's parents or sisters in an attempt to locate her, but couldn't come up with a reason. I decided to wait and make no waves. I still had the nice little bundle of money sitting in my overseas bank account. I had no idea what to do with it. I had enough money in the local bank to last me a few more months and then I would have to make some sort of lifestyle decision. What was I going to do to earn a living? The answer came from an unexpected source. 

Malcolm Heard was no longer his party's choice for re-election. He did not take the news gracefully. The general news media played down his objections and tirades, but Fox played it up to the hilt. The more he screamed and hollered, the more Fox baited him. His big mistake was taking his anger out on his wife. Sonja put a stop to his bullshit by sticking an eight-inch kitchen knife into his chest. There was ample evidence to prove that she stabbed him in self-defense, including the nanny, who was an eyewitness. However, the complexity of the situation created a mess for Sonja, and a nightmare for her children. 

Two days later, I was picked up at my house by a small non-descript car and taken to Bethesda. A secretary from the law offices of Barnes, Barnes, and Griffin, indicated that they needed to see me on an urgent matter as soon as possible. They offered no other information, but the invitation was so intriguing that I had accepted. I didn't even get to enter through the front door. We parked around the back and actually went in through a fire exit. I am sure that the room I was led into was not one of the ones reserved for the high-end clients. It felt like a pro-bono set up, but that didn't seem to make sense.

"Mister Sorensen. My name is Wilfred Malik. I have been selected to present a special offer to you." He was grossly overweight and sweating profusely, even though it was not that warm. I guessed that he was about fifty years old. His thinning hair was combed over and his face had a rosy glow to it. 

"What do you mean, 'you was selected?'"

He gave me a funny look. I guess he was confused because I questioned his choice of words instead of inquiring about the offer he was about to propose.

"Why are we in this little room, Mister Malik? I feel as if you are trying to hide me or something."

"You are very astute, Mister Sorensen. We have been instructed to keep this visit low key. Shall we say, no one is really supposed to know that you are here."

"I take it that you are a specialist in 'low key' customers?"

I didn't get an answer. He had a folder in front of him and not much else. 

"Do you know where Niihau is?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I have never been there, but from what I understand, very few people have."

"Sonja Heard owns, or shall I say leases, a small home on Niihau."

"That doesn't make sense. Niihau is a restricted island. I thought that nobody lived there other than a few natives and the owners."




The Gentleman from Indiana



"That is correct. Let's say that some exceptions have been made concerning Sonja Heard."  

"Okay. You have my attention. What does Sonja Heard and the Island of Niihau have to do with me?"

"Things are not going well concerning the trial. It is messy and it is getting messier. Malcolm's family is spending every cent they have to see to it that Sonja is crucified. She is concerned about the impact that all of this is going to have on her children, and she wants to shelter them from it."

"And how does this concern me?"

"Sonja is sending her children to Niihau until this mess blows over. It is the only place that she feels that they will be free of it. She wants you to go with them."

"You have to be kidding! I am the one that threatened to kill them. I am the last person on earth that those children should be entrusted to."

"It doesn't seem to make sense to us either. We don't know why she choose you."

I was not expecting this. It didn't make sense. Of course, there was no way that I would ever do anything to hurt the kids, but I didn't even know them that well. I only saw them at occasional gatherings and never really bonded with them.

"What about Sonja's parents?"

"Her father has Alzheimzers and it is all her mother can do to take care of him. Besides that, the children would still be exposed to the media, if they stayed with them."

"Why Niihau? There is no electricity, no running water, and they don't even have a school or a grocery store."

"Exactly."

"I am sorry Mister Malik, but I have absolutely no experience in taking care of children. You definitely have the wrong guy."

"You won't actually be taking care of the children as such. Their nanny will be going with you to see to things."

"What things?"

"She will do all the cooking, cleaning, and housekeeping."

"Okay. What will I be doing?"

Mister Malik seemed a little bewildered at the question.

"I don't have a good answer for that. Sonja said that she wanted you there, and refused to elaborate much more than that. I am not sure, but I believe she will want you to home-school them so that they do not have to go to a school on one of the other islands. I also think that she feels it is important that they have a male influence. She seems to think highly of you, for some reason."

"What does that mean?"

"What?"

"You said that 'she seems to think highly of me, for some reason.' What did you mean by that?"

"We were a little baffled by her choice in this matter. All we know about you Mister Sorensen, is what we read in the paper and a little research into your background. We, by that I mean the company, never really understood why she selected you. I wasn't trying to offend you in any way. Please don't misconstrue my words."

"Can I have some coffee?"

Wilfred got up and left the room. It gave me a little time to think. Sonja must have been out of her head, or else she was extremely clever. She had always been a calm and collected person. I had to believe that she knew exactly what she was doing when she selected me. I didn't know why, but it didn't really matter: yet. 

The coffee smelled better than it tasted.

"What is in this for me? Why would I ever agree to such a preposterous thing?"

"She was hoping that you would feel guilty about what you did, and openly stated that she wanted to take advantage of that."

"She really said that?"

"Yep. She also offered two thousand dollars a week, to be automatically deposited into your Cayman account."

"You know about my Cayman account?"

"We know everything? Actually, there is not very much to know about you. You are a very ordinary man, Mister Sorensen."

"If I agree, when would I have to leave?"

"A private plane will be leaving tomorrow at noon from Dulles. Our people will help you get ready and take care of your home and personal affairs while you are gone."

I didn't know much about airplanes. All I knew for sure was that it was a jet and it was not a 747. I assumed that it was big enough to cross the Pacific to Hawaii, or else they would not have used it. My escort loaded my bags for me as I stood around trying to look as if I knew what I was doing, which of course was totally wrong. 

I had tried to pack what I thought I would be needing. It would have been nice to have had some sort of guide. The biggest concern was the fact that there was no electricity on the island. I am not sure how current the information was that I picked off the computer, but it didn't look encouraging. Just in case, I took my cell phone and charger. I also packed my laptop. I had no idea how to charge batteries or used electronic equipment without electricity. I was kicking myself for not learning more about solar energy. I was wondering about my satellite cell phone service. By the time I had myself completely confused, the limo arrived with the primary passengers. 

There were two boys and a girl. The oldest boy, Bryan, looked to be about sixteen years old. The girl, Glenna, was at least a year older, and the last of all was Chaz, who couldn't have been more than twelve years old. I introduced myself and was surprised that they all seemed to be pleasant and well-mannered. As a rule, I don't typically like children. 

Things were looking fine, until it came to the nanny. I couldn't be sure, but she appeared to be from some part of Central America. Maya was barely five foot tall. I guessed that she was not yet thirty, but looked older. I was an extremely poor judge of women. She passed by me, as if I had leprosy. The stare that she gave me, haunted me for the entire trip. It was easy to see that I would not have been her choice for this trip. I still could not figure out what ever possessed Sonja to think that I was her best option. Maya handled the children like a drill instructor. They listened to her and did what she said, not out of fear or obedience, but because they seemed to want to. I was impressed. 

After the novelty of the takeoff, I took the time to create some rapport with each of the kids. It would make things easier if I knew what their likes and dislikes were. I quickly discovered that they knew everything about the threat that I had made, and why I had made it. Yet they did not seem to be afraid of me. There was no doubt that Maya knew, because she never took her eyes off of me.

Bryan was interested in computers and anything related to them. He was disappointed when he found out that Niihau did not have electricity. His eyes lit up a little when I told him that I had smuggled my laptop aboard, and he seemed responsive when I asked him if he knew anything about solar power or satellite communications. Bryan and I were going to get along fine.

Glenna was looking forward to swimming and learning to surf. Her biggest worry was that we would not be near a beach, or if there was one, it would be too rough to swim in. I promised to help her figure out a way to get to the water, but I couldn't help her surf. We had a little laugh about that. She was hoping to be able to go horseback riding also.

Chaz was upset because there were no snakes on the islands. He was looking forward to collecting all the critters that he could. After he said that, I told him that I was relieved that St. Patrick had chased away all of the snakes. He took great pleasure in straightening me out.

I knew that I would not get a chance to talk with Maya. She made it perfectly clear by her facial expressions and gestures that she wanted nothing to do with me. I could tell that she did not appreciate my associating with the children. I found myself staring at her as she slept. Her skin was a bronze color with a slight sheen. Her lips and nose were both a little flatter and broader than average. Her eyebrows were dark and heavy. I had no trouble at all remembering that her eyes were also dark and deep. She was sexy, exotic, and very intriguing. 

We stopped in Seattle and had supper at the airport while the plane refueled. I was surprised to discover that Maya spoke perfect English, without a trace of an accent. She hadn't spoken to me, but I paid attention when she was with the children. She was becoming more interesting as the flight went on. 

The children slept the entire way from Seattle to the islands. Maya was asleep for part of the time. When she wasn't sleeping, she was watching me. It was obvious that she knew about the letter, and was more worried about it than the children were. 

The next leg of our journey was in a seaplane, which the kids thought was really cool. That was surpassed by a helicopter ride directly to Niihau. There was a small group of people ready to meet us, and I tried my best to stay in the background. It was evident that they were trying to keep everything completely low key. 

Two hours later, a jitney-like jeep dropped us off at our new home. It was a typical island bungalow with a few upgrades. As the kids and Myra rushed into the new place, I walked around the whole building. It had a tin or metal roof, with large, enclosed gutters for collecting rain water. I had checked beforehand and all my information seemed to indicate that it was a relatively dry island. I was sure that nobody would have gone to all the trouble of installing a system like this unless it was cost-effective. The collected water was all channeled into three, quite large, fiberglass tanks mounted high, under the roof on the West side of the building. 

The whole South side of the roof was covered with solar panels. There appeared to be three different types of panels, but all had the same tilt angle. I was curious to see exactly how the solar energy was being used.

Chaz was fascinated by the small flock of free-range chickens clustered around a small, raised coop in the backyard. There might not be any bacon, but it looked like we would be having a lot of eggs. 

I was still trying to stay inconspicuous. The guy who dropped us off had just finished explaining things to Maya as I entered the house. He would be delivering the groceries and other supplies to us every Tuesday morning. He gave Maya some forms that she could use for ordering for the following week. I decided to keep my nose out of it. Maya was the professional, and I was just going along for the ride. I still had no idea why I was here. There was a propane tank out back that would be checked and filled monthly. In addition to the stove, there was an antique, propane-powered, refrigerator. I hadn't seen one of those since I was a kid. There appeared to be plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables. 

Bryan announced that he had claimed the small bedroom on the South side of the house. It had a door leading to the battery storage area for the solar collectors. I was initially concerned, until I noticed that the area was fully ventilated. In addition to the batteries, there was a hodge-podge of wiring and switches. It scared the bejesus out of me, but it fascinated Bryan. He could not wait to get his hands dirty. 

I ended up having to share a room with Chaz. He thought that this was cool. Maya wasn't crazy about it, but there was no place else for me to sleep. She most certainly didn't offer to share and I didn't expect her to.

Maya prepared a small buffet of fresh fruit for supper. She did not appear to be in the mood to cook a meal and I understood why. Ten minutes after we finished eating, Chaz was fast asleep on the sofa, and the rest of us were ready for bed. About a half-hour later, I heard a small scream. Maya was the first to try out the unheated shower. I was relieved to find out that this was all it was about. It also made me snicker a little. 

By the time I got up, Maya had put breakfast on the table. It was, of course, fruit and eggs, with fresh juice. Chaz was strutting around with a big grin on his face, because he was the one who had collected the eggs. Maya had no trouble assigning him this same task for every morning. 

I discovered that I didn't enjoy shaving with cold water and I was not thrilled with the chilly shower either. The water wasn't actually freezing cold, but it just wasn't warm. I also realized that I would need new clothes if I was going to stay here for any length of time. When I got done with my morning grooming ritual, I found myself tobe alone in ther house.

I stood on the porch and looked out over the valley in front of me. The ocean was closer than I had originally believed it to be. At the bottom of the hill, I could make out Maya with Glenna and Chaz. Bryan was not with them. I watched as they left the road and walked across the rocks and sand to the water. Chaz was wandering all over the place. Glenna walked directly into the surf and just stood there while being quite still. They were almost a mile away, so I could not see much more than their basic movements. Maya sat down on one of the rock outcroppings and watched them. I turned my attention towards the house when I heard some noises from the back. I noticed that Bryan was sitting in the middle of the battery room, with a clipboard. He was concentrating so deeply, that I didn't believe that he never heard me enter the room. A quick glance indicated that he was making a schematic drawing of all of the wiring and equipment in the house. I felt a little relieved that he found something to occupy himself with so quickly. 

"Mister Sorensen, what type of cellphone service do you have?" I guess I wasn't as quiet as I thought I had been.

"It's Verizon. I brought it along because I was hoping that we could get satellite reception."

"Is it internet capable?"

"Internet, e-mail, GPS, as well as texting. I don't use most of that stuff, but the phone does just about everything."

"Do you mind if I use it for a while?"

"I was only going to use it for emergencies because we don't have any way to recharge it."

Bryan gave me a big smile. "No problem. It looks like we will be able to recharge anything by the end of the day."

"Do you need the laptop also?"

"Not until tomorrow. I should be able to connect the laptop to the internet through the cellphone. I assume that you have an unlimited service plan?"

I went to get the laptop and cell phone. When I returned, Bryan had moved into his room where he had a desk set up along the wall that connected to the battery room. I didn't know where he got the desk from. He placed both of the items on the back of the desk and continued to work on his drawings.

"I have to order a bunch of stuff so that I can get us set up. I have my own Paypal account so don't worry about it. The mail won't be here till next Tuesday, but I have a lot to do until then."

I didn't have an answer for him or a comment. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing and there was nothing that I could contribute. As I turned to leave, I heard him say; "By the way, that third section of solar panels is not for power collection, it is a solar-based hot water system. It should be Okay as soon as I can get a DC pump with enough lift. Do you want to work on that?"

Crafty little bugger. He took control of the situation and was already delegating. I just smiled and nodded, as I left him to his work. I needed something to do and getting the hot water system working seemed interesting.

Maya, Glenna, and Chaz were still down by the water. It was only a ten minute walk, or maybe slightly longer. Chaz located a few tidal pools and was busy checking them for living creatures. Glenna had walked further down the beach, but was still within sight. I sat by Maya and was rewarded with a look that indicated that my presence was not appreciated. I was going to try and strike up some sort of conversation with her, but then decided against it. This was not something that could be forced. Maya seemed to hate me and had no trouble letting me know it. We sat quietly until Glenna wandered back and then we all left to return to the bungalow. Chaz would have stayed all day, but reacted immediately when Maya called him.

Chaz chatted all the way back to the house. Maya said nothing. Glenna only had one comment; "I have to find a surf board someplace."

Things seemed to normalize from then on. Chaz would be up early everyday and off to somewhere unknown. At first, he spent most of his time at the tidal pools. As he got more familiar with the surroundings he got a little more adventurous. He would lose himself in the jungle-like areas around the house. There were no poisonous snakes on the islands and no other dangerous animals. I wasn't worried about his well being at all. Amazingly, Maya didn't seem to be concerned either. 

Maya was still not getting any friendlier, but at least she was now communicating. There were things that had to be done and in order for them to happen, she had to talk to me. I accepted the situation and didn't push it. Her skin seemed to glisten in the sunlight. 

Bryan was living in a world of his own. I stayed out of his way as much as I could. I was not smart enough to offer him any suggestions. His desk looked like a rat's nest of wires and home-made boxes. The cell phone was no longer a portable device. It was permanently wired into the solar electrical system somehow and the laptop computer was hardwired to it. We had phone service to anywhere in the world. In addition, we had internet service through the phone. 

Glenna was able to sweet talk Bryan into making a call for her, and by the next morning she had her own surf board. Her days were now spent at the beach trying to teach herself how to surf. In the evenings, Bryan showed her web videos that he found during the day. The downside here was for Maya. She refused to let Glenna go to the water alone. After three days, Maya finally felt the need to have a conversation with me that was other than functional.

"Mister Sorensen. It is difficult for me to say this, but I need your help." She had my attention, so I sat down waiting for the other shoe to fall. I swear that she was getting prettier, every day.

"I have washing, cleaning, cooking, and other housework that has to be done. I cannot continue to sit by the beach with Glenna all day, but I must not leave her alone."

"You want me to start doing the housework?"

That got me a frustrated smirk. "No. I need you to watch Glenna while I do what has to be done at the house. I am not happy about leaving you alone with any of them, but it cannot be helped."

"What is your problem with me? Can I explain anything that will make you feel better about the whole situation?"

"I read the letter Mister Sorensen. The last thing I want is to leave you with them. Mrs. Heard seems to believe that you are no threat. She told me to trust you. I don't know why she said that, but then I don't really know you. I have a job to do. I am forced to do this even though I don't want to."

She was right. I tried my best to look sincere. "Maya. I would never do anything to hurt the children. When I wrote that letter, I was hurting. I know it was a terrible thing to do, but I was desperate. I was bitter because my marriage had just broken up. Sonja asked me to come here for a reason. It must have something to do with the kids. I'll figure it out. In the meantime, I will be willing to do anything that I can to help you and try to earn your trust."

"Good. You start tomorrow, right after the delivery."

"What delivery?"

"We have a truck load of mail, food, supplies, and things that Bryan has ordered, coming. Next week, we are going to be getting a larger shipment of clothing and personal items that we could not bring on the plane. Some of that will be from your apartment."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I talk to the island supervisor every day as well as Mister Malik. Bryan has everything set up so that I can keep track of what is going on. Things will be better next week, in case there is anything that you you need or have to look into."




The Gentleman from Indiana



I had nothing to say. She was smart, competent, and well-organized. The warm climate and humidity made her bronze skin glow, in contrast to her long black hair. She was dressing a little more casually lately, which showed off her full figure. I was still mystified by her perfect diction. 

"I have to get supper ready." She turned to go. I assumed that our conversation was now over. "Oh, by the way, I expect hot water in that shower by next week."

We both smiled. That was a first. I was feeling better about our relationship.

Tuesday morning was like Christmas. Instead of the jeep, we were visited by a small Isuzu truck. There were several boxes for me, but most of the things were for the kids. Maya got some generic vegetables and fruit and didn't look extremely happy. She had a list ready for the next week, which included staples and food items that she wanted. Bryan got the most things. The packages came from several sources and were of all sizes and shapes. He was grinning from ear to ear as he moved the 'treasures' into his room. I was dying to see what he had planned.

The mail was placed on the top of the refrigerator. We could look at it later. Before our delivery man could leave, Glenna pulled him aside, and whispered something to him. Maya hadn't noticed. Our island Santa, smiled, and waved to Glenna as he left.

I was ready for our daily trek to the beach, when Glenna told me that she was not going. She wanted to inventory her new things and arrange her room. That was fine with me, until Bryan came out and handed me a package.

"This one is for you, Mister Sorensen." Gee, I had to get all of these people to call me by my first name.

I was now the proud owner of a DC water pump. 

"All the wiring and PVC plumbing fixtures that you will need are in the battery room."

As he walked away, I felt like a highschooler getting ready to do a science project. When I went past Maya going to the back of the house, I couldn't help snickering.

"When I get this installed, I will need you to help me test it."

Maya gave me a shocked look, smiled, and then hit me on the shoulder as I passed by. Things were starting to look up.

I won't bore you with all the complexities of installing the water pump to the solar collector. Let's just say that there was a lot of cursing on my part and a few giggles from Bryans room. I was so engrossed with what I was doing, that I skipped lunch. All the pump did was carry the water to the top of the solar panels and let it run down to the shower. It didn't make the water scalding hot, but it did make it a little more pleasant. Chaz was more than happy to be the first to use it. It would be worthless at night or during a cloudy, rainy day, but I was glad that it worked at all. I started thinking about other projects that I could tackle.

I was on the roof checking all of the water fittings, when I realized that somebody was using the shower. That made it much easier for me to check for leaks. When I came back down, Maya was coming out of the shower wrapped in a towel. She gave me an embarrassed glance and ducked into her room. It was worth all the time it took, if she was happy. 

Things improved over the next few days. From out of nowhere, a local boy, who was about seventeen years old, showed up. Apparently, Glenna had asked the delivery man if he knew of anyone who could teach her how to surf. The guy's name was Teddy and he lived about three miles from the beach. The two of them seemed to hit it off right away. I didn't much enjoy playing the role of chaperone, but in this case, I could see that it would be necessary. I had to admit that she looked pretty good in a swimming suit. I was no longer watching Glenna to insure that she didn't hurt herself, I was now responsible for her virtue. I told Maya about this new development that evening and she was not happy.

Bryan was having no trouble at all keeping busy and I have to admit that I was envious of his skills and knowledge. In only a few days, we had a complete computer system set up, including a printer, and an internet phone system. I would have liked to get my cellphone back, but the boy genius still needed it for the internet connection. He assured me that he was working on it.

Chaz lost interest in the tidal pools and started spending almost all of his time in the undergrowth. For some reason, neither Maya nor I were worried about him.

Glenna was the big problem. It wasn't because she was doing anything wrong, it was just because she was a beautiful, young girl with a great body, spending everyday with an island surfer boy. I hate to sound like I am stereotyping, but that seemed to be the best way to describe him. There was nothing about Teddy that you wouldn't like, except for the fact that he was probably a horny, teenage boy. Glenna should not have been flirting and leading Teddy on, but she was a teenaged girl with raging hormones.  

Maya and I were now engaging in conversation on a regular basis. It was usually about the kids or the house. She appeared to be accepting me a little more, but she was still cautious. She was not happy about my interpretation of the relationship between Glenna and Teddy. She blamed me for not watching them close enough. She was right.

A quite large package arrived with a ton of home-schooling supplies. Chaz was not too excited about the whole thing, though Bryan and Glenna were interested. Glenna would be leaving for college before the end of the year and Bryan was on a fast track to wherever he wanted to go. It appeared that their mother had all sorts of irons in the fire concerning their upper education. I decided that it was best if I kept my nose out of it. Maya did ask me to help, however, by setting up some sort of formal schedule for studying and testing. 

I got my cellphone back when Bryan figured out how to combine all of his electronic gadgets to include the internet access. He got a satellite internet receiver that operated on DC from somewhere. He had an electronic panel set up in his room that would operate and recharge any DC operated electrical appliance. The first thing I did was call my parents. Everything was fine at home, but they had not seen or heard from Natalie. I called Wilfred Malik, because I didn't know who else could give me any kind of an update. The bad news from Malik was that he was not able to move me out of my apartment, because Natalie had moved back in. That was not good. 

Glenna had elected to do her studying early in the day and her surfing in the afternoons. She and Teddy, seemed to enjoy wandering off behind some rock outcroppings, just to tease me. Usually, I ignored it, but one day I felt the urge to check it out further. Having my cell phone back gave me the opportunity to get a few pictures of Teddy and Glenna kissing and a little more. Glenna still had her bikini on, but that didn't stop Teddy from exploring. My quiet little cough broke up the fun and allowed me to walk home with an embarrassed young lady.

When she saw the photos, Maya was convinced that my suspicions about Glenna were correct. A short while later, I saw them having a private chat on the back lanai. I was glad that Maya was here because this was a conversation that I did not want to have. When Maya was finished talking to Glenna, she gave me a tongue lashing that I would remember for a long time. She was not happy with the lousy job that I had done watching Glenna.

Somehow or other, Bryan had completed all of his school assignments and tests, and contacted the admissions departments at a few schools that he was interested in. I was impressed with his efforts. 

Chaz was also starting to get a little weird. After his afternoon excursions to whereever he went, he would sit in his room and make all sorts of notes and drawings. Bryan got him a small, digital camera and showed him how to load the pictures into the new desktop computer that appeared from nowhere. There were DC appliance plugs in every room of the house. The new computer that Chaz was using also had a small scanner. He was turning into a geek, just like his brother, except it was leaning in the area of biology instead of electronics. 

I got my laptop computer back at the same time that a DC powered HDTV showed up. Things were looking pretty good, but I still wished that I had a microwave oven every now and then. 

Everything was fairly normal for the next few weeks.The high point for me was when Maya confessed that she did not believe that I had any intention of hurting the children. She didn't elaborate on this and I didn't push it.

Glenna had her eighteenth birthday party.

Then things started changing rapidly. The first was when Maya told me that I no longer had to go to the beach with Glenna.

"I don't understand, Maya. You were greatly concerned about her safety and then about her close relationship with Teddy. What changed?"

"I have a lot of confidence in Teddy. I think he knows the water and the wave actions. I believe he can keep Glenna safe. I don't think she will hurt herself with him around."

"Come on Maya. You know what is going on between them. There is no way that you can leave them alone together on a deserted beach. You know what is going to happen."

Maya put down the laundry that she was folding and looked at me. "It's too late, Robert." That was the first time she called me by my first name. 

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you did a rotten job as a chaperone." She sighed as if she had failed at something. "They have already had sex. We can't stop it now. I know because I was young once. We might as well let them work things out between them and stop frustrating ourselves."

"What if she gets pregnant? What the hell are you going to tell Sonja?"

"I got Glenna started on birth control pills a few weeks ago. I also talked to Mrs. Heard about it. She understands and said that as far as she was concerned it was normal and healthy."

"How did you get her a prescription for the pills? Why didn't you tell me that you were in contact with their mother?"

Maya snatched up her folded laundry and walked out of the room. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. There are several roof panels that need to be fastened down. See if you can get it done before supper and whatever you do, don't fall off the damned roof."

I was being dismissed. I could easily tell that Maya had given me all the information I was going to get. I was beginning to feel comfortable about the whole situation and now I felt like an outsider again. I spent the whole afternoon on the roof hammering and moping about my inability to manage my own affairs.

I was quiet and sullen during the evening meal. Glenna seemed happier than usual, and for good reason. Bryan and Chaz were the same as usual. Maya noticed my unhappiness about the whole situation and let me know by sticking her tongue out at me when the children were not watching. She followed it up with a small smile. I spent the rest of the evening confused. 

Since I no longer had to baby sit Glenna in the afternoons, I had a lot of time to spend working around the house. If I needed any parts or tools I wrote it down on the list that Maya kept on the refrigerator. I never did get a clear understanding of what my function was. The kids took care of their own schooling. Maya took care of the house duties. All I really had to do was hang around and play 'Mister Fix-it.'

After one of the evening meals, Chaz made a comment that interested me. He looked over at Bryan and simply said; "I miss Sarai. She could cook a lot better than Maya." There was a little more discussion about the food preparation, but I was just interested in who the hell Sarai was and why she wasn't with us?

I tucked the comment about Sarai away in my cluttered mind. It was not important enough to dwell on, but something I wanted to remember. I guess I could have just asked one of the kids about Sarai, but I didn't feel comfortable doing it.

Out of the blue, Bryan received an acceptance letter from MIT. He was scheduled to start classes in four weeks. It appeared that everything had been arranged and taken care of without my knowledge. I guess I didn't have a need to know. I insisted that before he left he had to prepare a manual explaining everything about the electrical system in the house in such a manner that I could understand it. He thought it was a good challenge and went right to it. He also got Glenna ready to take her final exams, and helped her get some college applications in.

Now I was really confused. If Sonja was going to let the kids leave the safety of the island to go to college, why were we sent here in the first place, and what were the kids being protected from? I was the idiot that threatened to kill them and I was being ignored. I had to assume they were here to protect them from any nasty news concerning the death of their father and prosecution of their mother, but with our TV and internet connections, that was not so. My presence seemed superficial. Maya laughed when she saw that I added a sixpack of beer onto the supply list.

Things got a little more complicated on the night of the monsoon. I think it was just a big storm, but we all liked to call it a monsoon. It had rained all day and Chaz never made it back for supper. Maya and I left Glenna and Bryan at the house and went to look for him. The constant rain had turned everything to mud. I happened to know that his favorite spot was in a deep ravine just South of the house. That was where we found him. He was Okay, just stuck. The sides of the gully were steep. During normal conditions, Chaz could easily get up and down with no problems. The rain changed things. What used to be footholds were now just slick mud. Maya took an immediate flop into the side of the trail. By this time she was soaked from the rain. I couldn't help but to notice that she had no bra on underneath her tee shirt. I was intrigued by the large brown nipples that were peeking through the thin, wet cotton. While I was distracted, I suddenly felt both of my feet fly into the air and I landed beside the wet and muddy Guatemalan beauty. Chaz was laughing his head off. He was covered with the sticky mud also, but didn't seem too concerned about it. It took us about ten minutes to pull him out of his hole. Maya gave him a little scolding, but nothing that wasn't deserved. I was just glad that we found him safe and that Maya didn't have a bra on. Oh, did I mention that before? 

The rain helped to get some of the dirt off before we got back to the house, but not all of it. Maya made us leave our shoes outside, and then shoved Chaz into the shower. He handed his muddy clothing out to her, and, in return, she gave him a towel to wrap himself. Glenna took him to his room. 

I don't know why, but I decided to join Maya in the shower. She was still dressed when I stepped in. At first she seemed surprised, but suddenly she relaxed as she turned her back to me. She had her arms over her exposed nipples. I took some shampoo and squirted it on the top of her head. When I started to wash her hair, she stood still and seemed to hold her breath. After a few moments, she exhaled and started to breath normally. She moved her head around to allow me easier access. I had to turn her around to rinse the suds out and she did not resist. When I started to pull her shirt over her head, she raised her arms. As I started to wash her body, she began removing my wet clothes. In a few minutes time, we were both naked. I spent far more time washing her breasts than was necessary, but I heard no complaints. 

Both of us were breathing faster and deeper. I tilted my head down to allow her better access to my muddy hair and found myself directly in front of a pouting nipple. It seemed to be perfectly natural to want to kiss it. I was rewarded with a light smack on the top of my head, but she kept washing. Moments later, I kissed the second one, and this time she grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me closer to her. 

Sex in a shower is definitely not comfortable, but it sure was erotic. It took less than five minutes for both of us to finish. Thank goodness it didn't take longer, because Bryan was beating on the door wanting to know if everything was Okay. 

I left first with a towel around me. As I passed Glenna and Bryan in the living room, they were both giggling. I couldn't figure out if that was a good or a bad thing. All I know is, at the moment I felt good. Chaz was fast asleep when I got to the room. It must have been a big day for him. I decided to lie down for a minute and didn't wake up until the next morning.

I was expecting a cheerful and happy housekeeper the next morning, but all I got was a grumpy one. I was confused, but couldn't pursue the problem with the kids around. After a while Glenna, Bryan, and Chaz went their separate ways and Maya and I were alone.

"Maya. I am confused. You seem a little out of sorts. Did I do something wrong? If I did, I am sorry. I had no intention of forcing you to do something that you didn't want to do."

She put down the dish that she was drying. "No. You didn't do anything wrong: I did."

"I am sorry that you feel that way. It won't happen again."

She slammed the flat of her hand on the counter. "No, damn it. That's not it. It's is not you or anything you did."

"I don't understand."

Maya got two fresh cups of coffee and sat down at the table with me. "Do you remember when I had the talk with Glenna about two weeks ago? The day that you caught her kissing Terry."

"Yeah. I thought you did a good job. What went wrong?"

"I gave Glenna my birth control pills. I wasn't using them, or shall we say, I didn't have a need for them. I figured that she would get more use out of them than I would. At the time, I had not planned or expected anything to happen between us."

I took a big swig of coffee, even though it was too hot. "You mean that there is the possibility that..?"

She interrupted me before I could finish. "Don't even say it or think it. I won't know anything for a few weeks. In the mean time, keep that thing in your pants." She noticed that I looked a little dejected. 

"At least, until I can get some more pills." There was a small smile on her face as she turned back toward the sink. For some strange reason, I was hoping that she was with child. I hardly knew this woman, but the thought of being a father to her baby was exciting to me. I couldn't explain it.

Chaz and I spent the most part of the day putting a new roof on the chicken shed. It was still too muddy for him to go to his sanctuary. I was in a good mood all day.

We were watching the news on the television, but not on a regular basis, so we were shocked as hell the next week when Sonja Heard showed up at the house.

I felt like an outsider again, so I stayed in the background and let her spend time with her children. Maya took me aside and gave me a brief rundown of what had occurred. It seems that the prosecuting attorney had quietly dropped all charges against Sonja, and she had been realeased with as little fanfare as possible. She immediately came to see her children and to hide from the Press. Appearently, she did a pretty good job, because when we did checked the news, everybody was speculating on her whereabouts. It appeared that there was a whole lot of forensic evidence collected immediately after the murder. None of it was compromised or planted, and none of it directly implicated Sonja. The prosecutor was trying everything he could to tie one thing to her and couldn't. Sonja's attorney kept quiet the whole time. They didn't protest or force the case to be dropped. They simply waited until the case fell apart on its own. Sonja spent all that time in jail, when she probably could have gotten out a lot earlier. All I could think of was; what did this all have to do with me, and why I was here? 




The Gentleman Highwayman



His lips and tongue eagerly feasted on the flower of her womanhood, tasting every inch of her, probing her moist depths, lapping at her essence and worshiping her sweetest, most sensitive treasure. Throughout his divine ministrations, Tamara squirmed and writhed almost uncontrollably, her fingers entwined in his hair, pulling his face tight between her thighs.

So caught up was she in her own throes of passion that she failed to notice him removing his breeches and slipping off his boots, leaving him naked bar for the mask that still covered half his face. He looked up, her ambrosial nectar glistening on his lips, and took her hands in his. As she opened her eyes and met his lustful gaze, he drew her down to the floor, cradling her back as he lay her down on his cloak, laid out over a soft bed of hay. He leaned over her and coaxed her thighs apart, Tamara eagerly complying, catching her first full look at his stiff ready manhood. She couldn't take her eyes off it as he guided his hardness towards her slick opening, watching with the most heightened expectancy as he slowly slid himself into her, deeper and deeper. The brief moment of pain as be breached the barrier of her innocence was quickly replaced by the most wonderful feeling of fullness as he settled within her moist cave.

Leaning forward to capture her lips with his, he began to thrust into her, slowly at first but with increasing momentum as his tongue simultaneously probed her welcoming mouth. Tamara immersed herself completely and utterly in the waves of pleasure sweeping through her body as her masked hero made love to her passionately. Her fingers scratched at his back as she felt a tiny bloom of pure ecstasy begin to grow deep within her, building slowly as it spread throughout her entire being, finally blossoming into a climactic crescendo which merged with her mysterious lover's own frantic grunts of release as they both exploded in rapture at the same moment.

He slumped down over her, exhausted, and they lay there in silence together, Tamara listening to their twin hearts beating almost as one as she bathed in the warm afterglow of their lovemaking. Eventually he wrapped his cloak around them and, feeling warm and safe, she fell asleep in his arms.

As Tamara awoke the next morning, she looked up through sleepy eyes to see her Gentleman Highwayman standing over her. He was dressed again, and was loading and priming one of his pistols. As he looked down at her, she returned his smile happily.

"What's going to happen to me now?" she asked. "Are you going to take me back to my father?" She paused for a moment, before shyly adding, "I...I don't want to go back home, I'd rather stay here with you."

He grinned at her, a hint of mischief flashing within his deep blue eyes.

"Oh don't worry mi'lady," he said, cocking the pistol, "you're far too valuable a prize to give up so easily..."



The Gentleman's Accomplice



The year is 1905 and the location, in the fashionable London East End. It was a time where England ruled the waves, the sun never set on the English Empire and morality and Christian ethics were the order of the day. Humanity however, had not changed and the aristocracy continued with their lives filled with a desperate search for meaning in a world which accommodated their every whim.

Where the Lady Chelsea learns the perils of wishing for something out of the ordinary as you just might get what you wish for.

The Lady Chelsea burned with humiliation and shame as that bitch of a servant Onna put her right foot into the manacle that held her legs apart. To think that she was stripped down to the bare skin, with her most intimate of private places exposed for viewing by whoever walked in the door, it was almost too much for her to bear. How had it all come to this? What had she done to deserve this fate and why hadn't she listened to her conscience when it could have done her some good?

It had all started over a game of cards, surreptitiously held at her friend and confidant's house the Duchess of Malmsbury. She was of the same age as the Lady Chelsea and they had often found themselves talking together when the men had withdrawn for brandy and cigars.

It had been the Duchess who had introduced her to gambling and she had both won and lost large sums of money at the drawing rooms at many of the social gatherings that London society attended. When money was unable to be paid, woe betide the lady who was unable to meet her debts as the Duchess would set a suitably humiliating task for the socialite to perform, much to the amusement of everyone else. Why, just last month, one of the older ladies was forced to commit an act of such indecency that it was the talk of their small social set ever since. The Lady Chelsea had no idea that such a thing could be done with a piece of tropical fruit or that it would provide so much pleasure to the lady forced to perform in front of her peers, but it was due to this lascivious and jaded environment that the Lady Chelsea found herself placed onto the path that led to her present predicament.

The Lady Chelsea had been discussing her marital problems with the Duchess who exclaimed rudely and threw her cards down on the table. "Your husband, while a suitable match for you in terms of social standing and finances, has left you as high and dry as any half-penny rowboat during high tide." she said. "Your husband is more interested in the curve of a mans thigh than anything you might have to offer and mores' the pity as I understand that he left your stableboy waddling like a duck for a week after he'd buggered him after Church on a Sunday". All of the ladies who were either playing or watching the game laughed at her discomfiture and the fact that she had turned a bright red at all of the attention.

"I knew that when I married him" replied Chelsea, "although I did have some pretensions towards breaking him of his habit for young men after we were married. The problem is that I have taken the odd lover or two and I have found them to be generally too bothersome after they have scratched my itch" she said. "They have had a terribly unfortunate tendency to fall in love with me which can be damned awkward if we're all at the same social function. In fact Old Barton's funeral was awful as the both of them were glaring at me and then each other, I thought they were going to break into fisticuffs right there and then!".

"What am I going to do with you?" said the Duchess, pinching Chelsea's cheek between thumb and forefinger. "You remind me at your age and I'm afraid that you share my passion for danger which can be difficult to manage within the eyes and ears of our friends and enemies within society. God forbid if you were forced to be thrown to the mercies of those journalists from Fleet Street, or even worse to find yourself lampooned within a penny dreadful, drawn with your ankles and skirts in the air being serviced by a poorly drawn caricature of the Prime Minister."

Chelsea arched an eyebrow and said "It sounds like you've had some experience with the press" and the circle of ladies grew quiet as they waited for the Duchesses response.

The Duchesses iron gaze transfixed Chelsea into her seat as she realised that she had overstepped the mark. "It took quite a few years before I was allowed within polite society after that scandal and I'm afraid that you're headed in the same direction" the Duchess said. "You cannot imagine what it is like to find that all that you thought was yours, your friends, your family, your social standing, all taken away from you due to a moment of indecency that was unfortunately exposed to the wrong people by a malicious slanderer. I think that there is only one thing for you and I'm not sure whether you will enjoy the experience or not, but it's time you were taught a lesson".

With this pronouncement, the Duchess spent some time composing a letter which she did not allow Chelsea to see, then gave it to her in an envelope. "I want you to take this message to a very good friend of mine. His name is Sir Douglas Weatherfell and when you give this message to him I want you to tell him that no effort is to be spared. He has my full permission to engage the full spectrum of his talents in this case and that he is to write back to me while you wait".

Chelsea took the envelope in her hand and when the Duchess told her "Now go girl and see this gentleman who is a very good friend of mine. If he cannot set you on the right path I do not know who will and god help you if you disappoint him".

Chelsea left feeling somewhat put out. While the influence of the Duchess was not to be underestimated as it reached to the very palace itself, why had she been so put out by what Chelsea had said? Clearly she had touched on an old scandal that probably predated her birth, which was probably still an issue that was very sensitive for the Duchess. Remembering some of the pranks and tasks that the Duchess had set for those of her circle who had displeased her, Chelsea believed that she had gotten off lightly by being asked to deliver a message to a strangely unknown gentleman. Maybe there was mischief afoot. Adjusting her hat on the way to her carriage, the Lady Chelsea knew that she was up to any challenge that the old bat might have set for her. 

Her carriage had taken her across town to Bacchus Street in the fashionable suburb of Rivermount where Sir Douglas Weatherfell resided. She was curious to see what this member of the nobility would have in store for her and she was sure that there would be a surprise somewhere with this task. Perhaps it would just be a wasted journey while she was made to look like a fool for asking to see someone who didn't exist. Perhaps it would be a task like she had been forced to do before, such as stealing an item from the gentleman's parlour or even flirting outrageously with him. She had done these things and more at the Duchesses whim and she was not sure what to expect though this time around. She had the feeling that she had stirred unseen depths judging by the Duchesses demeanour when she left.

She stood outside the door of 13 Bacchus street feeling strangely unsure of herself. If she disobeyed the Duchess it would mean beating an unseemly retreat for her country estate in Dorset. Her husband was there and while he was amusing himself with the stable hands, she was sure that she would be trapped into an unending round of pointless social engagements with what passed for local society. So she steadied her nerves and knocked on the emerald green door of number 13.

The door was opened by an oriental woman who was quite petite and very courteous. "How may I help you" she inquired with a lilting sing-song voice that was very enchanting. The Lady Chelsea said "I have a message here from the Duchess of Malmsbury for Sir Weatherfell and I have been asked to deliver it personally". The oriental lady brightened at the mention of the Duchess and motioned her inside to a sitting room. She was asked if she would like some tea while she summoned Sir Weatherfell to receive the message.

Chelsea was very curious about the mysterious Sir Weatherfell as she had not met him in her several years of parading throughout London society. She had not even heard a mention of his name. From the look of the décor throughout his sitting room and the oriental servant, he may have recently returned from abroad, which would explain why they had not crossed paths during her years in London.

Intrigued by the décor, she walked slowly around the room. There were several fans along the walls and an absolutely exquisite painted series of panels which showed various scenes of oriental splendour. Along the wall there was an aged set of drawers with some lovely porcelain vases, clearly of the highest quality in a magnificent Asian style. You could clearly see the sunlight through the meticulously crafted porcelain.

The oriental lady opened the door preceding the master of the house. She introduced him, saying "Lady Chelsea, please let me introduce Sir Douglas Weatherfell". The man she was introduced to was striking. He was not too tall, probably around five foot four inches, but the very first thing that she noticed was his sense of presence. There would be no ignoring this man in a crowd, she said to herself as she looked him up and down. He had very piercing blue/green eyes which had the sense of a far horizon to them, as if he had been very well travelled. His hair was short, cut in a military style with a generous moustache and beard rounding out his face in a very pleasing manner. He did have very broad shoulders she thought, noting that his hands were very warm to the touch, almost hot compared to the cool air outside.

"How may I help you?" Douglas said as he appraised her appearance in the same way. She took a deep breath that accentuated her bosom in a way that had been known to stop conversation and looked at him under her heavy eyelashes. "The Duchess of Dorset has asked me to personally deliver this message to you Sir Weatherfell" she said, handing over the envelope.

Douglas opened it with a flourish and his face went from surprise as he read it to a rakish good humour. He started laughing and said to the oriental lady "It looks like our friend the Duchess has sent us a present" as he handed the letter over to Chelsea to read. 

The letter said:

My Dearest Douglas,

It has been a long time since I've had the pleasure of your company and I often think of you and your maidservant Onna. I have not had such an intense experience for some time and I eagerly look forward to our next meeting when you have finished establishing your household now that you have returned to London. I often think of you when I have one of these stuck up society strumpets on display in front of my acquaintances.

Speaking of which I have sent to you the Lady Chelsea. She is dear to me but requires some very strict lessons in both manners and subtlety. She has been fornicating her way through the younger nobility for several months now and is fast acquiring a reputation as a lady of easy virtue. While this is not in itself a bad thing, I fear that it will restrict her movement in society and may be a cause of some regret to her in the future. Speaking from my own experience, these things can be very difficult to live down in later life.

I wish you to ensure that the Lady Chelsea is rogered to within an inch of her life. I also want to ensure that she understands that there is more to be had from life than just an endless succession of hardened male members.

I give you full permission to treat her as you will. Show her this letter so that she understands that if she does not acquiesce to being a student, then she will be barred from becoming part of my inner circle of friends and will never be seen anywhere near the royal court or the aristocracy again. Warn her of my serious intentions in this and that while she can choose between the bright lights of the city or the tepid waters of her estates in the country, once she chooses there can be no going back.

Forever your faithful slut,

Susan.

Chelsea felt almost dizzy as she read the note, sensing the amusement of Douglas and Onna as they witnessed her discomfiture. What would she do? What did the duchess mean by becoming his student? Her mind was ablaze with unanswered questions, but she knew that the Duchess (whose first name she had never heard uttered anywhere) was deadly earnest about the prospect of banishment. She had heard of such a thing happening. One day a young socialite, the next never seen again in "polite" society, with whispers of scandal ensuring that the aristocratic doors were closed forevermore. What the jaded members of this social set did for fun would amaze many from the broader public, but any hint of scandal or publicity to the awful broadsheet newspapers of the city and you would never find yourself attending the Royal Ascot races again!

"So what do you choose Chelsea?", Douglas asked, "banishment or what lies behind this door? I warn you that once you step outside of this room into my house you will be forever bound by your decision, I guarantee that! What will happen will shock and amaze you and you will find yourself engaged in all manner of things unspeakable, but I also promise you an end to the ordinary, that is for certain."

Chelsea took another deep breath and steadied herself. This won't be the only person you've slept with to get yourself out of trouble she thought. If I have to be this man's plaything, we will see who ends up as the puppet and who is the puppeteer at the end of it. I won't be banished from London for anything and I'll beat the Duchess at her own game. She promised herself a future revenge against the Duchess that would serve to be as troublesome as this humiliating encounter would be as she stepped forward, looking Douglas in the eye. "I will be your student, Douglas and I await your pleasure" she said, curtseying down low in a way that provided an excellent view of her cleavage. She had practiced many times in front of an angled mirror to achieve exactly this effect.

"Take her downstairs Onna and prepare her for her first lesson" Douglas said to his maidservant. Do not spare her from any of the usual steps and make sure that she is ready for me when I come down."

"Come this way" Onna said, taking her by the hand and opening another green door leading into the depths of the house. Chelsea heard the front door bell chime as Onna led her down the corridor and then down some stairs that led to the basement of the house.

As Chelsea walked past Onna into the basement, she let out a gasp. Small brass lanterns spread a soft yellow light amongst the broad wooden beams that were both pillars and support beams for the roof. The large basement was empty except for different apparatus that were distributed throughout the large area. There was gymnastic and sports equipment that she recognised from her schooling, but as Onna led her towards the far wall, she saw a large oaken barrel that rose half buried in the bricks of the cellar floor.

Onna said "The Master has instructed me to make you ready for him, so you will lay down across this" as she pointed to the large oaken barrel which had a broad leather mat attached to it. Chelsea noted with some alarm the manacles that were clearly for both hands and feet at both sides of the barrel and turned to Onna and said "You've got to be joking?". Onna grabbed her hand and twisted and Chelsea found herself screaming in pain as she stood on tip toes to try and stop the pain shooting through her wrist and up to her shoulder. Onna manoeuvred her across and then tripped her, deftly ensuring that she fell across the barrel. Onna kept her in place by touching her in a place between her neck and shoulder that froze her in place as if she had been stuck dead. Fully conscious, able to breathe but not speak, Chelsea lay there fuming in anger as her hands and feet were manacled in place.

Chelsea's anger rapidly turned into shame and horror as her shoes and stockings were removed. She could hear some movement behind her and then heard the terrible sound of a knife being drawn and the tearing of it through her clothes. While she could not move or speak, she could still feel the sensation of her dress being removed through the expedience of being cut off her back, as if she was some animal being skinned of its finery. Laying there in her corset and lacy underclothes, she flushed a deep pink as she could sense Onna's regard.

Chelsea was then rolled over so that she was facing the ceiling. Due to the curve of the barrel she could only see part of Onna as her corset was undone and then removed, leaving her breasts bare in the warm air of the basement. Then she heard the knife again as her underclothes were cut off her in the same abrupt manner as her dress was removed.

Onna then walked around to where her head and shoulders were placed on the mat and knelt in the oriental manner, with Chelsea's head and shoulders being lifted and placed in her lap. She then massaged life back into Chelsea through the manipulation of the nerves in her neck and shoulders. When she could move and speak again, Chelsea screamed "You'll pay for this you harlot!" as she went for Onna's eyes with her fingernails extended. She was pulled up short by the manacle chains as Onna laughed with enjoyment at her obvious fury.

"The Master told me to make you ready for him and I shall" Onna said, standing as she undid her clothing, removing the Chinese style dress with its various fastenings and letting the dark blue silken sheath drop down to her ankles. She was gloriously naked as Chelsea saw her body for the first time. She looked up from the floor along Onna's smooth and glorious legs to what she saw with some surprise were completely shaved womanly parts, leading over a hard stomach to some exquisitely small breasts with buds of nipples protruding from them. Onna knelt again and pulled Chelsea's head back to her lap, where she looked down with some amusement at Chelsea.

Chelsea lay there, struck dumb by the intensity of the situation. She was acutely aware of the heat pouring from Onna's feminine parts against the top of her head and the intimacy of Onna's embrace. "The Master does not appreciate the hair that you white women have" Onna said. I am going to shave you clean and I will be using a straight razor which is very, very sharp. You will need to lay very still, with your legs open or else you will be cut which will be very, very unpleasant". Chelsea gulped as her head reeled with everything that was happening. She felt distant and very separate to what started to happen to her.

Onna applied a very hot towel to Chelsea's privates, which Chelsea tried to ignore but despite her desperate attempts to mentally separate herself from what was happening, the damp heat from the towel began to penetrate her, like the stroking fingers of her latest bravo that she had seduced while attending the funeral the previous week. She didn't know why this memory should seep into the forefront of her mind, but she could feel her innermost self melting in the most delicious way. She gasped as Onna removed the towel and then spread her legs, changing the length of the chain in some manner that Chelsea couldn't see. Onna began to lather her privates with a sweetly scented soap which made Chelsea writhe in place, unable to close her legs due to the chain and unable to move except to make small movements with her hips which just seemed to accentuate the sensual feeling radiating through her stomach and thighs.

"Lay very still now" Onna said and Chelsea felt the sharp edge of the straight razor slide across the flesh of her pubic mound. Chelsea froze in place, almost too scared to breath as the razor, in short sharp strokes removed the hair from her, skirting and sliding along the most intimate parts of her. Despite the feel of the razor, which had been cold to begin with but soon took on the heat of her body, Chelsea began to melt from the inside out. She could feel the moisture of her sex beading along the lips of her private parts, turning to a slow trickle of thick, wet moisture that soon began to lubricate the slide of the blade across her. Onna noted the change in her demeanour and the obvious languor that her posture across the barrel took, as well as the slow push of Chelsea's hips towards the blade as she scraped the hair from alongside Chelsea's labial lips.