1 comments/  8679 views/  2 favorites

A Summer in Olympia Ch. 01

By: Nigel Debonnaire



Damn, it was hot. I thought I was going to roast to death in the passenger car of that train; traveling to Missouri in the summer seemed like a good idea when I was desperate for any work, but now I was reconsidering my journey from eastern Pennsylvania. The open windows brought a blistering hot breeze along with enough cinders to choke me. Getting off at the longer stops of the journey to find refreshment brought momentary respite, but soon it was back into the oven. After an eternity in that purgatory riding across country, drowsing in the Chicago Central Station overnight, and riding down to St. Louis, the platform at the local station in the western suburbs was a relief in spite of temperatures over 80 just before a Saturday noonday.

There was a calendar hanging on the front wall of the car: June 1894. "I can't believe it's this hot on June second," came a woman's voice from the back of car. A glance around showed how my fellow passengers were suffering: the women were frequently mopping their brows with delicate handkerchiefs that seemed inadequate to the task, the men sat stoically as rivers of sweat streamed down their faces, children sat in amazement devoid of their normal energy. I recalled an article from a magazine I found discarded in Chicago telling about the natives of Africa that went almost completely nude in their sweltering climate, and envied them not having to wear a suit, vest, and tie. Were we really the civilized ones?

There a few other disembarking passengers when we arrived at my stop, and one of them was kind enough to help with my bags. Four cases were the minimum I required for my clothes, personal effects and musical supplies, and although I am relatively fit and able male of 25 years, their bulk made hauling them awkward. Sir Charles had promised one of his servants would be at the station to meet me, but first glance showed no one looking for a stranger. After a few moments, the train pulled away and people cleared the platform, leaving me with a tall, lanky, blond lad of about 12 who wore a dark suit with a collarless white shirt and leather shoes. He took off his leather cap, and approached me sheepishly: "Pardon me, sir, but are you Mr. MacLeod?" he said with a strong English accent.

I mopped my brow with my handkerchief. "Yes, I am Frank MacLeod of Reading, Pennsylvania, meeting Sir Charles Montgomery Brougham later this day."

"Yes, sir, I doubt it, sir. My Master, Sir Charles sends his regards and regrets he is not able to meet you at this time, however I am come to conduct you to Olympia where you may settle yourself this evening and begin your task Monday."

Something was strange about all this, but there was no one else left on the platform. I knew from personal experience that the English upper class could have some strange ways of operating, especially when abroad. The lad seemed strong enough to handle a horse drawn carriage, and his accent was definitely not one of a Missourian. "This is slightly irregular. . ." I began.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but things are bit different at our house on Saturdays. The Broughams are in St. Louis to do some shopping and attend the Opera this afternoon, as is their regular routine, and they shan't return 'til around sunset. Gus drove them into the city, and Max has to care for the farm, so I was the only one left to fetch you this morning. If I may take your bags, I'll show you to the buggy."

"By all means. What is your name?"

"Edwards, Connie Edwards, sir."

"Connie?"

"Short for Constantine. My father has an interest in ancient history."

"I see." It was a short walk to our conveyance: a buggy with one broad seat with a plank across the back and a place for my bags. A young blonde girl in a long sleeved brown dress and leather shoes was already seated there, tapping her foot in the air and pouting. "Good morning," I began, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. MacLeod, but it's just gone noon by the station clock. So it's 'Good Afternoon', an' it please you, SIR." Her English accent was as strong as well.

I put the bags I carried in the back. "Of course, my lady. Good afternoon. And whom may have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Miss Ruby Edwards, Mr. MacLeod. And pray do not treat me as a child: I am fourteen years old and will be fifteen in two months."

"You hafta get on the back now, Ruby," Connie broke in. "That's how it goes when the gentry get into the carriage, the servant has to ride in back."

"That's where you have to ride, Connie, it's only stable boys like you that have to do that. Maid servants ride up front, like the ladies do. Although I could drive the buggy and YOU could ride back there like you should."

"I think there's room for all three of us here," I replied, climbing in. A quick inspection of their features affirmed these two were brother and sister, as if their banter had not. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, and her brown eyes carried an authority beyond her years. Her brother's eyes were mirror images of hers, and as full of barely contained mischief. 

"It's about five miles to Olympia," Connie said, after flicking the whip and clicking his tongue to get our horse moving. "We should be there in a half hour or so."

"Long as you don't try to race the poor animal, like you did this morning," his sister chimed in. "Said we were late and wouldn't meet the train on time. Then we had to sit for two hours."

"You liked the candy shop at the platform," he snarled.

"Shut up, you did, too."

"Tell me," I cut in, "what school you go to and how you like America?"

Connie concentrated on driving and looked at his sister. "We don't go to school, we have work to do," Ruby snipped defensively. "Miss Pearl teaches us when we have time. We can read and write very well."

"America's all right, lots bigger than England," Connie murmured. "Hardly believe there could be so much to a country. Can't say I see much of it since we got here last March. You neither since you nagged me to bring me with you this morning, Ruby."

"Hah, I deserve it. I worked extra hard this week getting Mr. MacLeod's room ready."

I turned to her and said: "And what size staff do you have working under you, Ruby?"

She sniffed and turned her head while her brother broke in: "She just does odd jobs like me, mostly dusting and washing up. Maurice is the butler and Mrs. Edwards is the housekeeper. Opal does the cooking and Amber takes care of the ladies and the laundry."

"And Gus and Max take care of the grounds and the animals?"

"Yes, sir. And me, I do a lot of things."

During our ride, it was interesting what the children told me and what the didn't. I found out very quickly that Maurice wasn't their father, and they were unwilling to tell me anything more on that subject. They were amused at my pronunciation of the family name: I was calling him "Brogue-Ham" when it was correctly pronounced "Broom", and the siblings laughed for several minutes without pause at my ignorance. Sir Charles rather liked America and Missouri, settling into the imagined lifestyle of a plantation owner of the bygone Antebellum (without slaves), and reveling in outdoor excursions to hunt and ride the grounds. Lady Alice, his wife, rather despised their new home and longed to return to England, although that was socially impossible for reasons unknown. Their daughter, Miss Pearl, seemed indifferent to their new surroundings; she spent almost every waking moment reading in the library or her sitting room . There was a permanent house guest, Miss Penny Sterling-Wright, who studied viola with Sir Charles and kept Lady Alice amused when she was not practicing. My arrival would increase the population of Olympia to an even dozen.

Olympia was a new name for their home; it had been known as Standing Oaks before, owned by a railroad executive who lost his fortune in the Panic of 1893. I felt a pang of loss at that news that I hid successfully, since my family lost everything then as well. Most of the acreage was pasture and forest, with a small portion set aside to raise typical farm animals and gardens that fed the household.

We passed a gate and after a long ride over a couple of dramatic hills we arrived at a stately mansion at the crest of a ridge overlooking the Missouri River. As we climbed the last hill, an imposing fellow came out to stand at the top of the stairs on the front balcony. He was unusually tall, well over six feet, with red hair parted in the middle and worn long as pictures I'd seen of the young Franz Liszt in Germany. Ascending the stairs, I noticed his eyes were bright blue, pieces of sapphire blazing in the midday sun, yet his features were gentle, his skin soft and his hands artistic. He wore the uniform of an English butler, impeccable and neat, and he exuded a calm dignity and peace I could feel at the bottom of the stairs.

"Welcome to Olympia, Mr. MacLeod," he said as I mounted the stairs. The buggy rattled around the house, and I knew the bickering siblings would see that my bags ended up in my quarters sooner or later. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope your stay with us is a long and happy one. Sir Charles and Lady Alice send regrets they are unable to make you welcome, and have asked me to see to your comfort until they arrive. Sir Charles is especially looking forward to beginning his collaboration with you." 

I reached the top and found a strong handclasp in greeting. We were equally tall and I looked straight into his eyes when I arrived at the top of the stairs. There was an unusual lilt to his voice I couldn't quite place. "Thank you sir, it's good to arrive at last."

"Did you have a good journey?"

"Tolerable, although it's a dreadful time of the year to take a train."

"Ah yes, in days past you would have come by river steamer, which would have been much cooler and less sooty. I trust Ruby and Connie did not wear you out with their verbal jousting en route from the station?"

"No, I found it most amusing."

He put his hand on my shoulder: "I should see to your refreshment after your difficult trip. There is a pitcher of water for you in your rooms, and the windows will provide a refreshing breeze. If you wish, I can have a light meal sent up from the kitchen now, and your tea will be sent up when you wish." He looked at my clothes intently for a couple of moments. "Mrs. Edwards will never forgive me if I allow you to bring all those cinders into the house. Please pardon me a moment while I get a brush." 

He darted into the house and returned rather quickly with a small hand broom. "This will only take a few moments, if you will bear with me." With crisp motions, he began to brush five days of accumulated soot from my jacket, starting with the shoulders and working his way down. Turning me around, he worked his way down the back and the backs of my trousers. Returning me to my original position, he gestured me to open my jacket and he knelt to brush down the front of my trousers. Unfortunately, a spot of something sticky had lodged in the fabric six inches down my left inside leg, collecting several ashes, and he worked at it furiously to get it out. As he did, my libido stirred, and a bulge appeared at the target of his attention.

Stopping suddenly, he stared in amazement at my leg for several moments. He looked up into my eyes with a look I found disconcerting: a primal hunger and wild lust flared up and I thought he was about to undergo a metamorphosis into crazed companion of Dionysius, drunk on sexual desire. Much to my chagrin, I found myself wishing that transformation. Embarrassed, I turned away and he coughed as he stood up. "Let's go inside," he said with an odd break in his voice.

Brusquely, he ushered me inside and showed me the first room common rooms: a formal sitting room and dining room, the library, and guest rooms. Upstairs was the suite the Broughams occupied, with a smaller one for their daughter; the suite of rooms Miss Sterling-Wright occupied and the rooms I would be in; Sir Charles' private study, and the workroom I would be working in adjacent to my own suite. By this time, he had regained his composure, and told me if I needed anything during the afternoon, I would need only ring a bell beside my bed and he would attend to me. 

Before leaving me to my quarters, he said: "I shall send Mrs. Edwards up around 3 to meet you and see to your needs."

"To make sure Ruby did a good job getting it ready?"

He chuckled and his composure softened for a moment. "Yes, I trust our Ruby did an adequate job of that. Mrs. Edwards will see if you have any mending or laundry to attend to."

"Thank you, I shall look forward to meeting her." Giving me an inappropriately familiar wink, he left me. 

It took me very little time to get my clothes unpacked and hung in the closets, since my newfound poverty and need for economy made me a light traveler. All I could do afterward was remove my jacket and fling myself on the bed, exhausted from the trip, and fell quickly into a deep slumber. I had a dream where Maurice's sapphire eyes hovered over me, and a contralto voice sang a song of indescribable longing in a language I did not understand. Awakening with a start, I dug out my writing gear and wrote down the melody before I heard a knock at my door.

A lovely woman with blond hair and brown eyes, wearing an English maid's uniform, stood there. Her head came up to my shoulder height, her body was perfectly proportioned from what I could see, and her posture was confident. "Mr. MacLeod? I'm Mrs. Edwards, I'm here to see to your needs. May I come in?"

"Surely." 

She came into the room and looked around. "Have you found everything so far? Do you need any more towels or handkerchiefs?"

"No, I'm fine for the moment."

"The special cupboard in the far corner with the horizontal rods is for used towels and dirty laundry. We'll take care of it while you're working. The bell is over by your bed, should you need us."

"I've stayed at manor houses in England, and I'm familiar with how they work. Fear not, if I need anything I'll let you know."

"Should you want a snack during the day, there is a small bowl of fruit on the sideboard. There is a small wet bar as well that can stocked as you wish: currently it has a bottle of brandy. There is also a box of Havanas there as well, since you indicated to Sir Charles you enjoy them."

"Yes, I do, although it's been a while."

"I will be happy to have your tea sent up anytime you wish." Her face drew up in a taut smile, and she gave a slight nod. "I understand you may be in need of some clothing."

"No, I think not. I came with two changes of clothes and that should be sufficient."

She picked my coat off the bed and gave it a thorough inspection. "This is barely salvageable. You wore it on the train here, right? Let's see the rest of your gear." She flung open the wardrobe and gave my clothes a quick glance. "This will not do, this will not do, we shall have to help you. You seem to be similar in build to Sir Charles, so some of his disused apparel will probably suit you. You are a bit thinner, so I'll have to make some alterations. I'll send a couple of things up for you to wear this weekend, and afterward we'll have some items altered to fit you. Let's take some measurements."

I must have flinched, because she gave me a look my mother gave me when I was being forced to do something she wanted. A tailor's measuring tape came out of her apron pocket, and she methodically measured my torso, jotting some notes on a pad. "Which side do you dress on, Mr. MacLeod?" she asked out of the blue.

"I don't understand?"

"Which side do you dress on? Left or right?"

"Left," I said in shock. She took my right inside leg and moved over to the left. It was a casual brush at first, but she dawdled there, touching the area until I was stimulated again. Five months separated me from my last contact with a female, a manipulation by a cheap prostitute in Bremen before I took ship back to America. If not for Maurice's attention earlier that afternoon, I probably wouldn't have noticed Mrs. Edwards' contact or interest. I looked at her again: she was smiling and her face had taken on a soft glow. "That feels good, Mrs. Edwards. You may keep doing that if you wish."

"Call me Bella." She sighed and kept stroking my inside leg. It continued its swelling. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Call me Frank. This is most delightful." Her eyes glazed over and her ministrations became more frank, threatening to burst my trousers. She gasped and licked her lips; it was time to offer her a liberty: "Shall I show you more, Bella?"

Looking me in the eyes, she batted them coquettishly. "I'm supposed to take care of your needs, Frank. This looks like a significant need to me."

I lowered my trousers and underpants, letting my manhood bounce into the open. Bella's eyes grew round and she touched it shyly, as if she didn't believe what she was seeing. Her hands were surprisingly gentle and deft: they fluttered and danced over my staff and coaxed it to full stature. I took off her lacy white cap and touched her hair, stroking it. Finding the beret, I released it and she shook her head to let it flow into chaos. She stroked me in earnest, twisting her hands as she went up and down: a new sensation I found amazing. A distant bell rang the quarter hour, and she took on a more determined look.

My sex life has been rather unadventurous: my cousin's descent into madness from syphilis made me cautious about contact with women I thought were promiscuous. When the need came upon me, I resorted to hiring cheap whores to stroke me to completion. On one occasion, a public house waitress who whored on the side gave my shaft tender little licks as she stroked it, to encourage my quick fulfillment of her commitment, but the most of women who serviced me kept me at a distance from their faces. Bella was different: her smile broadened and she licked her lips again as she brought my hardening erection closer and closer to her face. 

Then Bella took the entirely of my helmeted crown into her mouth, sucking and licking frantically, and the sensation almost made me pass out with delight. I fell back on the bed, suddenly weak, and she followed me down, moving down the side of my shaft. Giving me a lustful grin, she took her tape measure and measured my erection, her eyes and mouth opening wide at the double digit result. "Twice seven, twice the sacred number of completion. We are doubly blessed." She kissed it again, and looked deeply into my eyes as she stroked its length. "This must be our secret," she said. "Sir Charles is a jealous man, and if he knew you are more manly than him, you would lose esteem in his sight. Also say nothing of any encounters you have in this house: he is the great ram of this flock and must think you are a gelding, for he would suffer no competition. He admires and respects your talent and would be your patron and mentor. Do not endanger that status." She gave me another long lick, making me shiver with delight. "Now we must finish, for I have much to do before tea. Perhaps later. . ."

Then she did something no woman had ever done before: she licked my testicles and sucked them alternately into her mouth as she stroked my shaft. The floodwaters of my desire flowed more swiftly within me, and sensing this, she moved quickly to take as much of my manhood between her lips as she could and pumped me urgently. I was loathe to give up these wonderful new sensations, trying to hold myself back to savor them as long as I could, but at last I could do nothing but surrender my seed to her hunger. The white fountain that sprung from my loins flowed deeply into her throat, spilling out from the corner of her mouth in an egg white trickle as she sought to drink every drop I had to give her. When I finished, a small stream had flowed down her face and onto my leg: she licked and sucked it up, savoring it like fine caviar.


A Summer in Olympia Ch. 01



When she was finished, she gave me a sunburst smile and kissed my manhood tenderly before retrieving her cap and turning to the mirror to rearrange her countenance, using finger to guide the last stray trickles between her lips. "Outside this room, I am Mrs. Edwards and you are Mr. MacLeod," she said calmly. "What time do you wish to have your tea?"

I shook my head, amazed at her sudden transition. "Ah, five thirty should be all right with me."

"Very good, sir." After a sultry glance over her shoulder, she departed.

I lay there for several moments, exposed and stupefied, until the downstairs clock chimed the half hour. Bathing my exhausted privates, I reflected on what happened so far and wondered what would happen next. Restoring my appearance, I looked out the window at the river down below. It was a stunning vista, reaching out for several miles on the other side, a fair sized town in the distance to the southwest, and a boat struggling upstream. The sheet with my new melody had dried, and I let its echoes fill my head once again, captured from my dream. 

Ruminating on my encounter with Maurice, I wondered why my reactions were so strong. I'd known men who loved men at Oxford and Leipzig: we called them Grecians and shared dark rumors of what happened on the isle of Capri where they went on holiday. The men I knew who were reputedly homosexual had no attraction for me. Yet his eyes were so compelling: they wove a dark elemental magic. 

Connie brought up a tray for me promptly at 5:30. "You have many jobs around here, don't you Connie?"

"Yes, sir. I try to be helpful" His countenance as somber.

"Are you all right? You seem a bit different than earlier today."

"Mrs. Edwards told me I have to be more respectful of our guests, sir. I apologize for any bother I caused you on the way here, and Ruby apologizes, too. We should'a known better."

I looked at him for a moment, seeking to shake him out of his demeanor, but he was impervious. "Very well, Connie. Apology accepted, from you and from Ruby."

"Thank you, sir. Good evening, sir."

The meal was delicious: roast beef and potatoes, asparagus, peas, fresh bread, and a lovely apple dumping for dessert. I savored the taste and lit a cigar from the sideboard to smoke at the window afterward. It was a fine evening, and I felt much repaired in body and spirit.

At 7:00 Maurice knocked on my door: "Sir Charles will see you in his study now. Follow me, please." We traveled the hall in silence; his demeanor was rather grim. A knock on the door was answered immediately, and upon entering he said: "Sir Charles permit me to introduce to you Mr. Frank MacLeod. Mr. MacLeod, Sir Charles."

Sir Charles Montgomery Brougham stood next to his billiard table: a man of medium height with greying hair, a huge, curled mustache above a clean shaven chin and cheeks, and slightly plump. His eyes were bright blue, and glowed with an inner fire that seemed inexhaustible and slightly out of control. He wore a light brown suit, and his shirt was slightly damp from the heat of the day. Bounding across the room, he grasped my hand eagerly: "Welcome, Mr. MacLeod, most welcome. I am so glad you have finally arrived. Ghastly traveling by train in this weather, is it not? I am certain you are exhausted by your journey. Sorry the wife and daughter aren't able to greet you as well; had a long day in the city listening to the opera, well if you could call Nicolai a serious composer which I do not, yet the dinner at the Society reception was quite good and I have great expectations of the new Choral-Symphony Society's conductor, splendid seeming young man from Germany. You studied in Germany, did you not? Anyway, I'm looking forward to working with you and can hardly wait until Monday."

His breathless style of speaking left me winded, and I had to work to extricate myself from his effusive grasp. "Thank you, Sir Charles. I'm glad to be here at last."

"Good, good, good. Bruncheon is at 8:00 tomorrow morning, you'll join us on the veranda, it seems like a nice day tomorrow, and Alice is always glad to have her meals al fresco, as it were. Afterward we will travel into Saint Charles for Morning Song at Trinity, and return here for an afternoon's leisure. Do you play billiards, Mr. MacLeod?"

"A little, not very well."

"Well, we shall endeavor to educate you in the noble art that Mozart once practiced so well. Also, we'll have a little musicale, Penny will play her viola, perhaps we can get my daughter Pearl to favor us with her lovely soprano voice, and occasionally the mysterious Maurice will produce his natural flute for some of his native Irish airs, eh what?" He said, turning to his butler.

Maurice smiled slightly. "As you wish, sir."

"Very good. Well, I must leave you to your evening, Mr. MacLeod, and bid you cast aside all your cares in the blissful environs of Olympia. I hope you have a restful night, and look forward to seeing you refreshed in the morning. Good evening." With that, he went over to a bookcase and took down a book. Maurice showed me the door, and led me back to my rooms. 

When we got there, he said: "I hope you have a good evening, sir, and nothing troubles your rest. We are here to serve you in any way we can, so if you have a special need please don't hesitate to ask." His left eyebrow went up slightly for a moment, then returned: "I must return to supervise Sir Charles' preparations for bed. Good evening." Turning on his heel, he left quickly.

I was reading a German novel I'd taken during my house tour when Mrs. Edwards knocked on my door around 8:00. She carried a candle and had an eager look on her face. "Mr. MacLeod, there is another part of the house I wish to show you."

"Oh really? I thought there would be something here you would wish to show me."

Blushing, she turned away for a moment. "In time, in time. This way."

"Very well," I said, rising. Her earnest attitude intrigued me. "I will follow you."

Mrs. Edwards guided me a short distance down the hallway to a thin door concealed next to a supporting beam of the house. "This is the entrance to the passages that lead through the house where the servants can come and go unseen. We use them as shortcuts, and for occasions when the presence of guests would make our public appearance inappropriate. I want to show you something tonight, however, that will surprise you."



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 02



After we passed through the secret door, she occasionally lit a small lamp as we traversed the secret passages and past narrow stairs. Along each wall were little silver disks. Whispering, she said: "These are peepholes, so we can tell when we are needed. Tonight we go to see how Monty entertains himself on Saturday nights after the opera. Most evenings he shoots billiards, smokes cigars and drinks brandy with Maurice, but tonight is different."

"Okay, I guess so. Why do we need to see what they're doing?"

"Because I am a voyeur, and my hopes are what we see will interest you in a similar recreation to the one we engaged in earlier this afternoon. Please be quiet, for we will be overheard in anything louder than a murmur."

We came to a spot where there were two silver disks within reach: one was Mrs. Edwards' height and the other closer to mine. Too lucky, I thought, until I swung it aside. Sir Charles was just as I left him a couple hours before, however, his pants and underwear were at his ankles. He held a snifter of brandy and a cigar, whose smoke curled around his face. He said something I couldn't understand: I knew it was Greek but I hadn't studied it since I was a boy and hadn't kept up. A low contralto voice responded in the same language, and he gestured as he responded in kind, something about maintaining an ancient tradition. Another contralto response, and he spoke of Zeus' obligation to Ganymede for his faithful service. I looked at Mrs. Edwards, who was glued to her peephole.

Turning back, I saw a extraordinarily tall, thin woman with conical breasts move into view. She was completely naked except a blue feathered mask which concealed the upper part of her face, a tight blue cap that hid her hair, and an extremely thin leather belt than encircled her waist. Towering over Sir Charles, she walked up to him and roughly grabbed his modest penis in her hand, twisting slightly. He cried out in an unintelligible Greek exclamation and she licked his forehead. Turning away from him and toward us, I saw an appendage on the front of her belt, a hard leather spike about four inches in length and an inch around.  Two flecks of gold twinkled from her nipples: they were pierced by gold jewelry. He finished his brandy and put his cigar in an ashtray, as she rubbed a white cream on the dildo, which was framed by a dramatic plot of red hair between her legs. Several times she anointed the wand until it gleamed.

He put his hands on the billiard table, and she whirled, commanding "Submit," in in Greek, using a low voice that brooked no denial. He nodded and voiced his capitulation to the ancient tradition. She walked up behind him and scratched his bare buttocks, nuzzling him with her midsection. Her hands went up and down his back, reaching under his coat and shirt, and he wiggled his bare hips into her. The greased leather cock, rode up and down his asscrack until she suddenly pulled back and impaled him in one thrust. I heard Mrs. Edwards gasp and felt her hand reach down toward my crotch. Sir Charles anal intrusion didn't stir me as much as watching the muscular buttocks of the woman as they pushed her device in and out, and seeing the side of her breast bounce slightly in sympathetic rhythm. 

Bella was pressing her body against me. My questing hand found her clothed breast to be a perfect teardrop which fit perfectly in my grasp, and I took it, milking it gently. She took a deep breath and leaned up to murmur in my ear: "It's been so long. I still love him and I love what she does to him, she makes him happy in ways I can't."

Looking back, I saw Sir Charles was fully erect, and the naked woman was reaching around to stroke his cock as she ravaged his back passage. The woman looked familiar, but I couldn't put a name to the form. "Who is that?" I asked.

There was a pause as Sir Charles cried out, and a gasp came from Mrs. Edwards. "It's Maurice." she murmured. "Who else could it be? There is no one else here."

I shook my head in confusion. "Maurice?"

"Sionnain Fitz Maurice of County Kerry, Ireland." The first name sounded like 'Shannon', with a subtle difference. "His butler. It's not unusual for man to have a woman as his butler, and Sionnain has been Monty's for a decade now."

"Monty?"

"Sir Charles' nickname."

So the man who stirred my libido at our first meeting was really a woman. It was consoling and confusing at the same time. Maurice increased her pace, her body jiggling in exertion, and stroked him faster as well until he wailed and spilled his seed in a plate set up beneath him. Holding herself inside him, she continued pumping him shallowly until he was finished. She pulled out quickly and picked up the plate to pour the contents into a brandy snifter. Pouring a finger of liquor and swishing it around, she knocked it back and took off her mask, revealing the face I'd met earlier today.

The warm body pressed close to me again, and I squeezed her generous orb in greeting. The couple disengaged and Maurice stepped aside. As Sir Charles relit his cigar, I leaned down to murmur: "Do you promise never to stick anything in my anus?"

"Yes."

"Good." I looked back into the room and saw Maurice seated in a huge leather chair, her freckled legs resting on the arms. Sir Charles pulled his pants up and wandered over, taking off his coat and collar, undoing his tie. He took a puff from his cigar and knelt to put his face in her crotch. Mrs. Edwards resumed her station, so I put my hand on her buttocks and played with her crevasse through her skirt, making her sigh. Sir Charles was nuzzling the red patch between Maurice's legs, and she placed her strong hands on his ears to welcome his attentions. After a few moments work, his fingers crept up her side and began to play with the gold jewelry embedded in her mammaries. He worked briskly, stopping from time to time to take another puff from his cigar.

Maurice let out a series of loud groans and Mrs. Edwards did simultaneously as my questing fingers pulled her skirt up over her waist and found her damp slit. One finger slipped in easily, so a second followed it and a third, and she ground her hips back against my hand in welcome. Sir Charles' head began moving more quickly, his tongue working more furiously and Maurice's breathing became quicker and quicker. My companion stuck her fist in her mouth and began shuddering uncontrollably; Maurice gave a series of feral grunts and screeches before she pushed her master from her groin.  

I turned and focused on my partner: her eyes were closed and her lips pursed in delight. A laugh came from the study and the sound of billiard balls being racked. She looked at me, nodded in consent, and led me back to my quarters, entering through a secret door next to the north window of the mansion. Lighting a lamp, I saw my partner in the gentle light: a vision of mature beauty and earthy appeal I found utterly stimulating. 

She undid some buttons on the back of her dress and I followed her example by removing my coat and shirt. Her dress slid down her body, and I made a sudden move, collecting her breasts in my hands. It had been too long since a woman permitted me this liberty; the sensation reminded me of my first lover, Denise, who was my mother's chambermaid. I could spend hours making love to Denise's breasts, and rather quickly I had Bella's exposed. Her nipples were small and delicate, and I bent down to take one in my mouth, savoring its rubbery texture with my tongue. She didn't permit me this luxury for long, for she slipped my trousers and underpants to the floor, fondling my manhood as she did earlier in the afternoon. 

My need made me bold, and I pushed her down on the bed where she bounced once, her naked breasts wobbling. Her legs parted immediately, and I moved the fabric of her drawers aside to reveal her sex. My manhood was fully aroused and her hands guided it inward to the center of her being. "Oh my God," she gasped as I penetrated the outer folds, "I don't know if I can take all this. Go slowly, please, slowly."

Gently I pushed inward until resistance gave me pause. Her face tightened in effort and when it relaxed I found I could move deeper. Twice more the resistance was too much, but at last she said: "That's all I can take. My God, it feels so good, Frank. Is it good for you?"

"Yes, it's been a long time."

"Oh, I've never been this full. Hold it there for a moment before you thrust into me, let me savor this heaven." I respected her wish and after a moment she nodded, when I began a gentle circulation with my hips. She reciprocated, meeting me perfectly at the maximum penetration, and our pace increased slowly, as a train pulling away from a station.    

Soon I was at full steam, enjoying the sensations, and her womanly muscles rippled up and down the length of my shaft. From time to time she would gyrate wildly under me, her breasts wobbling and legs kicking in the air. After one of these spasms, she looked up at me with broad eyes and whispered hoarsely: "Pull out, pull out, no more, no more."

I accommodated her request and lay on my side beside her. "Of course, Bella. Why?"

"Too old to have a baby. Seen too many women try." Her eyes were big in the dark, reflected in the wan light through the windows. "You're so good I'm tempted, but I've had too many babies already. We have to stop."

I hung my head. "I understand," I said, touching her belly and stroking downward.

She pushed my hand away, and smiled. "No need, lover. I've been there three times already. Now it's your turn; stay there. Bella will take care of you."

She started stroking me as we lay side by side, my manhood slick with her juices. Bending over, she took the end of organ again, making magic with her tongue and causing me to jump in delight, almost falling out of the bed. I felt the force of life within me, and she pulled off, stroking me feverishly, until I spilled my seed on her face and chest. 

She lay back, rubbing my ejaculate on her chest and face, concentrating on her nipples, her eyes closed. "I've heard it's good for the skin. So much of it the second time today."

I held her and we lay there; the tension of the long day and its revelations spinning through my mind. She was quiet and wet in my grasp. At last she murmured: "Good night, Frank."

I gave her a warm open mouthed kiss that she returned eagerly. "Good night, Bella." With a rustle she was gone, and I prepared myself for the first good night's slumber in a week.

It seemed I'd just hit the pillow when grey dawn peeked in through my windows. My body didn't want to stay still, so I went to the window to watch the daybreak. Off to my right, there were lights on at a barn: evidently Gus and Max were already busy with their chores. Cows mooed, horses whinnied and chickens cackled. Off to my left coming from the house were to figures, walking a faint path off over nearby hillock. They were female, and it seemed they were unclad. "Who walks across the fields naked this time of day?" I said aloud to myself. Within a couple of minutes they'd gone over a small rise toward a stand of trees. The fingers of Aurora reached over the horizon as more color played across the land and sky, the latter gradually transforming itself from dark blue through progressively lighter shades. A flash to my right, and I saw Connie running from the barn to the house, disappearing through a door on the ground floor almost directly below me. Moments later, Mrs. Edwards ran out with a small bag with him: probably to doctor a small wound.

The eastern sky reddened and the blood red ball lifted over the horizon. Birds sang to greet it, and a couple of steers called attention to its presence. I looked at my clock and found I'd been awake for half an hour, and felt no need to return to bed. Looking around the room, I saw a pair of binoculars on a side table and used them to search for the birds. Five minutes later, the naked women reappeared, hair damp. One was medium height, blond, and perfectly proportioned; the other had light brown hair and was thinner, although her thinner breasts were longer. I made a note to myself to see if there was a lake or pond over that rise. They walked arm in arm, unconcerned about their nudity, and seemed to be about the same age: in their early twenties. Fortunately, I hadn't lit a lamp on rising and I stepped away from the window so I could continue to watch them unseen. Their heads went back and forth, laughing at shared intimacies, whispering confidences, and before long they had passed from my sight. 

Taking my pitcher, I washed myself and dressed for the day; when I finished, it was 6:45. I rang the bell, and in a few moments Maurice appeared at my door, tidy and perfect. "You rang, Mr. MacLeod?"

I could hardly look at her without remembering the night before. "I would like some coffee, please."

"Yes, sir," she replied, a slightly strange look on her face. "Cream and sugar?"

"Black, please."

"Certainly, sir. It will be here shortly." For a moment, she looked deep into my eyes, trying to discern something, before turning to leave. 

Ruby arrived shortly, with a coffee pot, a cup, and a small plate of sweet rolls. "Good morning, Ruby."

She looked down as she handed me the tray and didn't look up. "Good morning, sir."

"How are you today?"

"Fine. Will there be anything else?" Her eyes were still downcast.

"Yes, I saw Connie run in from the barn and then Mrs. Edwards run out with him. Is something wrong?"

The question caught her by surprised and she looked up for a moment in wonder before looking down again. "Max cut his finger badly and it needed bandaging."

"I see. Thank you, Ruby."

"Yes, sir. You're welcome, sir." She gave a little curtsey before she left which was utterly charming.

I got out my writing supplies in the workroom and arranged my space after taking my snack. It was a beautiful room, well lit by a skylight, and held a large writing desk with plenty of space and devices to hold a manuscript in place. The view was stunning with a bay window. A bookcase held a large number of books on musical matters, and on inspection it would have compared favorably to the music library at the Leipzig Conservatory. The clock struck 8:00, and I went to the veranda to meet the Broughams.

The veranda was beautiful, full of flowers and a couple of linden trees on either side. The fragrance of the air was dominated by hyacinth. There was a large table set for five: Sir Charles was sitting at a table across from his wife. Lady Alice was handsome woman in her 40s with light brown hair turing grey, wearing a blue tea-dress with lace at the throat and wrists; she was working on needlepoint, her deft fingers creating an interesting pattern. Two young women sat with them: a plump, dark haired woman in a long sleeved white blouse and long dark skirt, and a thinner, brown haired woman in a grey tea-dress holding a book who seemed to be one of the young women I saw walking earlier that morning. He rose to greet me and present me to the ladies: "Good morning, Mr. MacLeod, I trust you slept well. Let me introduce you: this lovely woman is my dear wife Alice, and to her right our daughter Pearl, who loves to read at every moment possible, and her left Miss Mary Penelope Sterling-Wright. Ladies, this is the talented Mr. Frank MacLeod of Reading, Pennsylvania, who comes to us fresh from the center of musical knowledge, the Leipzig Conservatory. I believe you had a teaching fellowship, did you not?"

"Yes sir, I was an assistant with the first year students until I received word to come home."

"Yes, yes, yes, Unfortunate your father losing his fortune in the railroad collapse last year. Surely it was dreadful for him, we were lucky, yes lucky, that the storm did not threaten our security, but for the fickle whim of Dame Fortune we may have had to seek your employment in the aftermath of that maelstrom. Yet you are most welcome here and we shall make you feel as our honored guest, nay even one of the family. Pray take your seat, and bruncheon will be served presently. Our Opal takes such good care of us."

The plump young woman leaned over to me; her face was not particularly pleasing and her eyes were the largest I'd even seen. "Please, before we go any farther, call me Penny, everyone else does. And Opal is the Brougham family chef, her talent in the kitchen is a fine as any great house I've known in England, and I've known a few, ha, ha, ha."

"So have we all," Sir Charles replied. "You must be careful and practice moderation carefully here, Mr. MacLeod, or else our Opal will have you seeking a new wardrobe to accommodate your swelling midsection."

At this time, Maurice and Connie wheeled in a couple of carts and began to serve the meal. It was rather substantial, more to the taste of America or Germany than I recalled of an English breakfast. There was a choice between tea and coffee, as well as grape juice. The Broughams served themselves immediately, he with gusto and she was reluctance. Penny was absolutely ravenous, and Pearl selected her items carefully, as if rationing herself. I resolved myself to moderation until I got to know the family better. Penny kept the conversation at the table going, talking with Lady Alice about the comings and goings of the English aristocracy she learned from a recent letter from home. Sir Charles ate with the same gusto as the pace of his conversation. Pearl sampled her meager choices delicately, still reading her book one handed as she ate, her gaze icy and aloof. She was relatively thin, but her tea-dress did not reveal much about her upper body. For my part, I stayed aloof and spoke when I spoken to.

The meal finished with fresh fruit, and we prepared to ride into nearby Saint Charles for Church. Two strapping young men in their late teens met us in front with our conveyance; I later found they were Gus and Max, and Max's left hand was wrapped with a fresh bandage. As we rode I looked at the book Pearl was reading, and asked her what it was. "City of God, by Augustine," she said. Getting a peek at the text, I found she was reading it in the original Latin, which was something I hadn't tried since my short stay at Cambridge. The church service itself was pleasant enough: I wasn't an Anglican, but had attended many different Christian services in my travels. The choir and organist were adequate, the Vicar's preaching vaguely amusing, and the people after service politely curious about myself, the new stranger in their midst. I asked if the servants went to church, and Pearl said: "Mrs. Edwards and the others servants are Catholic. They went to Mass earlier today."  

The elder Broughams and Penny dominated the conversation at lunch, Pearl holding aloof, and afterward Maurice brought the newspapers he had purchased that morning in town. We spent an hour reading them, commenting on the news of the day and other articles of interest: the entire family was sharply literate with wide ranging interests, and this colloquy was by far one of the most enjoyable parts of the day. Afterward, we rose and went to main floor drawing room for the impromptu musicale. "Now my lad," Sir Charles began, "you sent me your Piano Sonata to demonstrate your abilities as a copyist. Now you must play this remarkable work for us yourself; Alice, Penny and Pearl have been besieging me to hear this piece that has excited me so much and now is our chance to hear it from the creator's hands. If you please."

It had been several months since I was able to practice the piano regularly, and Sir Charles beaming over my shoulder was less than a comfort, but I essayed my work for them on a piano with sticky notes and questionable tuning. After it was over, the ladies rose and applauded enthusiastically; even Pearl put down her book and was looking at me with unrestrained admiration. I stood and bowed in appreciation, taking a seat as soon as I could.




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 02



Penny endeavored a short viola solo of Sir Charles' composition, a well crafted but unremarkable piece. He then cajoled Pearl to put her book down to sing her father's three settings of Swinburne's Roundels, which she sang in a clear pleasing voice with little conviction. Having done her duty, she returned to her book, giving me a sidelong glance that spoke of her displeasure with the proceedings. Sir Charles and Penny then essayed several other current pieces in their collection, works of other English composers. Finally he turned to Maurice: "Would you favor us with something on your flute, sir?"

She nodded and said gravely: "If Mr. MacLeod would be pleased to accompany me on the piano."

Sir Charles gave me an invitatory look, and I replaced him at the piano again. Maurice handed me a copy of the "Salut d'Amour" of Edward Elgar, and blew into his flute to warm it. It had been a while since I sight read anything, and I was concerned to see the original was for violin, but Maurice was determined and we performed the piece adequately to a warm reception. On rising, I noticed Pearl put her book down again. "Quite nice," she said, "one of the two best works on this afternoon's program. Tell me, Daddy, is Mr. Elgar's fortunes still rising?"

He shook his head. "Yes, I had a letter from Edward two weeks ago saying his works are still popular at choral festivals in the Midlands, and his Serenade for Strings has sold well. Mr. Jaeger is helping him personally, and I dare saw his star is in the ascendant."

"Quite right," Alice chimed in, "a talented fellow, in spite of his background, and deserving of better recognition. Perhaps he will get promotion and even a knighthood in spite of being Catholic." She sipped a glass of lemonade and fanned herself. "Monty, why did you have to move us to a place so beastly hot? I would leave you for a Turkish brothel, which would be cooler, were I not grateful you did not land us in India or some ghastly place in Africa."

He looked flustered. "Tush Alice, Olympia is a splendid place, and we were fortunate to find such a situation where we could bring our people with us. Would you rather be served by foreigners? Perhaps a Watusi with a huge plate in his lower lip? Perhaps I should send Mrs. Edwards and the rest of them home."

"Such talk, Monty, how absurd. I positively could not abide this place without their friendly faces and dependable service. This city of Saint Louis is a town of beastly arrogance, so full of Germans would one think they were in Bavaria or the Rhineland, the culture is horrendously provincial, not worthy of the Lake District or even Wales. We could have settled in New York or Philadelphia or Boston . . ."

"Now Alice, you know neither New York nor Philadelphia nor Boston offered us anything, I could not get my opera produced there. I deeply regret having to take you away from England, nothing to be done for it, but would you have me toil at my life's passion without an opportunity to share it with the world?"

She took another sip and fanned herself. "No, Monty, I would not and you know it. Calm yourself, you always get worked up about this. Mr. MacLeod is here to help you and soon all will be well."

Penny took the opportunity to discuss the upcoming birth of a child to the Duke and Duchess of York, speculating whether this heir to the British Empire would be male or female and what it would mean. Alice quickly picked up on this stream of conversation with Sir Charles offering an occasion opinion. Pearl stayed buried in her book, and I sipped lemonade.

I excused myself to take an afternoon nap, and rejoined the party for dinner. After dinner, I went with Sir Charles to his study to discuss the work: he was writing an opera named _Andromeda Chained_, based on the ancient Greek myth of the Princess of Ethiopia chained to a rock in punishment for her mother's boast and rescued by Perseus. He cultivated the local Choral-Symphony Society to rehearse the work and even present it at some point in time, with the hopes it would get a full production in New York or Philadelphia. I was to prepare a fair copy of the full score, a piano/vocal version, and a set of parts. There was much work to start with since he'd finished the first two acts and was almost done with the third.

The thought crossed my mind that someone else had been engaged to do this work and not finished, but not a word was mentioned about it. It was more likely I was the first person to answer his advertisement, the first person desperate enough for funds to take up his offer. The salary he was paying me was regal, and with the room and board and other fringe benefits I could re-establish myself in my career within a year.

We smoked cigars, drank brandy, toasting the opera, and shot billiards for an hour until he pronounced himself ready to retire. Upon returning to my rooms, I found Mrs. Edwards waiting for me in her nightdress and holding a candle. "Come with me, Frank," she urged, and led me back into the secret passages.

She led me to the spyholes for the master bedroom. This time the viewers were at the same height, necessitating me to bend over to use one. Sir Charles was in the process of removing his clothes while Lady Alice was propped up in bed reading a book. "I think this young man will work out splendidly. Bright, talented, pleasant company, awful at billiards, respectful. Maurice has high praise for him as well."

"Just don't make any wagers on your billiard playing," she said, lowering her book. "He could be letting you win."

He shook his head. "You're always fussing, Muffin. Of course, I won't make any wagers. Wouldn't be fair to pay him a salary with one hand and take it back at the billiard table. Would be slavery, which I believe was outlawed in this country about 30 years ago."

"If you say so, Monty. How soon will you be ready?"

He had finished disrobing and slipped a nightshirt over his head. "Now, Muffin. It is time for a good wife to do her duty."

"Oh yes, of course. And you wish to make the Sabbath complete, even though you're not Jewish in the slightest. Very well, I'm ready. Do you need help preparing?"

Crossing the room he stood at the head of the bed and lifted his shirt, exposing his privates. "Yes, dear, I think he needs some good wanking before he's ready."

She put her book down and moved over to take his penis with her left hand, reaching across her body. "I wish you didn't have to do this. People our age should be done with these base urges."

"Now Muffin, be a good sport. That's a good girl, stroke him nicely for me. Oh, I still have this dream you would kiss him."

"Dream on, Monty: you know only a low born woman or a harlot would perform an act like that." Her face was a mask of concentration as she worked his flesh.

"It's just the two of us here, no one will know."

"No one will know because it will not happen."

He sighed in disappointment, and it took her quite a while to get him erect. When his penis was sufficiently engorged, she lay back, lowered her covers and pulled up the bottom of her nightdress, exposing her sex and hairy crotch, as he got up to mount her. After some fumbling, he inserted himself and spent several moments thrusting into her unresisting body until he gasped and finished his orgasm.  

She rolled him off her as soon as she could and pulled the covers over them both, turning down the lamp as the sound of his snoring filled the room. Mrs. Edwards led me back to my room and bed; I stopped her and said: "Why did I have to see this tonight?"

"I thought he would say something about you, and you'd want to hear what your first impressions were."

"All right, done. What we witnessed I could have done without. His lovemaking is as uninspired as his music."

Kneeling before me, Bella undid my trousers. "I'll reward you for that them. I can't get enough of it, watching them, even though it's so banal."

"Tell me, how often does he do that deed with Maurice?"

She found my manhood and exposed it, stroking it and kissing it. "As to what we saw last night, about once a week. Usually Maurice sucks him and lets him sodomize her, that happens about three times a week."

"And Lady Alice."

"Only on Sunday does Lady Alice do her duty to England."

"All right, that explains a lot. What of the others?"

"I've known Miss Pearl since birth: she's too smart for her own good and will probably never land a husband. All head and no heart. Never interested in any young man she's ever met. Miss Penny is searching for a suitable man of her class, in the meantime she's with us and acts as his muse."

"I thought she was Lady Alice's friend."

"Oh, she's that, too, and that's why Lady Alice puts up with her. We'll see sometime how Miss Penny inspires him; Lady Alice isn't right about things high born women will do. Now to inspire you, Frank." With that she engulfed the end of my prick in her mouth, swirling her tongue. 



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 03



I was awakened by a knock on my door: Connie had come with my morning tray of coffee and sweet rolls. He had little to say, so I took it and poured myself a cup as the light began to spread across the Eastern horizon. The sights and sounds were the same as they'd been the previous four days: work noises from the barn and lower part of the house, silence from the greater part, and two naked women returning from over the hill shortly after sunup. I felt my self-control strained when I saw Pearl during the day, the cold intellectual interested in nothing but learning and always dressed primly, remembering the sight of her naked body returning from the lake over the hill with Opal, the head cook. Opal looked so much like Mrs. Edwards they must be mother and daughter, and it also felt strange to compare their naked bodies, even though I'd only seen Bella's close up and Opal's at a distance. 

The copying work wasn't taxing, I'd written a couple of orchestra pieces in Germany and focusing on the production of orchestra scores was familiar ground. I settled into a daily pattern of beginning just after breakfast, taken in my rooms, consulting with Sir Charles just before luncheon, working through the afternoon and taking a short stroll just before tea. After tea it was billiards and cigars in the study, although Tuesday night he dismissed me early on the pretext of exhaustion. 

I was curious, and found myself in the secret passage next to Mrs. Edwards shortly afterward. She gave me a hungry glance as I approached, then pressed her eye to the spyhole. When I found a similar portal, I saw Sir Charles bending Maurice over the pool table. Her hands were on the felt, her pants were on the floor at her ankles, and he was pulling her head back by her short red hair: the look on her face was a combination of pain and primal lust, and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. His pants were also on the floor, a cigar was clenched tightly between his teeth, great billows of smoke coming from his mouth, and he was thrusting vigorously into her freckled bottom. From the angle, it was clear he was penetrating her anus, and a white sheen on his cock witnessed the same kind of lubrication used on Ganymede the previous weekend. 

He pushed her head down roughly, and by his grunts it was clear he was climaxing. She moaned and writhed, her cheek flush with the felt, and wiggled her hips to welcome his seed into her bowels. I head a gasp next to me, and felt a hand on my crotch.

When we got to my rooms, Bella's face was shining with lust. "This voyeurism is quite naughty, Bella. You are intruding on the privacy of others. Perhaps some kind of punishment is in order."

She turned at once to present her backside to me. "Yes, I need to be punished. Perhaps you could give me that punishment, Frank."

I'd never spanked anyone before, but the heat of the moment took me. Pulling up her skirt, I exposed her generous rump to the lamplight, and laid a resounding smack on her skin with my hand. A red handprint appeared on her white flesh and she wiggled her ass in invitation. Moving back and forth, I laid down an energetic rhythm until my hand started tingling. When I stopped, she turned and gave me a coy grin: "Perhaps you could use something to help you with your task? Have you a belt?" I took mine from around my waist and doubled it. "That should do nicely," she cooed, "give me no quarter, leave welts if you wish."

The first meeting of leather and skin was a delightful, high pitched crack that was followed immediately by another. She wiggled her hips again, and I imposed a network of red marks on her fleshy orbs. The angry mass of red flesh aroused me greatly, and I produced my John Thomas to penetrate her womb from behind. Immediately she spread her legs and gasped in delight as I entered her, stopping when resistance was too great. Leaning back against me, she met my thrusts with her own, and soon she was moaning in ecstasy; respecting her wishes, I withdrew and spewed my seed on the small of her back. She reached around to rub the liquid into her reddened skin before lowering her skirt and departing.

The night was particularly still, and I heard the sound of a flute in the distance, playing Celtic airs. It had to be Maurice. I'd heard it several nights, calling from over the ocean, calling from the ancient past.

The sounds of a Thursday morning at Olympia continued. Maurice knocked on my door before I got started working with some clothes draped over his arm. "Mrs. Edwards said you would need these, and the alterations are done. I need to see if they fit properly, so if you would be so kind as try them on."

Maurice didn't know I knew her secret, so I needed to pretend there was no problem disrobing in front of her. It wasn't easy, and I was trembling as she tested the fit of every coat and pair of pants, brushing my thighs in passing every convenient time. After I removed the last pair of trousers, it was evident there was a bulge in my underpants and an extra bit of flesh peeked out alongside my left leg. "Are you are all right, Mr. MacLeod?" she asked, her eyes fixed on my manhood.

"Yes," I said in a tone of voice that sounded odd to me.

"Are you finding all your needs here met? Is Mrs. Edwards taking good care of you?"

I was taken aback, but regained my composure quickly. "Yes, yes, I think so."

"You seem to have a need that requires attention now."

I remembered the scene from Saturday night when I first arrived, how her long lanky body looked naked, her white skin full of freckles and her pubic hair a blaze of fire. Her tongue darted slightly toward the edge of her mouth and back in again. "Yes, it would seem so," I replied. "I have no idea how to deal with this now."

"I know Mrs. Edwards is occupied at the present moment. Perhaps I could help you."

I nodded and she pulled my underpants down, making my manhood appear with a bounce. She sighed and just looked at it in awe, turning her head, her eyes blazing with the same elemental passion as when she first stirred my interest Saturday afternoon when she brushed the cinders off my leg. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it, running her deft fingers over it, and gasping. Then she took hold, rotating her hand as it went up and down my shaft. "I shall need the help of Hesphastus before I can accommodate this," she said, in a soft voice more tinged with an Irish accent than usual. 

I nodded again, and she took the end in her mouth, gently at first, barely moving, but accelerating and taking more and more of my length with each stroke. Her hand found my balls and began to play with them. She was different than Bella, and exciting in a wild way. Farther and farther she went down on my prick; I was sure that she was unable to breathe, so much of my manhood was down her throat. 

Pulling off, she stroked my flesh with both hands, looking up at me longingly, and licked her lips. "It feels so good, Mr. MacLeod, makes me tingle from head to toe. Do you like it?"

I smirked. "What do you think?"

She licked the head again and nodded. "When you're ready, I want you to give me everything without holding back. Everything. Yes?"

"Yes." With that, she attacked my member, licking and sucking with deep hunger. My mind flashed back to when she sat naked in the chair, Sir Charles licking between her legs, the gold bars in her nipples gleaming in the wan light, seeing her face as she came to her climax. My juices began to boil within me, and she redoubled her efforts, knowing I was close. Soon I could hold back no longer, and sent my nectar of love down her throat, her tongue like a tornado, eagerly devouring my seed. I thought my loins would never empty, but at last they did, and she stayed making certain not a drop saw the light of day. Her eyes were closed and her face had a serene look of contemplation. As my manhood shrunk, she allowed it to pop out of her mouth, and she knelt at my feet for several more moments in worship, rubbing its limpness on her face.

Finally, she leapt to her feet, pulling up my underpants, and gave me a saucy look. A bounce in her step took her out the door, and I was left alone.

The relief of my burden helped me focus more on my work that day. I was almost done with the first act and ready to begin the second, so I thought a short break was due. Sir Charles and Penny were not at lunch, which bothered Lady Alice greatly. "They're just working through lunch, Mother," Pearl said from the depths of Caesar's _Commentaries_. "You know how Father can be when inspiration strikes him. We may not see him for days." 

Sensing Lady Alice's discomfort, I tried to make some conversation: "Tell me, Lady Alice, where are you from?"

She sniffed and then relaxed. "I come from Norbury, Chesire; my father was an officer in the army in India. I'm the only child in my family, and when Daddy died he left me a substantial sum. I met Monty at a military ball in Aldershot; he was just made a lieutenant, and cut such a dashing figure. We were married six weeks later, and spent our honeymoon in the south of France. His first posting was British Honduras, and he caught a swamp fever, which invalided him back to England within a year. Our Pearl arrived nine months later, and we lived in Kent until we came here."

"And how to do you find America?"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. MacLeod, but I find it intemperate, boorish, extreme in climate, filled with large empty gaps between settlements, uncivilized, and chaotic." Her fingers worked nervously with the needle and thread as the passion of her convictions arose. "Sometimes I think we would have done better in the wilds of Africa than this place. I haven't the vaguest reason why Monty loves this place so."

"It's not England," Pearl cut in, still buried in her book, "but it's not Honduras or the wilds of Africa. It's as good a place as any."

"Pearl, you are too kind, as you always are. I don't mean to offend, Mr. MacLeod, because you are obviously an intelligent and talented artist like my husband, and it is some small credit this backward land produced you. Although you had to go to Europe to get the training you needed for your art, did you not?"

"Yes, I went to the Leipzig Conservatory, and spent a little time in England as well. I was considering Paris before I returned, or Rome. . ."

"Dreadful place, France." Lady Alice cut in. "Snooty and superior, they think they're God's gift to the world and they're beneath contempt. Dishonest and cowardly, arrogant, base and lecherous are the French, God forbid we should ever have to take their side in any quarrel."

"Their food is the best," Pearl cut in. "That's why we sent our Opal there to study the culinary arts."

"I'll give them that, Pearl dear, their food and wines are beyond compare; Opal has certainly done us proud with the arts she learned there. But were her brothers not with her, I imagine her virtue would have been sacrificed, and I imagine it took their joint efforts to keep those lusty French scoundrels away from her."

Pearl sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Mother, I think you exaggerate. Augustine and Maximilian spent a great deal of their time there studying horse care, even surgery. They weren't with each other that much, and the boys were too busy to be her bodyguards. Opal can definitely take care of herself, even in the sordid streets of France."

So Gus and Max were Opal's brothers. I let that soak into my brain but made no connections; the puzzle would fit soon enough.

"Heaven knows what beastly practices she was introduced to there." Lady Alice tossed her head and sniffed: "Rome is even worse: dirty, backward city. Monty says Italian opera is decadent and useless, and he learned nothing there. La Scala was a disappointment, give me Covent Garden any day of the week."

They continued in this way throughout the meal, and I gave up trying to channel the conversation into polite subjects. After luncheon, I walked the hallways hoping to catch him to report my progress, but his door was closed with a red scarf tied around the doorknob: his sign not to be disturbed. I returned to my rooms and slipped into the secret passages to see how he was doing.

When I found the peepholes for his study, it took me three tries before I got one that satisfied me, close to the far end of the room. Sir Charles was seated at his piano, a huge writing panel was attached to the music rack which allowed him to sketch his ideas in pencil. The remarkable thing was Miss Penny, who sat beyond him next to a window. Her white blouse was pulled completely back from her torso, her arms were bound to two heating pipes that ran beside the window. Her plump breasts hung down bare in full view, with her wide nipples peaking as the breeze played across them from time to time. Her long dark hair was undone, and lay wildly around her shoulders, dancing in the movement of the air. "How long will it be, Monty?" she said in a whiny voice. "You've bound me here almost daily for months like this. Surely you're almost done with me."

"Not quite, my pet, not quite," he said, chewing the end of his pencil to expose more lead. "I still have the great climatic scene, where Andromeda is bound to the rock, the monster is in sight, and Perseus appears in the distance."

She pouted. "Would that either the monster or the hero would arrive." A fly landed on her face, and she screwed up her mouth to send jets of air to drive it off. Her eyes wandered, her foot tapped on the floor and she blurted out: "I imagine that being half naked is helping me cope with this heat."

He shook his head. "I still can't quite get sorted out here, eh what?" Tapping his chin he looked her up and down several times before a look of enlightenment crossed his face. "I know what it will take." He got up quickly and strode over to his captive. She gave him a hopeful look, but he pulled up up a little and pulled what remained of her clothing down, taking off her stockings and shoes, and leaving her totally naked. She pulled at her bonds, but they were too secure. "That's what I need, Andromeda," he said. "Now you're a naked Ethiopian princess waiting for a monster to attack."

Tears ran down her face and she gave him an accusatory look. "Please don't paint me black so I'll look even more like an Ethiopian," she moped.

"Nonsense, it would take too long, and Lady Alice would notice," he replied, his focus deep in his writing board. "Black hair was good enough for Shakespeare, it will be good enough for me. I can imagine your skin being a different hue."

Why couldn't he imagine the whole picture without tying her up naked? I thought to myself, or purchase one of the many paintings of this scene? Penny's lower half was like her upper half: plump but not obese, with a extraordinarily large patch of black hair between her legs. She shifted in her seat, trying to stay comfortable, but changed back when she realized he could see her sex easily. Like a painter at his easel, he worked along with his pen, stopping to try out a musical line on the piano from time to time. After about five minutes, he stood up again and paced a little bit; she watched his every step. "I think I need the terror now, the absolute fear of the monster. How to accomplish this?" He looked at her and she looked back, puzzled. "I know what will do it."

He went to his desk and reached in the drawer, withdrawing a small paintbrush. "This will do," he said, clapping his hands and pulling a chair over to sit next to his subject.

"What are you going to do, Monty?"

"A little stimulation, which will give me the emotions I will need. Just try to sit still." He took the brush and began to trace her nipples very lightly, going around the buds carefully and working from the outer circles of the brown nubs to the inner stiff peaks. She squealed and writhed, moving her hips back and forth. Reaching down, he licked one nub, making it very wet with saliva before working it with the brush. Her breathing became erratic; she was getting very aroused. He switched sides, moistening her other bud, and making her squirm. After several moments of this manipulation, he pushed her legs apart and began toying with the bud between her legs.

"No, Monty, no," she whispered hoarsely. "My maidenhead is reserved for my future lord and master."

"What if I say no?" he teased, "You are in no position to deny me..

Shaking her head dramatically, she murmured. "Please, please, please, no. I'll do anything to please you if you will spare me."

"I'll think about it," he said, toying with her lower lips more. Turning the brush around, he started to probe inward with the thick handle, but pulled back without inserting it to any depth. A questing digit took its place, and her breathing became heavy as her crotch became very obviously moist.

Finally, he dropped his trousers and pretended his goal was below. "Don't you want it, aren't you ready for it?" he muttered into her ear.

"No, no."

"No?'

"No." This denial was unconvincing, as her legs parted perceptibly.

The brush visited her nipples and crotch again; his penis was fully erect. She writhed in her bounds, the stimulation overwhelming her. "Are you ready for this? Do you want it now?"

"No," she said, weakly, "Please, no."

"No? Are you sure? Are you sure your lions are not aching for the touch of my monster?"

She paused, struggling, before she relaxed, laid back, spreading her legs wide, and whispered dramatically: "All right, all right I give up, I surrender. Yes, yes, put it in."

He laughed and plunged his prick between her lips. She was surprised to find her mouth suddenly full, but began to lick and suck him with some passion after a moment. It seemed as though she had done this before: from what I saw, she used her tongue and lips to great effect. His breathing became ragged and he started thrusting in her mouth. She resisted him, but could not get him out, and at last he gasped and sighed, holding her head in place as he expelled his sperm into her mouth.

After he pulled out, she allowed the white liquid to spill out of her mouth, dripping down her chest and toward her breasts. She spat the last bits out, and glared at him: "I told you not to do that in my mouth, Monty, I've told you many times. The taste is dreadful, I shall have to drink a gallon of claret later to get the taste out of my mouth."

"Good anger, I like that. Keep it up." He went back to his workspace without pulling his pants up, his limp member dangling down. His seed crawled down her body in tiny rivulets. "You did just say you would do anything I pleased if I would spare your maidenhead. I think you will stay there until it dries; I'll need that much time to finish the scene and it will be done, done. done." Her eyes still shone with murder, and after a moment he cooed. "Don't worry my dearest Penny, I'll make it up to you. You won't have to sit there unfulfilled." He stood up and walked over, stroking the dry part of her cheek and tousling her hair before returning to his work.

At this point, I noticed two figures at the other end of the secret hallway, but they noticed me a split second earlier. With a rustle, they darted off down toward the kitchens before I could make them out. I knew it wasn't Mrs. Edwards, because I'd just heard her instructing Ruby to clean Miss Penny's rooms while she was in her session with Sir Charles. I thought they were women, but I wasn't sure.

An hour later, I got a note in my workroom, done in elegant penmanship: Would you do us the honor of sharing some of your knowledge of American History for our class today? We would be ever so grateful. P. 

I rang the bell and asked Mrs. Edwards where this class would be meeting. She told me they would be at the kitchen table, and gave me directions.

When I arrived, I caught my first sight of Opal, close up. She was kneading bread for the evening meal, with several pots simmering on the stove. The other five servants were sitting around the table, with Pearl at the head, a chalkboard at hand. "Thank you for coming, Mr. MacLeod," Pearl began. "I was wondering if you could share some of your family stories about the history of this country. We would be indebted if they included any about the Civil War that ended 30 years ago."




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 03



I thought for a moment. "Let me tell you about my father. He volunteered for a Pennsylvania company when he came of age in 1862. His father didn't want him to go, but many young men of the time felt it was their duty, and he would not be dissuaded. After training, he was stationed around Washington, working on the fortifications of the Capitol. Toward the end of the year, his unit marched out toward Richmond, a Union objective every year. They fought in many actions, and found themselves on the banks of the Rappahannock River opposite Fredericksburg,Virginia. It was mid-December and they felt if they broke through they could reach Richmond and end the war. On the other side were high bluffs the Confederates fortified. His unit crossed the river and were ordered up the hill to assault the Rebel position. Time after time they went up that hill, bodies of their comrades falling around them, men screaming in pain and terror from their wounds."

"Did they make it?" Connie asked.

"No. They never made it up the hill. Father fell wounded in the last assault, and was fortunate to be pulled from the battlefield before he bled to death. His body was decimated by what they call Grape shot: a cannon is filled with small balls and dozens of small projectiles follow similar paths. He lost his left arm and left leg: the war was over that day for him."

"Oh my," Pearl said.

"It took him weeks to recover, and he went home an invalid. In those desperate times, he was able to find work in a railroad office, and worked his way upward until he was the owner of a railroad. My mother was a nurse who helped heal him, and they built a wonderful life for themselves. Until the Panic of 1893 took it all away."

"Are they all right now?" Ruby asked.

"Mother passed away of sorrow last year, Father's getting by. He's got a small pension from the army, and he's living frugally. I was able to give him something when I got home from Europe, and see his care was well organized. We have hopes."

Pearl swallowed and said: "Was the Civil War as divisive as we were told? Did brother really fight against brother?"

"Yes, they did, from Missouri to Maryland especially. Men who had graduated together from military academies and fought in the Mexican War found themselves commanding units on opposite sides. Fathers fought sons. Families were divided. You only need reflect on your neighbors here: Missouri was split almost perfectly in half in loyalty, but those were spread almost evenly throughout the state. This place was chaos. The wounds are still not fully healed 30 years later."

There was a long period of silence. "Thanks for coming down, Mr. MacLeod."

"My pleasure, Miss Brougham. Anytime."

As I left, I took a look around the room and came to a realization. All the servants were Mrs. Edwards' children: the girls looked just like her and the boys also resembled her in their coloring. They looked like a decade spanned their arrivals, with Opal being the oldest and Connie the youngest; they were probably about two years apart in sequence. Something else seemed familiar about them, but I couldn't put my finger on it; a mystery for later solution. The only servant that didn't fit into the family was Maurice.

It was an hour and half later when Sir Charles came by my workroom to check on my work and give me the draft of the third act. He was pleased at my progress and asked when I could have the parts ready. I told him it would be a month after finishing the score that I could have the parts all copied and ready. He smiled, clapped me on the shoulder and told me to keep up the good work. I heard the scrape of the viola in the distance, and felt glad Penny had been freed at last from her confinement.

That night was so sultry I lay on my sheets unclad, so when Mrs. Edwards came through the secret door she was surprised momentarily at my naked form lying on the bed. It took her an instant to disrobe and she joined me on the mattress. "Pardon me, Frank, but our Amber has been ill all week and it's taken all my free time to nurse her back to health."

"Amber, I don't believe I've met her."

"She does the sewing and the laundry, mostly. Also waits on the ladies and where else she's needed."

"And how old is she?"

"Sixteen." I took her right nipple in my hand and gave it a soft squeeze, which brought a gasp from her. "I should like to ask you about something else I hear Maurice mention."

"Yes, Maurice?"

"She said something about needing Hesphaestus' help with something."

There was a pause. "I don't know if I should tell you about that." I gave her nipple a pinch, bringing forth a little yelp. "All right, all right; Maurice has a collection of dildoes."

"Dildoes?"

"Objects that resemble this part of a man's anatomy," she said, giving my member a quick, tight squeeze. "The smallest is called Ganymede. . ."

"The one she used on Sir Charles that night."

"Yes, that's right. The next one slightly more than average in length is called Priapus, after the old Roman fertility God, and the largest is called Hesphaestus. I've seen the last one: it's frightening."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Tell me, what do you think we women do when you men aren't available? In my case, it's been quite a while, so Priapus has consoled me on many occasions."

"Oh, I see. It's too bad some similar convenience doesn't exist for men."

Bella snorted in disbelief. "You men will impale anything with an orifice that will accommodate you. The stable hands at Algernon make use of the small flock of sheep in residence; in English boarding schools, teenage boys will bugger each other until they come of marrying age."

"Which would explain something about Sir Charles, would it not?"

"Yes," she giggled. "But I did not come here to talk about the different ways men and women pleasure themselves in each other's absence." She started stroking my prick gently with her hand, to interest it in some activity. "I came here to pleasure you in some way."

"Done," I said, and reached between her legs to tickle her fancy.



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 04



Maurice put her flute down after the last reverberations died away and sighed. "That was a lovely piece, Mr. MacLeod," she murmured.

"Yes, quite good my boy, quite good," Sir Charles said, jumping up from his chair and bolting across the room to wring my hand with embarrassing enthusiasm. "That's why I wanted you to spend this time with us, to share this wonderful gift you have. I swear, you will have a fine reputation very soon, and I shall be glad to say that I knew you before your fame. Doubt not of my support of your career, Mr. MacLeod, in the years to come, for we must make sure you have the security to pursue your art to its fullest."

"Thank you, Sir Charles, thank you." It was another Sunday afternoon musicale in the drawing room of Olympia, near St. Louis, Missouri. Maurice and I had just essayed a piece for flute and piano I'd brought in my luggage; I'd premiered it at Leipzig five years ago to rave reviews from my classmates, but I had yet to get a publisher interested in it. Looking around the room, Lady Alice treated me to rare smile and Pearl had put down her book, her face holding an unusually warm expression. Penny was clapping enthusiastically as well, her face bright red from the heat.

"On that note, I think should call it an afternoon after such a splendid entertainment. We should withdraw to the veranda where the breezes still play and cool drinks that I am certain await us. One little bit of business: I have decided it is time for me to take a hunting trip to Mr. Perkins' ranch in the mountains of Colorado. He has been begging me to visit for weeks. The opera is finished and will not need my input until rehearsals begin. We will be taking the Tuesday morning train westward; Gus and Max will be accompanying me. Mr. MacLeod is occupied with his work here, and so will not be traveling with us. Are any of you ladies interested in going?"

Lady Alice fanned herself dramatically. "I'm sure there's nothing for me in Colorado, but perhaps if I could spend some time in the mountains it would be a welcome relief from this beastly climate."

"I don't think I'll be going," Pearl said, her face buried in _Tartuffe_ by Moliere. "It will be a dreadful journey, and I seem to be able to abide the heat better than you can, Mother."

Penny looked excited. "I've never been to Colorado, and I hear it's absolutely gorgeous. Besides, Lady Alice will need the company since Pearl's going to remain here. Perhaps Paul Bunyon will appear over the peaks of the mountains."

"I believe Paul Bunyon is a Minnesota legend," I interjected.

"Pooh, such a spoil sport you are Mr. MacLeod," she sighed. "Anyway, it should be like the Alps, and I loved my tour of the Jura. Count me in."

"Will you be requiring my service, Sir Charles?" Maurice asked gravely.

Sir Charles thought for a moment. "Well, I had thought you would enjoy the journey, but someone will need to manage Olympia in my absence and I do not believe anyone else is qualified. I'm afraid you, Maurice, must stay here and look after things until I return. We shall need Mrs. Edwards to look after the ladies, Gus and Max can perfect the butler's trade, but the rest should stay here. Very good, that's it then. To the gentle breezes, friends."

The veranda was slightly cooler, and between the shade and the beverages the party's disposition improved. Penny babbled about mountain legends from around Europe, which Sir Charles amplified and embellished. Lady Alice complained occasionally, looking grim as she feverishly sowed an intricate floral design into a white cloth, perhaps contemplating her weekly duty to Sir Charles that evening. Maurice was inscrutable as usual, although I could catch an odd gleam in her eye when she glanced at me. Pearl stayed immersed in her reading, as usual, cold and distant. I sipped my lemonade and wished for something stronger.

That evening Mrs. Edwards stopped by before I retired. "You heard the news: Monty's going west. Would be nice if he gave his staff better warning: I've got a thousand things to do before Tuesday."

"Will everyone be all right in your absence?"

"Oh yes, Maurice will look after them; they respect her. You may take your meals with Miss Pearl or alone as you wish. Should you need any mending, just call Amber's attention to it and it'll be done straight away. I'll instruct them to undertake a top to bottom cleaning while we're gone, so if you need to go away for a day or so, feel free. Now I must run, so much to do!"

I bent to my work the next day and ignored the labors around me: without Sir Charles' daily demands on my time, I should be finished with the main score by week's end and have the parts done ahead of time. By chance, the new director of the St. Louis Choral-Symphony Society was an old classmate from Leipzig, and I dropped him a line seeking a meeting to discuss the new opera. The only problem I had was that from time to time when I stopped my work to rest my eyes, I could see Penny's plump naked form tied in front of the window with her hair swirling around in the breeze. It wasn't particularly stimulating for me since I wasn't fond of her mindless daily prattle with Lady Alice, but it was distracting.

The excursion to see the hunting party off Tuesday morning was quite an affair. I never thought Gus and Max would get all the luggage aboard the train, and Sir Charles had a animated conversation with the conductor until all was to his satisfaction. I'm sure I saw banknotes passing between them, which probably facilitated the transaction When the young men returned and joined the party on the platform, I saw them next to Sir Charles; their profiles were identical, and although their coloring favored their mother, their foreheads, noses and cheeks were copies of the older man. 

The return to Olympia was quite lighthearted as the three children enthusiastically regaled us with English folk songs Pearl taught them. It was quite charming, and their talent was much better than the popular entertainment I'd attended in America or England. Maurice shared a couple of Irish tunes with us, and I eventually contributed a couple of camp songs my father taught me from his army days. 

The new pattern quickly emerged: I worked through the day in solitude and joined Pearl for tea in the afternoon. She left her books in her rooms and proved a companion of agile wit and perception on her own apart from her parents. Maurice invited me to billiards, brandy and cigars after the meal, and we spent the time amiably, as two men would, with no suggestion of a repetition of her service to me earlier. One night I made a risque remark, drawing a raised eyebrow and a glance over her shoulder at the wall. Then I remembered the vistas from the secret passageway I had before, and wondered who might be watching.

One Friday pre-dawn we were favored with a thunderstorm and great sheets of rain, which brought welcome relief from the late June heat. When I awakened in first light, I noticed two bodies in bed next to me, sitting cross legged. "Good morning, Mr. MacLeod," Opal said, kneeling left of my body. "I hope you slept well. Since it is impossible to go swimming this morning, I thought it would be a good idea to demonstrate some womanly arts to my sister Pearl, who is quite curious about everything."

"Good morning, Mr. MacLeod," she purred into my right ear. "Since I know you're an early riser, and there is a pair of binoculars in this room, what you see now is nothing new to you."

I pulled myself up to my elbows and noticed both young women were naked. Opal smiled and said: "I was telling Pearl about the ways a woman could please a man without surrendering her maidenhead, and since her mother seems to have no knowledge of such things, thought I would demonstrate. Would you care to assist us in this endeavor?"

Pearl was beaming, her face almost glowing, as she began to stroke my thigh. A closer look at Opal showed her form almost perfect: nicely curved in every way, pert breasts and nipples, long, soft, blonde hair, and warm brown eyes. Pearl was thinner and more angular, her blue eyes had lost their customary chill, and her breasts were conical and slightly larger. "How come you two are in such close rapport?" I asked.

"We've shared a bed since we can remember," Pearl said. "We were born two weeks apart in the same household, and have shared a bed since then. Peapods."

I shook my head trying to clear the cobwebs. "Are you cousins?" 

"Sisters. Half sisters," Pearl replied. "We have the same father, as you surely must have guessed by now."

The puzzle was complete: Sir Charles was the father of Mrs. Edwards' children. The resemblance I saw earlier at the train station confirmed it. It brought back a horrible memory for me, but I suppressed it quickly. 

Opal broke the spell: "We know you've been looking at us in the morning, you haven't always been careful enough to conceal your interest. The master bedroom and Penny's rooms face the other direction, as do my mother's and the children's; my brothers are always preoccupied with the barn, and know the consequences for invading our privacy are more than they care to pay. So your cooperation is expected this morning, Mr. MacLeod." Taking my penis and stroking it gently, she began lecturing: "This is how one starts. Move your hand up and down his shaft until it begins to stiffen."

Turning her head, Pearl studied the technique clinically for a few moments. "Does it matter whether it's in the open or not?"

"It's easier in the open, but rubbing the organ through the pants is quite stimulating as well, if you have plans to release it later."

Pearl encircled me with her delicate hand and took over while Opal moved down to the base. "It doesn't seem to take long to reach full stature, does it?"

"No, I think not," Opal said, giggling. "Another good move is to tickle the testicles, like this." Her fingers began to play across my orbs, making me tingle. "A combination of these techniques will usually make him aroused even more quickly, if you have both hands free. And if you keep this up long enough, this alone will make him climax and spend his sexual energy."

"Where did you learn about this, Opal?" I asked.

"Paris."

"I like this, the feeling is wonderful to have my hand on his hardness like this." Pearl looked at the crown of my shaft clinically. "Does this feel good to you, Mr. MacLeod?"

"Please call me Frank. I think we can dispense with formality in this context, Pearl."

Opal began to lick my balls and run her fingernails on my thigh. "This is also good," she said, "most men enjoy this and find most women will not do it."

"Oh, let me try," They switched places, and Pearl's tongue probed until it found a sweet spot on my scrotum. "Does the mouth and tongue play a role elsewhere here?"

"I'm glad you asked that, for this is something that will make almost any man happy and make him forget any other agenda." With that, Opal began licking the top of my penis as her mother did, taking it in and sucking it, making me shudder; Pearl watched from her perspective, with her mouth still on my nutsack, her tongue dancing between the two orbs. I stroked her hair and she murmured incoherently, which was a worthwhile reaction.

Pulling off, Opal pointed at the various ridges of the penis: "Running your tongue up and down these ridges will add to the stimulation. Alternate this with sucking, in random order, for best effect." Sticking out her tongue, she ran it around the crown, making me quiver. "You see."

"May I?" Pearl asked.

"Of course, Peapod," she said sitting back. Pearl came up and started running her tongue along the edges, the end of her tongue agile and unpredictable, making me thrust upward in response. "Now take the whole head of it in and suck," Opal said, which Pearl did. "Run your tongue around while you suck, I think he'll like that." I could do nothing but nod in agreement, since speech had deserted me.

They took turns going up and down my shaft while the rain drummed on the window. A thunderclap startled them and they giggled before returning to their work. I felt my need to release growing closer, and just as I approached the mountain top, they switched and in the transition the moment was spoiled. After this happened twice more, I protested: "Your timing is perfect: just before I can express my full satisfaction with your work, you change positions and my desire is sidetracked."

Opal stroked my testicles with a mock pout on her face. "I guess we'll have to give you release, Frank. Would you like the honors, Peapod, or would you like me to do it?"

"I remember Penny commenting she didn't like the taste." Pearl said pensively. "Is it unpalatable, Peapod?" 

Opal shook her head. "It can be an acquired taste, and our Penny would be well advised to acquire it if she wants to maintain her virtue. Someday she will end up surrendering her precious jewel because of her haughtiness. But she would never listen to our advice. Tell me, Peapod, surely you tasted something as you were sucking it before."

"Yes. It didn't taste like much of anything, but it wasn't unpleasant."

"Then the final result won't be unpleasant to you," Opal said, nodding.

Pearl thought for a moment. "Then I wish to find out what it's like now, Peapod. You can have your turn next time." With that, she engulfed my manhood with determination, licking and sucking fervently. Her breast was close to my hand and I grasped it, squeezing gently and teasing the bud: this made her moan and groan, which increased the sensation. Opal began licking my orbs below and I found a perfect teardrop breast in reach of my other hand: it received my ardent attention and generated moans that further stimulated me.

Soon I could hold back no longer, and Pearl held on doggedly to catch and swallow all I had to offer. Opal sat back and watched as her sister drank my liqueur, smiling and keeping her breast in my reach. Pearl did not relent until I became flaccid in her mouth before she released me. A stray drop oozed from the end and Opal moved quickly to lick it up, giggling. "You see, Peapod, not so bad," she whispered.

Licking her lips, Pearl looked thoughtful. "Yes, quite palatable. I could do this again."

"Not now, please," I said quickly.

Opal giggled. "It's time I got back to the kitchen. Amber's not a bad cook, but she and Ruby get silly on their own at times. Maurice and Connie will still be taking care of the animals. Breakfast will be at your door in fifteen minutes." She jumped to her feet and scampered through the secret door. Pearl stayed, leaning on me and watching as I still played with her breast, smiling. She said nothing, and left a few moments later through the same egress.

I cleaned up and was just finishing my dressing when Connie arrived with my breakfast. The day was busy as I finished the full score of _Andromeda Chained_ and received a note from Alfred Ernst that he would meet me at the Choral-Symphony offices on Monday afternoon. At dinner, Pearl was the same as she'd been all week, with little different in her mannerism than an occasional lingering look when she thought I wasn't looking at her. Maurice was absent the entire day, so I spent the evening shooting billiards alone.

The next day, a bright and sunny one, was one of solitude: Pearl and Opal went to visit a friend of Lady Alice's in St. Charles and Opal told me before she left Maurice decided to ride the entire grounds, which would take him all day. I spent the morning reading, and after an early afternoon nap went over the ridge to the lake the girls went swimming in every good weather morning. It was a peaceful spot, and I sat under a linden tree watching the fish snap at insects on the surface until time for tea. 

Opal served me tea and stayed to make sure I was all right. Her smile was broad and knowing, and I could not resist teasing her: "You are certainly experienced for your age."

"I learned a lot in France. People are so much different there than England."

"I've heard. So you must have escaped your brother's protection from time to time."

"I didn't need my brothers' protection. What my mother didn't teach me, my chef, Madame Bonchamps did, including what I taught Pearl last night. No Englishwoman would be that . . . practical."

"Tell me, how come you had to move from England?"

She grew very solemn and looked back and forth. "Give me a moment." Going into the hallway, she looked around, and then behind the door to check a secret passageway. "Sir Charles' family found him too great an embarrassment for them. He wrote a cantata for the Midland Choral festival that was badly received and badly reviewed, then he wrote a letter to the editor that should have been intercepted before it was published. Maurice was a little ill that day, and Sir Charles was too angry and resolute, so he posted it before Maurice could read it. Sir Arthur Sullivan protested the review as well, and wrote a letter in support of him, but Lord Brougham was too outraged and wanted him gone. Threatened to cut Sir Charles off from his inheritance and have him cast out of polite society if he didn't leave the country."

"I see. Only in England. Well, maybe not."

She gave me an odd look. "Frank? What?"

I looked into her compassionate brown eyes and decided not to share. Despite our intimacy that morning, I didn't know her very well, and my experience taught me extreme discretion. "Sorry, I shouldn't. It's bad enough I have dark memories without making you their partaker. Just know that I know how to pleasure a woman with putting her in danger of losing her virtue."

Her eyes widened. "That's good news. Perhaps you will share this with me sometime."

"Indeed. And Pearl as well if she is willing."

"I guess so," she said, pouting slightly. Perhaps there were things she didn't want to share with her bedmate. 

I decided to change the subject. "Is it true that you shared a room growing up?"

"Yes, mostly. Pearl and I are very different, but we are closer than any other sisters we know. We've shared a bed since infancy. We can hardly bear the other's absence for long, and my sojourn in France was difficult for both of us. If she had gone to Colorado, I would have had to accompany them as well."

"Fascinating. What of the future? Surely someday she will marry and leave."

Opal rolled her eyes. "I don't think Pearl is interested in marriage; she's an intellectual and hardly takes notice of affairs of the heart. No young man has ever succeeded in getting her attention, no matter how learned or well bred. We've talked about it: Pearl will inherit Sir Charles' portion of the Brougham fortune, as well as her mother's sizable legacy, so she will be extremely comfortable the rest of her life. I shall stay with her, and if a young man catches my eye, she will make it possible for us to be together without being too far away from her."

I finished my meal and she started collecting the dishes. "I would like to talk with you more, Opal. Especially about Maurice."

"Maurice is a mystery to me. His ways are so different, that's what comes from being an Irishman, I guess, but he's different from every other Irishman I've known. I know he's thirty seven, was in the Army in India, and he came into Sir Charles' service just after his discharge."

"I see. Does he seem, less than masculine to you than most men?"

She shook her head. "No, he's been a perfect gentleman, actually like a father to us. He and Mrs. Edwards work together well."

"Did the Brougham family want you and your family off the family estates when Sir Charles left? Did they think you were an embarrassment as well?" A sheepish nod was my answer. "And Sir Charles felt guilty and chose to bring you with him when he came to America?"

"Lady Alice has always been nothing other than kind to us," she protested vigorously. "They've always looked after us, sent me to France to learn cooking, sent Amber to learn tailoring, sent the boys to learn the ways of horses. She wanted us to be literate and Pearl always taught them what she knew. She let Pearl and I be close, when it would have been an embarrassment to the rest of the family, had they known. I will hear nothing against Sir Charles or Lady Alice, no matter what the rest of the world thinks of them."




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 04



"Ah, that is to their credit," I replied. "It shows they have kind hearts after all. All right, I won't grill you any more, be at peace. You're a remarkable young lady, and you have my admiration." She started crying and I gathered her into my arms. "Your secret is safe with me; I won't mention it again."

After a few moments, I said in a low voice: "Let me show you something in my rooms."

"Someone might see," she said in terror.

"No, I won't light a lamp. Don't worry. Meet me there soon."

Half an hour later she rapped on my door. I let her in, and turned down the lights; there was enough moonlight to see. Stroking her hair, he looked into her eyes and projected as much peace as I could until she stopped shuddering. Then I laid her on my bed and began kissing her, which she responded to eagerly. My hand went between her legs and they parted; my fingers sought her valley of delight and found it damp and inviting. Finding the bud between her legs, I started rubbing it and she gasped. I kissed her to silence her. The skin of her thigh lead me through the leg hole, and soon I was touching her sex, probing the lips and generating heat. Carefully, I stimulated only the outer portions of her labia and clitoris until she laid back and I could pull up her skirt. Her panties came down next, and I pressed my mouth to her pubis, my nose in her brushy wilderness and my tongue seeking her fountain of sweet nectar. It was the work of five minutes before she gasped, holding my ears, and began thrashing wildly on the bed, consumed by her pleasure. 

At last she pushed me head away, panting. "I never knew this was possible," she moaned softly. "My God, what an experience. This would melt an ice queen. Oh, what can I say? I am yours, forever."

"Thank you, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Your mother would kill me if she knew about this, and Sir Charles would banish me from Olympia in a heartbeat."

She crossed her heart and said dramatically: "They shall never know; I will take this secret to my grave." She laid there, her eyes shining in the darkness, then giggled. "Well, with one exception " Sitting up quickly, she looked around: "Time to go. Fear not, I will repay you. We will be in touch." She kissed me on the lips and was gone through the secret door in a flash.

Sunday morning saw no change in our routine: if we weren't in the Trinity Church pews, questions would be asked and the Broughams would find out our delinquency. Maurice drove us into Saint Charles, and it happened the choir performed one of Sir Charles anthems, "Sing Ye Cherubim." The Vicar and several members of the choir made polite comments to Pearl after the liturgy about the piece, but they were obviously not intended seriously, and Pearl was dismissive of their comments on our return journey. Our luncheon on the veranda was pleasant and the Sunday musicale was the best yet: unconstrained by Sir Charles' eclectic choices, we savored music of the masters for four hours straight. Maurice favored us with two complete Bach flute sonatas, Pearl sang the entire Schumann _Frauenlieben und Leben_ (behind me with her hands on my shoulders the entire time), and I essayed the Beethoven _Hammerklavier_. Maurice brought out his Irish harp and we finished with several traditional Irish airs as tea was served.  

I retired to my rooms after tea, forgoing brandy, billiards and cigars with Maurice as I was expecting guests after hours. After readings for two hours, I was not disappointed as Opal and Pearl appeared in my quarters via the secret entrance wearing nothing but their nightdresses. Pearl spoke first: "Peapod tells me you have a special gift to share with me this evening, one you shared with her last night. Since we hold nothing back from each other, I beg you to demonstrate this special talent with me tonight, and Peapod will reward you for your efforts."

"And what talent would that be?" I said, trying to provoke them.

"If you do not share this talent with her" Opal continued, "you will not have the reward I promised you last night." She winked and licked her lips coquettishly.

"Oh, that demonstration. Very well, if you would sit on the bed, Pearl, and you on the floor, Opal, I believe we can accomplish everything at the same time."

Pearl turned her head an angle. "That would be interesting," she commented. "I am interested in what you have to show me."

She sat on the bed, pulling her night dress up over her hips, exposing everything below. Opal sat on the floor to her right, waiting. I knelt on the bed before Pearl and kissed her several times, working my way down her front, and licking her nipples through her fabric. Opal's hand reached up and was stroking me, encouraging me to respond. I got to Pearl's thighs and began kissing and licking them as my fingers sought her dark valley. She lay back and looked at me in a detached way, observing what I was doing to her body. A finger squirreled its way between her lower lips, seeking her bud and stroking it on discovery. A tongue touched the end of my member at the same time, a soft hand stroking my testicles, and the hot breath of the cook playing over my damp skin. I reached to part Pearl's lower lips and put my mouth there, licking and sucking, looking up for her reaction. It was calm and kindly; she was good at hiding her emotions. The only clue of my affect on her was her eyes: they lost their hard tone and softened, the same look I saw when I played my Piano Sonata for her.

At first, I teased her delicate sex, nuzzling and flicking it with my tongue. She kept watching me closely, her entire attention on me. Then I attacked her slit eagerly, licking and sucking, sticking my tongue as far up her vagina as I could. That took her by surprise: she lolled back and groaned, losing control and flailing her arms and legs. Opal took my prick in her mouth at the same time, attacking its delicate places with her tongue and causing me to lose track of time and space. Instinct took over: I held my head in Pearl's groin without giving ground, feeling the rush of her juices on my face. My own response was intensifying as Opal's hand played with my orbs and she sucked as much of my shaft down her throat as she could. My hands went up to caress Pearl's breasts: she was pinching her nipples and I took over that task, squeezing and kneading. My prick popped out of Opal's mouth; she stroked it as she caught her breath before sucking it down again. 

Pearl started moaning, the pitch rising and rising higher until her whole body quaked and quivered in ecstasy. My head was pushed away, and I rolled away to let Opal finish her work. It wasn't long before my member pulsed and throbbed before sending its reward to her hungry mouth. Like her sister the night before, she kept going until I was limp once again.

It was several moments before any of us could utter an intelligible word. Opal laid her head on my thigh as I rested on Pearl's; Pearl lay back with her expression completely unfocused, something I'd never seen before. I patted Opal's head and Pearl's thigh, and they moved to let me up. I donned a dressing gown and lit a cigar. "Well ladies, was that an adequate demonstration?" They laughed.

They were still incapable of speech, and they left in silence. In the distance, there were some flashes of lightning, and I though I heard a movement from the other side of the wall. On a whim, I took the theme I'd written down the first day I arrived and went into the workroom where I'd been copying the opera score. Taking fresh paper and a pen, I wrote a piece for piano, flute and soprano on this new melody, using a poem by Heine I knew well as the text that flowed from my imagination without effort. It was the work of an hour to accomplish this, and I went to the piano immediately to play it through. As I was playing through it on the piano, I saw Maurice coming through the door wearing a dressing gown, flute in hand. She joined me, and my rough voice sang the soprano part in my own range. After reading through it a second time, Maurice put her flute down and said: "Ah, that was heaven," in a thick Irish accent.



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 05



It was just past Monday noon when I knocked at the office door of the St. Louis Choral-Symphony Society. A pale man in his twenties wearing a dark suit and white shirt opened it and asked who I was. I told him of my appointment and he ushered me in immediately.

Alfred Ernst was a man of average height, with an immaculately coiffed beard and hair, elegant cravat, and sharp grey suit. His blue eyes shone in welcome and he greeted me in German: "Frankie, how long has it been? I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw your letter last week. Welcome, thrice welcome."

"Thanks, Alfred," I replied slipping back into the German of my student days easily. "I couldn't believe my good fortune to see you as the director of this Society. How are you faring in America?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It will be an uphill climb. Herr Otten resigned because the board cut back the subscription season, but I believe he was too pessimistic. With good music making, we will rebuild the subscriptions and expand the season. How are you? When I heard of your father, I thought you might be lost to the arts forever."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Another uphill climb, I'm sorry to say. I had to leave Europe and use my small savings to help him out. There were no music jobs I could find here in America, since they always want to hire Germans or other foreigners as conductors or faculty, and the MacDowell colony could give me no help, other than inform me of this possibility. I was lucky to find Sir Charles willing to hire me as a copyist on the strength of a piano sonata I sent him."

"You've written a piano sonata? Do you have it with you? I must hear it."

"Yes, Alfred, we'll get to that before long I imagine. How's Minnie?"

"Oh, she's coping with life in a foreign land. St. Louis is such a German town I have a hard time remembering we're in America, except the weather is so blasted hot. We both learned English to live here, and we've hardly used it. Once we accomplish great things here, we'll go back to the Fatherland. You must meet us for dinner, or luncheon. I know a place that will make you think we're back in Leipzig. Thursday, perhaps?"

"Surely, Alfred, surely. Let's take care of business first."

He gave me a look and led me to his office, which doubled as his studio. Alfred was always impeccable, unlike most of our classmates, and his piano was in perfect tune. "Do you get to perform much on the piano?" I asked.

"A little, mostly homes and salons, sometimes I get to the piano at the Beer Garden. But my focus here is on conducting, so that's what I'm working on the most. Now, where is this score we're supposed to do?" I presented it to him and he looked it over. "You have a beautiful style on the page, Frankie, so clean and legible. Most composers think it's all right to give me chicken scratchings like Beethoven, and think I'll be able to decipher it."

"I can relate: this is the interpretation of chicken scratchings. It took me three weeks."

Glancing from page to page. "I hope it was worth the pay. By the way, how much is he paying you?"

I told him and he nodded his head. "That's more than I'm making here, although I don't envy you. Well, let's play through it, just like the old days, one piano, four hands. Ready?"

We spent the next three hours playing through the music without speaking. When we finished, Alfred lit a cigarette and offered me one. I took it and lit it to hear him say: "_Don Giovanni_ closed after five performances; this will as well. That's all Sir Charles is paying for, and I will bet my entire salary no one will want hear it after that. We're mounting Gluck's _Orfeo_ this fall, so we can use the same sets and costumes, the only thing we'll have to make just for this is a fake chain and a big rock, and we'll find other uses for them." He blew out a huge cloud of smoke and held up his hands in disbelief. "God in heaven, this is so artless. How can you stand it?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I focus on getting the notes right, not whether they belong together or have any great inspiration. I've learned to turn off the critical sense when I haven't needed it. Poverty helps."

"You have a greater talent than I for that. At least it could be something wild and bizarre, like Debussy's music. In fact, I wish it were Debussy. . ." His voice trailed off and he took another puff of his cigarette. "I hear Sir Charles is an exile here."

I shook my head in negation. "Yes, but I can't talk about that."

"I thought not. And his overall contribution to the Society is the biggest this season, so I can't say no. I'll have to get word out so the other members of the board won't criticize him too much, we may want his money next season. How soon will you have the parts ready?"

"Two weeks."

"Do you want help?"

"Hell no, the rate he's paying me, I don't care if I copy his complete works. A professorship at Harvard wouldn't pay this much. Besides, he's out of town and will want to be present when the orchestra sight reads this, and he's not due back for a long time. And at heart, he's a nice guy with a big heart, even if he's a pompous mediocrity. "

"Pompous mediocrity," he repeated, shrugging his shoulders. "Like most Englishmen."

I shrugged my shoulders and nodded. "Keep your eye out for a man named Edward Elgar. He will be famous before long, even on the Continent."

"Elgar? Never heard of him."

"Living in the Midlands, a local star at this time, but very original. Take a look at his _Salut d-Amour_ sometime."

"I'll remember that. Now, lets clear our palettes and listen to this piano sonata I haven't heard yet." I played the piece for him and when I finished, he leaped to his feet. "I can find a publisher for this, Frankie, I promise you. Did you try anyone in Germany before you left?"

"Everyone. They all said no."

"They will change their minds when this becomes known." He pulled out his fob and checked the time. "If I don't get the rest of my work done today, she will have my head when I get home. Check your diary and let me know if Thursday will work for you: Minnie is eager to see you."

"Thanks, Alfred. We'll be in touch."

"Until later."

"Later."

Maurice was waiting for me in the outer office, and stood when I came through the door. "I trust it was a good interview?" she said gravely.

"Yes, we're on course for the production. I need to get back to work on the parts as soon as may be; please give Miss Pearl my regrets for tea as I must begin my work and work as late as I can keep my eyes open. The next two weeks will be a marathon."

"I take it you'll want strong coffee often?"

"Yes, Maurice, thank you. I trust Opal will favor me."

"Absolutely, and I can make coffee as well. We will keep you going."

We rode the rails back to the stop for Olympia, and I went straight to my writing desk. The next four days were a blur as I spent every waking moment on my task, wanting to get my task done as quickly as possible. Fortunately, Sir Charles favored an orchestra no bigger than Beethoven's or Brahms'; if he'd written for a Wagnerian ensemble I would have despaired completing my task by the end of the year. The others kept me fed and supplied with coffee but otherwise left me alone. I took no recreation, knowing once I finished I would have some space to breathe. A quick note to Alfred Ernst sent my regrets about Thursday and promised a visit as soon as the parts were done. Word reached me the Broughams reached Colorado in good shape and were enjoying their visit, although Sir Charles sprained his wrist during a fall while hiking. Fortunately it was his left wrist, so his shooting was not affected by the injury.

Saturday I awakened late and realized I had to take a break. My eyes were tired, and I knew unless I rested them I would not be able to continue. I informed Maurice of my intentions, and he brought some cold compresses. I also requested to be left alone, and they respected my wishes. After a day's rest, I decided to take a walk after tea, and strolled out over the ridge to the swimming lake. It was peaceful and serene, and as I sat on its bank I realized someone was swimming. Ducking behind a tree, I thought at first it would be Pearl and Opal, but the swimmer came into view and I realized Maurice was taking a dip. She swam gracefully, her head above the water and dry, her motions economical. Flipping over, her breasts came into view, cutting through the water like white freckled sails, glistening in the late afternoon sun. I was afraid she would look my direction, but her attention was elsewhere and I remained unseen. She got out on the other side and lay on the grass, long and lean, fit and sturdy, her wet skin reflecting the sun except for the dry red hair of her head and the damp red hair between her legs. A horse was tethered near her exit point, and I took the opportunity to return to the house before she returned and saw me out walking.

That night, Maurice invited me into the study and I agreed, knowing that my eyes needed to be unburdened with print of any kind but billiards would be no problem. We lit our cigars, poured brandy and passed the time as gentlemen. "I have a telegram from Sir Charles for you. Would you like me to open it?"

"Yes, please."

"Shall I read it to you in its entirely or give you a synopsis?"

"A synopsis will be sufficient."

"He is glad your meeting with Herr Ernst went so well, and he looks forward to being at the first read through by the chorus and orchestra upon his return. Casting of the leads can wait for now. His host has invited him to stay another week, and he has accepted. The hunting has been excellent and the men of the party have enjoyed themselves immensely. The ladies did not find Denver to their liking, but the mountain air has been most agreeable and they are glad to forgo another week's summer heat in Missouri. He asks you to give his regards to Pearl, and hopes you are enjoying her company." An eyebrow raised slightly as he read the last. "He also hopes you are finding the staff serving you well and helping you accomplish your endeavor."

"That's good, Maurice. I shall have to write him back tomorrow."

"Nonsense, sir. You must either rest or return to your work. I will write him on your behalf."

"Of course. And Pearl's letter can share the envelope."

Maurice shook his head. "Pearl never writes her father or mother when they are separated. They never write her, either, and I pass along the news in my correspondence with them."

"Remarkable."

"Have you written your father lately?"

"Three times a week."

"Remarkable." We returned to our recreation, and Maurice drank more and more, bringing up topics of ancient Greece. "You know, in ancient times, a man's masculinity was not measured by whom his partners were."

"Really?" I knew this already. "How so?"

"A man was considered manly if he were the active partner in coitus. It did not matter who he penetrated, or which orifice: if he was the active party, he was a man."

"Interesting. Do you think that should be the standard today?"

She slyly bent over the table to take her next shot."Yes. Otherwise, your own status might be in question."

"Oh?"

She smiled and winked. "There was that incident last week when I brought your altered clothing to your rooms. We shared something there that would make you an outcast in some circles."

The look in her eyes was a challenge, which I had a hard time understanding. "I think not. I know who I am and what I am. It makes no difference to me what others think, or what standard I would be judged by. Let the world think what it will."

"But there are things that should not be spoken of," she said, bending over for a shot. "Kinds of affection that would find no acceptance if made public: that would bring instant condemnation and ridicule. You know what I'm talking about. . ."

I did know, but I didn't believe Maurice thought me ignorant of her secret. For someone who saw her every day, her chin always naturally smooth, her curves hidden in her butler's costume but perceptible to the one looking for it, her gait which was almost masculine, but not quite. Of course, I had seen her naked twice, but that seemed to be beyond her knowledge. "I do know what you're talking about, but not why. Please be more plain."

Maurice shrugged her shoulders. "If I were to share what I knew, of your intimacies with me. . ."

At this, I wrenched her right arm behind her back and pushed her face into the billiard table. "I will not be blackmailed, especially by you, Maurice." Holding her with my left arm, I smacked her backside with my right. "I know what kind of man you are, Maurice, and I know how to deal with you." I spanked her several more times before I roughly pulled her pants down: she wore no underwear and her white, freckled posterior almost gleamed in the light. My hand went between her legs roughly to find her sex, which was wetter than any woman's I've ever touched. I probed harder and her legs spread to accommodate me; this was just a provocation! My manhood rallied quickly after a week's abstinence; I released my pants to let them drop to the floor, and pulled my underpants down as well. My hand went back between her legs and put three fingers into her dripping slit, twisting and turning. "I know what kind of man you are, and how to treat a man like you." I positioned my prick in line with her entryway, and started pushing it inward.

She grunted when I entered her, and stayed down on the table when I released her arm. Her vagina opened wide for me, and I was amazed as more of my penis went inside than with any other woman. I paused from time to time as she adjusted, then resumed my violation of her sex, bottoming out at last with my prick reaching the depth of her cervix. "You are a Spartan woman, trained to fight like a man and even look like a man, to fight off any man unworthy of you and submit only when one is able to conquer you. But you are Siannion Fitz Maurice, and I have conquered you."

Her breathing grew shallower and shallower. I moved in and out a little bit and she let out a small cry. My hips made circles, slowly at first and then picking up speed. Her hips moved in concert, welcoming my intruder gladly and holding it firmly when it hit bottom. "How did you know?" she whispered.

"I saw you that first night with Sir Charles, with Ganymede around your waist. I saw you swimming this afternoon in the midst of your ride."

"I. . .was. . .hoping you'd see me. . .out there. Only Monty knows, and Bella. The rest. . .are deceived. My God, I've never felt like this before. Don't stop, please, please, please. Harder, faster."

I complied with her request, pounding her harder and harder until her hands were clasping billiard balls and banging them against the table. She reached her first orgasm and I pulled out, flipping her over. I pulled open her shirt and exposed her breasts, mauling them with my hands. She lay back and let me have my way with her body, grimacing and gasping as I re-entered her, my hands squeezing her pierced nipples. Another storm came over the horizon, its flashes lighting up the distance and soft booms approaching from afar. As it came closer, I ravaged her more fiercely and she clawed my back. As the storm peaked, rain pelting the windows and the sound of crashing around us, we both reached our summit, and held each other deeply as the storm passed.

Standing up, I withdrew and sat on a chair, reeling from the sensations. She sat up after some moments and came to sit on my lap, playing gently with my chest hair. "So, you've known my secret," she said with her thick Irish burr.

"Yes. I don't share secrets, it's too painful. I've had my own to carry, to my shame, and I don't know what others are going through, so I don't betray their trust."

She looked deep into my eyes and frowned. "What pains you, Frankie? I can see it in your soul. Something dark, something awful."

I looked in her deep blue eyes and knew I could trust her. "It was when I was a teenager. My family was wealthy, we wanted for nothing, and we always had servants. Being Pennsylvanians, we never owned slaves before the war, and we treated all our servants as members of the family: provided for them, did what was good for them. When I was fifteen, my mother got a new serving maid: Denise. She was my age, she was unbearably lovely and we discovered love together. It was beautiful, we did what we wanted, tried what we wanted, and I learned so much about the ways of love. It was secret, had to be secret, but we got away into the countryside frequently and nature was our accomplice. It was all I could do to keep from attacking you as you left the water this afternoon. Then she stopped having her periods, her stomach grew and it was obvious. I remember when my parents found out: my mother would not stop crying and my father sat there like a statue."

"What was wrong with that? This is America, you coulda married her. It's not like England here."

"Oh yes it is like England one particular way. Denise was descended from slaves. There are laws against people of different races marrying; there is no tolerance. . . It didn't matter that I loved her with all my heart and she loved me with all hers, our love could never, never be. Father dismissed her from his service that day, although I found out later he found her another job in Pittsburgh. The next week, he told me I would have to go to Europe to study music, enroll in whatever music school would have me, make my livelihood there until enough time passed by that people here forgot. He would pay my way, I would not be poor, but I couldn't come home until they said."

She sat and put her head on my shoulder, weeping. I held her and continued: "My dear sister died three years ago and I couldn't come home. Mother died after the Panic set it and Father lost his fortune; that's when could I come home. He's all right now, I had a little bit to help him, but I had to find a job and so I came here. I learned Denise had a daughter and she's a bright child, but she's a second class citizen in this country, always will be and there's nothing I can do about that even if I were the richest man in the world." 

We listened as the storm went on to the East and another came over the Western horizon. "I guess the story of a little Irish lass, barefoot from the bogs, youngest of fourteen, isn't as sad as all that. I kept away from the lads and the convent, convinced a recruiting officer I was a eighteen year old boy when I was fifteen year old girl, and took the Saxon Shilling. Went to India and back, served with Sir Charles' cousin in Bengal as his aide de camp, and he gave me a reference. Sir Charles is a horny little bugger if you're a man or woman, so my secret couldn't be safe from him. He's treated me well, and I owe him. Came from England with him to get out of that damned country:America's always been the land of new promise for the Irish. So here I am."

We sat and held each other as the storm passed until we returned to our rooms via the secret ways. I slept the sleep of the dead that night.

The next day we had a Sunday like the one before: Trinity Episcopal in the morning, lunch on the veranda, music through the afternoon. Pearl gave me odd looks all afternoon, and I had to return to my work when after tea. That week was also a blur: I hardly paid attention to who brought my meals, and my rest was undisturbed even with two nights of storms. The celebration of the Fourth of July made no impression, although I had been away from it for so many years I wasn't in the habit of observing it.

The next Monday afternoon saw the completion of my task, and I wired Alfred to tell him I was ready with the parts. He wired back to meet him and his wife for lunch at a restaurant in St. Louis and to bring a companion. Pearl agreed quickly, and we set out with Maurice handling the bundle. The Ernsts met us at a German beer garden close to a park, and Alfred and Minnie were effusive in making me welcome. After greeting them, I made my introduction: "Alfred, this is Miss Pearl Brougham, Sir Charles' daughter, This is Herr Alfred Ernst, conductor of the St. Louis Choral-Symphony Society, and his wife Minnie."




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 05



His English was a little stilted, but serviceable. "Good afternoon, Fraulein Brougham. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I'm looking forward to the production of your Father's Grand Opera."

"Thank you, Herr Ernst, for the compliment but I'm sure my father's substantial monetary contribution fuels your enthusiasm. I have yet to hear a piece of my Father's I thought was any good at all. Rubbish every measure of it. However, it's a pleasure to meet you and I'm sure you'll do a wonderful job on the opera."

The look on their faces was indescribable. Pearl was uncompromising in her comments to her father, saying things to his face no one else dared, but this dismissal before strangers is something I've never heard before. It was honest and it was true, but I still couldn't believe she said it.

We found a table and ordered lunch. Minnie made small talk with Pearl, who responded politely, while Alfred told me about the current season's programs. I promised to attend as many as I could, and he promised to leave tickets for me. "By the way, Frankie," Alfred said out of the blue, "I have a letter from an editor at the Theodore Presser company: they are interested in your piano sonata."

I did a double take. "How? An American publisher? How?"

"Yes, an American publisher that is even in your home state of Pennsylvania. I have a friend in the company I told about your piece, and he's most eager to look at it. If he approves, it will be published, no doubt."

"Wow! I don't know what to say. . ."

"Don't say anything yet. Do you have a spare copy of the score? We will send it from the office after lunch. We have to sort through these parts and get organized for the first read through as well. How soon is Sir Charles returning?"

"Two weeks from today," Pearl cut in. "And it'll be another day before he'll want to come downtown, no matter what. Perhaps you should plan for Thursday?"

"Yes, two weeks from Thursday. I'll use the time to rehearse the choir. This won't be difficult. In the meantime, I think a little champagne is in order."

We drank a toast to my sonata and went down to the offices. As we were organizing things, I had a chance to tell Alfred about Sir Charles' style of composing out of earshot of the women. Alfred was shocked: "He did what? God in heaven, Minnie wouldn't let me do that. I'd be a dead man"

The package was prepared the Theodore Presser Company, and we went back to Olympia in high spirits. Pearl was smiling the entire way; her eyes were on me the entire time in adoration.

The time over the next two weeks were spent so comfortably I didn't want them to end. I was able to work on some of my own music, preparing a portfolio in hopes Theodore Presser would be interested in the rest of my music. Maurice became withdrawn, daily attending to my comfort as before, but our evenings of male recreation were ended. My evening activities were taken over by Pearl, who invited me to tutor the young Edwards servants in music. Ruby had been receiving some instruction from Maurice on playing the flute, and she acquitted herself very well with some simple pieces. I was able to spend time with Amber, the middle girl, and found her like her sisters: blond, brown eyed, well proportioned and graceful, with a quicker wit than either of her sisters, and a talent for the keyboard. Connie's voice was particularly fine, and I regretted the loss to the local boys choirs of his talents.

My instruction to them in the art of playing the piano went very well, and by the time the Broughams returned, they were able to play some pieces from the _Notebook for Anna Magdelena Bach_ and other similar pieces. I dashed off a couple of tunes for them, which they enjoyed immediately.

The Peapod girls took to visiting me about every other night after lights out in my rooms, and we explored in detail the joys of gratifying each other without the risk of causing pregnancy. They would not touch each other, however when I practiced my art on the exposed sex of one, the other would perfect her art on my manhood. 

On Monday afternoon, after another pious Sunday morning and delightful afternoon colloquium, I took a stroll in the heat of the day to the lake, and saw Maurice ride up on a horse on the opposite side. She tied him to a tree and disrobed, diving into the water for a swim. I worked my way around the treeline out of her sight until I reached the place where she would have to exit the water. The horse knew me, and a quick pat reestablished the relationship sufficiently it kept my presence a secret. I disrobed, and stood naked on the bank, waiting for her. She was swimming to the exit on her back, her breasts sailing above the waves again and she didn't notice me until she turned around to emerge from the water. "What is the meaning of this?" she asked.

I stood naked before, my erection gathering momentum, staring at her, trying to bend her will to mine with my eyes. Her blue eyes sparkled and resisted, while a deeper fire was kindled. I willed my eyes to become searchlights, ripping the darkness from her until she stood fully exposed in the glare.

She came all the way out of the water and stood three feet away from me, hands on hips and legs slightly parted, unconcerned about her nudity. We continued to stare at each other, searching for weakness, waiting for the other to blink. Her blue eyes were wild, out of control, seething. I held her gaze calmly, my desire growing. The wind tousled her hair, blowing out of control for the first time in my experience, the water ran down her face. Over the hill, a cow mooed, a lonesome cry of a separated calf responded, followed by a more urgent call. Still I held the gaze despite the chaos swirling in her eyes, and I saw fear. Her body trembled and the sun lightened it.

She blinked and I moved in, tripping her and bearing her down on the ground, into the mud. It was a brief struggle, but she did not yield easily, but I got on top of her and made her carry my weight as well as hers, knocking a leg out as she strove to rise, flipping her onto her back. My prick sought the entry of her sex, and found it slick and ready. Quickly, I guided myself in : I held her down, her hands above her head, my face an inch from hers. She gritted her teeth in defiance and glared at me, but her legs wrapped around my back and she moved her pelvis in harmony with mine, taking me deeper and deeper until I reached the bottom of her well. We stayed that way, upper halves struggling, lower halves moving together until her eyes rolled back into her head and she gave out a primal scream that almost split my eardrums. I found my release shortly afterward, and released her. We washed the mud from our bodies in the lake waters before laying on the grass to dry. No word was spoken, but her hand rested on my thigh and mine on hers until we rose and dressed to return to Olympia.



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 06



The train whistle brought us out of our reverie, and before long Sir Charles' party was on the platform. The early August morning promised a sweltering afternoon. He was the first one off the train, bounding down energetically and shaking my hand vigorously when he saw me: "Mr. MacLeod, my dear friend. Well met, sir, well met. All is well in Colorado and from what I've heard all is better in Missouri. We are well rested and ready for the big push to mount the opera: Opera, my friend! Even here in the cultural backwater called St. Louis."

"More like a cultural wasteland, or cesspit, rather," Lady Alice commented from beside him. "Pearl, it is so good to see you again. I've missed you, Sweetheart."

Hello Mother, Father," Pearl said coldly from beside me, coming forward to plant perfunctory kisses on her mother's cheeks. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Beastly, crossing those interminable plains they call Kansas," Lady Alice continued. "Purgatory would be a paradise, and I dare say the upper levels of the Pit would be more agreeable than that place."

Sir Charles resumed: "We are here to take the New World by storm, to bring the blessings of Art to those who live in darkness, to build an edifice here that those in the Old World may spy from afar and be jealous. The Gods of old Greece will walk the earth again, playing out the immortal drama of passion and redemption. Ah, I am rejuvenated and ready, my friends, rejuvenated and ready. Let us make the great push!" The others on the platform ignored him, pushing on and shouting at one another, a couple of cabbies lobbied for fares, stevedores manhandled their burdens across the boards.

Mrs. Edwards came bustling off the train, followed by Gus and Max. "Get those bags as soon as they unload them and get them to the wagon. We don't want to dally here, there'll be time enough when we get to Olympia. Amber, Connie, run help them, my god lad, you've grown three inches while I've been gone, at least." She hurried off to supervise them in their task. 

Penny was next off and was occluded in a momentary burst of steam, which made her look as if she'd emerged from a lake. She waved her freshly damp fan and realized it was useless, which made her cross until she realized she had to put on a good face. "Good morning, Miss Pearl, so good to see you again. Mr. MacLeod, I hear you've done wonders. It's good to be back."

"No is isn't," Lady Alice snipped. "I'd rather we moved to Colorado and enjoyed a more hospitable clime. This place is a fetid swamp."

"Nonsense, my pet, you would hate the long winter and deep snow of the mountains," Sir Charles cut in. "When the heat breaks you will appreciate my choice better. Now, it looks like the lads are progressing, my God, is that young Connie? The lad is becoming a monster like the others. Now where are we, eh what? Ah yes, ready for Olympia. Mr. MacLeod, is your friend Herr Ernst ready to rehearse the opera yet?"

"Yes, sir. The chorus is prepared and all will be ready for you on Thursday. We thought you would want a day to rest after your journey before the big day. Anyway, Herr Ernest is occupied all day tomorrow and the chorus members have their own rehearsal commitments at various churches."

"Excellent, we shall discuss the rehearsal after bruncheon. I have missed our Opal's talents in the wilderness, had some fantastic dining out there: bear, moose, bison, hare, but my taste buds wondered what my lovely girl could do with that astounding provenance. My God, is that Amber? She has blossomed in our absence as well, and even Ruby is looking more like a young lady. I swear, we shall be surrounded by a tribe of hardy young adults before long."

"Nonsense, Monty, children grow up." Lady Alice sniffed. "'Tis to be expected. They can take over the burden of society and let us rest in our well deserved retirement." Pearl gave me a sidelong look of disbelief, since her mother had done no significant work other than needlepoint most of her life.

Maurice came up from the coach, and Sir Charles threw his arms around him in a surprising display of familiarity that brought a shocked look to her face. "My dear fellow, you were missed most of all. I shall never sally forth without your companionship in future, I promise. I trust all is well at Olympia, and that you have supported Mr. MacLeod in his herculean labor on our behalf, as have all present." Maurice looked at him calmly and gave him a short nod of her head. "Good, good, good, we shall have a lot to catching up to do later." He turned to take a good look at his daughter. "Pearl, you look different, warmer. . ."

She looked away, petulantly, hiding: "It must be over eighty degrees, Father. . ."

". . .softer, more feminine. It must be this summer air at Olympia, much better for you than England, I think. Should have brought you here years ago."

"We could leave her here, and go elsewhere," Lady Alice simpered. "Let us get underway, at least, and leave this steam bath. Monty, please?"

"Quite right. Are we set to go, Maurice?"

He looked around and got a signal from Mrs. Edwards. "Yes, sir, all is in readiness."

"Then let us not wait a jot. To the balmy environs of Olympia!"

We rode in two vehicles, and I was in the carriage with the Broughams and Penny; the servants followed in the wagon with the baggage. Facing backward, I could see their reunion was convivial, a stark contrast to my conveyance. Lady Alice got out her latest needlepoint project and chatted gayly with Penny about the latest gossip from England, while Sir Charles looked around and stood up periodically to survey the countryside. I sat quietly next to Pearl, who made of point of making contact with my body and periodically giving me a knowing looks from the corner of her eye from the depths of Dante's _Purgatorio_.

We returned just in time for lunch, and afterward I joined him in his study. "Well done, my lad, now we need to discuss the next moves. You will accompany me to the rehearsals and help me supervise the performance; since you are a friend of Herr Ernst this relationship will benefit us well. In the meantime I have written a String Quartet and a song cycle in Colorado to the words of a charming American poet, Emily Dickinson. I will need your artistry in preparing those scores for publication, and hopefully our contacts here will find a quartet to premiere the chamber work. We will get Miss Pearl to sing the songs this Sunday so you can learn them."

"Yes, sir. I understand the Trinity choir will present your anthem, 'Behold the Bright Cherubim' this Sunday at Morning Song."

"Excellent, I look forward to that. What a delight to find such a warm faith home here, our vicar in England could have cared less whether we attended services or not. I will give you the new music now so you can begin with these scores; I need a nap. Let me know when they're ready. My God, it's hot down here. Good afternoon, sir, don't let me detain you." With that, he thrust the fresh manuscripts into my hands and bounded off to his bedroom.

The afternoon was spent at my worktable, and tea was a return to the ancient regime: Lady Alice and Penny dominated the conversation, sharing European gossip from their correspondence with regular interruptions from Sir Charles, and Pearl buried her head in a reprint of the Sapphic Odes in the original Greek. I gave her a disbelieving look when I realized what she was reading, but she looked at her father in mid-diatribe and shrugged her shoulders, meaning that he never paid attention to what she was doing. 

After tea, I joined Sir Charles in his study, where he regaled me with his hunting stories. "You have no idea what it's like to see the majestic beast in your sights, and with one squeeze of your finger bring it down. I feel like an ancient caveman, stalking prey for my tribe, bringing home the beast on my shoulders to feed my people. I call myself Nimrod at the hunting lodge, the mighty hunter of Genesis." He ran off a string of shots, sinking most of the balls at the table, before resuming his monologue. "As for the leads, does Herr Ernst have some likely candidates for us?"

"Yes, we will meet them tomorrow afternoon after the read through."

"Good, good. The part of Andromeda is key, of course, her voice as well as her form must be most appealing. Perseus must be a strapping young man of heroic stature, of course, but I think the role of Cassiopeia will be what makes or breaks the production, is that what you think?"

"Of course, Sir Charles." Anything you say, I finished in my head.

"Yes, yes. Hopefully he will have some good candidates for us." I missed a shot and he resumed as he took his turn. "Ah, it was good to take the boys on this trip; they enjoyed it immensely. A little reward now and then is fantastic for staff morale. Perhaps we three will take many more hunting expeditions. let nature beware our mighty excursion! A couple of souvenirs are on their way: two glorious heads, one bear and one stag for the front hall. Gus got the bear and Max got the stag. I am so proud of those boys, those boys, those boys. . ." his voice trailed off in reverie, as he veered close to acknowledging the impossible and directly voicing his fatherly pride in his sons. Finishing his snifter in a gulp, he put the glass down and clapped his hands: "Now, my good man, I must retire after such a long journey, and I'm sure you need to husband your strength for your efforts the next few days, eh what?"

Curiosity got the better of me, and after returning to my rooms I slipped into the secret hallway to view the room I just left. Sir Charles was already tied to a chair, naked and face down, declaiming submissive phrases in Greek, and Maurice was wearing her feathered facemask and lubricating Ganymede to ravage his posterior. She looked almost directly at me, and I swore there was a twinkle of recognition and a wink as she finished her task and turned away. As I regarded her posterior, it seemed more feminine than before, and I was rapt again as the muscles gyrated and writhed as they propelled the device into his bowels. He gibbered and babbled with such energy I wondered if this particular delight was the thing he missed most while while he was away. 

The secret hallway was empty, and shortly after I returned to my room, my two nocturnal nymphets arrived to console me. "Where is your Mother?" I asked Opal.

"Who?" she replied.

Pearl picked it up my line of inquiry immediately. "Mrs. Edwards. She's exhausted and went to bed early, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

Opal seemed to blush despite the darkness. "We call her Mrs. Edwards, never Mother. It's the way we were brought up, it's the way every child of an English servant is brought up."

"In your experience, Peapod," Pearl finished.

"In our experience," Opal repeated.

"I have an idea for us this evening, something different," I cut in. "Let me endeavor to please you both at once." I arranged them, one on either side, on all fours, their breasts is easy reach of my mouth and their sexes in easy reach of my hands. "I have a fetish for nipples, and would care to dine on yours this evening. Are you game?

They agreed immediately, and I moved between them, sucking and licking one nipple after another while my hands strayed to their pleasure valleys to play and manipulate their delicate flesh. My efforts were rewarded with sighs and giggles, and dampness below, and two fingers of each hand thrust themselves inside to gasps. Hands found my prick and massaged it, and soon I found the girls trembling at my touch. Opal found the peak of her delight first, laying down with her back to me and bucking against my hand as she climaxed. I stopped on that side and concentrated all my efforts on Pearl, filling my mouth with her breast and screwing her with three fingers until she too lost her balance and trembled in final delight.

When they recovered, they turned to complete my gratification, lavishing the attention of their hands and mouths on my manhood until Opal drank down the upwelling flow of my passion while Pearl kissed me with an open mouth. As we snuggled together afterward, I asked: "What can you tell me about Miss Penny? Where is she from? How did she end up here?"

Opal snorted into my armpit and giggled, "She's an upper class twit, a sorry cow. Useless, completely useless except to make babies, if any stupid man of her class would have her."

After a snicker of agreement, Pearl grew very somber. "Her family is from Kent, a very old family, but not having great fortune right now," she began. "Her father is barely breaking even with an accounting firm, her mother is one of the Queen's poor cousins. Her brothers are all in the service, officers of course, but were sent out to make their way in the world on their own. Poor Penny is the youngest of her brood. She caught Father's attention at Covent Garden, where she was working in the make up crew. He brought her home after a concert and introduced her to mother, and they became fast friends. Penny has hopes Father will introduce her to some suitable son of nobility who will provide for her in a style she wishes to be accustomed."

"How droll, Peapod." Opal cut in.

Pearl made a face at her and I continued: "How interesting. And of course, her hope was in America he would find a rich man for her."

"Actually, by the time we came here, Penny would do anything Father asked without question and follow him to the ends of the earth. She is comfortable with the status quo, and has no ambition to change it."

Opal cut in: "I think Penny would gladly marry Sir Charles should something happen to Lady Alice."

Pearl grew somber, and Opal nodded. "An unlikely chance, Peapod, but I'm sure she would. But Father is absolutely loyal to Mother, would give his life to preserve her, and might not consider remarriage if he were a widower. I think Penny dreams of a career in music, and hopes Father will provide that, or at least, let her share his reflected glory."

"She's a stupid cow," Opal added. "There'll never be reflected glory. There's only use she's fit for."

I spent the next day in my workroom, excusing myself from tea, and working into the night on the song collection, so we could drop it by the music store while in the City for publication. Maurice checked on my progress from time to time, bringing me coffee and my meals. Thursday dawned a bright and hot day, and we left early for our excursion downtown in the buggy: Sir Charles, Miss Penny, myself and Maurice as driver and escort.

Alfred Ernst greeted us with typical German formality, which successfully hid his inner feelings. He lead us to the balcony of the rehearsal hall, where a special seat with a writing table was installed for our use. A music stand was produced for Sir Charles' copy of the score, and the usher asked if we wished any refreshment before the session started. Penny and I declined, but he asked for a pot of English tea, and things were delayed until one was produced.

Penny was drafted as his recording secretary, and I turned pages of the score for him as the music wafted upward. He made many comments such as: "Change piano to pianissimo there. A faster tempo here. Check the parts in this section. Ah, they don't really get it. Should I add another part here? Sostenuto, you cretins, that's what I wrote!" From what I could tell, Alfred and his players were doing an excellent job.

He sent me to confer with the conductor when it was all through, waiting until all three acts had been presented before sending me down. I brought Penny's notes and Alfred made the necessary notations. "Does he like this?" Alfred whispered. "What does he think of this music?"

I looked up for a moment: "I think he's convinced of what he's done, if that's what you mean. Haven't known him that long myself, but he doesn't seem to want to greatly rewrite portions of it, just tweak some details. What about this afternoon?"

"I have three or four singers for each part. All have experience with the local opera company, and most have sung English opera before."

"Excellent. I hope he finds them to his liking. Are you holding up?"

"Oh yes. It's not like this is Wagner, or Verdi, or even Donizetti, or even Johann Strauss the younger. Will you be ready for lunch soon?"

"I'll let you know."

When I returned to the balcony, I found Sir Charles sitting with his head back, his eyes closed and his shoes off, as Penny knelt and massaged his feet. For a moment I thought she was doing something else until I got a good look at her and saw her head was lower than I first thought. "Sir Charles, are you ready for luncheon?" I asked.

He did not budge, but sighed and said. "Yes, I'm quite ready. What are our plans?"

"Herr Ernst has a reservation for us at the English club, and afterward we are a short stroll from your local publisher to deliver your song cycle."

"Ah yes. You have it done already?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. MacLeod, you are a miracle indeed. As are you, Penny my dear, as are you, but it is time to leave. Put my shoes back on and we shall sally forth."

She did as instructed, and soon we were en route to our noon repast. The English Club was a charming place with excellent service, and Sir Charles pronounced himself particularly satisfied with the Yorkshire pudding. Alfred and I sat and listened as he told one questionable story after another about Sir Arthur Sullivan and the productions at the Savoy. Alfred asked: "How long were you in the orchestra at the Savoy?"

"Oh, for the first three seasons, in spite of the fact it was below my station. Played in the viola section, a most important part as you know, Herr Ernst. If I'd been able to stay, I'm sure I would have ascended in rank in the orchestra, and perhaps Mr. Carte would have seen fit to produce the one act melodrama _Her Secret Admirer_ , but Alice hates spending any significant time in London at all, and I had return with her to stay in the countryside afterward to keep her happy."

Penny leaped into the conversation: "Perhaps you'll be able to take a look at it, Herr Ernst. I'm sure you'll find it as interesting and compelling as _Andromeda Chained_, as well as a couple of little orchestra pieces Sir Charles has penned."

"I doubt it not," Alfred said with a totally straight face. "Would you care for more beer, Frank?"

We went through two pitchers of lager at lunch while Sir Charles and Penny contented themselves with a bottle of Claret and bottle of champagne. In high spirits, we visited the publisher, a dour German man who needed to be assured our financing before he promised to print the song cycle at the soonest availability. Upon our return to the rehearsal theater, a group of singers awaited us. We settled in the balcony again while Alfred took to the piano on stage to accompany them.

The first three singers, full throated women of Wagnerian proportions of excellent vocal flexibility, failed to please the composer, but a tall, thin young lady with a wobbly voice did. "Her, I must have her," he shouted over the rail." Alfred gave me a look of disbelief, which I returned with a shrug out of Sir Charles' sight.

"Are you sure this is the lady you want?" I said to him. "The wobble in her voice is cause for concern."

"I'm sure Herr Ernst can fix that in the course of rehearsals. She has the perfect build for Andromeda, almost an Amazon, young, and she will make a perfect virginal victim for Cetus. Next!"

Next came the singers for Perseus; again Sir Charles made his choice from the appearance of the singer in spite of the fact the man could not quite reach the highest pitches. "Herr Ernst can stretch him out; Grossmith had trouble with some of Pinafore songs until Sullivan worked with him." Likewise he chose the rest of the cast based on visual standards rather than what was being heard. 




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 06



When all was done, Alfred returned to the balcony a bit flustered, and I raced to intercept him at the top of the stairs: "Let it be, Alfred, let it be. He won't understand why you'll disagree with him, and will assure you that you can work miracles Be patient. We'll come up with something."

"What? What? Must I bear with this just to get the old fool's money?"

"Shh, you'll letting the beer do your talking. Just agree and we'll work around him." I made him pause until he calmed himself.

"What's wrong, Mr. MacLeod?" Sir Charles asked in a kindly voice.

"Herr Ernst is just a bit winded coming up the stairs too fast. Just a moment."

"Very good." It took another moment until Alfred was able to nod in agreement with me. "Now Herr Ernst, I want you to engage the following singers for the cast of the new opera."

"And you'll want understudies as well, of course, Sir Charles?" I cut in.

"Yes, yes, obviously. I have every trust you will have everything in good order next week when we come for rehearsal on Friday?"

Alfred shook his head in renewed outrage and a hand on his shoulder calmed him. "I'm sure Alfred will have the task well in hand. He'll let us know when rehearsal is, and perhaps we can arrange a fine evening's entertainment for you and Lady Alice."

"Of course, Sir Charles, of course. It will work out." The calmness in Alfred's voice was not matched by the wild look he gave me, but it was unnoticed by any of the others. "We shall look forward to your attendance."

"Now I have to arrange some details with Alfred, if you will bear with me, Sir Charles. It is getting to be time to return to Olympia. I shall meet you at the carriage presently."

"Of course. Homeward!" he shouted, thrusting his cane upward like a drum major's baton, and led Penny and Maurice out the door.

Alfred began seething again after he left. "What am I do to? He gives me an impossible cast to match the impossible opera. I'm not sure we need the money that badly."

I took his shoulders and stared him down. "Remember what we did to Kretschmer in Leipzig?" A dawn of understanding crept across his face and a bright smile rose. "Chose the understudies you think best for the parts. By opening night, who knows what misfortunes may have befallen the original cast?"

He brightened a little. "Good. I think I can survive."

Our trip home was a triumph march in Sir Charles' eyes, who pontificated at length about the cast he'd chosen. Penny provided the adoring audience, agreeing to everything he said and asking if she could play viola in the orchestra. He promised to look into it.

Lady Alice was fuming that her tea had been turned into a supper by our delay, and she complained almost incessantly through the meal, as Pearl read the _Nicomachean Ethics_ while picking at her food. Sir Charles was apologetic at first, but his high spirits overrode his wife's pique and she finally retreated into her needlepoint after the meal. Penny sought to soothe her, but she would not be drawn out on her favorite subjects. I maintained my monastic silence as usual, catching Pearl's eye once and getting an unexpected wink in return.

That night, Mrs. Edwards came to my rooms before I retired. "How did it go today?" she asked urgently. "Will they do the opera?"

"Yes, of course they will. Sir Charles is most excited."

"I'm so happy. It's the first time he'll have a major work performed in public."

I did a double take. "What about England? Didn't he get music performed there?"

"He tried to get his musical friends interested in his music, but after they took it home to play through, they wouldn't discuss it again. Sir Arthur Sullivan avoided him for six months after he showed him a melodrama he wanted performed at the Savoy, and only agreed to meet him again when he wanted to sell him stock in the Company. Sir Charles Grove refused interviews regularly, and Mr. Carte of the Savoy dismissed him from the viola section after three seasons after complaints about his intonation from the orchestra."

Why am I not surprised? I thought to myself. "Did he get anything played over there, ever?"

"Some salon pieces, a few songs. He had a publisher print some songs he wrote to stanzas from Wordsworth's _Laodamia_, but their sales were meager and he didn't attempt any more such projects. He printed a Viola Sonata dedicated to Miss Penny just before we left, and that has barely made back the printing costs."

I digested this news, and decided to change the subject: "How did you find Colorado?"

"It was lovely and cool, I enjoyed it immensely. Sir Charles had a fine time with his host, and Augustine and Maximilian took to the mountains as if native born. Of course, they liked Scotland when we went there. Lady Alice was cordial with our hostess, but Miss Penny became a very close friend of Mrs. Perkins, and her son Eric. Perhaps Miss Penny's dreams will come true someday with that lad: a very promising young man and already learning the management of his father's mines."

"Good news for her. I expect they will correspond."

"Yes, I think they have already. I hope Sir Charles will let her go, but I'm afraid he will want another acolyte before that happens."

"Another acolyte?"

"Yes. Sir Charles is energized by the company of young women, and has to have one or two in the household to adore him."

"Really? Adore him in a way that Lady Alice and Pearl do not?"

"Of course. He's had someone around for the last twelve years, ever since. . .Connie was born. Actually, that's what got him kicked out of England."

The hair on the back of my head began to rise; my imagination began to play scenes of his possible affairs with young women entered my imagination based on my witness of his secret activities. "He chose the wrong young lady to tutor?"

"Lord Parkhurst's youngest daughter. They lived on the next estate, and Lucy came over as a very young girl in search of violin lessons. He captivated her, took her to concerts, presented her to Sir Arthur and other famous musicians. One day, Lord Parkhurst came to the house unexpectedly, pushed his way past Maurice's guard, and found them in a compromising position."

"How compromising?"

She looked away and whispered: "The sin of Sodom. Lord Parkhurst threatened Lord Brougham he would launch private prosecution against Sir Charles for lewd behavior unless left the country within a fortnight."

That explains a lot, I thought to myself. "Why did you stay with him?"

She looked frightened. "We were to be turned out, unemployed and blacklisted. They wanted us to disappear into poverty, lest the scandal of us came out as well, and were pleased when Lady Alice offered to take us with them."

"I see. So out of the kindness of their hearts?"

"They have very kind hearts beneath the bluster. But there is more, something shocking that may help you understand some of the emotions as well. Go to the barn tonight, and you will comprehend another secret." 



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 07



There was enough visibility to get to the barn without carrying a lantern. The moon was approaching first quarter, and its light guided me down the path without a stumble. I'd been to the barn a few times when I needed a ride into town for writing supplies, and the lads, Gus and Max, were kind and helpful. The animals were quiet in the darkness, not stirring at my approach.

I saw a gleam from inside the barn, and from a distance I heard a woman's voice muttering: "My sins, my sins, oh my many sins." Then I heard the slap of leather and a cry; my first impulse was to take a couple of rapid steps forward as someone was clearly in danger, but on reflection I thought it better to approach unseen. I made certain my steps were unheard, and arrived to the scene.

Lady Alice stood between two great wooden pillars to the barn, her hands tied to them at full extension. She was completely naked: her hair was undone, and her body was slightly chubby, typical of a women in her late 40s. On the low wall of a stall nearby her tea-dress hung neatly, with her underthings next it. Her shoes sat on the floor with her stockings carefully rolled up in them. Her skin had several red stripes on it, ranging up and down her torso, and two whips landed on her bare back right after I got there. "My sins, my sins, please God forgive me my great sinfulness," she wailed. Her abusers were not well illuminated, but I could tell they were Gus and Max from their size and outlines. A lash came around to caress the underside of her breasts, and another landed on her backside. She was bathed in sweat, but her face was not completely lost in pain: there was an eagerness to receive more punishment there I found disconcerting. She danced a little in place, recovering from the last two strokes, and the young men waited until she nodded in agreement before they struck again.

I noticed she did not cry at the top of her voice: her volume was only enough to be heard in the barn. Sweat glistened from her body, plastering some of her hair to her forehead and matting the dark patch between her legs. Several lashes struck in succession, making her breasts wobble and her legs dance, her mouth moving in silent screams. A nod and the lads put down their whips.

"All right, my boys," she said in a strangely calm voice, "time to reward your efforts. Use me as you did before." The larger one came forward and stood before her, undoing his trousers and after a few strokes of his hand, inserted his prick. The other one produced his member and stroked it to readiness, licking his lips as he watched the scene. She moaned in a wild lust I could not have imagined her capable of producing, bucking against his body as he used her. Soon, he withdrew and went around behind her, parting her buttocks. She gasped and groaned as he invaded her backside, which was the signal for the other lad to come around and take his place before her, penetrating her vagina with a quick thrust.

Her head lolled against her forward partner's shoulder, her eyes closed and mouth open, sweat streaming down her face. The young men grunted in their exertions, and laughed as she wailed in delight at their attentions. She had one huge orgasm after another before they spent their energies within her. Supporting her limp body, they untied her and lowered her into the hay covering the floor as she recovered from her ordeal. At that time, I decided to retreat.

On my way back, I noticed the lights on in Sir Charles' study. Since I'd seen him on the verge of violation the night before, I guessed that he would be seeking the rear entrance of his butler that evening, unless he planned something with Penny the next day.

Time flowed quickly the next two days. I sequestered myself in the study as I copied the new string quartet and produced a set of parts, escaping the penance of tea with the Broughams. Maurice checked on me periodically, calm and formal as ever, seeing that I was fed and supplied with pots of coffee. On the second night, a Thursday, Mrs. Edwards visited me before I finished my evening's labors. "Mr. MacLeod, I need you to know something," she began.

"Yes," I said, worried at what it might be.

"I know you've been keeping company with Opal and Pearl while I was gone. I don't blame you: I never asked for a commitment from you or a vow of fidelity. I also know you haven't taken the most precious prize a young woman has from them either, of which I am grateful. Also I know you've treated the younger ones with charity and respect as their musical tutor. You are a better man that most I've known in my life."

"Thank you, Mrs. Edwards." I was worried about where she was going.

"My Colorado sojourn has left me more tired than usual, so I will not be able to attend to some of your needs as I have before. I don't know what your plans are after you leave Olympia, but you're a promising young man in your mid 20's, and I imagine they don't include hiring a housekeeper away from your current employer. So I ask that you continue your respect of this household's occupants as before, and thank you for your kindness."

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Thank you, Mrs. Edwards. I'm sure we'll see a great deal of each other before my work here is finished."

"You know I can't deny you anything you want, even if it's. . ." She slipped out of the door, and I felt a strange emptiness inside me.

Maurice appeared with a small drink on a tray thirty minutes later. "It is nine thirty, and you have a long day in the city tomorrow. I suggest you drink this and retire for the evening."

I stood up, rubbed my eyes and took the drink. "Thank you, Maurice, thank you. I appreciate your kindness in every way."

Her eyebrow rose and a slight smile graced her lips. "Indeed sir, you are most welcome."

"I saw something last night that amazed me, and wondered about its significance."

"Yes? Tell me."

"I went to the barn last night, and. . ."

"Ah, yes, say no more, please. How do I begin this? Let me say that as a young woman in her teens, Lady Alice was sent to a boarding school in France, a place run by very strict nuns; it was there she developed most of her attitudes toward the French, obviously. She found out about the mortification of the flesh there, and has practiced it at times when she felt guilty about something."

"I've never heard of this before. It's that a Catholic thing?"

"Not exclusively, although I knew of it in my homeland, even outside the monasteries. And of course, Lady Alice could never become Catholic and be accepted in society. Over the years, she has felt responsible for Sir Charles' failings, including what she perceives is his excessive sinful urges for perverted sex."

"But surely those drives are his responsibility alone?"

"Indeed sir, but not in her mind. She cannot bring herself to do more for him that a proper Victorian wife would do, but she blames herself for not satisfying his desires enough to keep him exclusively hers."

That explains her patronage of the Edwards clan, and why she felt she needed to bring them to America. "So how does that explain last night?"

"Her own desires are not normal, either. Over the years, I fulfilled her desire for punishment she desired."

"You whipped her?"

"Yes. As the boys came of age, Lady Alice worried about how their manhood might be corrupted by low born women, since they are somewhat like their father, and felt compelled to offer herself to them to keep them from social diseases and entrapment by young women of loose morals."

"Wow! That is an attitude I cannot comprehend or fathom. And their mother knows?"

"Yes. Bella has ways of finding things out, much to my chagrin. She will also not stop Sir Charles or Lady Alice from doing anything they wish, even if it horrifies her. The possibility of the lads seeking out random girls for sexual gratification worries her as well, and Lady Alice seems a safe alternative. For the time being."

I knocked back my drink and went to the window to get some fresh air. Maurice stayed in place, waiting patiently, an eyebrow raised in possible invitation. "Stunned, just stunned. Thank you, Maurice, I don't believe I shall need anything else at the moment. My head needs to stop spinning and I have a long day tomorrow."

To say I had a long day the next day was an understatement. We left Olympia at an obscenely early hour, before the sun peeked over the Eastern horizon, with only a tiny nibble to last us through the morning. The first rehearsal _Andromeda Chained_ was barely contained chaos, the mismatched cast struggling with their roles and Alfred almost tearing his carefully sculpted hair out by the roots in frustration. Sir Charles added to the chaos, shouting instructions over the rail at frequent intervals, and Penny's expression of unqualified adoration faded into unlimited confusion as the day wore on, she struggled to record his exhortations. During the last hour of the morning, I went down to the pit to give Alfred my moral support and get away from the composer. For the afternoon session, I sat on stage and served as prompter, due to my intimate knowledge of the score I'd copied, and tried to help contain the maelstrom.

At last it was over, and all went home in library silence. Alfred snuck out without speaking to Sir Charles, which I explained was due to a wedding of another Society donor he had to attend. We stopped for a meal at an impressive restaurant that utter failed to live up to its reputation, and the ride back to Olympia was uncharacteristic silence. When we returned, Sir Charles took me by the arm to his study.

"Mr. MacLeod, I have no patience for what happened today. This is more than I can handle, this kind of stress and excitement led to my abandoning any active role in the theater back in England years ago. You shall be my representative for this production from now on; I shall stay away from there until the premiere and occupy myself with other activities. My God, if I were there for every rehearsal I am not sure the finest doctor in America could treat the hypertension I would suffer. No, no, you have the gift and you shall see this through; I give you full authority over the production as my delegate. If we need to renegotiate your salary, so be it. I shall engage rooms at a fine hotel nearby you can use as your base, and you will return here for the weekends to report."

I sat and thought for a moment, then agreed with alacrity. Alfred would appreciate it, I knew for certain. "Yes, sir. This is a more than my original agreement, and I expect to be paid according for my time."

"Fine, I will double your salary. Someone will stop in during the week to check on your progress and make sure you are in good health and spirits. They begin again Tuesday, correct? I shall have Maurice attend to the details. As for now, I must retire, for my overwrought nerves cannot handle any other activity today."

The weekend was quiet, and after another pious Sunday's worship and fellowship, I prepared a few things for my relocation closer to civilization. Monday saw the completion of the work on his String Quartet, and curious of how the Broughams were faring, I went to spy on them through the secret passageways. Sir Charles was in his study, smoking and drinking with Maurice in high spirits; Lady Alice wasn't in her chambers as expected. A look out the window showed three figures in the garden; I doused my lights and got my binoculars to see who it was. The two young men were entertaining themselves with Lady Alice: her dress was laid neatly on the ground beside her underdress, and her breasts were exposed above her corset; one lad was behind her mauling her tits savagely while the other stood before her as she sucked and licked at his crotch. His frame quivered and quaked until he at last withdrew, and the two lads traded places, moving slightly so I could see Lady Alice eagerly taking a young prick between her lips. It struck me odd that she would grant them favors she explicitly denied her husband.

My own passions were kindled by this scene, and my naked nocturnal nymphs appeared to console me before my departure. After our frolics, they cried that they would miss me and would make the weekends special upon my return. 

My appearance without the rest of the Olympia party was greeted with shouts of joy at the rehearsal theater, and the enterprise swiftly brought me back to the halcyon day of Leipzig. My first move as Sir Charles' delegate was to dismiss the original cast he'd chosen and replace them with singers Alfred and I readily agreed upon. The stage director was introduced, and we moved quickly spend the 5 weeks' rehearsal effectively. My rooms at the residential hotel nearby were generous and comfortable, and Alfred and Minnie looked after my care and feeding. 

Three productive weeks flew by, interrupted by odd weekends of sacred and secular entertainment at Olympia, and one mid-afternoon before a complete run through, a tall woman in a blue evening gown with a matching cap entered the balcony. She was wearing long white gloves, dangling earrings that sparkled, elegant shoes, and her purse matched her dress perfectly. Approaching me gracefully, I noticed something familiar to her gait. She sat next to me, and I turned to look at her face and hair: it was Maurice. "What are you doing here?" I murmured in her ear.

"I'm seeing to your progress on Sir Charles' behalf. It was thought my usual garb might excite Herr Ernst's attentions, so I chose this disguise."

"It should be adequate to the task," I said. She was wearing a delicate fragrance made from lavender, and her makeup was artfully done: not too much and not too little. "You're in luck; we're about to do a full run through with blocking in about five minutes."

"Excellent." With that, the overture began, and for the next two and a half hours we listened to Sir Charles musical drama of ancient Greece. During the first act, I felt a touch on my thigh and looked down to see an elegant, red lacquered finger wandering near my manhood. A glance downward revealed that her neckline was low enough that from the side most of her white, freckled breasts were in view, with a ring of brown pressed up to the fabric. She gave me a quick sidelong glance with an upturned eyebrow before devoting her attention to the stage. I had a difficult time, since my trousers were struggling to contain me by the third act.

It became more difficult when the rehearsal ended and Alfred came up to the balcony. He started speaking before he got to the top of the stairs "How was it, Frankie? Things to your satisfaction?" Seeming I had company, he switched into English and adopted a very different attitude: "Hello, my dear lady, I do not believe I have had the pleasure." He came to a formal bow and reached to kiss her hand.

"Alfred, let me present Miss Shannon Fitzmaurice, and old friend of mine from home. She happened to hear I was in town today, and came to visit me. Shannon, this is Herr Alfred Ernst, the conductor of the St. Louis Choral-Symphony Society and musical director of this opera."

Maurice permitted Alfred to kiss her hand and cooed: "Enchanted to meet you, Herr Ernst. Frank is effusive in your praise."

"You are most kind, Fraulein Fitzmaurice. I would be honored if you would join Herr MacLeod, my wife and I for dinner this evening."

"Of course," she murmured.

"May I say what a beautiful speaking voice you have, there are so few elegant contraltos. Have you ever sung professionally?"

"No, I think not. I'm honored you would think my singing voice would be to your liking."

After giving the cast their notes from the rehearsal, Alfred led us to his office where his wife Minnie met us. The ladies hit it off at once, and we spent a very pleasant evening with them. Maurice paid close attention to our comments about the production. We did not indulge very heavily that evening, since Alfred had to prepare for a concert the next day and I had to finish some paperwork for the production before returning to Olympia for the weekend. Our frivolity was such we stopped a passing photographer to take a series of pictures to preserve the evening, which Maurice assented to with great deal of humor.

I took care to enter my hotel through a side entrance so my companion would not be noticed, and she avoided surveillance easily, getting to my rooms without being observed. "That was different," I said lightly, falling into a chair, laughing.

"I had to sneak around a lot of places in the army, so I've had a lot of practice," Maurice said, laughing, as she removed her hat and gloves. "This was nothing: I slipped into a maharajah's harem in India and gathered information about a rebel movement without being spotted. And that was without wearing women's clothes."

I looked at her: she was stunning. "Well, I must say you are a vision in women's clothing. . ."

"What!?!"

"A vision of loveliness, for sure. My goodness, you almost seduced Alfred away from his wife just by the cut of your gown and your demeanor alone. And you certainly didn't make it easy for me to pay attention to the rehearsal this afternoon."

She gave me an aggressive wink, and bounced up to pour us some brandy. "I could see you looking down my dress."

"You leaned forward to make it easy."

Another wink as she handed me my glass. "Would you care for a cigar?"

"Would I?"

"I brought some Havanas with me, figuring your supply was low."

"Non existent, actually. While I've been here I've been living like a monk."

"Yes, that's what I hear as well. We must liberate you from your cell for a while at least." Producing a pair of fine cigars, she cut them and gave me one to enjoy. We coaxed them to life and she sat down again, blowing a great cloud of smoke into the air. "My God, even in a light dress this heat is beastly. Please undo your collar and take off your coat while I make myself more comfortable."

With that, she put her cigar down, bounced up again, and pulled her dress off over her head. Underneath she wore only a simple pair of panties. When she sat down again, she sat on a small couch and patted the seat next on her right. I moved there quickly after removing my coat, tie, collar and shirt.

We sat looking at each other as we smoked and drank, not wanting to break our gaze. The red lacquered finger explored my thigh again, and after it produced a reaction, undid the buttons of my trousers. I reached out to caress her breast, and she knelt before me. Taking a drag on her cigar, she blew a smoke ring around my freshly exposed prick, and another before giving it an electric lick. The cigar caused an exciting sensation in her mouth that she shared with me readily, and before long she was blowing great clouds of smoke on my crotch before taking my manhood into her mouth. 

My erection arose quickly, and I sought to raise her in order to lower her on my pole, but she shook her head: "We've been lucky so far, Frank, and I don't want to take any more risks. The only sure way to prevent babies is not to plant the seed. Let me take care of your lust and if you are so disposed you may reciprocate afterward."

Her eyes was locked on mine was she resumed her task between my legs. The effect of the tobacco on her cunning tongue was amazing, and very soon my flood rose up, leaking out the sides of her mouth and dripping down on her chest and mammaries. When I was flaccid again, she raised up, cigar in her mouth, with a look of pride worthy of an athletic hero or concert artist.

My debt to her was repaid when I could stand again. I sat her on the couch, her legs spread far apart, and I sucked on my Havana before engaging her sex with my oral stimulations, making her sigh with delight. My hands played up and down her torso, assisting my mouth's quest for her Eldorado moment, and soon she was writhing and thrashing in ecstasy. "My God, you're better at this than Monty," she whispered, and I felt redeemed.




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 07



We lay together on the bed afterward, sweating in the August heat. She had brought her bags to my rooms dressed as a butler, changed and slipped out in her dress, and would leave in the morning as a man once again. She kissed my ear and murmured: "Monty's work is truly excrement, is it not? I see no enthusiasm in the cast or crew. You seem to be doing a good job, but the music doesn't satisfy. Am I right?"

"I hardly know what to say. Sir Charles has been good to me, and I wish to serve him as I agreed."

"You are safe, I shan't repeat this to anyone."

I lay there looking up at the ceiling. "You are right: it's dreadful. Only his money is getting this done."

"Like England, although money wasn't good enough even there. Ah well, at least he's happy and thinks he's doing great things. It's not easy being a younger son in a noble family."

"It's not easy being a son anywhere."

We listened to the sounds of the night for a while until she began again: "You have talent, I can tell. You will have a career in music when your present troubles are past. I will remember when I hear your name and be proud to have been your intimate."

I was awakened to her tender lips on my body, and responded to her as before. She would not let me stir from my back, devoting all her efforts to my gratification, and staying with her task until I produced the potion of bliss she drank down completely. I moved to reward her, but she pushed me away, rising and preparing for her departure. She dressed in her butler's attire and saw to my day's preparations before fetching my breakfast and leaving before the day had fully begun.

My homecoming to Olympia that every was particularly festive, even Lady Alice seemed in a good mood. Sir Charles played the part of the grand host to the hilt, giving me an oration worthy of a Roman Triumph. After tea, we went to his study, and I carefully updated him on the progress of the production: "We had to replace Andromeda, silly girl ran off with a vaudeville player without a word. Cassiopeia came down with tuberculosis, and has to spend the next few months in a sanitarium. The King of Ethiopia has taken to drink again, and was last seen in a saloon in East St. Louis. However, all these roles have been replaced by adequate, responsible and diligent performers that I'm sure will play their parts well: the Show must go on!"

"Alas, I feared as much in this rough constituency, this outskirt of culture," he said, shaking his head.. "Andromeda lost, when she was so perfect! This woman could have been catapulted to fame on this role alone, had any beau of nobility and industry seeking her hand in marriage or the chance of a career that would have lead to the constellations themselves. What are young people coming to these days, what are they coming to? And what will be our future when they rule the world?" He paced and gesticulated wildly until he calmed down. "You are bearing well with all these tragedies, Mr. MacLeod; I have entrusted the right man with these labors. And Herr Ernst, is he in good health and spirits? Without him, we are surely doomed."

"He is well and sends his regards."

"Excellent. We must be ready for the next stage, once this work plays. There will be demand for a sequel: I absolutely refuse to countenance such a travesty and will not entertain such a notion. The next work must be different in nature, a comedy most assuredly. Perhaps _The Frogs_ will provide such a vehicle: our talented Miss Penny has immersed herself in constructing a libretto and I should like you to look at it when she has made sufficient progress. Poor girl is insecure and tentative, but I have encouraged her and she is responding well. Perhaps next weekend she will have something to show you."

My imagination had him forcing her to sit naked in the lake with the frogs in an attempt to absorb the proper atmosphere for the work, and stifled a laugh. At least, I was sure he had brought up the idea to the poor girl. 

That evening I stayed outside in the garden, savoring the clean air and open space after a week of confinement in the city. Olympia was a beautiful place and I found its charms seducing me. There were lights in the servant's wing: the sounds of laughter testified Mrs. Edwards and the younger staff were amusing themselves with a game of cards. The open window of the study above communicated the clatter of billiard balls, Sir Charles' robust laughter, and a challenge from Maurice in Greek. The side door of the great house opened, and a person with a lantern emerged: Lady Alice on her way to the barn. Staying behind a bush, I was undetected as she passed, and my mind envisioned what new ordeal she would enjoy with her young lovers. 

My efforts with Maurice the night before had not exhausted my carnal interest, and I hastened back to my quarters to find Pearl and Opal waiting for me. "Let's go outside," I suggested.

"No," Opal said.

"Wait, where's everyone else?" Pearl asked.

"All are accounted for and none will be in the garden this evening. If our frolics are not intensely vocal, we will surely be undiscovered."

They thought for a moment, and Opal asked: "Do you think it's safe, Peapod?"

"Yes, Peapod," Pearl replied, "Father never goes there after dark, and if Mother's occupied, she will not tarry in the garden for any reason. Mrs. Edwards always stays in indoors at night, afraid of wild coyotes and wolves, and forces the young ones to do likewise, so we should be able to recreate outdoors in safety."

Opal giggled. "Perhaps procreate would be a better term, Peapod."

"No, absolutely not, Peapod. There will be no chance of that going on, we cannot risk it."

They slipped through the hallways like ghosts, naked and on the edge of giggling being unclad in public places, ready to dart around a corner if someone else appeared, but all others were accounted for and our passage went unknown. When we got to the garden, they rolled on the grass, slight damp from an afternoon shower, barely suppressing their joy at their natural liberty, as I disrobed and lay on the ground. When they found me in place, they hastened to take their positions: Opal sat above my chest, her legs tucked under my shoulders and arms, her hair unbound and flowing in a slight breeze and her sex eager for the touch of my lips. Pearl's fingers were tracing patterns of gentility on my thighs, swooping in toward my testicles as her teasing mouth chased my manhood, threatening to catch it and just brushing it enough to fully arouse me.

Opal's taste was always slightly bitter at first, but mellowed to an addictive flavor that let me give her no respite as I licked her and kneaded her buttocks until she arched her back and gave out a wolf's call to the night. I listened: there were still sounds coming from the barn that ensure their attentions were elsewhere, and Sir Charles' cries from his study testified to his preoccupation with Ganymede. Opal moved below to attend to my prick while Pearl moved up to take her place. How strange, I thought to myself, they have the same nickname for each other. Perhaps it spoke to the intimacy of their lives, sharing a bed and much else since infancy, bound together as twins of two different mothers. 

Pearl tasted of honey, a sweet contrast to her sister, and as I savored her nectar, my hands reached up to fondle her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples as she liked. Opal's talents below were astounding and shortly after Pearl's eyes rolled back and her balance wavered in her climax, I filled Opal's mouth with my seed to overflowing. After she finished, Pearl noticed there were strands of semen on my groin and thighs, and gathered them into her mouth as Opal kept sucking my prick.



A Summer in Olympia Ch. 08



It was Wednesday, and opening night was two days away. Sir Charles had attended the dress rehearsal the night before, and had proclaimed the production excellent, in spite of the fact none of his original cast remained. Alfred helped me with plausible stories about the remaining players' defections, which Sir Charles took in stride. The run of the opera was to be the last three weekends of September after initial celebration of Labor Day, and Alfred was nervous about the rest of his season of concerts, his first as director of the Choral-Symphony Society. I assured him his patrons would understand, and would be generous in evaluating his entire First Season in St. Louis.

The rehearsal was going smoothly, too smoothly, until the penultimate scene when Andromeda is chained to the rock. The soldier's costumes were still not quite right, and as they left, a sharp bit of one tore Andromeda's costume off her body, exposing her naked form almost completely. She began screaming and wailing, struggling with her bonds, which were too real to let her go easily. The reactions of the other cast and crew were varied: the other leads on stage stood stock still, amazed at what had happened; several members of the orchestra turned to stare at her huge breasts with big brown nipples while others began laughing hysterically; a couple of stage hands started mooing and the chorus ran off stage at high speed as if they were in danger of sudden revelation. Alfred started screaming from the podium for wardrobe and shortly a wardrobe mistress emerged with a blanket for the poor woman. 

Tears were welling in my eyes, and several voices called out marriage proposals. Magda, the poor disrobed singer, couldn't bear it and wept uncontrollably as she left the stage under the protection of a piece of cloth. I was wiping tears from my face when a hand prodded my shoulder. "Mr. MacLeod, Mr. MacLeod you must come back now. Something dreadful has happened." I looked to find Connie standing next to me with a worried look on his face; clearly something was very wrong at Olympia. I leapt to my feet and following him out, pausing to tell an usher that I was leaving to attend to an emergency and would in touch with Alfred as soon as I could.

Max was waiting in a carriage outside the door, and he tipped his cap as I approached. "Good evening, Mr. MacLeod," his rich baritone voice intoned. "Something has happened to Sir Charles, we fear for his life. Don't have time to get your bags, get in and we're off." I jumped into the seat with Connie on the other side, and with a crack of the whip we were navigating the streets of the city outward.

The boys were very quiet, unusually quiet, during our journey, focused on maintaining speed without exhausting the horses or getting the attention of the police. Once we left the city, there was little light, which slowed our progress as well, but around nine o'clock we pulled up at the entrance of Olympia. Maurice met us at the top of the stairs: "It's Sir Charles, he was out hunting for rabbits early this morning with Gus and Max, and he had some kind of heart attack or episode. The boys brought him in unconscious and he's remained that way all day. Doctor Uhrlacher is with him, as is Lady Alice, however the younger women could use reassurance. They're in his study upstairs."

She conducted me there, where I found Pearl and Penny sitting on chairs almost at opposite ends of the room. Penny jumped out of her seat and came quickly to me, touching my arm in supplication: "Thank you for coming, Mr. MacLeod. Is there any new news?"

"No, I've just arrived. Maurice gave me the short version of the story."

Turning away and wringing her hands, she sobbed: "Oh, he thought rabbit for luncheon would be so delightful today, so he went out with the lads to find some. The dogs flushed one from a thicket near the bluff's edge, but he was a little out of position to shoot and ran over a couple of hillocks to get a shot off, and then he collapsed holding his chest."

"Father has never been particularly athletic," Pearl added, staring out the window, "Always thought his constitution would carry him through, as well as his genes. His father is still alive at 87."

"How old is he, exactly?" I said.

"Forty seven," Pearl replied. "Not young and not old. Almost the Earl of Kent's age in _King Lear_" My Shakespeare was rusty and Penny looked lost, so Pearl continued from memory: 

'Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor

so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years

on my back forty eight.'

Opal brought in a tray with appetizers and pots of coffee and tea, setting it down on the study's sideboard, and giving me a solemn look before she left. Penny nervously took a plate and loaded it; Pearl remained at her station, staring out the window. I sat between them on a couch and crossed my legs, many things running through my mind. There wasn't enough information and my thoughts chased each other randomly. It was a time to wait, and nothing would hasten it.

"The boys brought him here in good order, strong lads they are and able to conquer the world someday, I guess," Penny rambled, "And after they brought him upstairs, they went off to fetch Dr. Uhrlacher. We knew you were busy with the rehearsal tonight, so we waited to see if he would rally before we sent Max and Connie to fetch you, waited until. . .until. . ."

"Until we were sure his life was in danger," Pearl finished in a calm voice. 

"And who knows what will happen if he dies," Penny wailed, "what will become of us?"

"You'll be fine, Penny," I said.

There was a silence as Penny resumed her tea, and went back to the tray for more. Pearl began to recite the Twenty Third Psalm out of the blue, which seemed to mollify the other young woman for the moment and helped calm me. After finishing her repast, Penny suddenly ran from the room, crying again, and slammed the door behind her.

I went over to Pearl and laid hand on her shoulder; she was still staring out the window toward the lake she swam in every morning with her half-sister Opal and watching the last flickers of light in the West. She covered my hand with hers but otherwise did not respond. "How are you, Pearl?"

"I'm all right," she began in a distant voice. "My father and I were never close, which is not unusual for a father and a daughter, I imagine. I remember flickers of kindness and joviality when I was small, but none after I reached the age of eight. Mother didn't pay much attention to me, either, they sent me to a boarding school. They sent Opal as well, so I wouldn't be lonely. When we came back, all there was for me was the library. Needlepoint never interested me, but ideas always have. Father taught me to sing so I could sing his wretched songs for him. It's said a Father is a rock of a child's life, a provider and protector. I've never felt that, and I wonder if it really will be different when he's gone."

I kept my hand on her shoulder, standing behind her, watching the stars come out. She squeezed my hand and kept it there, the one indication of her inner struggle and her need.

After a lifetime of waiting, there were footsteps on the stairs, and Maurice stuck his head in to announce that the Vicar had arrived, and we should all gather in the Master Bedroom for prayer.

Lady Alice sat on the bed beside her husband, holding his hand in hers and crying. Penny had taken up a position next to her, also weeping, and Mrs. Edwards stood in a far corner, also lost in grief. The six other servants, all his children though never acknowledged, stood in order from oldest to youngest, holding their hands in front of them, their heads bowed and their faces solemn. Maurice took his place beside Opal, as head of the house servants, her face drawn and somber. Pearl went to stand at the foot of the bed, still keeping my hand on her shoulder, and I took my place behind her.

The Vicar began the prayers of Extreme Unction. Sir Charles struggled to draw breath and occasionally would pause for several moments before drawing another. We all responded when indicated by the clergyman, and since it was clear he was incapable of eating or drinking, the Vicar didn't share communion with him. After finishing the rote prayers, he continued with several other prayers and scripture readings, including the Twenty Third Psalm. During that passage, Sir Charles gave out his death rattle and exhaled for the last time.

It was the time of tears, and they flowed down my cheeks as well. In the midst of the sobs, Pearl's clear voice came out:

'Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!'

Lady Alice looked back and nodded at her daughter. There was sobbing and leave taking, with Lady Alice being last, and Dr. Uhrlacher told the boys to bring the carriage around so they could fetch the undertaker.

That night Pearl and Opal stayed in my bed, dressed, and we held each other for support. Not a word was spoken, but the pillows were all damp when morning light broke the next day. I took the first train back into town the next morning to speak with Alfred, and decide the fate of the Opera.

"Look, Frankie, the piece is awful and I will be glad to wash my hands of it," he began when I first saw him. "Let's just cancel the whole thing and get on with our lives."

"I agree it's trash," I said, "but it was his last great effort, one he poured a true heart into even if his inspiration wasn't so true. He paid for everything, the money is already in your hands. We owe him something."

He shrugged his shoulders. "All right, what?"

I thought for a moment. "It wouldn't be proper to play the opera this weekend; his funeral won't take place before Saturday and the family will be distraught. Put together a concert of favorites for this weekend, literature your patrons know, preferably music of mourning. As for the Opera, let's do it once, next Saturday night. Lady Alice will have recovered by then, and there'll be a crowd of curiosity seekers. You have time to put together a program for the last weekend and then your season's underway as usual."

"All right, all right, but I need your help. Getting the parts together for a concert on the fly tomorrow night will take time and thanks to the shrunken budget of the Society, I have no help today. Do you still have the Mozart D minor under your fingers?"

"I think so."

"Great, you make your debut with us tomorrow night if we can find the orchestra parts. I will have to go tell Concertmaster Spielmann about the change so he can get the word out, Herr Otten's programs are in the top drawer; you get started and I'll be back in a half hour or so."

Before I got started with the files, I wrote Maurice a quick note and sent it by messenger to Olympia, telling him my plans. I found music in the files to construct a program of familiar music for the orchestra, and much to my dismay I found the parts for the Mozart Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor. My afternoon would be spent at the keyboard retrieving those notes from my memory. Alfred got back a little later than I expected, but was happy with my work and we became librarians, assembling folders of music in order for the desks of the orchestra.

My rooms in the city were still mine, so after an exhausting day of preparation and rehearsals I spent the night there. Maurice sent a quick note acknowledging my plans and affirming a Saturday morning funeral for Sir Charles. The next day was full as well, and in the evening Alfred made the solemn announcement of Sir Charles' passing and dedicating the special concert to him. Adrenaline gave me the ability to play the Mozart, and the audience received it warmly.

Afterward, I saw Maurice in the stalls. She waited for the crowd to leave, and met me backstage. "I never knew you could play like that. What a revelation!"

"Thanks, but I was rusty. I'm supposed to play it again tomorrow night, but it may be a close call with the funeral."

"We'll get you back in time."

"How are they doing?"

"Lady Alice is bearing like a soldier, Miss Penny is a mess, and Miss Pearl is distant. Mrs. Edwards and the children are bearing up well." She paused and hesitantly resumed on a new topic: "I have one personal request, if you have the energy."

"What?"

She looked down for a moment, trying to come up with the words. "The next couple of months I'll be consumed with work; Sir Charles has a lot of loose ends that will need to be tied up. You will be gone before long, I can feel it. There's something in me you have uncovered, something I will have to let go of again soon, but not yet. Take me to your rooms in the City, strip me naked and shove your magnificent stallion into my secret place. I don't care what might happen; I need you inside me one more time before the winds of chaos blow us apart."

I looked around, but no one was paying attention to us. The look in her eyes was desperate, pleading. "All right," I said, and we went to the hotel.

As two apparent men, there was no problem getting her inside without arousing suspicion. When we shut the door and locked it, we began stripping off our clothes, throwing them wildly around the room, and when we were naked we clasped one another strongly, pressing our lips together so hard they almost bled. It seemed a lifetime before we broke, and she immediately reached down to stroke my stallion to readiness. I reached between her legs and found her slick and ready. Throwing her onto the bed, I knelt above her and made ready; she grabbed me and thrust me home. It took several tries before I was all the way in, but once I reached bottom we began rocking back and forth, slowly at first, then increasing speed and energy until the bed creaked with our efforts. She clawed at my back, and if she had worn her fingernails long there would have been scratches. One orgasm hit her after another, and soon my lions spewed forth its tribute of love deep inside her. We held each other for a long time, staring into each other's eyes, conjoined, not wanting to break the scenario.

But we had to and we did. We dressed and made our way back to the country, when we arrived I cleansed myself in my rooms, just in time for my bedmates to arrive for their overnight consolation.

Trinity Episcopal church in Saint Charles was half full for the funeral liturgy. The choir sang three of his anthems they had learned during his stay, and the Vicar preached a relatively short homily in tribute to him. There was no eulogy, and we brought the body outside to bury it in the churchyard just before noon.

Lady Alice came to the premiere dressed in black, accompanied by Pearl, Penny and myself; Maurice did not escort us and left the task to Gus and Max. They dressed in suits and sat with the unaccompanied ladies in the box. The production went well, and the cast was greeted with a warm reception after the final curtain. The smile on Alfred's face was a little too broad, but he had performed a more herculean task than I.

I worked alone for the next few days afterward, organizing his music and doing odd jobs; I received no visitors, official or unofficial, and a solemn silence was observed by all. Even the walls seemed unwilling to reflect what little sounds were produced within them. One Saturday morning I found a note thrust under my door from Pearl, asking me to join her for lunch on the veranda. It was an Indian Summer day, warm and sticky, and she wore a pink tea dress with bare feet, which was most unusual. When I arrived, she stood to greet me with a big kiss. "Thanks for everything, Frank," she began.

My work with the papers was done, and I assumed my service wouldn't be needed any longer. "You're welcome, Pearl. Despite the trials and the great loss, this has been a good time for me here."

She smiled and beckoned me to sit. "You're probably wondering what's going to happen," she said, pouring my coffee. "All has been worked out, for now at least, and it's time to move forward."

"Of course. I am curious about the arrangements."

"My mother has chosen to go back to England, she leaves next Wednesday. She'll live with her sister Peggy in Sussex."

"It'll be best for her, she hated Missouri and America."

"Yes, indeed. Gus and Max will be going with her: they will work on her sister's estate for a year, in the house, and then Mother will sponsor them as students at Cambridge. I think they're ready and they're already fluent in French as well as English, so they're smart enough. They'll have their chance to get an education and find a career suitable for young men of their talents."

"Good. And the younger ones?"

"Mrs. Edwards has found a job in your home state, Pennsylvania, and will be taking her three youngest with her. She wants them to have a chance in America, and they will have it."

"Where in Pennsylvania?"

"Reading. They will be taking care of an army veteran, Mr. Archibald MacLeod, who is happy they are coming."

I shook my head; they were going to care for my father. It was several moments before I could stammer out: "I can't afford that."

"But I can, and would rather send them to people I know I can trust than just any stranger." She smiled at me, calm, serene, in control.

I couldn't wrap my head around that, but Father had been very lonely since Mother died, and Mrs. Edwards could bring a lot of light into his life. I decided to press on: "What of Maurice?"

Pearl smiled. "He has chosen to seek his fortune in the West. Mr. Perkins, my father's friend in Colorado, has given him a job with a mine in Nevada, where he can work his way up in management. Mother wrote him a glowing recommendation, and Mr. Perkins is quite glad to have him, foreseeing a great future for him in the company. Father's business affairs are tied up, and Maurice has hired an attorney in Saint Charles to take care of the final execution of Father's estate."

"What of our poor Penny?"

"Evidently, Mr. Perkins' son was quite smitten with her when they met last summer, and has asked for her hand in marriage You can imagine her response, and her family was overjoyed she will have the future she so longed for. I'm quite glad for her: she was so afraid of becoming a spinster."

I nodded in agreement and found two names left off the list. Pearl nibbled a roll and looked at me, calculating, assessing my mood. "And what of me?"

"Your job here is definitely over, and we thank you for it. I do not doubt of your future since sales of your Piano Sonata have done well and I'm sure the Presser company is asking you for more works." I nodded in agreement, thinking of my return trip to Pennsylvania. "I have a proposition you may be interested in, or you may have one for me."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She stood up and took off her tea-dress: she was completely naked underneath it and stood in the sunlight unashamed, pulling a beret from her hair to let it flow freely. It was like the sun suddenly broke through the clouds: her face lost its businesslike demeanor and took on a look of passion I'd never seen anywhere before. "I don't want to lose you, and will do everything in my power to keep you here. I love you, and will love you with all my heart for the rest of my life."

I put down my cup, and looked down for a moment. The thought of leaving Olympia was one I'd been dreading ever since Sir Charles died, and she was one reason I hated to go. "I don't know, Pearl. This is so sudden. I'm torn, I don't know."

"I'm a good manager, have read extensively about the music business and can do everything for you so you may concentrate on your art."

Her face was so confident I could not doubt her. My hand trembled, but I felt at the brink of a precipice and was reluctant to press onward. I could say nothing.

"Let me offer you a wager," she said stepping forward and confining me to my chair with her bare legs. "I don't imagine many women have been able to take the full length of your manhood inside them, correct?"




A Summer in Olympia Ch. 08



"Correct."

"You know that I have been keeping myself, my precious maidenhead, for my husband, unlikely prospect that has been until now. I offer you my maidenhead now, without reservation, with the wager that if I can take your entire prick inside me, you'll be mine for the rest of your life."

My instincts told me this was a trap. This sounded like a lost Greek play, perhaps a variation on the legend of the Sirens. "And if I can't?"

"You're free to go, having taken my virtue without cost or bond."

When my family had its fortune, I learned to be wary of women's licentious offers, wary of entrapment of many kinds. Something about this sounded odd, but the look in her eyes was like none I'd ever seen before. It was primal hunger, primal lust, an unconditional adoration that humbled me. "Here and now?"

"Everyone is gone except Opal, who's in the kitchen. We are alone. Take me in the sunlight, outdoors. Here. Now."

I stood up and started to take off my coat, but she stopped me and took it off herself laying it on her chair with her dress. Then she undid the buttons of my shirt, slipping it off easily and my undershirt came after. My trouser buttons were next, and my pants went to the ground; she helped me step out of them, and then helped me step out of my shorts. My manhood bobbed into sight, interested in her challenge, but doubtful she could accomplish it. She sighed as he emerged: her hands caressed him and she rubbed the end over her face before taking the end in her mouth, where her tongue worked magic as it had often before. This was enough to persuade me, but after my member became an iron bar, she stood up and led me to the couch she'd been sitting in when I came out. She still didn't seem capable of her goal, but her sex was hot and damp, and received my initial penetration gladly. Bending over her, I started working my way in, her tight clenched vagina surrendering ground slowly but steadily. Her eyes closed and she moaned, stroking my buttocks. I kept pressing on, and half way in I thought I was done, but she moved her hips and there was more hunger to draw me. 

It happened suddenly: I was all the way in. Her eyes opened, herself surprised at her achievement, and I held myself at bottom for a few moments to savor the full insertion. Then I started moving in and out, and she instinctively moved in concert with me; the iron couch was strong and soon we were bucking hard against one another. Her orgasm came first, making me pause while she recovered, then starting again, milking me with her loins until I filled her at her second orgasm.

We lay there in the sun, Adam and Eve in paradise, before I got up and dressed once again, ravenous, realizing I hadn't eaten anything. She put her tea-dress back on and started nibbling another roll. "Where shall we live?" I asked.

"Olympia is good, and it's mine. Maurice hired a family to run the farm, the Schmitzes, and Mrs. Schmitz and her daughter will clean the house once a week. They'll live in the old farmhouse past the barn once it's put to right. Your friend Alfred is nearby with an orchestra, and the train will take you anywhere they want to play your music. If you want to teach, there are two colleges nearby that would be interested in you. And I can take care of your career, as well as everything else."

I smiled at her and she beamed back at me. Scratching my head, I observed: "You've got all this worked out already."

"Yes, absolutely," she said confidently. "And we have the best chef in the country all to ourselves."

"You mean?"

"Would I stay anywhere without my Peapod?"

I sat there, amazed at the clarity my existence had just reached. I took a sip of coffee, and mused: "We'll need a bigger bed."