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Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 01

By: Redneck Woman56



There's no real sex in the first chapter, but just you wait! 

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. All characters represented in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely co-incidental.

*

I smacked the alarm clock off the night stand sending it crashing to the floor. I hated that damned thing! Crawled out of bed and pulling down my nightshirt and stumbled into the kitchen. The coffee was just finishing brewing and the familiar smell helped my disposition only a little. I'm not a morning person and the small sign I had hanging up above the coffee maker ... "Instant Human ... Just Add Coffee" attested to that fact.

After pouring a cup, I crossed over to the dining room table. In theory it was a dining room table ... that's what it was supposed to be ... but, in reality, it was my work table. Stacks of interviews ... files of newspaper clippings ... an old blue Mason jar filled with an assortment of pens and pencils ... several legal pads in various stages of use ... and my computer. I settled down and pulled my day planner to me. This was how I started every working day. When I thought about it, it's the way I started out just about every day since becoming single again. That thought made me frown, I never thought I'd grow up to be the kind of woman with two failed marriages. Before I was conscious of where my mind was wandering, I conjured up pictures first from one marriage and then the other, in a frantic ricocheting pattern. 

For the hundredth time, I tried to put the puzzle pieces together, thinking if I ever got that puzzle finished, I would find the answer to my loneliness.

I shook my head to clear it, and looked down at the planner. Today was one I had been looking forward to since receiving word that Mr. Jackson Austin Emerly would, indeed, see me. 

I had been trying to get an interview with him for weeks. I was doing an article on entrepreneurs and his name surfaced toward the end of my research. He was a quiet man in his 50's who had amassed a sizeable fortune and rumors bounced all over Savannah about him. If anything could pique the interest of Savannah society, it was a millionaire moving into one of the county's largest estates, then not giving a party. The more he ignored their circles, the more they clamored to meet him. With each invitation to luncheon declined, another to play golf at the country club would appear. As this one was turned down, an invitation to a dinner party was received. When this one was graciously, but firmly declined, another quickly took its place.

Whispers intimated that his money had been made through less than legitimate means. Speculation was rampant ... corporate raider? Arms dealer? Drug lord? And so it went.

Word had been secured from one of his decorators giving a little more insight into this elusive could-be pillar of society. It was widely reported that he was a strikingly handsome man. He was tall, carried himself like a noble, was genteel, and had a soft-spoken manner that masked the steel will to back his decisions. Not much more had surfaced about him. Even his servants seemed bound to silence and no gossip ventured forth from those sources. 

My interview wasn't scheduled until later in the day, so I took my time with my coffee. With each successive cup I began to start feeling the effects of the caffeine ... no wonder some old Southerners called it "push water" ... the invigorating affects had converted me and made me a believer.

It would take over an hour to drive from my apartment, across town, and into the countryside for my 1:00 appointment. So, coffee cup in hand, I wound my way through stacks of books on the living room floor into my bath to get ready. Between the coffee and a brisk shower, I'd soon be company fit for inclusion into the human race again.

I turned on the hot water, discarded my nightshirt and panties then stuck my hand in the spray, adding a turn or two of the cold water tap until it reached a temperature a little on the hot side the way I liked it. I went through my ablutions by rote, not having to think. First the soap, then the loofah, then my hair. 

When I stepped out of the shower I faced myself in a full length mirror attached to the back of the bathroom door. I stopped and studied myself again. It wasn't that I was unattractive, but I certainly was nothing special. My hair ... not quite blonde, not quite brown, hung in damp waves to my shoulders. I was neither slender or voluptuous, but somewhere in between. An ironic thought crossed my mind ... at least not having children had let my breasts remain firm even if I had not been overly endowed, my waist was still small, and my hips had not been marred by the stretch marks a child would have left behind. I guess I did have a few things to be grateful for after all. So there I was ... medium height, medium weight, medium coloring, medium everything. I certainly was no supermodel, but I always thought there were genetic mutants anyway. I had never been exactly kicked me out of bed, but I wasn't the sort of woman men strained their necks to follow down the street. Even my walk was ordinary and purposeful, not like the long graceful strides and swaying hips that more sensual women mastered effortlessly.

With a sigh and a fresh towel, I turned my mind to planning an outline of questions for the elusive Mr. Emerly.

Finally with make-up on, hair dried, I made a choice of dark brown tailored, a contrasting knit shell of a soft oatmeal color, and a smart blazer of hunter green completed the outfit. I slipped my feet into practical loafers, gathered my tape recorder, legal pad, a few other necessities and put them all in my brief case. Had I forgotten anything? After a quick glance around the table, I figured I would be able to make do during this interview and headed out the door.

As I exited my building, the autumn air was a blessing. It had been the typical, hot, sweaty, humid summer in Georgia. But now, with the breeze holding the promise of a beautiful afternoon, I turned with a smile and headed toward the parking garage.

Within 45 minutes I had left most of the noisome disorder of the city and was venturing father into the country and sanity. Finally, after driving past pastures full of cows, sometimes a herd of goats, and once in a while a meadow filled with horses, I turned into the lane that would lead me to the Emerly estate. The winding road was lined on both sides with massive oak trees which had grown tall and in their maturity formed a tunnel-like approach to the house. As I cleared the shaded oak tunnel the house revealed itself. Just like 90% of all the older homes in the South, it was white, but that is where the resemblance ended. It was a two-story, rambling house of probably 8,000 square feet. In true traditional Colonial Revival style, it had a veranda wrapping around the front, east, and west sides. Mr. Emerly's decorator had made certain that each side veranda was elegantly furnished and graciously appointed with hanging ferns as well as potted gardenias which would fill the house in the spring and summer with their exotic perfume. As I parked in front of the house, I noticed the front was as typical as others in the area, furnished with rocking chairs and little side tables to pass away sultry summer nights. The east side was set up with a table and two chairs suitable for dining or sharing morning coffee ... thinking of coffee, did I smell a freshly brewing pot drifting out the windows? On the west side, a group of chaise lounges and a wicker settee surrounded a low cocktail table. It appeared to me that Mr. Emerly had certainly lavished a lot of money on these trappings for entertainment when he had no acquaintances in Savannah.

I mounted the three steps to the veranda, crossed and looked for the doorbell. I was puzzled at first and raised my hand to knock, when my eye caught the shine of a brass colored bell on the lower half of the door. My Lord! It had been 20 years since I had seen one of these old door ringers at my grandmother's house! I smiled and turned the little key which resembled the one you used to use on a pair of skates. The trill of the bell brought a young woman in her mid-twenties to the door.

"You must be Miss Prentiss", she smiled as she extended a well manicured hand, "Welcome to Tanglewood. I am Vonne Fleming, Mr. Emerly's assistant. Mr. Emerly is expecting you" as she started to walk down the long central hall of the home. I was shocked at the sight of her. She wasn't a plainly dressed secretary ... she looked like I. Magnin and smelled like Neiman Marcus, and it occurred to me that perhaps I was following the wrong career path. 

The hall was furnished with antique paintings and a central mahogany table complete with a fresh bouquet of flowers reaching at least my height. The polished hardwood floors would have announced our arrival all by themselves if it had not been for the plush oriental runner, and I paused to admire one of the pastoral scenes in this foyer-gallery.

"Miss Prentiss", a soft, southern drawl said, "you appreciate art." I turned and finally my curiosity about Mr. Emerly was satisfied. He looked nothing like I had pictured. 

I had been told that he was tall and slim. But nothing had prepared me to find such a handsome man ... clean shaven, immaculately groomed ... subtle elegance down to the Cartier watch he wore.

Although his appearance had been exactly described by his decorator, she had left out how the mischief in his blue eyes danced when he had taken someone by surprise. He was dressed casually, albeit expensively and stylish. He had a long-sleeved natural colored cotton shirt ... Egyptian cotton, if I wasn't mistaken ... with the sleeves rolled up almost to the elbow and collar unbuttoned. His pants were cotton as well in a darker beige and belted with what appeared to be a slim snakeskin belt. A discreet glance toward the floor revealed that his shoes matched the snakeskin belt. 

"Mr. Emerly, it is a pleasure to meet you. And, yes, I do admire art ... I'm afraid I have no training, but do appreciate the talent. Has your family always collected art?"

Those startlingly blue eyes danced again as he laughed, "Why, Miss Prentiss, what a subtle way to ask if I come from old money! Far from it, I've earned every red cent I have ever had at my disposal ... I'm afraid I'm one of those rascals, one of the nouveau riche. But, let's go into the study and sit. Would you care for coffee?", without waiting for an answer, "Vonne, would you bring the coffee please." Vonne nodded and smiled as she left the study, leaving the door open behind her. 

The study had a fireplace on one wall with two wing backed chairs covered in a rich tapestry material facing each other and separated slightly by a small table between them. Centered in the other half of the room was a desk adorned with a Tiffany desk lamp, Monte Blanc pen and a few sheets of stationery stacked neatly in the center. The wall behind the desk as well as the two remaining walls were covered with rich mahogany bookcases, divided by spacious windows. His impressive library had personal touches of objects d'art scattered among the leather bound volumes gathered there. It was a wonderful room, the colors and wood created a cozy, calming atmosphere where one could get lost in a book as easily as within a day dream. My thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Emerly, "Miss Prentiss, please have a seat" he motioned to one of the wing backed chairs. "I hope you'll be comfortable in here, I'm afraid the room was designed specifically for male tastes."

"On the contrary, I love it." I replied as Vonne entered with a silver tray carrying a silver coffee carafe, two cups and accessories. "Thank you, Vonne." Mr. Emerly said, "And, please, remind me at of that conference call at 3:00, I don't want to miss it." 

"Certainly sir," she said as she glided across the study floor and slid the heavy pocket doors closed behind her.

I studied him as he held the saucer and poured coffee. This was definitely a person who was confident in entertaining, his manners were flawless and came easily to him. Although in his 50's, a vibrant man sat across from me. There was no evidence of diminishing vitality except for possibly the neatly cut gunmetal hair. His face showed no wrinkles, only laugh lines around his eyes. His hands and forearms were firm, tan and strong looking. 

As he handed me my cup, it was evident that somewhere and at some point in time, he had mingled with persons of higher tastes and breeding despite his pseudo-confession of being nouveau riche.

He raised his eyes a few moments earlier than I thought he would, just in time to catch me in my appraisal of him.

One side of his mouth curled in response to my blush and he said, "Miss Prentiss, what is it I can do for you?"

I needed a few moments to regroup my thoughts so I took the first sip of coffee. I hesitated, inhaling deeply to center myself. The coffee was strong and definitely imported. I told him that I was a free-lance writer and had been contracted by Business World to do a human interest article on several entrepreneurs. I ran down the list of men I had already interviewed ... and it was impressive, if I do say so myself ... Malcolm Forbes, Hugh Hefner, Ted Turner, and Sam Walton. 

"Mr. Emerly, your name surfaced after I thought I had completed my article. I was intrigued when I found that despite my best research efforts, very little could be found on any of your enterprises. Your wealth was amassed somehow and you just told me in the hallway that it wasn't an inheritance. Being a journalist, I'm naturally curious ... but now I am especially curious. You're aware, I'm sure, of the rumors flying all over Savannah about you ... some of them are implying that you built your wealth through less than legal means. I thought you might enjoy the opportunity to set the record straight."

Okay ... I had said my little speech, it was even better than I had rehearsed it all morning as well as during the drive over here. Now I leveled my gaze at him and once again brought the coffee to my lips. I would give him the few seconds it took to mull over my offer and I'd see what he had to say.

"Miss Prentiss, you certainly come right to the point, I admire that. I will have to think it over a bit ... after all, if you've heard the rumors about me in Savannah, then you are also aware that I highly value my privacy. To open my life up to your readers is perhaps something more than I'm willing to do right now ... but I will think about it.

No matter which of the answers I give to your request. I want to assure you that every dollar I made was earned with honor, although possibly not viewed as legally by closed minded people. I never lied, cheated, stole or swindled. My wealth is founded in an educational process which I was extremely fortunate to be included."

I suddenly realized that although I was drinking my coffee, Mr. Emerly had not touched a drop. I assumed it was the coffee making me more than a bit warm, and I felt just the tiniest bit detached. It was a relief when Mr. Emerly stood and offered to show me his gardens.

We walked for a little while, admiring the late seasonal blooming plants and the variety of perennials that lined the walk ways. Mr. Emerly slowed his pace to keep time with mine, and then clasping his hands behind him, he stopped and turned to me, "Miss Prentiss, you don't have a Southern accent, how did you possibly end up in Savannah?"

Before I knew it we were walking again and I was gushing out my life's story without the slightest hesitation. He nodded all through my chattering about growing up in Wisconsin and going to college but I assured him that after spending last Christmas with my family I had become a converted, devoted Southerner. We sat for a while on a little wrought iron bench as I relayed my 3 years in the Peace Corps working in Africa. 

Before I knew it , I was droning on about my first marriage and the subsequent bitterness, "I was sitting on a lounge chair taking in the warm Florida sun ... minding my own business, reading a book. Suddenly I realized I was in a shadow and looked up to see tall man standing between myself and the sun. I raised my hand to shade my eyes and as they adjusted my gaze traveled up to reveal he was over 6' tall. He was wearing only a bathing suit and an unbuttoned cotton shirt which revealed broad shoulders and chest generously covered with hair. I was impressed with his strong, athletic arms. Neither of us said a word for a few minutes ... Lord, he was handsome! Dark hair and a pair of dark eyes that threatened to swallow me alive." Despite myself, thinking of Peter this way again I couldn't suppress a slight quiver ... one that I'm sure was not lost on Mr. Emerly.

"I had a sudden thought that if I could ever see those dark eyes soften when they looked at me I would be held captive for the rest of my life. To tell the truth, Mr. Emerly, I really wasn't that far off the mark!

Anyway, a velvet baritone spoke, "Excuse me, but I noticed that you've got the beginnings of a nasty sunburn."

I looked down at my arms and thighs and realized he was right. I didn't know why I was so flustered, but I certainly was ... all I could muster was a whispered, 'Thank you' as I closed my book and gathered up my things and stuffed them in the beach bag. As I started to make my way up the boardwalk toward the hotel, he fell into step with me. He introduced himself as Peter McGinty ... he said he was an attorney. He never quit talking. He was only two years older than me, but already had a promising career developing in Atlanta. Before I knew it, he had steered me to a cabana by the pool where he found us seats in the shade and ordered us two Mai Tai's. I couldn't tear myself away from those dark eyes.

We had dinner that evening and within a few days I had fallen deeply, madly, innocently and gullibly in love with Peter. So in a whirlwind we were married. We settled in Atlanta so Peter could continue with his career and there were many encouraging prospects for me as well in the area. 

Neither of us had any interest in children at that particular time in our lives, we were both ambitious and eager to carve ourselves a place in this world. Peter threw himself into his work and I was lucky enough to land a job with Ted Turner's blossoming business ... that's how I got my interview with Ted. At any rate, a couple of years had flown by and I realized that Peter and I spent less and less time with each other, our intimate relationship was non-existent, and most days the closest we came was a quick peck on the cheek for which ever of us was the last out the door. 

That realization troubled me and I decided to get our marriage back on the right track. I thought I would surprise Peter with a picnic lunch at his office. I went to an exclusive Bed & Breakfast in the area famous for their picnic baskets, ordered cold chicken, baby spinach salad, strawberries dipped in chocolate, and the finest bottle of champagne they had in stock.

I was as giddy as a school girl that afternoon as I rode the elevator up to Peter's office ... I couldn't wait to see his smile at my surprise and watch those dark eyes turn soft again ... maybe we'd even get around to locking the door to his office ... anyway, I had made very sure I looked my best and had used his favorite perfume. I only hoped he wasn't in the middle of an important project which could bring our romantic interlude to an abrupt halt. I arrived around 12:00 knowing his secretary would be at lunch and that Peter didn't usually have lunch until 1:00 or 2:00. I sauntered through the reception area, and on reaching his office, I opened the door and said 'Surprise, Darli ....' Before me was a small conference table in the corner of Peter's office. His pants were down around his ankles and his secretary was lying across the table with her feet resting on his shoulders. From the appearance of his erection and her expression, I had interrupted in mid-coitus. I just dropped the basket, turned and ran. As the elevator doors closed I could hear Peter calling me, but I didn't want to see him ... not then ... not ever.


Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 01



That afternoon I checked in to a hotel, had my clothes sent over to me, and contacted a lawyer. The one and only time I ever saw Peter after that was at the divorce hearing. He did have the courtesy to appear repentant and ask that I forgive him and call off the whole thing, but I could not."

Suddenly I blushed. I was an introvert and it wasn't at all like me to reveal these personal things, feelings, tragedies. "I beg you to forgive me, Mr. Emerly. I don't know what could have possessed me to talk like that. I assure you it's most out of character." 

"Think nothing of it, my dear, I take it as a sign of trust that you would open up to me like that ... and perhaps we can talk again, but I'm afraid I see Vonne approaching ... it must be time for my conference call."

I was startled again as Mr. Emerly took my hand, bowed ever so slightly and kissed it. I was still staring at his back when Vonne reached me to show me out. She had in her hand a day planner very much like the one I kept and flipped it to the forthcoming Monday. "Miss Prentiss, do you think you could meet with Mr. Emerly again on Monday at ... say ... 1:00 again? No, wait, better yet, why don't you join him for luncheon on the veranda ... it's particularly pleasant this time of year ... and it will give you both a chance to speak informally for a while."

I just gave her a puzzled look ... I don't think it was a question at all as far as they were concerned ... it was a given ... I would be here on Monday at noon. I simply nodded at Vonne and as she turned to leave me at my car ... how had we gotten from the gardens to the car? I had to give my head another shake to clear the cobwebs I had unexpectedly become aware of.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 02



I didn't set the alarm clock for Monday morning, I simply let the autumn sunshine gently wake me. The coffee was waiting, I gathered up the morning paper which had been deposited at my door and plopped on the sofa to dwell over it and the rest of the pot of coffee.

As my mantel clock struck 9:00, I realized it was time to get ready for my luncheon with Mr. Emerly. The magazine people were anxious to see the story and I hoped I could finish the interview this afternoon and polish off the article tonight.

I showered and walked to my closet. As I reached for another pair of tailored slacks, I thought it would be far more pleasant to wear a dress again. I hadn't dressed since my last divorce. But, I wouldn't let those thoughts creep into my mind and spoil my mood. I chose a teal colored knit dress, coweled at the collar and belted at the waist, I kicked aside my practical loafers and stepped into a pair of 2" sienna leather heels. I gave myself an approving nod and went straight to the table to gather things for my interview. There was really no gathering to be done because I suddenly realized I hadn't touched anything since Friday afternoon. I shook my head in disbelief, grabbed my briefcase, and headed to the parking garage.

Just as before, the drive into the country did me a world of good and as I once again passed out of the shady oak tunnel Tanglewood revealed it self to me. This time Mr. Emerly was standing on the veranda at the stop of the steps and quickly came down to open my car door. "I'm so glad you could make it, Miss Prentiss. As you very well know, I entertain rarely but do enjoy it immensely when I do. I have been looking forward to this little luncheon all weekend." By that time he had lead me to the seating area on the east side of the veranda and smoothly pulled out my chair for me. As I sat, "I did enjoy your gardens last Friday and was looking forward to seeing you again, as well. As you can imagine, my magazine friends are putting quite a bit pressure on me to finish up the article in time for the next edition. I was hoping you would grant me an interview today."

I slid the Irish linen napkin across my lap noticing that Mr. Emerly motioned to someone through the French doors, and a servant appeared with two salads. She sat them in front of us, first mine then Mr. Emerly's. Although no stranger to fine dining, I had never seen a tossed salad quite like this, the base layer was of course a frilly lettuce, but then on top were julienne strips of bright red, brilliant pink, sunny yellow, and minced pieces of something lavender. I crinkled my eye brows and Mr. Emerly laughed at me, "I hope you enjoy the salad, it's an old recipe given to me by a wonderful Creole woman many years ago. It's filled with baby greens, herbs, and edible flowers I'm sure will delight you. We serve it with a simple balsamic vinaigrette so as not to confuse the flavors. Tell me if you like it."

"Although I understand you are originally from Wisconsin, I hope our sweet tea is to your liking. It is also a special blend, one that I'm particularly fond of."

The salad was honestly very good. Nothing like I had tasted before, bitter and sweet and tangy all at the same time. The little minced laven der pieces were crunchy and had a wonderful texture.

"You were telling me about your marriage, Miss Prentiss. Can I intrude into your life a little further and ask if you were a virgin when you married Peter?"

"Good Lord, Mr. Emerly! You certainly don't mince words, do you? But, my business with you here is professional, if you grant me an interview I promise my article will be honest and forthright. If not, we need not waste each other's time."

"Oh, my dear, forgive me," his blue eyes almost transfixed me, "I suppose it is just an over-zealousness on my part to make a friend here in Savannah. I do apologize, I am not usually this forward. Of course, I will give you your interview ... it will be my pleasure to do so. And we will get right to it after dessert ... I had my calendar cleared for you this afternoon."

I exhaled and realized that perhaps I had reacted far too strongly to this obviously kind man, I shouldn't always be so guarded.

The rest of the luncheon went without incident. After the salad we were served a delicious warm pasta with medallions of grilled duck breast accompanied by a crusty Italian peasant bread. Mr. Emerly and I chatted about the weather, local politics, whether we thought the Georgia Bulldogs would go all the way this year.

As the last of the dishes were cleared away, Mr. Emerly pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Not at all", I replied.

"Would you care for coffee?"

"Oh, yes", I replied

Mr. Emerly motioned again, and the same servant brought out the familiar silver tray. After she went back into the house, Mr. Emerly poured my coffee ...

"Now, my dear, I'll tell you a little about my life ...

My remarkable life had a totally unremarkable beginning.

I was born in a quiet little town to an industrious farmer and his wife. Through no fault of my own, I was born late and hard. My mother labored courageously to bring me into this world, then bruised, exhausted and weak she gladly left this plain. My name was to have been William Austin Emerly, Jr. But when Mother died, Dad decided to name me after her family, so I became Jackson Austin Emerly.

My Dad was my whole world. He did his best to be everything to me, but it wasn't easy for him. Raising a bullheaded, gregarious boy was more of a challenge than he'd bargained for. He worked hard, sweated a living out of dirt, and then tried his best to teach me right from wrong and bring me up in a way that would have made Mother proud.

My high school years just added to his headaches. My fighting, playing practical jokes, and skipping school had him called by the principal more often that he would have liked. He'd often leave the school, towing me by the collar, and shaking his head. He'd lecture, punish, scold. One time called the preacher in to try to put the fear of God into me ... but I'm afraid I was as irreverent back then as I am now ... and the acerbic, old toad in black had little effect on my outlook. Even then, I would not rob pleasure from today on the vague promise of a tomorrow."

I interrupted him with my giggle. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I just can't picture you, this handsome, sophisticated man sitting in front of me, being some incorrigible little boy!"

"Oh, but it's true, Miss Prentiss. There are very few regrets in my life, but there are some things of which I am not proud", he chuckled.

His light hearted revelations made me reconsider his earlier question and I didn't feel there'd be any harm in answering, "Well, sir, to answer your earlier question ... I was almost a 'virgin' when I married Peter ... there had been a few times while I was in college when I'd had a little too much to drink ... I wasn't exactly a nun after all ...but, none of them were special ... come to think of it, neither were the encounters. Peter changed all that ... he was an extraordinary lover ... he was unselfish, kind, gentle, passionate and demanding all at the same time. I think is was one of a kind ... as I mentioned the other day ... once I saw those dark eyes soften as he hovered above me ... well, never mind. That's over with now."

In an effort to switch attention away from myself and bolstered by an unfamiliar courage, I ventured on, "Tell me, Mr. Emerly, when did you loose your virginity?"

Now, it was his turn to appear startled! "Miss Prentiss, I don't think I want this as part of the article you're writing about me ..."

"Oh no ... it won't be ... this is strictly off the record ... just between you and me. After all ...I've told you mine and now it's your turn to tell me yours."

He put his hand to his chin and extended his forefinger to lay on his cheek and studied me for a while before he spoke. "Very few people have ever heard this story and the ones who did were initially shocked. I'm not sure you would appreciate the subtleties ..."

"Oh please, Mr. Emerly, we are both adults here ... I'm sure I won't be shocked, it is the 80's after all, you remember the sexual revolution and all that?"

Why had I said that? Damn, it seemed that both times I had been around this man I couldn't control my tongue at all and could barely control my toughts!

"Alright ... let me see just how open minded you are. Although I didn't loose my virginity until I was sixteen ... a good deal younger than you, my dear ... I did get my first lesson from my father and step-mother."

Okay ... this was more than I could handle ... I just didn't want to get into the middle of some dysfunctional, incestuous family skeletons ...

He watched me as my eyes grew rounder and heard my loud gasp, I was about to protest when he interrupted, "My dear, relax, it was not as you are imagining. It was quite by accident.

You see, it was in my 13th year and the war in Europe was reaching its bloody height during 1944. Although our little town paper only came out once a week, and even then it was filled almost entirely with county news, everyone kept up with the War news thanks to the radio. Of course the conflict in the Pacific had been turning our way since the Battle of Midway in 1942, but we still paid close attention to what our Marines and Navy were facing there. In Europe D-Day had been a costly, but also decisive victory, then Gen. Patton lead the Battle of the Bulge and charged at Germany with his First Armored Division. Merrill's Marauders had invaded China through India and Burma to attack at Japan's back door.

All the young men in town had either joined up in the beginning or been drafted during the years that the war drug on. Many of the young girls in town wrote to sweethearts now far away, but others had not had the chance to find a beau as they grew of age.

Dad wanted to go ... but no one was there to take care of me, and moreover because he was a farmer the government gave him a waiver because he was contributing to the war effort. It was during this summer that Dad met Millie.

He was a robust, handsome man just over 30, and Millie was the petite blonde daughter of the owner of the local mercantile. She was demure, polite, and gracious ... all the things men want in a wife. But there was one serious problem. She was only 17 years old that summer. Dad would talk to her after church while trying to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn't putting a potato in someone's tail pipe or pretending to wrestle around with one of the other boys just so we could try to look up some girl's dress.

Millie's father wasn't too happy to see his beautiful young daughter growing fonder of this man ... he had hopes of her marrying well, living more comfortably than he could have ever afforded. As he watched helplessly, his shining star became more enamoured with this work-hardened, sun-darkened man. Worse than that! This man came with a ready made family consisting of one unruly son, 40 acres, and a clap board home barely furnished with essentials much less anything of beauty or luxury.

As they continued their courtship, Dad would take her for picnics, a movie once in a while, and Sunday afternoon drives. More often than not, they'd have to drag along Millie's little sister just to make sure they were properly chaperoned.

Millie turned 18 in October just as the leaves were turning into a magnificent cacophony of colors and the air was crisp. She and Dad then began to develop a serious affinity for each other. She loved his strength as much as he loved her gentility. She would gaze at a clean shaven, flinty jaw and became instantly aware of a tingling in her belly. He would steal a look at the soft curve of her breasts beneath a chintz dress and be physically reminded of days long ago.

He finally embraced her and as he pulled her close, she was shocked at the power of his arms and hardness of his chest ... he held her so tightly her breasts pressed against him almost to the point of hurting. She was a whirlwind of feelings ... his unyielding eyes made her hunger to do nothing but yield ... as she looked at his face, his frowning mouth almost shouted of anger and yet she wanted to silence him with her mouth ... she began to feel an unfamiliar hardness against her belly and gasped at the sensation of wetness between her legs. He could see confusion and craving battling in her eyes.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he slowly lowered his head to hers and she saw his eyes change from a violent storm to tenderness as he softly kissed her. Unwilling to relinquish her body, he held her close and rested his head among sweet smelling curls. As she curved her body into his, he realized his hopes were coming true ... she loved and wanted him, too. He asked her to marry him and she said 'yes'.

When Millie told her parents, her father was furious and her mother cried. But, she was of age now and there was nothing they could do to stop her. They pleaded and she threw a tantrum exclaiming that she would have him as her husband! They threatened to disown her and she retorted should they do so, they would never see their grandchildren. They offered to send her to New York to visit an Aunt, to see the other side of life away from this sleepy town. As she considered their offer, they were encouraged. Perhaps she would recognize life's potentials and forget this madness. It saddened them to think that she might choose to live away from them, but it was a far better alternative than seeing her shackled to a farmer and his delinquent son.

Finally, she agreed. She'd go to New York and spend a few weeks with Aunt Helen. When she came back, though ... make no mistake, she would marry William ...

I remember how she used to talk about her day dreams of their life together before they were married. Dad would come in from the fields and she'd have supper on the table. Of course, it wouldn't be like the beans and salt pork we normally ate ... it would be a proper supper. The table would be set with a cloth and linen napkins. Dishes she had read about in the ladies magazines would be prepared and rival the best cooks in the county.

He would delight in his wife's accomplishments and sweep her off her feet to kiss her face and tell her how much he loved her. As she finished supper he would bathe. As twilight fell, they would walk out to the back porch to watch a vermilion sunset against the fields. They'd stand there with their arms about each other and when the fireflies began their dance.

One afternoon her daydreams were interrupted as her mother drug a monstrous suitcase into her room to begin her packing. Of course, she'd have to tell William ... he undoubtedly would understand this little trip before she settled down to a married life.

The next day she drove to the farm and found him in the barn. He had been pitching hay and stripped his shirt to accommodate such hot and sweaty work. His glistening back was to her as she walked in and paused to let her eyes adjust to the shadowy half-light. He didn't hear her come in, so she was free to watch the muscles in his back slide and strain just under the skin. She also noticed the strength in his buttocks and the backs of his thighs as he bent over. As she walked closer, he turned and wiped the beads of sweat off his face with his handkerchief. He smiled at the vision before him. She had chosen a green silky blouse just the color of her eyes and paired with it black skirt. It was a simply cut outfit, but one that was tight at the waist and flared at both her hips and bosom. She had her hair pulled up so that loose curls fell about her pretty face and sprayed the lightest scent of cologne about her neck brfore she had left home.

She told Dad that she had come to talk to him about their wedding and his grin grew even wider ... he could hardly bear the torture until he made her his own in every way.

It was the middle of October and Millie said they should set a date toward the first of December to be wed. A scowl shadowed his face ... he had hoped that they would marry within a few days ... no more than a week or two at most!

Millie reminded him that she was getting married for the first and only time in her life! How could he possibly think that she would just run off like one of those tenant farmer girls on the outskirts of town! She wanted a proper wedding, in a proper church, with a proper dress, ring, and vows!

He softened a little as he looked as his young love. How could he deny her? Of course, they could be married in December.

As he relented somewhat, it gave Millie courage to tell him about her trip to see Aunt Helen. She used the wedding as an excuse to go to New York to pick out a dress and a few things for her trousseau. She assured him that she would be properly chaperoned and looked after by Aunt Helen. But, of course, there would be some entertainment ... dinners, and plays, and the like. Then she would come back to begin their life together.

It was obvious that Dad was rushed with thoughts and feelings ... perhaps she'd meet some younger man of standing in New York who could offer her all the things he could not ... even if she didn't meet someone, could she come back to be a farmer's wife after being exposed to all that glittered and glowed in the city? He might lose her forever and he knew he could not bear it!

His anger boiled again and he forbade her to go. She could easily acquire everything she needed through her father's store. He wouldn't have any one promised to him flitting about the city and God knows getting into what kind of mischief! His face hardened and his voice rose as he stood to face her.

I have to give her credit, though, she didn't back down. She stood face to face with him and it almost looked comical. She had to throw back her head to look him in the eye ... even if she had stood on tip-toe they would not have been equal in size.

The alabaster line of her graceful neck was strained as she looked up at him and her face began to turn the most charming shade of pink and her eyes sparked with anger. She clutched her fists and began to argue and shout at him.

She'd do anything she damned well pleased! She wasn't his wife yet! And there was no way he could stop her!

I guess Dad lost it. His anger, fear, and lust combined and conspired to take over. He lashed out, jailing her waist in his arms as his mouth covered hers. Not gently this time, like on the day he had asked her to marry him, but hard, mean and demanding.

She tried to push him away but was no match for him. She tried to scream out in protest, but his mouth would not release her. As she struggled, she became aware that he had lifted her up and her toes were barely touching the hard red dirt floor.

The more frightened she became, the tighter he held her. She tore her mouth away and ordered him to stop. He chuckled, which wasn't a laugh at all, but an audible reflection of the desire in his eyes. He said he was going to make sure that she was his ... and only his ... no matter where she went.

This was a side of him Millie had never seen and she was surprised that she was frightened of him. She was suddenly and very keenly conscious of the fact that the man she now faced was a stranger to her.

His grip didn't loosen as he backed her into the stall he had just finished filling with hay and forced her to her back. As she began to hit his chest and face she let fly with every foul name and curse she could muster and he didn't say a thing ... he just kept looking into those brilliant green eyes full of electric fury. He calmly slid one of his arms from around her waist as he gathered her two small wrists in the other massive brown hand. His leg was thrown across her almost waist high and she was hopelessly pinned to the straw. As his left hand drew her arms above her head, his right hand began to unbutton the front of her blouse. Millie only then began to realize the seriousness of the man hovering above her.




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 02



She pleaded with him ... please wait until our wedding night ... and he said nothing ... she threatened to scream, but she was certain no one was within 40 acres of them in any direction. As the third button was freed, the blouse began to unfold exposing a white cotton bra. He ran his tongue along the top of the bra cup and Millie whimpered. Then his hand slowly drifted down to the bottom of her skirt and began to push the soft cotton up her thigh. Millie began another frenzy of struggling ... this time so hard that perspiration began to glisten on her forehead and chest. She begged him to stop and this time he laughed with dark humor. He promised her that before he was done she'd be begging him not to stop and then begging him to do it again.

The shock rose in her eyes as his fingertips found the elastic around the legs of her panties. Still holding her wrists in his left hand, he re-adjusted his leg to cover her knees as his forefinger gently traced around the elastic. First he followed the path to feel the beginning mounds of her round behind, then back around to the center of her being. He was taking his time and looking her in the eye the whole while. Surprisingly, she didn't say any more, she didn't scream or curse, she simply returned his gaze without expression.

As his finger stroked the silken down between her legs, he slipped off one and then the other of her bra straps with his teeth, exposing both breasts. Against her white skin her nipples matched the pink in her cheeks and when they had no protection against the chilly October air, they puckered into tiny ruby rocks.

He slowly took one in his mouth, gently sucking and tenderly biting while his right hand continued its mission. Then he switched to the other breast as his right hand ventured to the top of her panties and pulled them down to her knees.

Then his fingers sought the treasure between her legs and he smiled at her when he found she was wet, despite her protestations. He continued to circle her entrance, making sure she was amply wet before exploring further with his finger. She was a virgin! She was so tight he wasn't even sure if he'd be able to complete his desire when it was time. He was her first, and after this, he was sure he would be the only man she'd ever have. No respectable girl could go to another husband after being so completely used ... and he had every intention of using her completely.

As his finger delved further, Millie let out a small gasp and then bit her lower lip. She could not ... would not ... let him see the effect this was having on her. He tried to loosen his grip on her wrists, but as soon as she sensed the lessening of pressure, she began to struggle again and was beginning to make it rather troublesome to finish his mission.

He unbuckled the belt around her slender waist, and drew it out of the loops. As he was tying the buckle end around her wrists, he used his legs to scoot her closer to the side of the stall. There he secured the other end of the belt around one of the rails, leaving both of his hands free.

He raised up just a little and slid the blouse up her arms and then likewise, unsnapped her bra and pushed it up her arms as far as it would go. She was embarrassed to be exposed like this and shocked to see the serene look on his face as he slowly gazed at her. He lingered twirling one of her curls around his finger. He caressed first her eyes and then her mouth with the slightest of touches. His finger ran the length of her neck then circled her nipples, one at a time. He cupped his hand and his nails traced a path to her center as he continued to take in the picture in front of him.

He once again, raised over her and suckled her breast while the other one received short tweaks from his fingers bordering somewhere between pain and ecstasy.

As he watched her eyes, his hands slowly spread her legs, first one then the other. He smiled as he bent over to kiss her nipples, then nibble slowly down to the hedge of blonde curls that protected her innocence.

He shifted to wedge his knees inside her knees to push her legs further apart. He took his time first running both hands up her body to her breast. As he slid himself lower he first ran his tongue the length of her while his hands slowly drifted to the aid of his mouth. His thumbs parted those lips to surrender her vulnerability up to him. As he began to slowly tongue her mound, Millie moaned for the first time but lay very still. He continued to administer attention, first to the little button hidden between those lips, then slipping one, then two, then finally three fingers in her, moving slowly in and out until Millie moaned again and arched her back. He smiled and came back up to kiss her. This time she did not fight him, but opened her mouth as his covered hers. His hands never stopped moving, stroking, touching, pinching, flicking her breasts, her belly ...

He stood, his hands went to his belt slowly unbuckling it and then just as slowly he unzipped his pants. He watched Millie as she watched him. He sat on a nearby bale of hay and unlaced his work boots, kicking off one then the other. After he socks were pulled from his feet, he stood up to relieved himself of his pants. His manhood was proud and erect ...

Millie had never seen a man ... oh, she'd seen little boys when one cousin or another had to a diaper to change, but she had no idea that a man transformed into such a stick. Her feet tried to dig into the hard dirt floor in a vain attempt to run away.

He lay down on top of her, kissing her and stilling her with the full weight of him.

As he slowly began to entered her, she jolted and once again tried to escape the intrusion. But, he steadily, and patiently continued to pivot his hips, urging her to open and entered her further with every push. As she grimaced, he watched her face, never letting an expression of any kind cross his face to give away his feelings.

With each stroke Millie loosened and opened willingly for him, a firm thrust finally pierced her maidenhood and he felt a warm ooze of blood. He never noticed that she let out a short scream, but buried his face in her hair and began to make love to her in earnest. Within a few strokes, Millie, too, began to move her hips in rhythm, completing an erotic sort of dance. Suddenly she arched her back, shivered all over, and collapsed into a buttery pool of flesh. When he raised up, he looked at the afterglow on her face and smiled.

He told her that he loved her and could not bear to be without her for another minute. Would she forgive him? Did she still love him?

Millie opened her eyes and studied his face. She said nothing for what seemed like an eternity, then the corners of her mouth curled up. Through half closed lids shaded with thick lashes, she began to speak. "I have wanted you since the first day you approached me with your hat in your hand. I didn't know what I wanted, or how it was to happen ... my mother never talked to me about these things ... but from that day to this, every time you walked into a room, my belly tingled and my panties were suddenly wet. I could not have come to you of my own free will, if we were to be lovers before we were married, you had to take me ... and I'm glad you did. I'll go to New York now ... when I come back we'll be married."

He kissed her again and again and finally liberated her mouth. She smiled up at him, "Now, if you'll untie my hands, we can see what else you have to teach me," and he did so gladly.

He and Millie spent the remainder of the afternoon and into the twilight learning and exploring. As Millie dressed and drove back into town she noticed that there was, in fact, a vermilion sky shrouding the fields.

Suddenly Dad remember he had a son, and went out to find me.

I remained as still as I had that whole afternoon in the loft despite my own discomfort.

I had watched and received my first lesson in love making through a knothole."

I was brought back to the present when I realized his eyes were studying me, he smiled an understanding smile as he watched my face during his story turning from an ordinary color to blushing pink, and grinned further as toward the end of his story I had begun to fan my face with the linen napkin, although I made no protest to stop him.

Throughout Mr. Emerly's story I became increasingly aware of the affect it was having on me. I was afraid that the slight tremor in my hand would betray my pent-up, locked away secret self.

Suddenly I knew I had to get myself away from Mr. Emerly and Tanglewood as quickly as possible. "Well", I quickly said, "I don't think I can top that one. But I do think I must leave now for another pressing engagement. I forgot an important appointment scheduled for early this evening."

He stood as I slid my chair back and crossed to my side of the table. "I hope you will come to visit me again, Miss Prentiss, I promise not to get sidetracked during our interview next time. I'll check with Vonne and have her give you a call to set up our next meeting if that's alright with you."

I nodded, stood and wobbled just a little and he steadied me by placing the palm of his hand against my back, just at the waist line. I was shocked when I realized his touch seared through my knit dress. I couldn't let myself be distracted again, so I began to quickly cross the veranda and skip down the stairs. I waved goodbye and shouted from my car door, "Please have Vonne give me a call, I'm certain we can ar range something."

As I put the car in gear and began to make my way into the oak tunnel again, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that Mr. Emerly had crossed to the front of the veranda and was holding is arm up in a wave of goodbye. I knew I would see him again. I looked forward to it.

I could scarcely help but run the story over in my mind again and again. It wasn't anything like I had ever heard in an interview before, but I somehow I knew it would haunt my dreams.

By the time I had driven back into the city, I was thinking clearly once again about projects and priorities. I didn't believe there was any future in trying to weave anything about Mr. Emerly or his mysterious enterprises into the article, I had no doubt that I should just finish it and submit it.

When I got home, I peeled off the confining clothing and settled down in my favorite sweat pants and t-shirt. I poured a glass of wine, turned on my computer, and began to put the finishing touches on my article. It was more of a chore than I had bargained for and by the time I finished the sun had gone down and the street lights had come on. I copied the article to a floppy disc and stretched my hands above my head. Thanks to computers, the old curse of 'writer's cramp' had moved through the hands, up the arms, and settled in a very stiff neck.

I'd Fed-Ex the floppy tomorrow, right now all I wanted was a hot bath. I walked over to the kitchen cabinets, took out a carafe, and poured it half full of wine. I had decided I wanted to soak for a long, long time. On the way to the bathroom, I took the phone off the receiver and turned on my stereo.

In the bathroom, I began filling the tub and poured in bubble bath that smelled of magnolias. I lit the candles on the vanity, and shucked out of my clothes. The steam rising from the water filled the room with the signature aroma of the South and helped me to settle down a little bit, I poured another glass of wine, sat the carafe down beside the tub and stepped in. I scooted down in the water and positioned a terrycloth towel rolled up to support my neck. It shouldn't take long now before the combination of the hot water and wine began to unknot my neck. I closed my eyes and willed myself not to think about anything in particular. I floated where the soft music from the stereo took me, and it wasn't long before I filled my glass again. The water had begun to get tepid, so I sat up, let a little of the water out, and turned on the hot water again. I laid back again and rubbed the bubbles over my shoulders, breast and tummy. When the tub had reached a perfect temperature again, I shut off the water and once again closed my eyes.

This time, my mind did wander back to Tanglewood. I was strangely stirred by Mr. Emerly, not just the story he had told, but the fuzzy feeling of calm when I was with him. His piercing blue eyes found me across the miles and through the steam, and I once again was on his veranda, fanning my face with a linen napkin.

Good God! I forced myself to gulp down the rest of the wine and rise out of the tub. As the drain sucked the last of the water down, I brushed my hair and took off my makeup. I decided to just make it an early night and not worry about tomorrow or my next assignment.

After making sure the door was locked and turning off the remaining lights, I folded down the bed and slipped between the covers. For the first time in years I didn't put on a nightshirt ... I wanted to sleep unencumbered. As darkness enfolded me, I released a sigh, and fell asleep before the covers barely touched my shoulders.

Suddenly I was on a sumptuous terrace above the ocean. I was wearing a gauzy dress that reached almost to the ground. Before me sat a table loaded with glistening fruit, sticky pastries, and heady wine. Not the least bit concerned about being alone, I began to sample the delicacies one at a time. In the distance I could see a man approaching, I shielded my eyes from the sun and gazed in his direction. I didn't think it was anyone I knew, but in my dream there was no reason to be alarmed. He walked toward me slowly, his face hidden by the shadow of a wide brimmed Panama Hat. I could just make out the outline of his jaw, but somehow knew he was smiling ... and I was smiling back at him. He didn't say a word to me, nor I to him, there was no need because we two had been waiting for each other. He took me in his arms and began to lower his lips to kiss mine. I welcomed his kiss and pulled him closer to me. The dreamscape took on a purple hue as the sun set and we walked down to the beach with our arms around each other. It didn't seem strange at all that we did not speak. I was aware that his hand rubbed up and down caressing from my waist to the full curve of my bottom. I did not want to stop him, but only looked at him and smiled. He smiled back with a tender, loving mouth. I could not read his eyes because they were still shaded by the brim of the hat. When we reached the beach we sank onto a blanket already laid out in the sand. As we knelt he reached out to cup my face as he kissed me long and hard. His hands drifted from my cheeks, down my neck and across my shoulders, his mouth sought its way down my neck, kissing the little indentation at the base of my throat, while his hands circled my breasts. I eased myself down, pulling him with me. I wanted no foreplay. I was hungry from years of want and raised my hips to meet his. We were suddenly without clothes, and his chest loomed above me, I moaned as I felt him enter me again and again and I never wanted him to stop. I wanted for either my whole life to go on like this, or to die this very moment knowing the full height of sensual delight. I held each of his forearms in my hands. He lifted himself up at arm's length to look at me and I reveled in his adoration. In my dream I was beautiful and desirable ... I was everything he wanted. As I wondered at my lover, I wasn't at all surprised to see Jackson Emerly smiling down at me. We locked eyes as the passion grew, and I wanted to memorize every feature, every line of his face. The face above me began to fade and change. I was confused and watched while the face of Peter appeared ... his face framed by his dark hair hovering above me ... then I watched as those dark eyes softened again ...

I bolted straight up in the bed, the sheets were torn askew and my hair was limp with sweat. I pulled the hair off my face and back from my forehead as I tried to center myself in reality. My right arm automatically slid around my waist as though to protect myself from any further delusions.

I looked at the clock and it blinked back 1:43. I untangled the covers and climbed out of bed only to perceive a storm was building in the dis tance and I could barely hear the thunder. I walked to the window and watched as the lightening shattered the dark and skitted across the sky, and very deliberately took in deep breaths to throw off some of the lingering erogenous lightening still emanating from deep inside me.

After a time I crawled back in bed, but the rest of the night was spent uncomfortably, tossing and turning . I was afraid I would dream again, but terrified that I might not.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 03



As I watched Dana Prentiss drive down the oak lined avenue to the main road, Vonne appeared behind me. "Telephone ..." I thanked her and walked toward my study. Yes, indeed, I had been waiting on this call. It was, for the time being our only connection, and I cherished each one as I eagerly anticipated the next.

I picked up the receiver, "Hello my love."

It would not be long now, just a matter of a few short weeks before she would join me here at Tanglewood. We had carefully picked it out of several estates found for us by our Broker. We liked the seclusion, the quiet of the country, and the grace of the home. We had been told that the house had been built by a local physician to share his golden years with his bride of 40 years. You could touch the wood and almost feel the happiness of the home. She and I both felt it and fell in love with Tanglewood instantly.

Now Tanglewood would repeat its history. We two would enjoy every day together for the rest of our lives. We would unencumbered by business demands or financial concerns. Tanglewood would be provided us with a buffer from the rest of the world. It was something we had talked about and planned for years, and it was finally coming true.

We chatted more about our plans before getting down to business. "Yes," I said, "I've had occasion to meet Miss Prentiss now twice.

Sweetheart ... she's a wonderful young woman ... she's bright, she's pretty although she doesn't seem to think so ... she appears to be at peace with herself, but it's obvious she still carries around a lot of issues and pain. I don't think she lets very many people get too close to her ... she tends to be introverted ... and I'm guessing she guards her heart vigilantly.

I think there can be a lot done for her ... but given the specifications of our client I'm going to have to approach her in a round-about way. Just getting her to open her mind and heart will be a challenge, but I'm certain it will have the desired outcome.

I can't wait to see your beautiful face again and I have already planned my next steps with Miss Prentiss ... the sooner we finish with this com mission the sooner we can be together!"

"Yes, I love you, too. I will do everything I can think of to reach a speedy conclusion As soon as I feel the breakthrough is imminent, I will let you know so that you can escort the client to Tanglewood."

"Good-bye, Darling. I'll talk to you again in a few days."

As I hung up the phone, I glanced at my bookshelves and took down a number of my journals. In the years I had spent in this vocation, I found it advantageous to keep notes on various teaching tools. After a while, it no longer became necessary to re-invent the wheel with every client, but simply modify and combine other strategies to perfectly fit the present occasion.

"Hello, Miss Prentiss." Vonne began, "Mr. Emerly asked me to call and arrange another appointment for your interview on Wednesday." I wasn't surprised when I picked up the phone and found Vonne on the other end.

My good sense told me that I shouldn't go back ... come into my parlor said the spider to the fly ... but my curiosity overruled. "Well, let me check my day planner ...", I replied with a bit of a guilty conscience since I had Fed-Ex'd the floppy disc containing my article just this morning, "I see that I'm free after lunch on Wednesday, will that fit into Mr. Emerly's schedule?"

Vonne didn't hesitate, which struck me as odd, but agreed to the meeting at once.

Well, I'd see Mr. Emerly just once more and use the occasion to explain to him that I felt I had no choice but to omit him from my article as a result of a deadline squeeze. That wasn't too much of a lie ... one I could live with. After Wednesday, the society pages would have to deal with Mr. Emerly.

As I prepared to leave the apartment Wednesday morning, there was a knock at my door. The postman was there to deliver a certified letter for which I had to sign. This was odd. It had been years since I had gotten a certified letter. I was puzzled and wondered about it as I walked back to my couch.

A frown began to form on my face as I began reading ... "the building has been purchased with the intent of remodeling as condominiums for re-sale. This is your thirty day notice to vacate the premises." Well, Damn! I had only settled in here a few months ago, now my life would be in upheaval again.

I grumbled and frowned as I made my way to the parking garage, started my car, and headed out the now familiar route to Tanglewood.

I arrived and Vonne showed me to the study where Mr. Emerly was waiting for me. He stood as I entered the room and I stretched my hand out to shake his. Once again, and I didn't think I would ever get used to it, he turned my hand over and placed a gentle kiss there. "Miss Prentiss! It is good to see you again and I'm eagerly looking forward to completing this interview this afternoon. I must apologize for holding you up for this long, but I promise to make it up to you." As he spoke, he was leading me out of doors this time to the west side of the veranda. "Mr. Emerly, in fact, I came today to let you know that my publishers had begun to put more pressure on me and I'm afraid I had to finish the article without completing our portion on you."

"Oh, that's alright ... I really have been enjoying our visits so much ... to tell you the truth, that was the main reason I finally agreed to the inter view at all.

It's a shame, though, don't you think?"

Suddenly those blue eyes began to dance again as he turned to face me, "You know ... it's a wicked wind that blows no luck ...this whole thing could be turned around to our advantage!

Miss Prentiss, I have been long thinking about writing my memoirs and I am fully aware I do not have the ability with words necessary to do so. Perhaps you would consider coming into my employ and helping me with this project. I assure you that your salary will be generous and when we are finished, you'll be free to go your own way. What do you think?"

"I think that would be interesting, Mr. Emerly, but you see I just today received notice that my apartment building has been sold to some developer who wishes to remodel it into condominiums for sale. I'm afraid my next few weeks are going to be spent packing and looking for another place to live."

He studied my face and replied, "Oh, I see ... that does complicate things ... but wait. Why don't you move in here while we work on the book, during your spare time you can be looking for another place to live. We can take care of both our requirements at the same time."

"Mr. Emerly, I could not impose. Shouldn't you speak with Vonne. I'm sure she would not welcome another woman in the house ..."

The laugh interrupted me, "Miss Prentiss. You misunderstand. Vonne is my assistant and a very good one at that, I would be lost without her. However, she is just my assistant. She returns to her own quarters every night when our work is done. She is not the romantic interest in my life. And you should know, I am deeply and completely in love with the most marvelous woman. She will be joining me here soon and I'm sure you will be as fond of her as she will be of you.

Please say you'll consider my offer ... if for no other reason than to help a lonely man fill the days until his other half arrives."

There was an earnestness in his eyes when he spoke of the woman he loved which compelled me to trust him, and it would be a convenient bridge to finding a new place to live. Tanglewood was certainly beautiful, and I very much enjoyed being out of the city in these peaceful sur- roundings.

"Alright, Mr. Emerly, we'll see if together we can write a book. I'll spend the next couple of days packing and then ... "Nonsense," he cut in, "let's start right away ... I'll have Vonne arrange for movers to pack for you and we'll put your things in storage until you find a new place. In the meantime, why don't you go back to your apartment, pick up whatever clothes you feel you'll need and your personal belongings.

Plan on being here first thing in the morning, we'll get started then. Serendipity has smiled on us, Miss Prentiss, I'm sure we'll work well together."

And that was that. Mr. Emerly turned and strode back into his house. I walked around to my car, and had to laugh ... it seemed like every time I left Tanglewood I was either confused or befuddled.

I took out my garment bag and sorted through my clothes, choosing a few casual work outfits and started packing. I roamed from closet to dresser to chest trying to decide on what I should take and what would be left to be packed and stored away. I finally decided that it would be like packing for a two week vacation and that made my decisions easier.

I had to remind myself that I would only be a few miles outside city limits ... not on a mountain top in Tibet ... I could always go shopping for anything I had forgotten or omitted.

I'd have to remind myself to ask Vonne to arrange for my computer to be delivered to Tanglewood and set up. I packed a few necessary things ... my day planner, tape recorder for interviews, checkbook, dictionary and Thesaurus ... again, anything else I found myself needing could be ordered from a local office supply.

Since it was still early, I made a couple of trips to my car, leaving only my garment and make-up bag to carry down the next morning. I opened a bottle of wine and made myself a chef's salad out of the veggies left in the frig ... no sense in wasting them. I crossed the room to turn on the stereo and settled down to my supper. I was not particularly interested in the salad, but it was easy to eat as I watched the daylight turn to dusk and the lights of Savannah begin to twinkle.

I took my wine glass and the remainder of the bottle to the bathroom where I drew another hot bath. I mused at the quirky twists and turns life can make ... instead of looking forward to a hot bath and another glass of wine, I would ordinarily be furiously pursuing my next free lance writing assignment. Thanks to fate or karma I would be spending the next few weeks listening to the dull memories of a pleasant man, trying to give it enough spice to be able to put it in book form, and enjoying the languid pace of rural living.

A sudden pang of guilt made me wonder if I was taking advantage of Mr. Emerly ... after all, living at Tanglewood while looking for another apartment would make my life easier ... however, I had serious doubts about helping him with his memoirs. Very few business men had the types of lives that ordinary people wanted to read about ... mergers, accounting and marketing were not the stuff great novels are made of. Perhaps I should speak with him in the morning before unpacking. It would be unfair to take advantage of his hospitality without being perfectly honest about my misgivings.

That being settled in my own mind, I sank further down into the tub and poured the last of the wine into the glass.

Later when I slipped into bed, I had nearly nodded off before I realized that once again I had not worn a night shirt ... suddenly having nothing between myself and the crisp linens was the most comfortable I could be and it made me smile.

No matter what time of the day I drove up to Tanglewood, it seemed always to be captured by the best possible light. It was easy to see why Mr. Emerly had fallen in love not only with the estate of Tanglewood, but the house particularly. Far from ostentatious, it's subtle Southern charm beckoned to visitors to enter, be at home, and linger for a while.

Vonne must have heard my car ... she was on the veranda to greet me as soon as I parked the car, "Miss Prentiss, Mr. Emerly told me of your gracious consent to help him with his memoirs. We've prepared a guest room for your use while you are with us here ... I hope you like it." She led me through the foyer and main hall to the stairwell curving to the second floor, "Mr. Emerly is currently engaged with one of his business associates, so we have plenty of time to get you settled in." At the top of the stairs she paused and opened the double doors to what she had referred to as a 'guest room'.

In front of me was a beautiful sitting room furnished in anti-bellum splendor. Vonne walked past an oversized fainting couch upholstered in pink and lavender florals to an elegantly carved wardrobe, she opened the doors to reveal a television and stereo, "Mr. Emerly wanted to make sure to were completely comfortable here.

When you need time alone, I'm sure you'll find pleasant sanctuary here. You have a private bath," she walked to the next door and opened it showing me the bathroom, complete with whirlpool tub, then crossed the room to open the door to my bedroom, "As well as your bedroom." She walked to open the French doors which led to a little balcony overlooking the gardens, then pointed out the telephone sitting on an occasional table next to an elegantly upholstered Queen Anne chair, "Underneath the phone is a list of household extensions. Please do not hesitate calling any of us should you need anything. The kitchen, my office, Mr. Emerly's office, and our handyman are listed. Of course, you are welcome to take your meals with Mr. Emerly as you'd like, but if you want anything from a steak to a bowl of ice cream, please don't hesitate to ask. I'll let you settle in now. Mr. Emerly would like for you to join him for lunch on the east veranda at 12:30 to plan out your strategies for his memoirs.

Do you have any questions or special requests that I can help you with?" This was the first time I'd ever spent more than just a minute or two with Vonne and my head was spinning with the whirlwind tour, telephone instructions, and the very thought that I now had a 'staff' at my disposal. She stopped her perpetual motion and turned to face me.

I realized for the first time that she was a pretty young woman; however, slightly on the plain side. It occurred to me all of a sudden that it was her dynamic personality and energy that gave her the aura of beauty. She also had a pair of soft green eyes that on the one hand sparkled and danced, and on the other hand were very kind and encouraged trust.

I smiled, "No, I don't think so ... I'm really kind of overwhelmed at the moment, but if I think of anything ... oh, oh, ... yes! Would it be possible to have a coffee pot and supplies up here? I'm afraid I drink it by the gallons!" Vonne face lit up with her smile, and she replied, "Of course! I'll have it arranged this afternoon ... can I tell Mr. Emerly you'll join him for lunch?" "Yes", I replied, "And thanks for everything Vonne." She continued to smile, then nodded her head and closed the double doors behind her as she left.

I turned to examine my new surroundings at length. The sitting room was, indeed, elegant, luxurious, and comfortable. In fact the three rooms seemed to be furnished with a flair toward feminine tastes. The drapes were plush velvet with tasseled fringe a la Scarlet O'Hara, the furniture was oversized and overstuffed adding to it's comfort. Little occasional tables held bric a brac, fresh flowers, or waited simply for a cup of coffee to be set down. Chairs were paired with footstools, and a mohair throw could be used to snuggle on the fainting couch to watch a good movie. Underneath it all, an oriental rug separated the furniture from the hardwood floors.

I walked into the bathroom, not realizing before, that it's size nearly equaled that of the parlor. To my left was the whirlpool bath set just so that its occupant could watch the clouds drift by outside the windows with no concern for lack of privacy. I smiled and shook my head when I noticed the tray of bubble bath, salts and soaps on the tub's edge, but it didn't surprise me. I had begun to realize that either Vonne or Mr. Emerly had thought of everything.

Straight ahead the sink and vanity were well lit and offered ample room for my toiletries. And to my right, the shower ... built up two steps and recessed. Above the shower was a warming light and below the floor almost sightlessly sloped to the drain in the middle. Water sprayed from the three sides of the shower and due to the way it was recessed there was no need for a shower curtain.

The cream colored tub and vanity were complimented by matching fixtures, the tiles were a dark rose pink and the painted walls and ceiling matched the color perfectly separated only by ornately carved crown molding painted the same cream color as the fixtures.

I turned to take a look at my bedroom. Upon entering the central point of the entire room was a large canopied bed. The canopy, coverlet and matching skirt appeared to be hand crocheted in a natural cotton giving it an open, airy look. Under the coverlet was a lining of light pink which had also been used in some of the six throw pillows at the head of the bed. The rest of the room was simply furnished with a chest, full length mirror, small table and settee. Underfoot was a plush rug blooming in springtime violets and sweetheart roses.

Damn! All of this wasn't going to be easy to give up ... but, at lunch I was determined to voice my misgivings about writing this book ... lunch! A quick glance at my watch told me it was time to hurry downstairs to the veranda or I'd be late ... wouldn't want to keep Mr. Emerly waiting, so I skipped down the stairs and found my way to the veranda.

Unknown to me at the time, Mr. Emerly was on the telephone with his lawyer, "Yes, Peter. I've arranged to purchase an apartment building. I'd like for you to draw up the contract with the architect and his construction people to convert the building into condominiums. We'll arrange for a broker to sell them when they're finished. Yes ... please keep me informed of the progress. Well, I need to go now, lunch is waiting. Good-bye."



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 04



I met Mr. Emerly in the hallway as I came down the stairs as he walked out of his office and we made our way to the veranda together. "Good morning, Miss Prentiss. I'm anxious for us to get started, so why don't we do a little brainstorming over lunch and see if we can come up with some sort of an outline to follow ...", he had pulled my chair out so that I could be seated. Already on the table were two generous platters laden with wild rice, marinated flank steak, and fresh steamed vegetables.

"Mr. Emerly," I began, "I've done a little bit of thinking about your offer to work with you on your memoirs, and frankly I have some serious mis givings." I noticed that his expression didn't change but his eyebrows knitted slightly, so I continued, "You told me that your career was based on some sort of academic endeavor and, quite frankly, I'm not entirely sure we could make it interesting enough to submit to a publisher, much less see it in print. Americans now seem to be enthralled with authors like Stephen King and Danielle Steele ... their books are full of excitement and adventure ... I imagined yours would be rather like a primer for an MBA ... not a very wide audience ..."

I stopped at his expression. Those blue eyes again were dancing, he had begun to nod, and chuckled softly, "Miss Prentiss, I assure you that the story we will be working on is not as dull as all that, and that if we do decide to submit it to a publisher, I'll virtually guarantee it will make it to the Times Best Seller's List. Indulge me for a few days. If the material you gather offers no promise then you are under no obligation to continue if I'm right, then we'll both benefit from our partnership ... what do you say?"

There was no ignoring his charm ... or the charm of Tanglewood. For whatever reasons, I nodded my head in agreement, "Well, alright. What kind of schedule would you like to work? I'm afraid I'm not the best morning person, but a 10:00 a.m. start would be comfortable to me."

He tilted his head, thought for a minute, then replied, "Sounds good. We'll start then and work until we feel like stopping. If it's an hour or eight hours a day, as long as we work while we are enjoying the process, I'm sure it will be productive. Now then, how shall we start?"

"We'll start this afternoon then, if you'd like. I can go up to my room now and get my tape recorder ..."

I was surprised to see him shake his head, "No. I would rather you listen, ask questions, make notes ... it's much more personal that way ... and I just don't like the idea of taping everything ... it seems so robotic, I think writing ought to be a spontaneous endeavor. Can you accommo date me on this little quirk?"

"You're the boss. We can do it however you'd like. So, why don't you start telling me about yourself."

As we lingered through lunch Mr. Emerly began, "Well, I told you the story of my initiation to love making through my father and Millie, so I won't go back over that," he glanced at me just in time to see the color rise in my face, "But, I'll begin there. 

My father and Millie married in 1945 and I struggled through high school. I hung around that little town for a year ... I wasn't able to find anything there that interested me so I left home in 1950 and spent the next few years wandering about the country taking on odd jobs. I loaded trucks off a dock in St. Louis until winter set in and then I headed further south ... I hated the cold and damp. I hitchhiked to Florida where the post World War II construction boom was in full swing. Rows of neat little houses were springing up everywhere thanks to the new VA benefits and work was easy to find. The money was good and so was the weather, so I hung around for about three years.

I turned 22 in the spring and became involved with the foreman's daughter, Susan ... the age old tale. We were both young, frisky, tan, and fun-loving but that was the extent of the depth of our relationship. Her Daddy found us in a most carnally compromising situation and I was expected to make things right. He escorted us down town, making sure we picked up the marriage license. A quick ceremony in front of a J.P. was scheduled before I knew it. Susan's father wouldn't hardly let me out of his sight, so as we walked from the Clerk of the Court's office down the hall to the Justice of the Peace, I excused myself to go to the restroom.

One look at Susan's less than happy face told me what I had to do ... I ducked in the bathroom and immediately locked the door. Panic had set in and I felt like a mouse that had just been put in the cage with a very pretty snake ... my future was certain, but it certainly was not one that I wanted. I climbed through the window, jumped the few feet to the ground and didn't stop running for blocks. I only had the clothes on my back and a few dollars in my pockets, but I knew I had to get out of Tampa and Florida all together, so I hit the highways again with my thumb stuck out. I never got in touch with Susan again, but neither one of us was ready to settle down and I'm sure she as relieved as I was.

I caught rides, walked and hitchhiked some more until I found myself in Kansas City. The easiest place to get work around there was the stock- yards. It was awful, dirty, it stunk ... I didn't last there very long before wander lust took me on the road again. I ended up in Detroit working on an assembly line for a while until the monotony almost drove me crazy, so I started looking west. Just outside Flagstaff I met an old man at a truck stop, after sharing a couple of cups of coffee and a piece of pie, he asked me if I had ever worked with cattle ... I told a lie and said I had ... I justified knocking cows in the head with mallet 'working with cattle' ... so, he hired me to work for the season on his ranch. I bluffed my way through it and the next spring headed to California. San Diego reminded me very much of Florida and I was lucky enough to land a job with Lockheed working in their plant.

I settled in to a pretty comfortable routine and would have probably stayed there for a while except that I got a call, 'Your father has had a heart attack and we're afraid he's not going to make it' was all Millie could say. I threw a few things in a bag, called my boss, and boarded a plane for home.

When I walked in the hospital room I couldn't believe it was Dad lying there. It's funny how those white walls, white sheets and antiseptic smell can make a grown man look like a frail, half grown boy. He was sleeping when I arrived, so I quietly walked to the side of the bed. Millie and Sarah, my half-sister, were sitting on the other side of the bed ... neither one of them more than an arm's length from Dad. I half smiled at them. Millie was in her 30's now but was a beautiful as ever ... perhaps even more so now that she had matured. Sarah was twelve years old and held the promise of beauty inherited from her mother. She and I were virtually strangers since she was born shortly before I graduated from high school and left home.

Millie stood up, "William ... wake up darling ... Jackson is here." Dad's eyes fluttered and then opened, it seemed to take a while for them to focus, but once they had his face lit up. "Jackson ... son ... you're home. Thank God." His hand grasped mine, "I'm so glad to see you."

Without warning my throat strangled any words trying to escape and my eyes were blurred by tears. I fought to regain my composure and smiled down at him, "Hi, Dad. I was away a lot longer that I had counted on ... but, you didn't need to go fake a heart attack to get me to visit ... you could have just called." I tried to make light of the situation not knowing what else to do, but the pale transparency of his skin was witness to the seriousness of his health.

God bless him, he smiled back at me, "Yep ... I can get out of this bed now and get on back home in a couple of days." He was smiling as he looked over at Millie and his half-grown daughter, but the humor did not carry to his eyes. As families do, we all knew the truth but would not admit it to ourselves or each other.

"William, you rest now. I'm going to get Jackson settled in and we'll all be back right after supper.", Millie caressed his hair and bent down to kiss him, "We'll be back about 7:00 so you have time for a nice nap."

Dad nodded and closed his eyes. Sarah kissed his cheek then followed Millie out of the room. I stood there for a moment more, not knowing what to do. For an instant I was a little boy again and frightened beyond belief. I also wanted to kiss his forehead, but instead, just squeezed his hand and left the room.

Downstairs Millie showed me to her car and we all rode silently for a long time. As we got out of town Millie was the first to speak, "Jackson ... the farm's not like you remember it ... don't be too shocked. Your Dad's health has been steadily and gradually getting worse ... it came on so slowly I don't think either one of us realized how much he had slowed down. I never cared about the farm ... just William ... and I never really saw it the way it is now until I drove home the first day after his heart attack. It was almost like driving up on some strange place ... not home at all ..."

When she turned down the dirt road to the house I saw what she meant. Less than half of the fields had been planted, the barn and house were in sore need of repair. More than the sight shocked me, knowing how much my father loved this place, the realization of how sick he must have been jolted me. "Millie, he could have called me ... you could have called me ... I would have come back to help ..."

"I know you would have," Millie pulled up in front of the house and shut off the motor and handed Sarah a key asking her to unlock the front door. She then faced me, "Jackson, William and I knew how difficult it was for you when we married. Oh, you didn't do anything wrong or make me feel like an intruder ... but you two were a pair for such a long time before I came along. You were too old for me to be your mother, so we just got along as best we could. When Sarah was born, you were nearly grown ... and then you left. We both knew you didn't leave with any hard feelings ... you needed to go out and make a life for yourself ... this place couldn't be your home any longer.

Your Dad knew that and accepted it. Whenever he spoke of you it was always with love and he relished every post card and telephone call. You should have heard him bragging about your escapades to his friends. He was always very proud of you. So, I don't want you to feel bad and neither would your Father, and that's that. Now, come inside the house and while you unpack, I'll see what I can pull together for supper."

I followed Millie on to the front porch as Sarah opened the door. Sarah quietly followed us into the house and it struck me for the first time that I hadn't heard Sarah say a word.

Millie sat down her purse on the hall tree, walked into the kitchen and immediately tied on her apron, "Sarah darling, would you please show Jackson ... ah, your brother to your room. He can stay there and you can sleep with me until Daddy comes home."

Sarah almost startled me when she finally spoke, "Okay, Mama" and headed up the stairs. What she thought of as her room had been my room while I was growing up and it seemed strange to see it filled with stuffed animals and pictures of Elvis.

"Sarah," I said, "I appreciate your letting me use your room ... are you sure you don't mind?" It was awkward trying to think of something to say to an adolescent stranger who also happened to be your sister.

"No, it's okay", she flopped on the bed. "Jackson, can I ask you a ques tion?"

"Sure", I said.

"Well, Mama's been crying a lot at night. She tries to be quiet and doesn't think I can hear her, but I do. Jackson, it scares me because I think Mama is scared even more than me. Is Daddy going to die?"

The breath was wrenched from my lungs as though someone had just hit me in the stomach. I looked at her sitting there, and she so reminded me of Millie ... only a few years older than Sarah was right now when I first met her. In her eyes I could see concern and worry ... but I think mostly worry for her mother ... a child that young doesn't really comprehend the finality of death ... and I wasn't sure what to say to her. After a moment I said the only thing I knew to say, "Sarah, I don't know whether Dad ... Daddy ... is going to die or not ... I sure hope not. But, no matter what happens, I promise that you and your mother are going to be alright ... I'll make sure of that, okay?"

Millie called from the bottom of the stairs, "Supper's ready!" and Sarah got up from the bed and rushed over to hug me, "Okay Jackson, I'm glad I've got you for a big brother." Just as quickly she released me and skipped down the stairs to follow Millie into the kitchen.

I wish I could have prayed ... I know Millie and Sarah did ... but I've never had too much confidence in that sort of thing ... so I just took a couple of deep breaths, cleared my head, and started down the stairs to join them.

We ate without much talking and I began to clear away the table as Sarah started to wash the dishes. The phone rang and Millie crossed the kitchen to pick it up, "Hello" ... and there was only a minute of silence then a thud. Millie had fainted. Sarah screamed, "Mama!" and ran to her, I picked up the phone to hear, "Mrs. Emerly, Mrs. Emerly ... are you there?"

I swallowed hard and said, "No, this is Jackson Emerly, her step-son."

"Jackson, this is Dr. Carter. I'm sorry Jackson, your father died just a few minute ago. We did everything we could. It was peaceful ... he was sleeping ... there was no pain ... in fact, there is still a slight smile on his face."

I couldn't say anything, I simply hung up the phone and turned my attention to Millie and Sarah.

We buried Dad three days later in the cemetery by the little church where he and Millie were married. More than half the town was there ... including Millie's father and mother. Evidentially Dad's devotion to their daughter and granddaughter had won them over.

The next morning I sat in the kitchen with Millie over coffee. "Do you have any plans?", I asked.

Her pale face emphasized the red puffiness of her eyes, eyes that must have cried thousands of tears over the last few days. She looked up at me as though I were insane, "Jackson, I have no plans. William and Sarah have been my whole life for the past 13 years. I can't imagine what I'll do without him. I know I can't run this farm ... but it's in such sad shape it will be almost impossible to sell it. I don't know ... I just haven't had time to think."

I understood how she felt, I never could imagine a world without Dad's strength in it ... "Millie, if it's okay with you and Sarah, I'd like to stay around for a little while. It won't take long to get the barn and the house back into shape. Then perhaps you could sell it for a fair price and it would provide you and Sarah with some security."

"Jackson ... are you sure? Don't you need to be getting back to California? You have your own life now ...", there was a resignation in her face that was totally alien to her character.

"I'm sure Millie. I want to do this for you and Sarah ... and Dad. I think he died peacefully after he saw that I had come home ... he knew I would make sure you two were okay. Now then, in reality, I know Dad had a little bit of insurance money, and with the sale of the farm, you two will be just fine ... but Millie, you've got to face the fact that you'll have to work to supplement what the farm brings in.

Is there anything you've ever wanted to do?", I was trying to put it as gently as I could without scaring her. I knew she was facing a difficult future and did not want to add to her burdens ... but I also felt that getting her away from the farm would help her ... getting a job would get her back into the real world and that, too, would be good for her.

"Lord, I haven't thought about that in years. The only thing I've ever done was help out at my father's store ... maybe I could do that again ... it would help him and let Mother have more time off ... yes, I'll drive into town and talk to my father this afternoon."

"Good. That's settled," I slid back my chair and stood up, "I think I'll start with the barn ... after I inspect it, I'll let you know what I think and we can discuss what you want me to do."

There was a wan smile on her lips but she nodded and I heard her push back her chair and walk upstairs as I was crossing the back porch.

When I came back in for lunch, Millie had dressed, fixed her hair, and put on her make up, "William wouldn't have wanted to see me like I was. I won't disappoint him." Her spunk came back that quickly, if not that easily. She did talk to her father that afternoon and began helping out at the mercantile within a few days.

I worked on the barn, then the house, and within a few months had the place ready to put on the market. I hung around until a buyer made an offer and Millie accepted it. She and Sarah would be okay now. Dad would be pleased and I could leave with a clear conscious.

The next morning I came downstairs with my suitcase. Millie and Sarah were surprised to see it, but I explained that it was time for me to go ...

Millie asked, "What are your plans?"

I chuckled, "I've never really had any plans for anything ... I just head out and end up where I end up ... it always seems to turn out okay. Don't worry, I'll be in touch, you'll know where I am if you need me."

Millie crossed the kitchen to stand in front of me, she put her hands on each of my elbows and looked up at me, "Jackson, your father and I talked many times about his hopes for you. We both believed that you're bright and have potential ... he always wished you had gone to college. Now, we were able to set aside a little bit of money and I want you to take it ... don't shake your head at me! I'm the closest thing you ever had to a mother and you will do this. It's not much ... but it's enough to get you into college. Go. At least go for a while and see if there's something you'd like to do ... it will make me AND your father very happy. Will you do that for us?"

I was shocked, I never expected anything like this and I felt myself far too old to be starting college, but a lot of fellows were going after they got out of service, so I finally agreed.

I headed west to Ann Arbor and enrolled, after a few struggles, in the University of Michigan. I had no clue in which direction I wanted to go, so I studied liberal arts. Like pretty much everything else up to that point in my life, it didn't last long. After a couple of years I was bored and wanted to get out in the world again. I dropped out, found myself in Davenport, Iowa where I signed on to a grain barge traveling down the Mississippi to New Orleans.

And it was there, Miss Prentiss, where I met my destiny and built a fulfilling life, gathered a fortune, and found the love of my life."

His story telling had spun me into a web of imagination ... I could plainly see Jackson Emerly at 18 years old ... at 30 years old ... I saw William and Millie in a photograph in my mind ... and now he just stopped and the silence brought me back to Savannah present day. "Mr. Emerly ... what ever happened to Millie and Sarah?"

He smiled, "I'm in touch with each of them on a regular basis. Millie ended up owning the mercantile after her parents retired, she never re married ... she said that there would never be another man for her after Dad. Sarah grew up to be as beautiful as her mother, married happily, and has bequeathed that special beauty to three daughters of her own. They all call me 'Uncle Jack' and are growing up to be fine young women in their own right ..."

"I'm glad ... I always like stories with happy endings" I said as I slid my chair back. The afternoon had been wiled away on the veranda listening to Mr. Emerly and there was a chill in the air, "If you don't mind, I think I'll go to my room now and make some notes about what you've told me."




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 04



He stood, "Of course, Miss Prentiss ... will you be joining me for dinner or shall I have the kitchen send up something to your room?"

All I wanted now was a pot of hot coffee, that mohair throw and the opportunity to digest what I knew about this man so far, "I think I would like to work on my notes this evening, would you ask the kitchen to send up whatever about 7:00. I think I'll spend a quite evening and I'll see you tomorrow."

I brewed a pot of coffee and sat down at a library table Vonne had installed on one side of the parlor to house my computer. Not knowing where this book was going or if it was even feasible, I decided to just type out the stories as Mr. Emerly told them to me ... as much verbatim as I could remember. For a man professing to have no talent with words, the two stories he had told me so far were captivating. I'd just see what I could gather from his stories and if possible string them together for the book.

The next morning we met on the veranda as usual for breakfast consisting of country sausage, scrambled eggs and hot buttered biscuits. Mr. Emerly started the conversation, "I'm getting rather tired about talking about myself, Miss Prentiss, even though we are working on my memoirs ... but, I'm curious about you. How did you end up in Savannah?", he asked.

I set down my coffee cup and looked at him, there was no mischief in his eyes this morning, and he seemed to be genuinely interested so I replied, "When Peter and I divorced I was devastated. Within a couple of weeks I met Eric, an artist who was in Atlanta for a gallery showing. He was everything Peter wasn't, he took nothing seriously, he worked when he wanted and played when he wanted. He didn't own a suit ... rode a motorcycle and was intensely oversexed ...

I'm afraid I was suffering from a temporary insanity of some type and married him within a month. Eric loved Savannah and its energy, so we moved here. Eric painted and I worked ... Eric slept in and I worked ... Eric rode his motorcycle and I worked ... I would have thought it was a one-sided relationship except that Eric lusted after me day and night. He was never the lover that Peter had been ... he lacked the finesse ... but, he made me feel beautiful and desirable and special for a while. Then one day when I came home he was gone.

There was a note saying that marriage had stifled his creativity so he was heading down to Florida and I should file for divorce. It wasn't that hard ... I realized too late that I wasn't really in love with Eric, I was in love with the way Eric had made me feel. The work I did in Atlanta took me all over the state and I decided to stay in Savannah and do some free- lance writing for a while. It's worked out well for me and that's how you and I met. So here we are, I'm still doing free lance work, but under your employ, Mr. Emerly."

Our days began to take on some sort of routine and Mr. Emerly and I meet for coffee and brunch almost every morning on the veranda ... the cool fall days were invigorating and I was being swept in by the charm of Tanglewood and its owner. "Good morning, Mr. Emerly ..." I began but was interrupted. "I would take it as a kindness if you'd call me Jackson ... after all, we're going to be working together for at least some time and I see no need for such formality, do you?", he asked.

I smiled back at him as I laid the napkin across my lap, "No ... no, I don't, Jackson. But then please call me Dana ... I think we'll both be more comfortable with that."

He started by pouring our coffee, "Yes Dana, I believe you're right. This coffee smells delicious, don't you think?" before I could answer he continued, "It always seems to me that coffee always smells better in the autumn than any other time of year. You know Dana, the older I become I find myself wondering about the roads our lives take. I mentioned to you yesterday that when I arrived in New Orleans I came face to face with my destiny. I really believe that destiny ... fate ... whatever you want to call it plays a significant role in everyone's lives.

Take for instance the number of starving artists in this world with exquisite talents and then someone like Andy Warhol makes millions by painting a portrait of a soup can ... it doesn't make sense to me. Whether you're rich or poor, happy or sad, loved or lonely, I believe, is due as much to fate as anything else. Everything happens for a reason ... sometimes for reasons we don't understand until years later ... some reasons the heart understands and logic can't grasp ... I believe that if you do the best you can and stay out of your own way, things usually turn out well in the end. What do you think?"

I mused about his question for a few seconds before I answered, "I don't know ... I don't really think I've thought about it before. I don't think the universe is random, but I don't know if I believe in destiny. I thought I did once ... years ago. I told you about Peter ... I was certain that he was born to share my life and that I was meant to be his for all eternity. Our eternity lasted for too short a while ... no ... no ... I don't think I believe in destiny any longer ... I believe it's probably just a fable ... a pretty fable like fairies and unicorns ... but a fable never the less ... and we'd all do better to keep our feet on the ground and our heads from spinning."

His eyes lost some of their twinkle and he cocked his head to one side as he studied me, "You're awfully young to be so cynical, my dear ... let me tell you a little bit more of my story ...



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 05



Rose ran a Tea Room on the fringes of the Garden District, within a short distance to Storyville and the French Quarter. Both neighborhoods contributed to her business success.

From mid-morning to mid-afternoon, Rose would entertain the wealthy ladies of the Garden District. Her tables were always full, partly owing to the variety of coffees and teas that Rose herself made from ancient and secretly guarded recipes, partly because of the dainty sandwiches and pastries that her cook, Queen, conjured freshly each day in the kitchen.

Queen was a tall Creole woman ... and like most women of her heritage, her age was a mystery. She held herself with the posture of dignity and youth, but in the depths of her eyes swam a maturity and knowledge which defied argument. Queen and Rose had been together for years. Rose knew that Queen was an invaluable asset and regarded her accordingly. Rose never spoke down to her, never gave her an order, and often asked for her advise. She also had the good sense to share generously in the profits of the Tea Room ... all of which compounded Queen's loyalty and affection. 

They were a formidable team.

The Tea Room was painted and wallpapered in a soft, feminine pink. I found out later that this was a calculated design owing to the fact that pink was the color most flattering to women of all ages. The big front window that looked out over the street was partially covered with lace café curtains and although Rose had only 12 tables in the Team Room, they were adorned with tatted lace table clothes, linen napkins, fresh flowers, and heavy silver flatware. She never skimped on amenities, Rose knew that you couldn't serve ladies of social standing on paper plates and expect conduct a lucrative enterprise. Throughout the business hours, light classical music encouraged the ladies to linger, ordering yet another cup of tea and visiting with one friend or another they had bumped into.

Rose served her guests personally. She took particular care of her appearance, dressing smartly, hair perfectly done and her hands tipped with a sophisticated French manicure. As her business grew and her patrons came more regularly they developed a trust and familiarity with Rose and subsequently took her into their conversations. 

Although attractive and bright, she was not the type of woman any of them thought could be of any threat to them ... she hadn't the upbringing, schooling, social status, or money they enjoyed. She was a safe friend ... and that in itself was a rare thing. The ladies so jealously guarded their standing that they made sure their friends could not rival them in their husband's eyes. By in large, they were a very self-centered, insecure group.

As the acquaintance between her clientele and Rose grew, they would confide in her little things. From headaches to menstrual cramps ... dull skin to constipation ... Rose would smile, pat them on the hand, and say "Let me fix you a special cup of tea." She would disappear into the kitchen and there stood before shelves filled with glass jars of rare teas and coffee beans. Other shelves held vessels of spices from all corners of the world, easily acquired in a port city like New Orleans. 

On a very special shelf were her containers of herbs. The herbs were her secret ingredient. Some were acquired through foreign freighters coming into the port, some from everyday health food shops, some were purchased in the back room of a very special voodoo shop in the French Quarter, and some Rose and Queen grew themselves. The last shelf housed a collection of sugars, various honeys, and edible flower petals.

She would study her inventory, carefully pick and measure the ingredients, blend them just so with mortar and pestle, then steep in hot water. When the brew was perfect, it would be presented to the guest in a bone china cup. 

It wasn't long before Rose's reputation as an apothecary surpassed the primary foundations of tea and pastries. When friends and family came to enjoy the charm of the French Quarter, a trip to The Tea Room became a must. And so it was that Rose's business grew and flourished.

As I said, I met Rose in the most improbable of circumstances. I had worked my way to New Orleans on a barge carrying grain from Davenport. I had always thought that the life of a sailor would be exciting. I had intended to sign on with a freighter heading for foreign parts when I reached New Orleans. However, the first few days on the barge quelled those ambitions almost immediately. The Irish Rovers sang a song about a young fellow going to sea that went 'The days were hard and long with no women, wine, or song, and it wasn't quite the fun I thought it'd be'. The work never ended, the food was substantial, but not very good. At the end of the day all there was to do was sleep in bunks 3 high with two other men as rough, sweaty, and foul as myself.

The docks of New Orleans bustled day and night, so when we arrived I decided to look about for work. I was young, randy, and my pockets were burning with the wages I had collected. It didn't take long for the music and laughter coming out of a wharf-side tavern to distract me. I'm afraid I drank too much, laughed too loudly, and got too familiar with one of the girls sitting at the bar. The next thing I knew, two massive fellows where whirling me out of the door like some pup who had just relieved himself on the carpet.

As I was struggling to draw air back into my lungs, I looked up and there was a dark haired vision hovering above me smiling. I pulled myself up to sitting and began to beat the dirt out of my jeans, when she said, "I bet you made the mistake of treating a woman like a whore, when you would have gotten a lot farther by treating her like a lady." As she side stepped me and continued on her journey, I pulled myself up and jogged to her side. "I don't understand", I told her. "The girls in that place were there to hook up with a guy like me."

"That", she said, "is irrelevant ... it simply does not matter. Your first mistake was to treat a woman like a whore when you should have been treating her like a lady. The second mistake most men make is to treat a woman like a lady when you should be treating her like a whore. And the third, and worst possible mistake is getting those two occasions mixed up!"

I laughed at that as I danced around to face her, "What?" 

"That's right", she continued, "every woman should be a lady in the parlor and a whore in the boudoir. The trouble begins when the parameters are crossed." She looked me square in the eye and asked, "What are you doing around a New Orleans wharf? You don't seem like the type."

As I relayed my sad story to her, she simply listened and nodded her head. When I finished she asked, "What are you going to do now?" Since I didn't have an inkling at this point I just shrugged my shoulders. She studied my face for a while, then asked me to turn around. She surveyed my work clothes, my blistered hands, and my shaggy hair. She pursed her lips and let out a little whistle ... and not an approving one, I might add.

She continued, "I may have a job for you, if you can clean up properly and learn to behave appropriately. It will be a sort of an apprenticeship, but once your training is complete, you'll at the very least make a decent living ... and a pleasant one at that ... or you may even want to strike out on your own."

I was intrigued and asked her what kind of business, and she told me about the Tea Room. I scoffed, I had no intention of serving up to silly women, or cleaning up after them either.

She replied, "Well, you can take it or leave it ... it makes no difference to me. But, you should have no misconception, my Tea Room is just the first plateau in an enterprise I've been building for five years. If you want to join me, fine. If not, they are always hiring longshoremen on the wharf." And at that, she walked away without looking back. I stood for a moment and it suddenly occurred to me that I had nothing to loose, so I trotted up behind her and offered to carry her packages. She smiled and said, "Very well, perhaps there is a future for you after all. My name is Rose." Nothing more was said on the walk back to the Garden District.

When we reached the Tea Room, Rose unlocked the door. Once we were in, as she was closing the shades, she called for Queen. Queen came from the area of the kitchen and answered, "Yes, Rose."

I didn't realize that my gasp was audible when I first laid eyes on Queen, but both she and Rose looked at me and smiled. Before me stood one of the most perfect, beautiful women I had ever seen in my life. Her Creole coloring was as soft as taffy. She wore one of the brightly colored turbans that had been in style for women of color in New Orleans for over 100 years. She was almost as tall as I and slim. Rather than the gray or white uniforms of cooks, she wore an ankle length darsheka reminiscent of an Arab robe. On her feet were simple sandals.

"Queen, let me introduce to you ... " she turned to face me and I interjected, "Jack". Rose continued, "No. No, that won't do at all. What is your full name?" 

I've had always been a little embarrassed by my name, at the time I thought it odd and pretentious, but I answered her, 'Jackson Austin Emerly.'

"Oh, that's perfect!", she smiled, "Queen, I'd like you to meet Mr. Jackson Emerly." Queen smiled and offered her hand saying, "If Rose likes you, I suspect you may be the one ... it is a pleasure to meet you." I extended my right hand to shake hers ... but before I could ask her about the odd thing she had just said, Rose rapped me on the knuckles like an ill mannered schoolboy. "No" she said. "From this moment forward, when a lady offers her hand, you bow slightly, never loose eye contact, slowly raise her hand and kiss it ever so gently. The only exception," she continued, "is when a lady you earnestly wish to impress offers her hand. In that case, you again bow slightly, maintain eye contact, raise her hand, but then smoothly turn over her hand and delicately kiss her palm or wrist. So endeth the lesson for today."

She looked at Queen who was still smiling, "Queen, do you think you could escort Mr. Emerly to the barber and tailor this afternoon?" Queen laughed, a low throaty laugh that made me once again startle into a gasp, "Of course, Rose. Then what shall I do with him?"

"Um, I hadn't really thought about it. I never expected to run up on an apprentice this soon. I guess while you're attending to his grooming, I'll make a cot for him in the pantry until further arrangements can be made."

So, there I was, swept away by two women who seemed to take charge knowing full well what was best for me.

Queen did escort me that afternoon. I took advantage of the opportunity to ask her what she had meant by the comment she made earlier ... about 'you might be the one'. She never slowed her stride but looked sideways at me. She studied me for a few seconds then said, 'Sometimes I can see things ... feel things no one else can see or feel. Sometimes I just know ...' 

I was going to query her further but we had arrived at the barber's ... then on down the street to the tailor. As he took precise measurements and jotted them down, Queen instructed him, 'You know Rose will insist on the best possible fabrics ... colors should be subdued and conservative ... we'll want to use a variety of shades of blue in his shirts to bring out his eyes ... of course, there will need to be several white as well. Then, let's see, trousers in grays, blacks, and tans. Rose will insist he wear ties, so coordinate them ... and let's do something special for him. Something that will serve him uniquely as a signature piece ... but what could that be?' 

She looked me up and down studying my build and the way I carried myself. She was silent for a few minutes while the tailor and I just stood there becoming more uncomfortable as the time drug on ... 'I know ... instead of ordinary shirts, let's put him in French cuffs. Yes. Rose would like that ... classic and elegant. Be sure to include several pairs of cuff links with the shirts. I think that will be all for now.' She stood and headed out the door only pausing to instruct him that when everything was completed, the entire wardrobe should be delivered to The Tea Room. The tailor nodded, said goodbye to Queen and thanked her for the patronage ... he didn't acknowledge my leaving at all.

Having secured an appropriate haircut and having measurements taken for my new wardrobe, we stopped by a haberdashery to buy a few ready-made things to tide me over. Queen never once asked for my opinions, and the sales clerk never even acknowledged my presence, except to ask for waist sizes, lengths, collar sizes, and so forth. When Queen was satisfied, she instructed the clerk to charge everything to Rose and then arranged for delivery to the Tea Room later in the evening. She swept out of the haberdashery, myself following just far enough behind her to appreciate the way her hips swayed as she strolled down the sidewalk. 

When we arrived at the Tea Room, she showed me to the pantry, pointed out the frig and the bathroom, told me to make myself at home, and both she and Rose would see me tomorrow.

My first few weeks there were uneventful. I did as I was told, sometimes begrudgingly, but I did what I was told nevertheless. I watched, as I was told, and I learned, as I was told. The friendship between these two women fascinated me. They were obviously like minded, smart, ambitious, hard working, and something more that I couldn't put my finger on.

Finally Rose came to me late one afternoon after the Tea Room closed. "Jackson, you've been around long enough to prove I can trust you. You haven't stolen ... I've watched. And you haven't approached any of my guests ... I've watched that even closer. It's time now to continue your training and apprenticeship. Gather your things. You will be living at my house for a time." 

No more explanation, she turned and left the room, fully expectant that I would follow her directions. When I went to my cot in the pantry, I saw there had been provided a large suitcase for my new clothes. So I packed, it was as simple as that. Rose called a cab, we got in and she spoke to the driver by name. I was surprised that he knew her, but I was learning to be less and less surprised by anything Rose did. She seemed to know everyone in the French Quarter, the Garden District, and many of those on the wharf.

She never gave him her address, but as they chatted he turned left and started driving out of town. Within a few minutes we were on the periphery of town, in a neighborhood which had not fully grown up yet. Large areas of land had not yet been built on and were still held in private ownership. The driver stopped at the end of the street in front of a large Victorian home. It had probably been a sprawling farm house at one time ... large enough to comfortably accommodate a large family. It was painted in a pastel shade of sage green with the contrasting gingerbread work done in burgundy and white. The yard was well maintained and a plethora of multi-colored rose bushes outlined the area between the grass and the cast iron fence ornately designed in the fashion earning the name "New Orleans Lace". 

Rose thanked the driver as she paid him, and I couldn't help but notice the tip was larger than the fare. He smiled and retorted, "Always a pleasure, Miss Rose. You just give me a call whenever you need anything.

She waved as he drove off then turned to open the gate, "This is my home, and it's where you'll be living for a while. Let me show you to your room." I was as impressed with the interior as I had been with the landscaping. The house was warmly and comfortably furnished and gave witness to the taste and style of the woman who had created it. She laid her purse on the hall table and motioned down a long hall running the length of the house. 

As if to give a mini-tour she began showing me the parlor, kitchen, dining room, a study that doubled as her office. Toward the back of the house, she motion to a room on the right, "This is your room. I'm sure you'll be comfortable here, there's a private bath attached, and you'll notice the sitting area with a television."

I walked up behind her, circled her waist, and kissed her neck, whispering, "Where's your room?" She whirled and slapped me hard across the face ... harder than I have ever been slapped, "Don't you ever touch me again! I am, as I told you on the first day I met you, a lady, not your whore. My room is MY room. You will not enter, and you surely will not sleep there. Ours is a business relationship, and only that. If you cannot abide by those rules, then I must ask you to leave this house at once."

Had I misread her? Why else would this lovely woman bring me to her home? Confused, stunned, and ashamed, I rubbed my cheek and then found my nerve and my voice once again. "I'm sorry Rose. I misunderstood."

"Very well", she replied as she stiffened her spine, "we will talk at supper. It's at 7:00 promptly. Please clean up and dress appropriately." Then she pivoted on her heel and left the room.

I began to unpack and ran this scene over again and again in my head. The more I thought about it, the more baffled I became and finally decided to just let things play out before I made a decision. I crossed to the closet to hang my assortment of tailor-made shirts, trousers, and blazers. Another consternation faced me there ... already hung there were two robes ... a thick plush white terry that would reach almost to the floor, and a shorter burgundy silk dressing gown. I simply stared at them for a while, shook my head, and went about my unpacking. 

I crossed the room and opened the door to my bathroom. Again, impeccably decorated with a mosaic floor in Roman fashion laying gods and goddesses at my feet. Against one wall was an oversized tub, one which could accommodate my full 6' length and on the other wall an enormous shower with etched glass doors mirroring the figures on the floor. The counter that held the sink was made from a rich dark wood with so many coats of varnish they looked more like glass. The mirror above the sink reflected back to me the view of my backside, turning I saw a dressing mirror framed in the same rich, dark, shining wood. Well, if my future was to be a houseboy/ handyman/gardener/errand boy, by God, I'd be the best housed houseboy/handyman/gardener/ errand boy in the City of New Orleans! I smiled and turned the water on in the shower.

Promptly at 7:00 ...as I had been instructed ... I entered the dining room, suitably dressed in one of the outfits furnished by Rose. The table was set with dinner plates for two ... several pieces of silver flatware on either side, 2 wine glasses and a water goblet, the table was finished with a bouquet of fresh flowers and candles sat on either side. Rose was already seated. Again, I had the feeling I was getting mixed messages from her, but my cheek still stung from her earlier reminder not to jump to conclusions so I just took my seat and waited for what she had to say.

"Tonight," she began, "ushers in the beginning of your next phase of training. Your apprenticeship will now take you further into the polite necessities of society and we will continue this training until they flow from you effortlessly, just as though you were born with blue blood in your veins."

The door to the kitchen opened and a servant I had never met carried a tray with two bowls on them. She placed one on the dinner plate in front of Rose and then crossed to my side of the table where she placed the other one. "Agnes, this is Mr. Emerly who will be our houseguest for a while." Agnes dropped a short curtsey, "We welcome you to our home, Mr. Emerly." As she left, I was once again made aware that Rose was not a common woman, for once again she had drawn to herself a handsome middle-aged woman ... so unlike the patrons of her Tea Room ... their choice of companions were always a little chubbier, a little plainer, or a little dumber than they were. 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 05



Rose was the antithesis of these women, unflustered and totally unaware of any rivalry another beautiful woman might bring.

"Mr. Emerly, your first lesson here tonight is proper table manners. One little hint I will give you is that should you be uncertain which of the utensils to use, simply watch your hostess. With careful observation and quick reaction, no one else at the table will realize you hesitated for a moment." Agnes once again entered with a silver ice bucket she sat to the side of the candles, and Rose reached out to pour the wine into the first of our glasses, "Wine is an intricate part of any extraordinary meal ... we use the white with soups, salads, fish, or poultry ... in this case a nice Riesling to compliment the soup." And I watched as her hand drifted over to the soup spoon. She smiled as I mimicked her motion. 

And so our dinner continued through roast beef, red wine, and dessert eclairs frosted with a bittersweet chocolate. When we had at last finished, as if on cue, Agnes once again entered to clear our plates. "Agnes, Mr. Emerly and I will go to the study now, please bring the brandy in there." She arose from the table and once again I found myself following her and more fully mesmerized by the sight of her ample bottom just below a layer of thin fabric. I wouldn't help but raise my hands slightly, only inches from that undulating bottom, and make a get-cha get-cha motion ... I grinned because I felt I had gotten away with something.

We entered the study and she sat behind her desk and motioned for me to take a seat in one of the upholstered chairs. She was silent until Agnes brought in a decanter of brandy and two matching lead crystal snifters. "Thank you, Agnes, that will be all for tonight." 

Agnes smiled and said, "Yes, Miss Rose." As she pulled the doors to the study shut. 

"Mr. Emerly," Rose began, "have you ever considered the consequences of America being primarily settled by Puritans and Huguenots?"

Undoubtedly this was the most unusual opening to a conversation I had ever heard, so I shook my head 'no' and kept my mouth shut.

"Actually", she continued, "it's appalling what Western religion has done to our sensibilities regarding the erotic. In the East they have a much healthier attitude and I'm proud to say these notions have been passed down untold generations of my family to me. But first, let me tell you a story about a school of erotic arts.

One of the most innovational schools I ever heard of was run by a Sultan long ago east of Constantinople. As was the custom, in addition to multiple wives, any man could acquire as many concubines in his harem as he could afford. Of course, in exchange for living in comfort and luxury, these women were eager to please their Sultan.

Young women from the lands within the Sultan's rule would gather once a year in the spring, before the blazing heat of the dessert encroached on their tents and homes. It was not unusual to see the most beautiful women line up to be inspected, interviewed, and hopefully selected.

The lucky few chosen would live in the wing of the palace designed for their use. The food would be the best, the silks would be the softest, and their lives would be infinitely better than the ones not chosen ... they would have to make their way back to their villages and choose illiterate farmers or herdsmen as husbands. Their lives would be dull, full of hard work, many children, culminating in failing health and beauty.

At dawn on the auspicious day, the young women would awaken, bathe themselves in scented oils, and don their best robes. In the tents surrounding the city laughter and sisterly teasing could be heard throughout the morning.

In the center of the circle of tents the Sultan's servants and kitchen staff would begin also at dawn. They erected silken pavilions and rolled out plush carpets upon which set innumerable low tables. The tables, themselves, would be loaded with sweetmeats, dates, figs, roast fowl, honey, pastries, and an aromatic mead.

When the preparations had been completed, a massive gong was struck to call the women into the pavilion. Once they had assembled, a parade emerged from the city led by trumpeters. Behind the trumpeters came many young women strewing flower petals. Upon these petals walked the Favorites from the Sultan's harem who would participate in the choosing. The harem women were followed by a physician, an astrologer, and a scribe. 

Lastly, a golden van came into sight carried on the shoulders of four sturdy servants. All sides of the van were curtained in purple ... there was no mystery however, that the occupant was the Sultan himself. The only mystery which remained was the Sultan's appearance.

These young women from outlying areas had no way of really knowing, but the night before the choosing, rumors flew rampant around the camp. Some said the Sultan was an old grandfather with a round belly and a sour disposition. Another said the Sultan didn't like women at all, but just kept up this pretext to cover his darker desires. Another said he was as insatiable as a satyr, frolicking everyday in the gardens of the harem with a steady succession of women. One rumor said his private parts were so huge that women fainted when they first laid eyes on him and that it took many times before a woman could fully accommodate such a menacing staff. 

However, when the gong rang, all rumors were forgotten because no matter what the truth, those chosen today were among the luckiest women in the Province.

The Favorites of the harem were the first to sit on the silk pillows surrounding the low tables then the Hopefuls were ushered in and sat six per table. On a dais overlooking the entire tent, the physician, astrologer and scribe took their places at a long table. Finally the golden van was brought in and the sight of it silenced everyone gathered. As it was gently set down, two of the bearers turned and opened the purple silk curtains and out stepped the Sultan.

All dark almond eyes were on this man as he represented their best hope for the future. Many were relieved to see that he wasn't a grandfather after all, but a tall man in the prime of his life, no more than forty years. He wore a white silk turban on his head with the tassel hanging down the left side of his face. His simply cut gauze djalaba had full billowing sleeves and a neckline cut in a 'v' to the bottom of his breast bone. The djalaba fell to the ground so the girth of his chest and legs could not be judged, neither then of course, could a hint be observed as to the size of his manhood. 

The women lucky enough to be chosen would have to wait for the end of their training before actually witnessing his strength.

Once the Sultan was in place seated two steps higher than the other men the meal began. It was relaxed and pleasant. The Favorites of the harem guided the women at each table in conversations about themselves and their families. The Sultan's women paid particular attention to the personalities of the Hopefuls at their tables ... was one more aggressive, another too passive? Did one back down when challenged or did her chin rise with pride? Were there remarks that slighted another of the Hopefuls? All manner of things were carefully studied.

At the end of the meal, the Favorites retired to a dais set up at the opposite end of the pavilion from the Sultan and his advisors. The scribe walked to where the Favorites were sitting bowed before each of the them and received from each a piece of paper from her and then returned to his place beside the other advisors.

Musicians were called in to entertain and dancers whirled and twisted in brightly colored veils. The physician and astrologer made their way to each of the Hopefuls. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they merely observed. At the end of the entertainment they each resumed their places on the dais and added their observations to the ones already received by the scribe.

The scribe compiled the information before him and stood to face the gathering. He announced that the first phase of the selection process had been completed. He would now read the names of twenty young women present and he asked that they stand when their names were called. Those who remained seated would each be given a small bag of gold coins and the thanks of the Sultan for taking part in this year's selection.

Twenty young women, each seemingly more beautiful than the next were standing when the Sultan once again entered his van, drew the drapes, and returned to his palace.

The chosen Hopefuls were asked to follow the Favorites back to the palace for instruction as to the rest of the selection process and an explanation of the training they would received. They followed eagerly through the streets of the city to the palace itself. There before them stood the grandeur that would become home to a select few of them and each sent a silent prayer to Allah.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 06



They were lead through the gleaming marble halls, past guards, servants, columns veneered with lapis lazuli, bubbling fountains and rare exotic birds on ivory perches. Eventually they stopped before two massive doors guarded by fierce looking men with scimitars. 

One of the Favorites nodded her head and each of the guards took hold of an enormous bronze ring and pulled the doors open. There they were welcomed into the women's quarters ... the harem. 

The sights they had seen during their brief sojourn through the palace were repeated here. Two sides of the women's quarters were open to catch the cool evening breezes. Balconies were luxuriously appointed with divans and silk pillows to lounge on. In the center was a large pool wherein floated lotus blossoms and several naked women bathed as they giggled and talked.

The Favorites now turned to face the Hopefuls. "As you can see, we are happy here with our lives in service to the Sultan. You now represent the fairest of the flowers in our Province. Of the twenty before me now, only four will join us here in the women's quarters. The remaining sixteen will be offered various positions in other harems, perhaps marriage to a minor noble or pasha, or they can choose to return to their families with no dishonor.

Our Sultan is generous and kind. You will not be beaten or raped. You will enter his service of your own free will. At any time during your training, any of you are free to go ... in fact, we are all free to go", she gestured around the room with her right hand, "we are not slaves here, but family. Your training will range from the basic to the unorthodox. The four will be chosen on the basis of virtue, intellect, congeniality, and learning capacity. 

You will be instructed in the finer points of erotic arts, history, math, science and music. When you have reached the completion of your training, each of the four will be a suitable companion for our Sultan.

Now, unless you have any questions, one of the Favorites will show two of you to private rooms."

The Favorites led each pair of the Hopefuls to private rooms where they would retire for the night and begin their training on the morrow. Each of their rooms were appointed with intricate murals on the walls, some depicting legends, others were of gardens or some were of scenic vistas. There were beds on either side of the room with a hammered brass tray on a tripod in the middle of the room. There sat fruit and wine. Another table against the far wall accommodated a pitcher of water, a bowl, linen clothes, and a mirror.

Unknown to the Hopefuls, their evaluations had already begun, because they were watched from that moment on throughout their training. Every time they were in their rooms, a Favorite sat behind the wall and observed their manner, their dispositions and eavesdropped on their conversations. Thusly, in a very short time, five of the Hopefuls were released from training. 

Now there were fifteen left. The lessons were presented in the women's quarters by the astrologer and the physician. Special teachers were brought in to teach music and dance. And soon, the fifteen Hopefuls were reduced to ten.

During these days, the Sultan never came to the women's quarters, but received daily reports on the progress of each Hopeful.

The second week began with the Favorites calling the Hopefuls together. "Your lessons in music, science, and all the other disciplines will con tinue, but now we enter the phase where you will be taught the graces of erotic pleasures. Again we offer, should any of you not care to continue, please feel free to leave us with no dishonor." Needless to say, none of the Hopefuls were going to give up when the prize was nearly at hand. 

They looked around at each other knowing full well that six of them would no longer be in the midst of the women's quarters by the time the training was completed. Some smiled at each other, some were sober, and all fretted about their future. Would they be sensual and smart enough? Would the be beautiful and graceful enough? What else would be expected of them?

They didn't have long to wait. The next morning one Favorite chose one Hopeful as their private charge. The Favorite would now become mentor, teacher and guide for her Hopefuls through the rest of the training.

As they walked hand in hand down a long corridor, each pair turned into an adjacent doorway taking them to their next class room.

Each of the Hopefuls went through the same lessons, although in different order, so that each could be judged on individual merit. In one room, the Hopeful was ordered to disrobe. Having only the Favorite in the room with her, very few hesitated. The Favorite would then examine the Hopeful. Was she smooth and unmarred? Turned first this way and then that, were her legs long and graceful ... was her muscle tone appropriate? 

The Favorite sat on a stool and ordered the Hopeful to sit on the floor in front of her cross legged. Some did hesitate at this knowing full well that sitting so would fully expose them. But, they did do so. The Favorite then spoke, "It is not whether you are full bosomed, or slightly built. It matters not whether your waist is small, your mound is full and your hips plentiful, or your lips there", she pointed between the Hopeful's legs, "as red as a pomegranate. It does matter that you learn your body, the things that please your body, and the pleasures your body can give. 

It is the confidence of that ability which makes you desirable to men. The confidence lays about you as a musk and a man can smell it and it excites him. Your enthusiasm will shine in your eyes and men will mirror this vivacity. So your first lesson is to learn about your body."

"Your hair," the Favorite continued, "is already shiny and luxurious. We will teach you the potions to mix to insure it stays as shiny as moonbeams and dark when other women your age begin to see silver sneaking in. Your eyes are the mirror to your soul. A man can look in your eyes and read love, anger, passion, and apathy. No matter how skilled you become at the erotic arts, if a man sees apathy in your eyes, you will no longer interest him. That, perhaps, is why men so rarely fall in love with courtesans ... they apathetically travel from one man to another.

Your lips should be scrupulously cared for. They are the center of your face. They smile, they kiss, and they can impart a pleasure you will learn about in a later lesson.

Your breasts now are firm as melons. Should you give the Sultan, or any man, a child, your breasts will bear witness to the gift. Your breasts will continue to give you pleasure and be the pleasure of your lover as long as you live.

Your mound now too, is full and your furry flower offers itself to be plucked. That gift can only be given once. Should you remain here, it will be a gift to our Sultan ... and only to him. Should you take any other lover, your time with us will be ended.

Your legs and feet must also be cared for. It is the strength and suppleness of your legs which will offer pleasing hours of variety to you and your lover.

And so it is. Thus endeth today's lesson."

The Hopeful was instructed to eat and then wait for a servant ordered for her.

She ate of grapes, figs, and goat's cheese. The bread filled her to satisfaction and the sweet wine filled her with a glowing.

Presently the servant entered and informed the Hopeful that she was there to give a massage and to loosen her sore muscles after so many hours of dance classes. The servant helped her disrobe and asked that she lie face down on her bed.

The melody the musicians playing on the balcony of the women's quarters drifted in and helped to relax the Hopeful. She had never before been given a massage and she really wasn't quite sure what to expect.

The servant uncapped a bottle of scented oil and began at the Hopeful's head, kneading her neck and around her shoulder blades. The servant slowly worked down her back and began to massage her bottom with strong, deep strokes. The Hopeful lay with her head on her crossed arms. The servant watched and glanced at the mural where she knew the Favorite was observing, then nodded. She slowly worked her way down first one leg then the other. 

The servant then asked the Hopeful to turn over. The Hopeful lay on her bed with legs outstretched and both arms relaxed at her sides. Once again the servant began with her neck, then her temples, caressed slowly past the ears and gently massaged the throat. The Hopeful lay with her eyes closed, but the slightest curve at the corners of her mouth was evident. The servant applied more scented oil generously to her hands and began to massage the Hopeful's breast, both at the same time. 

The servant was experienced with massage and gentled rubbed in a circular motion, ever decreasing until the Hopeful's nipples were hard and erect. The servant wasted no time in venturing down the belly and then slide her hand between the Hopeful's legs. As the servant curved a finger to insert into the Hopeful's now wet center, the Hopeful startled ... she pushed the hand of the servant away and sprang from her bed ordering the servant out immediately! How dare a servant take such liberties with one promised to the Sultan! 

The servant bowed many, many times as she backed out of the room, only to be met at the door by the Favorite. "Very well done, my child. You have passed yet another test. It was evident you enjoyed the touching, but when you sensed the line was crossed, you reacted as any one of us in the women's quarters would have done. Not all of your class passed this test as well, and your numbers have now been reduced to eight. "Sleep child. After your nap, we will continue with the lessons." The Favorite then left the Hopeful, closing the door behind her.

The Favorite came once again for the Hopeful after the evening meal. She had with her two armed guards. Upon observing the confusion on the Hopeful's face, the Favorite explained, "Your next lesson will take you out of the palace. Both you and I are far too valuable to be put at any risk; therefore, whenever any of us ventures out of the palace, we make sure we are properly escorted."

The Hopeful followed the Favorite and the two guards to a draped carriage pulled by two black stallions. When they were comfortable in their seats, the carriage pulled out of the palace and began its excursion through the winding streets of the city, finally coming to a halt behind a large residence. 

The Favorite knocked on the gate and was met by a servant who simply nodded at her. Lights from torches lit the courtyard and it seemed hundreds of oil lamps lit the interior. The servant didn't speak but bowed slowly and motioned that they should follow him. The servant led the way up a steep stairway and stooped to enter a small door. Inside there was a space perhaps four feet wide, four feet deep, furnished only with two padded stools close to an ornately carved screen. The servant bowed, backed out, and shut the door. 

The Hopeful started to ask a question, but the Favorite put a finger to her lips and nodded toward the screen. Just then a woman entered the room carrying an oil lamp followed by a husky man. His manner of dress suggested he was a wealthy merchant or business man of some sort.

The woman put the lamp on a table beside the bed and turned, "Malik, it is so good to have you back with us again." As Malik slid his arms around her waist he said, "The brothels in Acre and Constantinople have nothing to offer as sweet as you, my pet." His face bent down to hers and he began to kiss her lips and neck. He lifted her up and as he did so, she locked both legs around his waist and her arms around his neck letting the flimsy material of her skirt fall away. 

He ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, then pivoted to lay her on the bed. She smiled as she looked up at him and her hand wandered down her belly to rub slowly. It was only then that the Hopeful realized this woman had no pubic hair, but was as slick as an adolescent. 

Turning to the Favorite, she raised an eyebrow, and the Favorite once again put her finger to her lips. The Hopeful nodded and turned back to watch the scene in front of her. Malik grinned through his bushy beard and began to peel off his tunic. His biceps were knots of muscles which could not have been acquired through bartering in the market place. 

The night was warm, not fully into summer yet, and a gentle breeze blew in from the desert. The woman feigned shock at the sight and size of his manhood, saying "Malik! I had forgotten! No wonder my other visitors seem like mere boys after entertaining you!" Malik laughed and bent over to peel the halter top from the woman. She lay on the bed now completely naked staring up at him. She had two fingers pinching her right breast, and her left hand had resumed its frolic below her waist. She giggled and sat up, taking his strong rump in her hands and slowly pulling him to her mouth. Malik's head fell back and a moan escaped from his mouth. He captured her head and urged her to move faster. She smiled as her eyes rose to witness and celebrate the power she exerted over him. 

As she pulled back, her hand rose to his chest and playfully pinched his nipples. With a laugh, he pushed her further back on the bed and draped over the top of her. Her knees bent and she presented herself to him fully. Although apparent that she, too, enjoyed this pulsating melding of their flesh, she once again pushed him off and used her hands to guide him to his back. She sat on top of him sinking on to him exquisitely slowly and fondled her breasts while he watched. 

As his lids began to lower she leaned forward to kiss him while her bottom raised in a fluid motion to release him once again. Sweat glistened on Malik and the woman and made their skin appear to be oiled. 

Impatience began to show in his eyes and she knew he could not delay much longer. She rolled off him and positioned herself on her hands and knees. She threw back her head with a laugh and looked over her shoulder at her lover. Malik at once understood and his eyes sparkled as he joined her ... his stallion to her mare. 

He held her tightly at the waist and solidly culminated his physical activity with a shudder, then threw his head back and groaned loudly. Upon hearing his release, she smiled knowing he would not find such pleasure again until his next visit with her.

The Favorite and Hopeful sat quietly watching as she and Malik untangled themselves and entwined in an embrace. He kissed the top of her head then slapped her rump, "As always, my pet, an adventure." He rose, poured water out of a pitcher, he picked up one of the linen cloths at the side of the bowl and dipped it in the cool water. He turned to her as she lifted her hips and he gently stroked her, cleaning his deposits. After rinsing out the cloth he administered to himself and slowly dressed. 

She made no effort to cover her nakedness because she wanted the sight of her branded in his memory. He put one knee on the bed, kissed her and walked out the door promising to visit her again the minute he returned to the city.

When the door closed, she slowly left the bed, squatted, reached two fingers inside her and drew out a sponge. Standing she turned to the bowl, washed it out and set it aside. From a box on the table she took out another sponge and a small bottle containing a sweet smelling liquid. She soaked the sponge, once again squatted and inserted the new sponge. She dressed, dabbed on a bit more perfume, picked up the oil lamp and started to exit the room. Just as she got to the door, she turned toward the screen. Her face lit with a radiant smile and she made a sweeping bow.

The Hopeful was surprised and looked toward the Favorite. Offering no explanation the Favorite rose and began the descent toward the carriage. Once they were on their way again, the Favorite asked, "What did you see tonight?" The Hopeful thought for a moment and said "A whore with her patron."

The Favorite tisk-tisked the girl, "You are blind. You witnessed tonight one of the most famous courtesans in the city. In fact, she had her training with us. After her initial encounter with the Sultan, she discovered she had an unlimited yearning for men. Not wishing to offend the Sultan, she asked to leave the women's quarters. With his help she established the thriving business you visited tonight. 

Not only does she enjoy her men, she also skillfully instructs them more in ways to please her more. Her men of course, are oblivious to these manipulations, thinking them only an adventure. Over the course of several visits she will instill in them the passion for the journey rather than the desire for the destination."

The Hopeful then understood and now appreciated the meaning of the lesson, but she asked, "The sponge?"

"Oh that," the Favorite said, "the potion she used on the sponge is known to midwives and women not wishing children. The potion discourages the man's seed and protects the woman's belly until she wishes to conceive. This allows her the freedom to plan her future and choose her own destiny. If you so wish it, the same potion will be offered to you should you be one of the chosen."

"Yes," the Hopeful thought then said out loud, "Yes. I do not wish to forfeit my youth too soon. I would hope for a time of pleasure and carefree joy before devoting my life to a child."

The Favorite nodded and once again said, "Here endeth the lesson" as she turned and slightly parted the curtains to watch the stars twinkle and the moon dance over the onion shaped turrets of the city. 

As the training process continued, the Hopefuls were reduced to the final four. They were assembled after the mid-day meal at the behest of the Favorites.

"You have now completed all your training. Although you have received no practical experience with erotic pleasures, your instruction has shown you the many ways a man and woman can please each other. As you promised, your first encounter will be with the Sultan. At his convenience you will be summoned to him and he will decide if you are to become a member of the harem. He may choose all of you or none of you. Those not chosen will be offered further training in the running of an estate, midwifery and the healing arts, as well as others which will assure a prosperous and pleasant future.

However, there is one last lesson to be shared. After your introduction to the Sultan, whether or not you become part of his harem or seek another path, a woman need not wait for a man for pleasure. There are alternatives which include the pleasuring of one's self, pleasure which can be derived from another woman or devices can serve you well. After your audience with the Sultan, each of you will be further educated in these methods. Now, the last task before you is a stretching ceremony here in the women's quarters. While not initially pleasant, it will allow you to enjoy yourself and the Sultan more without this encumbrance.

If you are ready and willing, please follow us." The Favorites crossed the room unlocking a door which guarded a room none of the Hopefuls had ever been in. The four Hopefuls followed behind the Favorites without hesitation but with a little trepidation at the aspect of the ceremony.

The room was without windows, dark and cool. The Favorites lit oil lamp after oil lamp until the room was illuminated with dancing shadows thrown on the wall. Along one wall stood an ornate table which held a golden pitcher and four golden goblets adorned with precious stones. One of the Favorites poured each of the goblets half full of spiced wine. 

The Hopefuls were instructed to drink as it symbolized the sharing of their lives. After they drank they were gently turned by the shoulders. In front of them stood four raised beds covered with scarlet silk. They then were instructed to shed their clothing and take their place on each of the beds. Four Favorites stood at the corners of each bed. As the Hopefuls lay down, velvet ropes attached to the corners of the bed were simply looped around corresponding wrists and ankles. 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 06



The velvet ropes were loose and not tied, "These ropes", one of the Favorites explained, "symbolize the bond of love you will share with the Sultan and your sisters of the harem. Do you willingly and with an open heart accept these bonds?"

Each of the Hopefuls, in turn, affirmed their pledge. 

The Favorites at each table began a chant and anointed the Hopefuls with scented oils. As they stroked and massaged the chants became more intense ... the Hopefuls were all but hypnotized by the ministrations and their sensations were embellished by the wine ... a phallus was produced from beneath each bed. After additional oil was administered gently beginning at their navels and worked further down, the four Favorites at each bed spit on the phallus, ensuring the entire surface was lubricated. Slowly the phallus was introduced in to the Hopeful. 

Although their first invasion was less than pleasant, any of the Hopefuls could have stopped the ceremony at any time and withdrew from the process. Each knew that no damage would be done to them and trusted the Favorites to carry out the stretching ceremony. It was only a few minutes before the Hopefuls began to realize the warmth radiating from the friction between their legs and could only imagine how far the Sultan would take them.

Before any of them were allowed to reach a pinnacle of release, the phallus was withdrawn and the Hopefuls were tenderly pulled into a standing position. The Favorites bathed them, and dressed them in new clothes. Each ensemble had been chosen for a specific Hopeful with her coloring and personality in mind. They were made to be sensuous and flattering. Once their hair was arranged and their lips rouged, they were led out a door opposite the one they came in.

As their eyes adjusted to the light they found themselves in the presence of the Sultan. As he walked around them, inspecting and assessing, he gave a nod of approval to the Favorites and offered his thanks for their efforts.

The Hopefuls smiled to themselves with the knowledge that they were now gifted and skilled in the arts to take any man to heights he had only dreamed of. They smiled at the Sultan imagining their final initiation, and they smiled at each other.

You see, Mr. Emerly, my family line began with one of these Hopefuls, a young woman named Aameenah.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 07



I wondered what this story could possibly have to do with the Tea Room, until she continued. 'Aameenah was already instilled in the Sultan's harem in 1153 when Eleanor of Aquitane followed her husband Phillip, King of France, on his crusade to the Holy Land. Eleanor was a rare woman. She had money, titles and land of her own. She was bright, strong willed and even by today's standards, Eleanor would be considered a forward thinker. She detested Phillip. He was a religious fanatic, weak and spineless. 

Their entourage stopped east of Constantinople at the palace of the Sultan before they made their way on to Acre. It was there that Eleanor met my ancestor and they formed a life-long friendship. As I said before, none of the women in the Sultan's harem were slaves. They were free to go as they pleased. So, when Aameenah fell in love with one of Eleanor's French knights she approached the Sultan to beg his leave. He was saddened but gave her permission. She ventured forth with Eleanor telling her story after story of the lives in the harem. Eleanor became fascinated and the seed of an idea had sprouted but it would take years before she could bring it to fruition.

Many years later Eleanor divorced Phillip and married Henry Plantagenent, King of England. Theirs was a stormy marriage but Eleanor bore him seven children ... Richard the Lion Hearted was Henry's first legitimate son and heir to the throne. Eleanor eventually set up the "Court of Love" in Aquataine which was a scandalous endeavor! 

They taught not the erotics of love, but the esthetics ... teaching young men how to properly treat and respect their ladies as well as encouraging young ladies to be mindful and ever wary of a young man's intentions.

Aameenah bore a daughter by Eleanor's French knight and passed on her training to her daughter and so it has been for over 800 years. My aunt passed on the secrets to me.

Now Mr. Emerly, we will get down to the reason I have taken you under my wing. My business endeavors only begin with the Tea Room, it gives me access to wealthy matrons, their gossip and their complaints. You see, the second plateau of my business is more educational. If I hear one of the ladies in the Tea Room complain of a dull sex life, a hesitant or an inattentive husband, I venture to remedy that situation for her. I approach their husbands, quite innocently at first I assure you, until I am certain they would be willing to benefit from my services.'

I bolted up not believing my ears and crossed quickly to her desk. I leaned on the desk and drew closer to her so that she could hear what I had to say. "Do you mean that under all these prim and proper trappings you're just a whore! Just a common whore! I can't believe I was duped into playing your pimp or bodyguard or whatever it is you have in mind!" 

As I spun to leave the room, she stopped me by saying, 'Mr. Emerly, a whore entertains a man for a little while, I have loyal clients with whom I develop long term alliances.' 

I slowed and turned to look at her, then she continued, 'Some of the alliances lead to information on land speculation, stock market strategy and other wise investments. I assure you, no common whore could live this well, much less provide you with the quality of things you own today.'

I ran my hand through my hair and tried to clear my head. It wasn't just the shock ... that was bad enough ... it was also the sting still in my cheek. I had wanted her, lusted for her, from virtually the first moment I saw her. Rose was something special ... she had some special quality that I couldn't quite put my finger on ... and she increasingly filled my thoughts. She was a whore! A whore who had turned me down, insulted me, and yet sold herself willingly.

Rose sat and watched, almost as if she could see the flashes going through my mind. I paced for a minute or two and realized I had no where to go ... no prospects of any kind of a future ... and suddenly, what she offered me intrigued me.

I sat to face her, "Please go on."

'The gentlemen from whom I accept commissions are unknowingly screened very carefully. I first must make sure they truly love their wives. I have no interest in breaking up a marriage. Then, of course, they must be discreet, not only for their own sakes but mine as well. My commissions last from a few weeks to a few months, usually depending on their learning capacity. At the end of our intimate relationship we retain a friendship. Often a referral comes from a previous client who approaches me with a commission to educate a son or perhaps a favorite nephew.'

'A few years ago, very rarely at first, then becoming more common among my more liberal patrons, they have returned requesting that some sort of an educational process be obtained for their wives. Subtly, perhaps even a seduction, so that the wife is not aware of being schooled in the more erotic graces. Until I met you I had not been able to find an suitable apprentice. I think that perhaps you have the character and ability to fill this void.'

I had been screwing around since the summer I turned 16, but never in my wildest fantasies could I have ever imagined a proposition such as the one now set before me. Once again Rose stared into my eyes as if to see my thoughts. I wasn't aware that my jaw had dropped until she flitted slender fingers at me and jovially said, 'Well, shut my mouth! That's probably the summation of your thoughts, isn't it, Mr. Emerly?'

I couldn't help but smile, "Yes, I guess it was. This is almost too much, and I must admit not a profession I ever thought I would one day consider myself in. I'm not sure I want to be in this profession. Yet, there is a part of me that is curious, intrigued and even a little flattered. Can I think about it for a while?"

As she stood from behind the desk, she totally disabled me with a brilliant smile, "Of course Mr. Emerly, you may give me your decision tomorrow morning before we leave for the Tea Room. Good night, sir. I hope you rest well." With that, she slipped quickly out of the room and before I knew it had disappeared, probably into her bedroom. 

The damned thing about it, I had no idea where her bedroom was. I couldn't help but chuckle, rub my cheek smiling this time, and stroll down the hall toward my room to face a nocturnal dilemma. I somehow knew this would be a decision that would affect the rest of my life.

After tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning, I agreed to join Rose and submitted myself to her tutelage. My lessons weren't long in arriving.

Am I boring you, Dana?" he chuckled. 

I was pulled back from '1001 Arabian Nights' to the veranda. I couldn't speak, my eyes were as round as my mouth. I couldn't believe what I had just heard, "Mr. Em ... Jackson, did I hear you right? Did you just tell me that you were a gigolo?"

He threw his head back laughing, "My God, I don't think I've ever thought about myself like that, but yes I guess you're right. I suppose I was a gigolo at one time in my youth, but it was much more than that. You'll come to realize that over the next few days as I tell you more of my story." He rose from the table, pulled my chair back and said, "Let's walk for a while" 

Mute and dumb I followed him to the gardens, "Dana, do you still think my memoirs will be boring?" His eyes once again danced and twinkled with mischief. I still couldn't say anything, my mouth was still open and I just shook my head 'no'. 

He laughed again, reached up and shut my mouth with his index finger and said, "You're going to catch flies my dear. Do you want to go make some notes now?" At least my mouth was shut, but I still couldn't find my voice. I nodded my head and turned to walk back to the house and he turned to wander further into the gardens. I once again heard him chuckle.

Almost in a daze I made my way back to my room. Instead of heading for the coffee pot this time, I felt it more than necessary to pour myself a glass of wine. As I stood by the window I watched this man I was beginning to know wander through the gardens. What on earth would he reveal next ... I couldn't possibly imagine. Shaking my head I felt I needed another glass of wine ... or two ... or ten ... to help me absorb and sort out all I had heard this afternoon.

I sat quietly as brunch was served the next morning. I was quiet because I didn't know exactly what to say ... I thought I'd let him begin and then try to keep up as best I could. "Dana," he began, "did you sleep well?"

Now wasn't that trite! "Yes, thank you, I did."

"And are you ready to begin working again?"

Still numb, "Yes. I am."

"Wonderful," he began, "I hope I didn't shock you too much yesterday. But if these memoirs are going to be written, I decided they must be written honestly. I wouldn't want to mislead you or anyone else. 

Before we go on, I'd like to try to explain the evolution of my personal philosophy. While we're growing up we are taught that sexuality is something to be ignored, suppressed and controlled ... if not, the 'beast' might take over our conscious beings somehow. We're taught that only husbands and wives can indulge in sex ... but somehow all the jokes portray marital sex as dull and boring. 

Then by deduction, most of us figure out that if sex is to be exciting and fun then it must be outside marriage. If it's outside marriage, then it must be dirty. Of course everything along the way is complicated by the old double standard ... no wonder everyone is usually in such a snit about it.

Affairs for instance ... did you know that very few affairs have anything to do with sex at all? It's true. Some men think it's about the 'thrill of the hunt' ... the conquest ... but it's not. To them it's about power. Sometimes men or women stray because they need someone to make them feel special. They need to feel smart or pretty or appreciated or they're lonely. There are at least a hundred different reasons. 

These are really only a few of the things Rose taught me. I'll tell you now about my first practical lesson ...

Oh, but I almost forgot," Jackson said as he handed me a parchment envelope, "this came for you in yesterday's mail. I have no idea how it found you."

I took the envelope and turned it over to discover my address had not been hand written but printed. How odd I thought as I opened it. I pulled out a matching plain card and unfolded it. My breath caught in my throat and my brow knitted up as I read, 'I can't believe there are so many miles between us. It has been too many days since I've seen you. Each day and every mile adding to my heartaches until I can see you again, be with you again.'

"What in the world? Would you excuse me, Jackson." I got up from the table and walked toward the gardens loosely holding the card in my hand. As I walked my brain skipped from one thought to another. Who in heaven's name would send me a card like this? 

I searched my memory ... could it have been Don ... my contact for Business World? He was good looking, but I thought he was married. Maybe it was Richard, my accountant ... Lord, I hope not! The Fed-Ex guy was cute ... but I didn't think he had the panache.  

I was at a loss. And, where on earth did he get this address? Could it have been a delivery man? I had no clue. I read the card again ... it was a mystery that left me feeling a bit unnerved. When I managed to get my wits about me again I returned to Jackson sitting on the veranda.

"I'm sorry, Jackson, this card kind of threw me for a loop. I can't imagine who might have sent it. I'm sorry I interrupted, where were you?"

Jackson's eyes danced for a moment before he spoke ... "Dana ... you're flushed! Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes. Please, let's don't talk about this any more, it's probably just some misunderstanding. Now, please go on with your story."

"Very well. Rose approached me a few days later, 'I have a client visiting me tonight ... a new commission. I'm going to use this opportunity to begin your training. We will speak further of this after the Tea Room closes.' Then she just walked away as though nothing more important than a new menu item was going to be introduced to me.

Daydreams and fantasies filled my head the rest of the afternoon and it was difficult to hide my excitement. Finally it was time to close. Rose drew the shades and locked the front door. We left Queen to supervise her new helper in cleaning up while she began the pastry preparations for the next day.

Rose and I took a cab to her home without speaking. Once there, I followed her into her office.

Rose started to explain, "I first became aware of Andrew Caplan through his wife at the Tea Room, of course. Over a period of time, I noticed that she was not as happy as a young wife of three years should be. There was something restless and depressed just below her consciousness. You are aware that over a period of time many of my ladies begin to confide in me. Susan was no exception, although I'm afraid that I did have to urge her along just a little. 

Two weeks ago when she initially complained of a headache I offered to make her one of my special cups of tea ... and I did make her a very special cup of tea. It was getting late in the day and the Tea Room patrons were drifting out and heading toward their homes. I wanted to talk to Susan alone and this was the perfect time, so when I made her tea, I added a pinch of one of my special herbs to relax her just a bit. After two cups of tea, Susan was feeling much better and began to confide in me. 

She spoke of her disappointment in her intimate married life. She adored Andrew but he simply wasn't the lover she had anticipated and longed for. Although it was obvious that Andrew likewise adored his wife, he was less than attentive outside the bedroom. And once in the bedroom, he was unimaginative and their lovemaking was over far too quickly. 

I empathized with Susan and told her that some men change over time. Perhaps her Andrew would, too.

The very next day I arranged to bump into Andrew at the bank. He vaguely recognized me and I initiated a conversation. He was easily manipulated and before long, I had him buying me a drink in a cozy spot down the street. I chose a table in the corner and slid in making sure the slit on my skirt rose to mid-thigh. As he slid in the booth across from me, I took off my jacket, feigning summer discomfort. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he surveyed my shear blouse and the camisole I wore under it. If he was to be a candidate for instruction, I had to first be sure he was interested in me physically. I only sipped on a nice Chablis while he enjoyed two bourbon on the rocks. 

After his first drink, it was easy to play into his ego, flirt, smile and touch his hand ever so lightly. As he warmed to my gestures, I continued talking to him about how lonely it could be for a woman all alone in this world. I knew that by this time he would begin to think about us together. So I explained how a discreet and mutually satisfying tryst could be arranged if he would like. I explained about my commissions and he was a little shocked at first. With just a bit more conversation and the palm of my hand just above his knee he was intrigued. 

We set up an appointment for tonight at 7:00. He will drive himself, park in the rear and I will welcome him personally. Under no circumstances should there to be any sign of you. I have given Agnes the evening off. You will find a plate of cold cuts, cheese, fruit and bread already made for you in the kitchen. I must go now and prepare myself for my guest tonight. Please meet me here again at 6:30."

And with that, she left the office. I don't think it ever occurred to her that I may have something to say or a question to ask. I wandered off to the kitchen, found the plate, and poured myself a generous portion of Maker's Mark Scotch. As I sat at the kitchen table and more played with my food than ate it. I didn't know how to anticipate the coming evening or what my role would be.

I did manage to eat about half of the light supper and made my way to my room. After showering and shaving, I put on fresh clothes. I just decided to bide my time once again and trust that Rose would make things known to me as I needed to know them. 

At 6:30 I entered her office and found her already there. It was evident that she had bathed, redone her hair in soft, upswept curls and applied her make-up in a more dramatic fashion. She wore a dress made entirely of pink lace. It wasn't at all what I expected to see a whore wearing. It was form fitting from the waist to the high scalloped collar and it had long sleeves and the graceful skirt hung to her ankles. As she stood and approached me, I noticed she wore pearl colored spiked heels and white stockings. When she got within a few feet of me, I realized the lace dress wasn't transparent at all, but lined with matching pink fabric. 

She smiled at the indication of awe on my face and slowly turned around, 'Would you zip me up? I forgot Agnes had the night off.' I did as I was told. Without turning to look at me, she walked back over to the desk, opened the middle drawer and took out a key attached to an ornate tassel. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then said 'Follow me', in a soft voice, and I did. 

She unlocked a door behind her desk and switched on a light. We entered a corridor which ended in a small sitting room. She pointed to a pane of glass, 'Your first lesson will begin when Andrew arrives. When we enter the room, I will turn on the light and you will be able to observe through the one-way mirror. 

During my first encounter with Andrew, I will allow him to take the lead so I can ascertain the proper course of instruction. You will witness not only this encounter but subsequent ones as well. If you are to be an apprentice, it will be necessary for you to learn how to delight a woman with a wide variety of methods. Once you have been exposed to these various techniques, your practical training will begin. Do you have any questions?' 

Did I have any questions! I was too dumbfounded to speak! 'Hell no!' I didn't want to tell her about the afternoon I spent in the hayloft.

'Good', Rose retorted, 'and one other thing, please remember not to turn on the light in here, it would reveal your presence and I'm sure Andrew would be less than pleased.' 

So, I waited, and pretty damned uncomfortably too, I might add. The minutes seemed like hours, but finally I heard a door open and the light was turned on. A tall man in his late 20's followed Rose into the room. It was the first time either he or I had seen her bedroom. 

It was large, furnished in wonderful early Louisiana antiques ... their French influence could be easily seen. The paintings on the wall seemed to be from the brushes of old masters, but contained clearly erotic scenes. The largest hung above the bed and depicted a pastoral scene with a gathering of Renaissance men and women on the pretext of a picnic. As you looked at the painting, though, it became evident that some couples were engaged in oral foreplay, others helped each other with awkward positions, while a menage d' trois cavorted behind a nearby tree.

The painting was not wasted on Andrew, he noticed it almost immediately upon entering the room. Rose walked over to a table just below the mirror and without even a hint of acknowledging I was there, poured bourbon over ice for Andrew and a glass of sherry for herself. As she handed the glass to him she said, 'I've been looking forward to this Andrew. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?' 

Instead of sipping his bourbon, he threw it back in one swallow and shook his head 'no'. He looked at her and was as surprised by the woman who stood before him as I had been earlier in the office.





Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 07



"My God, you are beautiful!", he said as he crossed the room and enfolded her in his arms. She lifted her face and smiled at him only moments before he kissed her ... hungrily, hurriedly as his left hand drifted up to the top of her zipper. He wasted no time in unzipping the dress and removing it from her shoulders, gently tugging the long sleeves until her arms were bare and the dress fell to the floor.

His face lit with a smile at the vision before him. Now clad in only a pink corset and a garter belt holding the white stockings, he approved that she wore no panties.

He gathered her breasts and kissed them both as he liberated them, all the while steering her to the bed. He gently laid her across the bed and his hand floated to her garter belt and below, only resting there for a minute or two. He stood, unbuttoned his Oxford shirt and unbelted his pants. He continued to appreciate the image in front of him as if he couldn't believe his good luck. When his pants dropped to the floor he promptly mounted her. She ran her hand up his arms and around his shoulders. She answered each of his trusts until he could contain himself no longer. 

His climax was evident as he shuttered and collapsed on to Rose. After laying perfectly still for a few minutes, he picked up his head, kissed her nose, and said 'Thank you.' He rolled off of her and she turned to face him ... 'There is a shower and fresh towels through that door', as she gestured to the other side of the room. He stood up and crossed to the bathroom. When he had closed the door, Rose got up from the bed and wrapped a satin robe around herself.

She crossed to the table sitting just under the mirror again and poured herself another sherry. This time she looked directly through the mirror at me and acknowledged me by only the slightest nod of her head.

When Andrew came out, she had his clothes lying on the bed. As he dressed he asked Rose, 'Can I see you again next week?' 

'Of course,' she replied, 'I'll look forward to it.' Then Andrew left the room and showed himself to the door.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat there until I heard the door open to the office and I made my way back down the corridor.

Rose was sitting behind her desk, sipping her sherry and didn't even look up as I entered. 'May I?', I asked ... I had never needed a drink so much in my life. 'Certainly,' she said distractedly. 'Well, Andrew is going to take a few lessons to become the kind of lover he wants to be. He's probably been poking around since he was a kid, but it's evident that he's never made love in his life. It's a malady shared by many men but one that can be remedied over time.'

It seemed that she was talking to herself when she raised her head and remembered I was in the room. 'Do you think you will be able to learn along with Andrew over the next few weeks?'

I had gulped my scotch and was pouring myself another glass, aware that the fire burning down my throat and into my stomach wasn't nearly as hot as the fire ignited as I watched Rose and Andrew. I was embarrassed to turn around ... my arousal couldn't be hidden, so I simply said, 'I'll certainly try.' Suddenly anxious to be out of her presence, I excused myself and hurried to my room. 

I paced, took a cold shower, watched TV, tried to read a book. However, the images of Rose crept back into my mind again and again ... Rose looking like a Duchess in her lace dress, standing with her back to me and Andrew pulling off her dress showing me a graceful back and lush bottom, lying across the bed her treasure framed by a delicate pink garter belt. 

It was a miserable night and I must confess I was only able to sleep after I had assisted in my own release. I used a washcloth to wipe the sheet next to me and was finally able to drift off to sleep. During the night in my dreams Rose looked up at me and I could see my hands reaching to touch her ... she haunted many of my nights after that. 

Weekly I took my place in the sitting room before Andrew arrived. Deftly, Rose began instructing him. She started with a giggle and slap to his hands, 'You shouldn't just touch me when you want sex ... you should touch me often just for the shear joy of touching me ... women like that, you know. In fact I do believe that if more men simply touched and caressed their wives they would have more sex than they ever dreamed of. When a woman is touched only as a prelude to sex she tends to stiffen up a bit, if not declining the offer all together.' 

Then she would let Andrew take the lead once again, resulting in the same quick conclusion. The next lesson involved Rose laying Andrew across the bed and attending to his arousal as she knelt before him on the floor. When he was almost to climax, she stopped, squeezed gently at the base of his erection then smiled at him and said, 'Now it's my turn.' 

As Andrew took his place on the floor between her legs, he appeared shy and hesitant. Rose touched herself and said, 'Kiss me here ... that's right, use your tongue ... yes that feels so good! Please don't stop ... please, please ... oh ...' and she continued to encourage him. Her appreciative nature boosted his confidence and he was eager to please. 

A week or so later, Rose told him, 'I want to show you a very special maneuver that is particularly pleasing ...' she crooked her finger as if to motion him to her. 'Do you see how I did that, just one little finger motioning you to come. If you will do that inside me as you nuzzle my little button, I promise I'll do something very special for you later.' He smiled and he knelt again between her legs. This time; however, she put each of her feet on his shoulders and let her knees drop so that she was totally vulnerable to his ministrations. 

He began to nuzzle her and when she first moaned, he inserted one finger and began to do as she had instructed. Within minutes Rose gasped and arched the small of her back and grabbed his head, making sure his tongue continued ... 'Oh, Darlin', there! There! Harder! Harder ... don't stop! Please, don't stop! Use two fingers ... ooh, yes ... oh, oh ...you're taking me where I want to go.' I saw Rose shutter for the first time. She clamped her thighs against his head and let out an effectual noise that more resembled a cat's purr than a growl. 

It startled Andrew and he looked up just in time to see Rose stiffen as though a shock of electricity had run through her whole body. She collapsed and lay absolutely still for a few seconds. Rose smiled and sat up, she put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him long and thoroughly. She had him lay on the bed and returned the favor until he began to tremble. 

She then removed her mouth and used her hand to complete his orgasm and she watched the expression on his face. She crawled on to the bed next to him and laid her head in the 'V' of his chest, 'There's not much more we can do for each other. Have you enjoyed yourself?' 

Andrew smiled as he hugged her closer to him, 'It's been wonderful ... I never dreamed that sex could be this good."

Rose pulled herself up on one elbow and looked into his eyes, 'Have you done any of these things with you wife?'

Andrew appeared shocked at first, but still answered her, 'I've tried but Susan seems unwilling to even approach the idea of sex lately. I don't know what's gotten in to her ... I worry that our marriage may not be working out and I don't know what I would do without her. I do love her so much, but I'm at a loss as to what to do about it.'

'Andrew ... you must now share these joys with your wife. I've instructed you on every conceivable way for a man and a woman to pleasure each other. It is your obligation to share it with her. Make arrangements to take her out of the city, find a place quiet and romantic and fun ... make your reservations for the full weekend. Friday night when you get there, have flowers waiting for her in your room and take her to a cozy place for dinner. 

When you get back to the room, hold her close and talk to her ... yes, only talk to her that first night. Even if she approaches you, avoid intimacy ... she may only feel it's expected of her since you planned this little get away. The next day, have breakfast ordered up and take your time over coffee. Go site seeing, antiquing, or to a museum ... it doesn't really matter where you go as long as you both enjoy it and are relaxed. During that day, touch her often ... hold her hand, rub the small of her back, kiss her neck and anything that comes naturally to you. 

That night, take her to an intimate restaurant. Later order a bottle of wine to your room. Make sure she has something beautiful to wear and you should have something appropriate as well ... her libido should be fully kindled by this time, but just in case,' Rose drew a small packet from under the pillow and handed it to Andrew, 'pour this in her wine. It won't hurt her, she won't taste it, and it will only loosen her inhibitions. 

Once she learns the extent of delectation she is capable of you two should have no more problems. And Andrew, remember ... always look for new and exciting ways to please her. Nothing done between two lovers should be taboo ... be open minded and I'm sure she will follow.'

'Now kiss me. It's time for you to take your leave of me ... so endeth the lesson.'

Andrew suddenly understood, his touch acknowledged the gift and he thanked her. 'I won't ever forget you, Rose. If you ever need anything from me, all you have to do is call.'

Andrew left that night and except for a phone call now and then and one engraved notice of the birth of his first son, we never saw him again.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 08



When Jackson finished his story we talked for a while … about nothing in particular and lots of things in general … we were developing a genuine friendship and were beginning to get to know each other.

This latest story … on a scale from 1 to 10 … ranked about a 6. Certainly not as shocking as others … I found that either I was becoming more accustomed to his revelations, or perhaps I was just becoming more open minded. It really didn't matter which, I was enjoying Tanglewood and his company … 

I excused myself and made my way to my room. After brewing another pot of coffee, I sat down and booted my computer. I had laid the card on the table beside the computer and sat down with my coffee cup in both hands. I stared at the envelope, willing it to provide me with some answers about the man who had sent it, but the envelope remained mute.

I pushed it from my mind again … like I had been forced to do many times during the day … and began to record the story Jackson had just relayed to me.

Without conscious effort images began to form in my mind … as I looked up from the computer a man softly entered my room. The light is behind him so I could only make out a dark silhouette … but I knew instantly who he was … I could feel his power from across the room and the scent of him washed over me.

He stood looking a me … I could tell his eyes drifted from my hair to my bare feet … then he whispered, "Hello". There was no need to be alarmed by his sudden and unannounced appearance … I had a visceral knowledge that he belonged here with me. As I rose from my chair, he once again began to speak softly, "Come to me." And like a dream walker I obeyed, stopping only inches from him.

... I placed my palms on his chest as he gathered me into his arms. His face lowered to mine ... hesitating only a moment to look through the windows of my soul before touching my lips. His kiss is at first gentle only starting to radiate more power as I press my body to him. The kiss grew more urgent and demanding I can't help but slide one of my hands to his face and the other into his hair. I'm standing on tip-toes now, wanting to get closer to him ... ever closer. His hands find my bottom and pull me tighter to him … I can feel his need for me pressing against my belly.

He breaks the kiss ands tilts my face up with an index finger beneath my chin, "Who are you?"

Without hesitation I reply, "I am yours … I always have been and always will be. But, I don't understand …."

"Shhh, don't talk now … we needn't talk now … we have our whole lives ahead of us …."

The shrill of the phone shakes me out of my daydream and at once I'm relieved and angry, "Hello."

"Dana, this is Vonne. Jackson wanted to know if you'd care to have dinner with him tonight or if you'd like something sent up to your room."

"No. I think I'll spend the evening in my room … just have the kitchen send up whatever they have on hand. Thanks, Vonne."

My hand replaces the receiver and my eyes drift back to the envelope. Who could he be? I picked it up and held it to my face … a warm, familiar scent filled my nose and triggered an uneasiness in my belly. Whomever sent this nags at me … I know him.

God, Dana! What the hell are you doing being swept away like a school girl who's just received her first valentine! Get a grip, girl. This is real life now and you'll probably never hear from him again … no need to get your hopes up.

With sudden anger I crushed the card with my hands and threw it in to the garbage. I quickly cross the room and turned off the coffee pot, opting instead for a glass of settling wine. After half a glass my temper begins to wane and I slowly crossed the room and retrieved the crumpled card from the trash can. I set my wine down on the table and smoothed the card … lovingly with both hands. After I re-fold it, I stuck it in the middle drawer of the library table. A wistful smile crosses my face as I think, "Waste not, want not" … and I pick up my wine and decide to take a long, hot bath.

Winter was closing in fast on Savannah. Usually our crisp autumn days delighted us for weeks … but this year one bank of gray clouds after another rolled over us bringing cold, gloomy, rainy days. It seemed to affect everyone's mood and I especially resented the fact that we could no longer enjoy the verandas overlooking the gardens and grounds. 

When I looked out my window the rain beat down the leaves which had just turned to a cacophony of colors … they looked like confetti as the were whipped and spiraled to the ground. Sighing out loud, I grabbed my yellow pad and pen and plodded down stairs to meet Jackson in the dining room for breakfast.

When I walked in I noticed that Jackson's handsome face was uncharacteristically shadowed by concern. As the days had rolled by at Tanglewood I had become very fond of Jackson … a man who's even temperment, sense of humor and wisdom I admired and would like to emulate. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really, Dana. But the next story I have to tell you is filled with contradictions and lessons learned in the most painful way possible. I've even wondered if I should include this, but promised myself in the beginning it would be an honest recollection, so I feel I must. I want you to know, however dear, that if it becomes too disturbing you can ask me to stop at any time. When you feel you're ready, we'll continue … but with this story, I'm going to let you dictate the pace. Okay?"

"Okay …"

"As time went on, I became less and less involved in the Tea Room and took over more and more of the management of Rose's extensive interests. There was not only the running of her home and Tea Room, her stock portfolio needed constant monitoring to make sure the best possible dividends were being realized, land speculation, and commercial real estate holdings needed constant attention.

Having taken this stress away from Rose allowed her to concentrate on the patrons of her Tea Room and her various enlightening commissions. She was happier and more carefree than she had been in years and generously rewarded me for my efforts, but had not as yet brought me into the more pleasurable aspects of her business.

I didn't witness all of her encounters; however, she did insist on my being behind the mirror when a new student was inaugurated in their agreement. I always thought it was a safety measure, but never once did I have to intercede on her behalf. 

One day she telephoned me at the office we now shared in her home, "Jackson, I have a meeting this afternoon with a previous client. He has a unique problem that he wishes me to help him with … I think it might be a good idea for you to 'join' us while we talk."

"JOIN YOU!" 

"I'm getting damned tired of sitting behind that mirror, I've got better and more important things to do now … remember what I do for you here is important and takes up most of my waking hours. Why in the hell do I need to 'join you' … if this is a previous client I don't see how I could be of any use to you, and quite frankly, I'm getting fed up with watching you and your men. What ever it is that you need to do to him … or with him … or for him, I think you can do by yourself this time." 

And, I hung up on her. I stood at the desk for a minute not believing what I had just done and how angry I had become … I had been working very hard lately, but that was no excuse to react to her this way. I intended to apologize to her when I saw her this afternoon.

She came in shortly after 2:00 and I was waiting for her, dreading the apology as much as I had when my father had humiliated me when he dragged me to admit stealing candy from the mercantile and apologize for that … I heard the cab door shut and got up from the desk to meet her in the hall. 

As she walked through the front door I began before she had a chance to even set down her purse, "Rose, I'm so sorry … I don't know what got into me. I know I've been short tempered lately and been snapping at everyone around me. Maybe I just need a couple of days away from work. Of course, I'll do what you asked this afternoon. But, if it's okay with you, I think I'll spend the weekend in Baton Rouge … a little rest, a little golf, and some alone time will be good for me and help me to clear my head."


She had stopped and just watched me as I made my little speech. She cocked her head to one side and stood silent for a few moments. "Jackson, I was all but ready to tell you to pack your bags, but I think I understand. Yes. I think it would do you good to get away for a couple of days … why don't you plan on leaving Friday morning and make a long weekend of it. But, Jackson, don't ever speak to me like that again" and she walked past me toward the kitchen.

What she said scared me … Rose didn't make idle threats, I was sure I had come as close as I ever wanted to come to dissolving this business association. I would do as she asked … but I was thankful for the weekend to come. I did need some time alone and away from Rose … her perfume lingered in the air long after she had gone … even the fragrance she wore had begun to irritate me … 

Rose asked for coffee to be served in the study where she and I could talk about today's visitor.

"Allen was a client of mine about 5 years ago," she began. "He came to me when he found out his first wife was having an affair. He was devastated but wanted to save his marriage. After only a few sessions, it was evident that his skills were more than adequate … I found out, perhaps a little to late to help him … that his wife's affair had more to do with companionship than sex. 

Allen had thrown himself into his work and he made a lot of money. He thought that the luxuries he provided could buy him the security he wanted. His wife had the best clothes, the nicest jewelry, charge cards, and country club memberships … that resulted only in her being all dressed up with no where to go … Allen had neglected her. When he wasn't working, he was networking with associates, potential customers, and buyers … even though his wife was often around, she was never with him. 

She began to feel more like a prop that a wife. When a man in their circle of acquaintances recognized her loneliness, the affair began. Unfortunately for Allen, by the time I discovered this and had just begun to help him remedy the situation, his wife announced that she was in love with the other man and left Allen flat. 

The divorce was no problem … she took only her personal belongings and left him with the empty trappings of a life.

Allen floundered for a while … he began and ended several relationships over a couple of years, but never emotionally invested in any of those women. He finally met Jennifer … you've seen her at the Tea Room."

"Oh, yes. I remember her. She's a beautiful woman, bright … seems nice … always orders the chamomile tea. But somehow I get the feeling she's not happy … there's something just under the surface that I can't quite figure out."

"That's right. I'm afraid that's all I know until Allen gets here. When he called I was surprised, but he said he only wanted to talk to me … to see if I had any advice that could help him. The appointment should only take about an hour, and we will meet here in the office. 

I'll want you behind the door, in the corridor. There's a small panel behind one of the bookshelves that you can slide open and observe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shower and change. Would you ask Agnes to clear the coffee and bring in a bottle wine, two chilled glasses, some cheese and fruit. I'll see you back here in 45 minutes." And, just like Rose, she turned and left the room, confident that Agnes and I would carry out her wishes to the letter.

At 3:00 Rose once again entered the office, she had changed into a pantsuit which was also an indication that she expected only to talk with Allen. She directed me to the corridor, pointed out the panel that opened only about 2 inches above a stack of books in the bookcase … very artfully placed so that it could only be detected by someone very close by and with only direct eye contact at that.

I had only a chance to get myself situated when Agnes announced Mr. Allen Renwick. Rose walked quickly across the room to greet him, "Allen, it' s so good to see you again! Let me look at you" … she walked a circle around him nodding her head, "I see you've been taking good care of yourself … but what's that I see here", she pointed at his temples, "a little silver … my goodness but it does make you even more handsome!" I couldn't help but grumble to myself and I felt my eyebrows knit up …

Rose walked to the tray and pulled the glasses out of a bowl of crushed ice, "I remember you liked that rose( we picked up that long weekend beside Lake Ponchetrain. Remember the winery? When you called, I had them deliver a case to have on hand for you when you visited."

You could tell by Allen's smile that he was impressed with her memory and flattered by her attention. She handed him a glass, poured one for herself, and motioned for him to take a seat, "Now, what is it I can do for you?"

Allen just stared into his wine for a long time then he began, "About two years ago I met Jennifer. She would have nothing to do with me at first, she was even was rude a couple of times, but there was something about her that wouldn't let me give up. So, I pursued her. She wouldn't even go out on a date with me. I'd ask her to dinner, concert, a dance at the club. When she finally consented to seeing me, she always insisted on taking a cab both ways … never allowing me to see where she lived much less be alone with her. 

I was puzzled because I knew she was a expert on restoration of paintings, so I didn't think it was because she was ashamed of where she lived. She was confident, I didn't think she was frightened of me … I just couldn't figure it out. Anyway, it went on like this for months. Since she made sure we were never alone, about all we had to do was talk … and maybe that was a good thing. I got to know her inside and out … at least I thought I did. It seemed that she was beginning to trust me, too, and seemed to be falling in love with me. 

My God! I am 38 years old and this yearning for her is about to drive me crazy. Finally, I asked her to marry me. She wouldn't give me an answer, and did the strangest thing, she broke down and cried like a child in my arms. I let her cry for a while then wiped the tears away. I told her that if she would marry me I would let her cry on my shoulder anytime … I couldn't promise her that I'd never make her cry … but I did promise her that I would love her every minute of my life. She looked up at me. I couldn't read her eyes … they were a stormy sea and I couldn't tell what swam just below the surface. 

She asked me to meet her in front of St. Catherine's on Jackson Square the next day for lunch. We walked to a little restaurant a few blocks away … we sat at one of the sidewalk tables and watched the tourists come and go.

"Allen," she said to me, "you know I love you. As much as I didn't want to, I do love you … but I can't marry you. It wouldn't be fair … you deserve better."

I told her that I wouldn't take that as a 'no' … I needed to know what she was talking about. The thought of living without her was ripping up my insides and I couldn't let it go. She told me that she couldn't marry me … she could never be a complete wife to me … She loathed being touched and had not had an intimate relationship in over five years. Being celibate brought her peace and calm and she didn't want to give that up. Rose … this is the 80's … can you imagine? I mean, I know she's not a virgin, but about as damned close as it comes. I don't know what to do."

He couldn't sit any longer, he got up and poured himself another glass of wine and began pacing in front of the window. "Damn, she's driving me fucking nuts! The more she says 'no', the more I want her. I can't get her out of my head … she's there day and night. I haven't seen her in two weeks … she refuses to see me again … I didn't know what else to do. 

I thought maybe you could help … maybe find out why she's like she is … find out if she does love me or if that was just an excuse to say 'no' …" He turned to look at Rose, "Rose, please help me. You are the only person I could think to turn to. No matter what her problem, you'd understand. 

If she's sick, or if something is physically wrong we can have it fixed … I've got more than enough money … but I've got to know. If she doesn't love me God only knows what I'll do … but anything short of that, I'll do whatever it takes."

I watched Rose's face as he talked. She often developed an infinity for her past clients and I could tell that seeing Allen this way bothered her. 

She stood and walked over to him slowly and placed her hand on his forearm, "Allen, I don't know what to say. I don't know if there is anything I can do … but I'll try, of course I'd try for you. But you've got to know … sometimes people have scars that are far worse than physical. If that's Jennifer's problem … if there's something, God forbid, from her childhood, we may not be able to overcome it. 

I've never really known a woman who was physically incapable of love, but many that have had it stolen from them by their memories. It might take a little while, but let me see what I can do. I'll give you a call and keep you posted on my efforts. But, remember Allen, no promises."

Allen looked relieved, his shoulders slumped and he looked very sad when he spoke, "I had thought about what you just said. She often speaks of her family and growing up in Alabama. I just don't think that's the case, but somehow, I don't think you're far off the mark. I just don't think it was her family. 

Anyway, I'd appreciate anything you can do. I'll just wait to hear from you", as he started walking toward the door he turned, "But Rose, please don't take too long …" and he walked out.

Rose was pouring herself another glass of wine when I came out of the corridor. She had a troubled look on her face, and motioned for me to get another glass and she filled it, too. "Jackson, this isn't at all what I expected. I thought he'd have a favorite nephew or someone like that to be properly initiated. I don't see how I could possibly help him with this one and it's a shame. Allen's really such a nice man and he deserves to be happy … his divorce almost ruined him, now that he's found love again, I don't want to see him go through something like that again. Do you have any suggestions?"

For a few seconds I was too stunned to say anything. It was the first time she had ever asked my opinion on any aspect of this portion of her business.

I finally agreed with her. Something in Jennifer's past had closed her down. Neither one of us thought of her as a frigid woman, she just didn't fit the mold for that one. But, we had both noticed her at the Tea Room, and she was unhappy and frequented by phantoms only she recognized. Rose felt it safer if she approached Jennifer and try to get her to open up. Perhaps after we knew what the root of her problem was, I could be used to help her overcome her compulsion of self denial.

Rose approached Jennifer the very next time she came to the Tea Room. "Jennifer, I'm so glad you came in … I've been wanting to talk to you about some art I was thinking of investing in. There are several paintings that are becoming available from a private estate. I have no training, I wouldn't know a Warhol from a Reuben … do you think I could impose on you to help me out?"

Jennifer's face held the faintest ghost of a smile. "Rose, I didn't know you appreciated art but I'd be happy to help you out. It seems I do have a lot more time on my hands lately, and I think it would do me good to get out and about for a little bit. What did you have in mind?"




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 08



"The estate," Rose explained, "is over near Irish Bayou. Do you think we could take a drive over Saturday morning? I'd be happy to pay you for your time … as well as buy you lunch. We could make a day out of it … what do think?"

Jennifer savored another sip of tea, "Yes. I think that would be nice. Getting out of New Orleans for a day is bound to do us both a world of good … and, who knows? We might even see an antique shop or two we'd like to stop by. Saturday it is … say 10:00?"

"Perfect", said Rose, "can you drive? I'm afraid I never got around to learning."

I was just walking past the tables toward the office when I over heard this and it surprised me … it must have surprised Jennifer too because she giggled just a little, "Really, Rose! I cannot imagine not driving! It would impossible to be confined, at the whim of taxi drivers … of course I can drive. Give me your address and I'll pick you up at 10:00."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. Why don't you pick me up here at the Tea Room, my home is a little difficult to find." Rose stood smiling, and stretched out her hand to Jennifer, "I'll be looking forward to it." She then followed me into the office.

I had to tease her a little about this revelation … "Can't drive? Why on earth have you never learned to drive? Half the cabbies in New Orleans can't even speak English … much less be near as smart as you … and they seem to do very well? What gives?"

It was the first time I ever saw her flustered, "I just never got around to it! Never you mind! Just take care of the books and make sure you're back from Baton Rouge on Monday in case I need your help with Jennifer!", her eyes snapped at me and echoed the anger in her voice, "Now … I've got to go arrange for some paintings to be offered for sale." And she stomped out of the office.

Over the next couple of days, Rose gathered an assortment of antique paintings from galleries all over the city. She made arrangements for them to be taken to a quaint anti-bellum home just above Irish Bayou. It would be there that she and Jennifer would seemingly inspect them. If Jennifer made any recommendations, the paintings would be added to the other investment holdings Rose had gathered over the years. 



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 09



Before I left for Baton Rouge on Friday morning I ventured into the kitchen for a cup of coffee … I sat at the kitchen table watching Queen as she slowly kneaded a mountain of dough for her famous pastries. The sleeves to her darsheka were rolled up above her elbows and her forearms showed the strength of a woman much younger. She was silent and acted as though I wasn't even in the room … she began to hum an unfamiliar tune as she continued her work. 

I crossed the kitchen to pour myself another cup of coffee and poured one for Queen as well. As I settled back in my chair I asked, "How long have you and Rose known each other?"

She continued her ministrations for another minute then covered the dough with a towel to let it rise. She looked at me, wiped her hands on her apron as she walked to the table and pulled out a chair, "Well, to tell the truth Mr. Emerly, I don't think there's ever been a time when I didn't know Miss Rose."

"Queen," I asked, "please call me Jackson … do you mean you two were raised together?"

A enigmatic smile crossed her face and she studied my eyes for a few seconds, "No … she and I … our families have been together for almost 150 years. When sugar cane was king in the Delta, my family was brought over in slavery from Jamaica and put on the block. Other families were split up and sold to different owners. When my family took their place in the auction, three of them stood proud with their chins up. The auctioneer expounded on the strength and health of each one … the man was stripped of his shirt and told to turn around, as he did his broad shoulders and biceps were pointed out … also, there were no scars on his back proving that he was a dutiful slave. 

The young girl between them clung to their hands and little was said about her. Next the woman was told to open her mouth and a row of perfect white teeth attested to her overall health, her blouse was pulled from her to reveal pendulous breasts and a narrow waist. She had a birthmark on her right shoulder strangely in the shape of a fleur de leis. 

In the audience a young woman gasped and clutched the arm of her husband. She spoke no words but her eyes implored him. He immediately understood and opened the bidding offering $3,000 for the entire family. Loud murmurs arose from the crowd but then quieted, no one counter bid and my family was led off the block to face their new owners.

The white man simply nodded at them, took his wife's arm to leave, and their new servants fell into step behind them. It was a long drive back to the plantation, and the three sat quietly in the back of a wagon loaded with supplies following the carriage in front of them. They were assigned a small house on the edge of the slave's quarters and settled in for the night, thankful they were still together but apprehensive about what the future held for them.

The next morning their new master approached them and asked their names. Although his shoulders were square he dared not look into the eyes of his new master … he knew it was considered a sign of insolence and punishable. He answered in a low voice, "I am Isaac. This is my wife, Marie, and our baby, Cherish."

"Very well," the new master said, "Isaac, have you ever done any work with horses?" Still with his eyes down, "Yes, master. I groomed and shoed the horses where I was before."

"Good, then," he smiled, "you'll be assigned to our stables to care for our personal mounts. Marie, would you and Cherish please go the big house and ask for your mistress …"

He turned and began to walk toward the stables. The couple looked at each other with surprise and questions in their eyes, but knew better than to say a word. Isaac followed the new master, Marie took Cherish's hand and started walking toward the big house. She entered through the kitchen door and stood for a moment while her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lights. Finally a pudgy woman a few years older than Marie saw her standing there and knotted up her brow, "Are you the new ones?"

Marie bobbed a small curtsey and answer, "Yes … master told us to come see the mistress … I'm Marie and this is my baby, Cherish."

"You two wait here, I'll tell the misses you're here," and she toddled off. She was back in just a few minutes, "Misses wants to see you in the parlor … come with me" They were led through the kitchen, dining room and into the hall … they had never been in the plantation house in Jamaica so the sights were new to them and their heads turned from one side to the other marveling at how well their new masters lived.

They came to a pair of pocket doors and the woman leading them knocked lightly, "Come in," said a gentle southern accent. "Thank you, Bert, you may return to the kitchen now."

Bert was surprised but said nothing to her mistress; however, Marie heard her muttering to herself as she turned to go back to the kitchen.

The sweet face framed by dark curls looked at mother and daughter. The little girl was frightened and half hid herself behind her mother's skirt. "There's no need to be frightened, Cherish … no harm will come to you here," she walked to the little girl and tilted her face up so the child could see her sincere smile.

"Marie … were you born in Jamaica?" she asked as she sat down.

"Yes, missus … I lived my whole life there until I was brought here." 

"And, do you remember your mother?"

"Yes, missus"

"What do you remember about her?"

"Well, missus … my mam was born in Africa and brought to Jamaica half growed. She had learned of plants and roots and herbs so she doctored the other slaves and once in a while was called on to attend to the white folks … she had some magic … she could look into a kettle of water and see things."

"Can you do those things?"

"I was taught the healing arts …but I have no magic … it's not passed on sometimes. But I think Cherish has the gift."

"Do you remember your father?"

"No missus … I never saw him."

"Did your mother talk about him to you?"

"Yes missus."

"What did she say?"

"Mam said he was awful good for the eyes … a tall, handsome man she fell in love with the first time she saw him. He was a mulatto brought from Port Au Prince … she said his color was like coffee au lait and his laughter lit the whole night … she was never the same after he was taken away … always sad and gazing off toward the sea almost like she expected him to come to her again … I was born three months after he was sold off … but she said I always reminded her of him."

"Do you know why you reminded her of your father?"

"Yes missus … my color is lighter and my nose not so broad … also I carry a birthmark like his."

"A birthmark?"

"Yes missus … a funny little thing here on my shoulder," and she pushed aside her collar to reveal the fleur de leis.

"I see," said the new mistress. "Marie, I'd like for you and Cherish to work here in the big house with me. My baby will be born in another six months and I'd like you to attend to me."

"I'll be glad to, missus, I'll be glad to." This was wonderful news for Marie and Cherish … working in the house was so much better than in the fields … and it was considered a privilege.

Marie was smart and Cherish was a sweet child so they fit into the household almost immediately. Isaac loved the horses and took pride in their care, feeding, training, and appearance. It wasn't long before Marie was instructed that she, Isaac, and Cherish should have supper every night in the kitchen so that she wouldn't be burdened with cooking at the end of the day.

Days melted into weeks, and weeks into months. Soon preparations began to welcome the new baby.

When the pains began the master immediately called Marie and Cherish to his wife's bedside. He stayed with her, holding her hand, speaking softly to her. Marie busied herself gathering sheets, string, a sharp knife, and a kettle of water. Cherish stood on the other side of the bed and wiped her face with a cool cloth.

Time crept along and the pains continued, "Vera, darling, are you alright? Please be alright … I swear you'll never have to go through this again!"

She looked at his pale face, perspiring probably more than her own, "John, this is women's work … I'm going to be fine … but you need to go now … Marie will fetch you when we're done here."

"No … no, I can't leave you … this is all my fault, if anything should happen to you I don't think I could live with myself …I'm staying. Cherish, child, get another cloth for the missus …" he never took his eyes off of her.

Cherish walked to the kettle and stood perfectly still … "Master … the one that's coming is a Hopeful … she'll be here soon and the missus is going to be fine … and she's going to have three brothers someday." Almost without being aware of what she'd said, she dipped the cloth in the water and brought it back to her mistress. Her quiet words had riveted the attention of her mother, mistress, and master … "There you have it, John. All of us are going to be fine … go now, darling, and let us do what we must … I will present you soon with your daughter."

Although puzzled and hesitant, Marie coaxed him off the bedside stool and steered him out of the room. She got a fresh gown for her mistress, it was getting on in June and the hard labor had soaked the gown she already wore. As she gently pulled the gown over Vera's head, she let out a small gasp when she saw a birthmark on her mistresses right shoulder … a birthmark identical to her own … a fleur de leis. Although weak and tired Vera smiled, "Yes Marie …" but her words were cut off my another rolling pain.

John paced back and forth in front of the boudoir door, jolting to a stop when he heard Vera's scream followed by a tiny wailing. It seemed like an eternity before Cherish cracked the door, "Master, you have a beautiful baby girl and your missus is just fine … as soon as my mama gets her cleaned up and comfortable you can come in." Cherish didn't wait for an answer, she simply quietly closed the door and returned to help her mother.

When John was allowed to enter, the curtains had been drawn and the windows opened to let in the summer breeze. John rushed to Vera's bedside and knelt on one knee taking her hand, his throat no longer seemed to work and he could utter no words, he leaned over to kiss her hand and she felt the tear drops on her skin. Marie walked up behind him, "Here she is master … born on June 21st … the summer solstice … a good omen for her …"

John took the tiny bundle from Marie's arms and looked down on the cherub face of a porcelain doll face framed with tiny dark curls. As he unfolded the blanket around the baby to count fingers and toes, he noticed the birthmark on her right shoulder. He was in awe and turned to face his wife … "Thank you" was all he could choke out.

"John," Vera began, "I want to name her Summer Hope after today and after what Cherish said about her being a Hopeful … is that to your liking?"

"There is nothing I could deny you this day … but I think Summer Hope is perfect for this little angel. And now, darling, I'd like to show her off, everyone is waiting at the front veranda."

As he closed the door, Vera asked Marie to hand her the rosewood box from her dressing table. Marie handed it to her and Vera motion for her to sit on the stool beside her bed.

"Marie … you've seen the birthmark on my shoulder is the same as yours and your father's … now my daughter carries the birthmark as well. Do you realize that we are family?" "I wondered, missus … I thought it was odd."

"Marie, I have a favor to ask … would you and your family stay here with me and my family for always … we should help each other raise our children, we each have special gifts that we should pass on to subsequent generations … would you do that for me?"

Marie was puzzled, "Missus, we belong to you. We will stay here as long as you want us …"

Vera handed Marie a large parchment document, "Marie, this is a Writ of Emancipation. You, Isaac and Cherish are free now. You are slaves no longer. Now, will you stay with me … with us?"

Marie's hands shook as she took the parchment, "We're free? Does that mean we could leave any time we want to and go anywhere we want to?"

Vera nodded, "Yes it does."

"Will you teach my Cherish how to read?"

"Yes I will."

"And we'll never be sold or separated?"

"No, you'll all be together for the rest of your lives."

"Then, yes missus, we'll stay."

"Good … " The two women reached out and clasped hands on their promise.

And that was how it all began. Our two families have been intertwined now all these years … each generation inherited some of the magic, the other arts were carefully taught."

I don't know how long the telling of the story took, but when Queen finished I was frozen in place … somehow watching all of this … an odd sort of out-of-body experience.

I quietly got up from the table and retrieved the coffee pot to refill our cups. "And you, Queen, how does this all affect you?"

She smiled again a smile I could not read, "Miss Rose, like you know, was taught some of the healing arts and the erotic arts … I inherited some of the magic and learned some of the healing arts as well as picking up a little voodoo along the way … we work very well together."

My encounters with these two women always seemed to leave me with more questions than answers, but I had no chance to ask. Queen never touched her coffee and returned to her pastry making as though I wasn't even there."



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 10



"Excuse me, Mr. Emerly," Vonne walked through the pocket doors into the dining room, "A telephone call for you."

"Excuse me, Dana. This must be very important ... Vonne wouldn't have interrupted us if it were not."

Vonne lingered by the table, "Are you and Mr. Emerly making progress?"

"Oh yes!" I laughed. "He's a shockingly remarkable man. Listening to his stores has been ..." I struggled for the right word since Vonne had never given me any indication that she knew of his checkered past and I didn't want to betray a confidence. Finally I just ended my thought with one word, "educational."

Those green eyes of hers twinkled and she smiled at me, "Oh, I know what you mean. I've never had a dull day since coming to work for him ... there's always something in the works ..."

"Have you worked for him long", as I grabbled an extra cup and poured coffee. She took my wordless invitation and sat down.

"No long, really, just a few years. I graduated from Tulane with my MBA. I really didn't have any interest in going into my mother's business. It wasn't a problem, she understood. She'd been wanting to divest herself of business demands, so she began doing just that. Luckily, Mr. Emerly needed an assistant, so here I am.

Jackson returned, "Dana, I'm afraid I have to go out of town for a few days to take care of some business. Perhaps this will give you and Vonne a better chance to get acquainted and a few days off would probably do you good."

Vonne beamed at me, "What do you say? How about we go into Savannah tomorrow and make a girl's day of it?

I noticed once again her startling greens eyes filled with fun and I decided that it would be fun to get away ... even though Tanglewood had at least offered me the illusion of seclusion for a while ... I could use a day of diversion, so I promptly agreed. After croissants and coffee, we jumped in her car and headed toward town. 

Mid-week, mid-morning the traffic had thinned out and it took no time at all for us to get to the shops lined up along the Savannah River. It's usually a place that attracts tourists with funky little shops and boutiques ... but that's what made it fun, too. We wandered and picked up tacky souvenirs, discretely laughed at the snowbirds down from the north ... but they were laughing at us as well ... maybe not at us, maybe with us. 

As we were chatting and paying for one of our purchases, a woman standing next to us interjected, "Say something ... please, just say something." Vonne's head shook a little at the odd request, "What do you want me to say?" 

"It doesn't matter ... I just love hearing that accent! Just say anything!"

Without hesitation Vonne pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and with an exaggerated thickness to her accent sighed, "Ta-maw-raw is ano-tha day ..." The three of us laughed and continued on our way.

We drifted into a little shop and I was immediately drawn by the music playing, when I inquired of the shop owner, she told me it was a traditional Celtic album offering the compositions of the last great Irish baird, Turlough O'Carolyn. I picked up the disc and turned the cover to find this music was over three hundred years old, yet soothed my heart with a timeless refrain. Even though there were three discs in this series of music, I decided to only buy one until I found out if the rest of the music was as mesmerizing.

Vonne and I continued our rounds, chatting as if we had been friends for years. We tried on silly hats and just wandered from one shop to another. At the perfume emporium I sampled a new scent, "Sung" and its fragrance made me feel a bit naughty with its hint of sensuality, so I added to my purchases.

A window mannequin caught Vonne's eye, "Look Dana ... you were made to wear that dress!" As she pointed it out I had to agree that it was exquisite ... perfect for holiday parties ... burgundy velvet. The dress cinched at the waist and fell to a graceful tea-length skirt. The bodice was daring ...fashioned like a bustier and low cut. The right woman wearing that dress could turn every head in any room ... but not a woman such as I ... ordinary and typical. I usually simply blended into the wall paper at any gathering. 

Vonne was already walking toward the boutique and I had no choice but to follow, "Vonne, it is beautiful but not exactly my style ..."

"Nonsense! Come on ... let's go in and see if they have your size!" They did and before I knew it she was ushering me into a changing room. She handed me the dress, "While you trying it on I'll go see if they have any shoes ..." The door closed and I stood there holding the dress ... why not? So I began to undress. I looked at the dress hanging there ... it was beautiful and sexy and classy and simply wonderful. I removed it from the hanger and stepped into it. After adjusting the waist and my bra so that the straps would not show I zipped it up. When I turned to the mirror I was shocked! 

The dress fit me like it was custom made ... my waist looked small and the bustier bodice pushed my breasts high and proud. The modest tea-length skirt countered the daring neckline so that the over all effect was one of sophistication.

There was a tap on the door before Vonne entered, "God, Dana! Look at you! That dress brings out all your best features ... look, the burgundy even pulls out more color in your cheeks." She spun me around to face the mirror while the loosely took my hair and pulled it to the top of my head ... the result being more skin revealed above the bodice. 

"Here, try on these shoes ... I'm going back to look at jewelry ..." and she was out the door again. I sat on the little bench and slipped on the 3" black patent shoes she had picked out for me ... they, too, fit like a glove. As I stood to face the mirror I noticed how the height of the heels subtly altered my posture ... I turned from one side to the other inspecting myself ... not damned bad! Why hadn't I seen myself like this before?

Vonne came charging back in with a hair clip and earrings. Once again she gathered my hair to the top of my head and clipped it loosely in place. "Here, these earrings are perfect! Just enough sparkle to draw attention to your face ... I don't think with that neckline you need a necklace to draw more attention to your bosom! There! Come into the shop so I can see how the dress moves when you walk!"

I walked into the shop and the "oh my" from the sales woman prompted every face to turn toward me. I noticed the smile of approval on the face of a customer's husband right before she hurried him out the door. I hadn't seen that look on a man's face in a very long time ... I liked the way it made me feel.

"Dana! You must have this! I'm not sure if you were made for the outfit or if the outfit was made for you ... but in either case, no one else could wear it like you do!"

She really didn't have to say anything ... the expression on that man's face had convinced me that I couldn't live without the dress and everything that went along with it. After I changed back into my street clothes, the sales lady packed everything very carefully, handing it to me she said, "Enjoy it ..."

The day was over far too quickly and we inched and lumbered our way out of the city through rush hour traffic back toward our sanctuary at Tanglewood.

Before going up to my room, Vonne and I decided we'd share a bottle of wine and listen to the CD. We didn't talk ... we sipped and appreciated the lilting music sometimes joyous and sometimes full of despair. The ancient strains fed my soul and I made a promise to myself that I'd go back to that little shop and buy the other CD's in the set. When the music finished, I bade Vonne good night, gathered my packages and made my way up the stairs. I thought that when I got to my room I'd like to once again listen ... the music was so new to me and filled a place I hadn't previously been aware was empty. 

I dumped my bags inside the door and made my way to the stereo in the armoire to insert the disc. My heart leapt to my throat effectively cutting off my breath. There on top of the stereo were the other two albums along with a written note, "I was sure you'd love them ... Think of me when you hear the haunting refrains."

I picked up the phone and rang the servants' quarters, "Did I have any visitors this afternoon?"

"No mam, but there was a delivery for you and the messenger expressly asked that the package be placed on the top of your stereo so'd you sure to see it. Is there something wrong, miss?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Thank you." I was relieved to at least determine that no outsider had been in my room ... at least my room provided some kind of sanctuary. 

I wondered should I be worried ... was I being stalked. Something deep within told me 'no'. A little voice deep within me was whispering, in fact, that perhaps something extraordinary was coming my way.

I opened one of the new discs and inserted it in to the stereo and once again the dulcimers and harps spun around me. Who was I supposed to be thinking of? Who could have known me ... known me better than myself ... known I would love this music.

I settled into the fainting couch and wrapped the mohair throw about me even though there wasn't the slightest chill in the air, I needed the security ... no it wasn't security ... I just hungered to be wrapped up in someone's arms and the mohair throw was as close as I could come. I closed my eyes and let the music take me toward a handsome man who radiated sexuality ... a man I knew who would reveal himself to me when the time was right. So I was content ... content for the first time in a long while ... to just be there and listen and wait.

I wandered around Tanglewood for the next few days until Jackson returned. He invited me to have cocktails in his study that afternoon. "Dana ... did you enjoy your few days off? Were you and Vonne able to get to Savannah?"

I took the glass of wine he offered, "Yes. We had a wonderful time. I found the most wonderful music and a new perfume ..."

Jackson interrupted, "I understand you were concerned about a delivery you received? One of the staff told me about it? Should we be concerned?"

I sipped from the top of the graceful tulip stem and thought for a minute, "No. Somehow I don't think so. I believe it was from the same person who sent me that card ... I've tried to figure it out, but I can't. I haven't been approached by a man in months, I can't imagine who it might be."

"Ah," Jackson smiled one of those enigmatic smiles, "whoever the young man is, he seems to be quite taken with you. And, in these days of disposable affairs, he seems to have a romantic streak ... if I were you, I think I'd be curious about what might be coming next."

"Pssht!" I tried to dismiss his observation but I'm sure he saw my blush betray me, "it's probably a case of mistaken identify or something! I'll probably never hear from him again."

"Well, we'll see my dear ... now then, back to business. Can we continue with our meetings in the morning? I'm looking forward to working with you again."

"Of course, see you for brunch about 10:00 ... all right?"

"Certainly ... see you then. Now, if you'll excuse me once again, I'm afraid I have an important telephone call to make."

"Of course ... I'll see you in the morning." I carried my glass of wine up the stairs to my room ... suddenly overcome with a wistful sadness ... was this mysterious admirer for real? Could it be mistaken identify and I never hear from him again? Suddenly that thought escalated a wistful sadness into a very real blue funk. There was a sudden rush of desire bubbling up out of nowhere and I felt a long forgotten contraction below my belly ...I wished more than anything at that moment that I would hear from him again.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. My thoughts were whirling in my head and wouldn't be still. When I finally was able to drift off, sleep was fitful and questions nagged at me just below the surface of my conscious. 



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 11



The next morning we continued our work and Jackson began to relay the second part to this latest story ...

"Saturday morning Rose met Jennifer at the Tea Room at 10:00 as arranged. They had a cup of breakfast tea and a scone before heading east out of town.

They stopped at an antique store, a produce stand, and found a nice little café for lunch. They chatted easily and enjoyed themselves before heading to view the paintings.

After close examination of six of the paintings, Jennifer recommended two of them composed by early American artists. Rose negotiated a fair price, paid for them, and made arrangements for shipping them back to New Orleans.

It was close to 5:00 by the time they began their way back. Both women were gratified and pleased by the paintings they had chosen, and decided to celebrate with an early dinner, so they detoured north around Lake Ponchetrain. They finally drove up on a beautiful old farm house which had been converted into an inn and restaurant and decided to stop there.

Both were craving sea food, after ordering sampler plates for each of them, they settled down to nurse two Hurricanes. They talked and laughed through dinner about exploits as young girls, Jennifer talked about her love of art and the fulfillment she got in restoring paintings that might otherwise be lost forever, Rose talked about running the Tea Room, the joys and aggravations. 

After dinner, lively zydeco music could be heard coming from outside, when Rose inquired, she was told that a local group usually sat up on the lawn on Saturday nights and entertained guests for the dollar bills dropped in the hat in front of the accordion player. Rose and Jennifer decided they would listen for just a few minutes before leaving again for New Orleans. Rose told Jennifer to try to find them a couple of seats and she would get them two more Hurricanes. 

Jennifer did a little dance step out the door in response to the animated music and Rose smiled after her. Rose collected the two Hurricanes and wound her way outside, through the crowds of locals and found Jennifer sitting on the edge of the audience. Rose handed Jennifer one of the Hurricanes and settled herself in to be swept into the festivities ... patting her foot in time to the vivacious beat and even allowed herself to be pulled up by a fun loving fellow and twirled about the grass for a little dance. 

Jennifer looked on, watching Rose dancing, a pair of young lovers cavort in the guise of dance, and an old couple holding hands and sitting close together.

She was suddenly sad, and finished off her Hurricane before Rose got back. As Rose approached, Jennifer stood up, "We need to be getting back now," but she had to put out her hand to hold on to Rose's arm ... "I'm afraid I drank that last Hurricane too quickly and it went right to my head," ... she couldn't help but giggle. Rose said, "Great! I'd love to stay the night and enjoy more of this Cajun charm, wouldn't you! Just sit right here and I'll go in a book us rooms." Rose re-entered the inn, registered for one room with double beds, and ordered another Hurricane for Jennifer.

Outside again, the band had taken a break when Rose handed Jennifer the drink. "I really don't think I ought to drink any more ..." "Nonsense" Rose said, "We're free of anyone who knows us or who can judge us or even anyone we need to impress! Let's just have a good time tonight and we can return to our structured little lives tomorrow ... what do you say?"

Jennifer looked around and the folks milling about, "Okay ... nothing waiting on me in New Orleans anyway ... let's relax and have a good time."

Rose and Jennifer spent the evening under the stars, listening to zydeco, laughing, talking, and Jennifer had at least one more Hurricane. Rose declined saying that she would have a tonic water, she had a headache and wanted to take some aspirin.

When the music ended for the night, the two of them started back toward the inn. Jennifer was a little off balance, so Rose put her hand on her waist to steady her. "I'm afraid that when I went to register, there was only one room left ... it has two double beds in it ... I hope you don't mind." Jennifer broke off in mid-chorus, "son of gun we'll have big fun on the bayou" ... to giggle and assure Rose there wasn't a problem at all right now.

Rose unlocked the door to the room, and Jennifer entered first. "Oh my God! I'm going to be sick!", and she darted into the bathroom. Rose followed her and knelt beside her to hold her head and she threw up the last Hurricane she had. "Oh, I haven't drank anything in so long, I forgot how it affected me. I'm so embarrassed, please forgive me, Rose." She slumped back on her heels and Rose handed her a cool wash cloth. "Don't worry, Jen ... there's not a one of us who hasn't over indulged at one time or another ... it's not a big deal." "Oh God! I'm going to be sick again", and she lurched for the toilet once more. Rose held her head, rinsed out the wash cloth and handed it back to her. 

"I'm going to fix you something to calm your stomach," she said as she went to her purse. She removed a little compact and told Jennifer, "I'll be right back with a special cup of tea for you. Just sit there just in case ..."

Jennifer seemed only to have time to shut her eyes before Rose was back with a strong brew of tea. "Here, Jen ... drink this. It will make you feel better and I bet you won't even have a hangover in the morning."

Anxious to quell the misery, Jennifer obediently drank the tea and Rose helped her to sit on one of the double beds. "Feeling better?", Rose asked.

"Yes ... thank you ... now I remember why I gave up drinking ... not really worth all the torment associated with it! And, you're right, my head is feeling better ... thanks again."

Rose laughed, "No problem ... really ... I know what you mean ... I had to give up smoking years ago ... and every once in a while, I still want a cigarette. But, thank goodness we don't have to give up sex! I'd hate to have to live without that!"

Jennifer looked at Rose as depression crossed her face, "I'm afraid I had to give that up, too ... about five years ago."

Rose looked shocked, "Whatever for?"

Jennifer seem to crumple just a little sitting there, "I'm afraid I had a very bad experience ... sordid, you know ... nothing you'd want to hear about."

"Well, we're here and there's no TV, why don't I pour you another cup of tea and you can tell me ... if you'd like."

After sipping the second cup of Rose's special tea, there was nothing Jennifer had rather do at that particular time than finally unburden herself. "If I tell you," Jennifer looked in Rose's eyes, "you must promise me on your life that you will never tell another living soul."

Rose hesitated. After all, Jennifer was a commission. If she was to do Jennifer or Allen any good, could she keep the promise? She watched Jennifer sitting there and realized that this young woman was encumbered by something horrible and perhaps she could help. Even if it meant that she couldn't help Allen, this young woman was important and Rose wanted to help her in any way she could. "I promise on my life", whispered Rose.

As Jennifer began her story, she and Rose were taken away to a very far off place ... 

"I had just finished college and my parents were so proud of me. I was the first one in our family to graduate from college ... Mom and Dad could hardly contain themselves. Mom cried at graduation, and I swear I saw Dad wipe a tear away from his eye too, as I took the platform to accept my diploma.

I had been an only child and we are a close family. After graduation, I secured a position with a museum in London to continue studying under a master there. Mom and Dad were none too happy about it and tried to talk me out of it. A little country girl from Alabama would be lost in a world capitol like London ... I didn't know anyone ... Mom cried and Dad sulked. 

But, I think deep in their hearts they knew what a wonderful opportunity this was for me. So the three of us drove to Atlanta's Hartsfield Airport. I could get a direct flight there on British Airways. We said our good-byes there at the airport. Mom cried again and Dad sulked. But I was so excited, and it was only a year, I promised I'd be back before they knew it. So I went.

The museum had a driver pick me up at Heathrow. It was a good thing, too. After such a long flight I was exhausted, and not thinking, screamed when I thought the driver had started off in the wrong lane. He must have been used to Americans because he just laughed and said, "Doe wurry, laidie, I'll have ewe at the 'Otel before ewe know it." And, bless his heart, he did. He helped me in with the bags and told the clerk at the desk the museum had already arranged for my room.

I collapsed when I got to the room and think I slept twelve hours straight. The next morning, I woke, had tea ... which I didn't like very much at the time ... toast and marmalade and walked the few blocks to the museum.

I was introduced immediately to my supervisor, Avery Leigh. I was smitten almost at once. Avery was suave, sophisticated, and brilliant. He dressed in those wonderful tweed jackets the English wear ... you know, the ones with the leather patches on the sleeves? Well, anyway, before long Avery started paying special attention to me. When he would look over my shoulder at a painting I was working on, he would put his hand on my shoulder and hold his face close to my ear ... he'd speak in a low voice, as if he wanted what he had to say be heard by me and me alone.

His smile thrilled me and his displeasure could almost reduce me to tears. I had been sheltered by my parents and even the professors at college did not have the power to invalidate me like Avery did.

Within a week or two, Avery asked me to lunch. Quite on the up and up, we were expecting a special painting in at the end of the week and he wanted to talk to me about my involvement with the project. It was a nice lunch ... and just that, we did only talk about the painting.

In a few days Avery asked me out for drinks after work. I immediately said yes ... I thought he was pleased with my work and wanted to talk further. Not long after we had arrived at the pub, it became clear that Avery didn't ask me out for any reason other than personal ... and I was flattered. When he laid his hand on mine I was a teenager again, wondering if I was going to receive my first kiss. 

Avery didn't keep me waiting long ... in just a few minutes he leaned over the table and kissed me very firmly, but gently. As he sunk back into his chair, he watched as I blushed and smiled. I hadn't been a virgin for several years, but this man ... not class mate, not boy down the street ... had kissed me and his eyes told me he wanted me for much more.

I wasn't ashamed when he didn't have to urge too much. When he walked me back to my hotel, I willingly and gladly gave into him that very first night.

It was heaven at first, Avery would take me for rides in the countryside, we'd picnic along some little stream and end up making love. I was always afraid someone would catch us, but Avery would just laugh and say, "Let them! They'd all be jealous of what I have!" And I'd be flattered ... we went to plays and concerts, out to dinner and on long walks. Just like all lovers do, I suppose. 

But little by little I began to notice a change in Avery. For instance, we went to a play ... a little off-the-wall theatre ... and during intermission Avery pulled me under the stairway, pinned me against the wall, lifted my skirt and had sex with me right there! It seemed the excitement of possibly getting caught was a real turn on to him. I was a little angry but mostly confused ... again Avery would say "They'd all be jealous of what I have!" and I'd be flattered and forgive him.

He began to get rougher and hurt me occasionally during sex, he would apologize and we'd be back to normal for a while. Then he took me to dinner, and right in the middle of the restaurant, he pulled up my skirt and put his hand inside my panties. I yelped which made a few people look and smirk, but Avery didn't do it again that night. The next time, though, that we went out to dinner, Avery asked me not to wear panties. He said it would be such a turn on for him to work me into a climax in public and watch my face as I came, with out anyone around us knowing. I was shocked and told him no, I was beginning to see a side of Avery that I didn't particularly care for. 

Once at the museum when we were working late, Avery was watching me working over a painting. He came over, pulled down my pants and tried to enter me there. That's the straw that broke the camel's back. My internship was almost over and I would be heading back to Alabama in a few weeks. I told Avery that we were through, his perversions were more than I could deal with, and I hoped he had better luck with his next intern.

I left the museum that evening never intending to see Avery socially again. However, the next week the museum arranged for a staff party for my going away ... everyone was there including Avery.

I had steered clear of him the past few days and managed to do so most of that evening. Toward the end of the evening, as people had started to leave, Avery approached me with a glass of champagne. "One last toast ...to the good times we've had and to the good times ahead for both of us". I hesitated when I heard the toast, it suspiciously sounded like he wanted us together one last time before I left. Avery must have read my mind because he said, "Don't worry darling ... I simply meant that each of us will have other opportunities in our future ..." 

Okay, Avery, I told him. One last toast, "To the good times ..." I swear I hadn't had half the glass of champagne before I felt uncommonly dizzy. Avery laughed it off and waved off the last of the remaining guests saying I had too much to drink and he would see me safely home. None of them knew we had broken up, so they simply went home. The last thing I remembered was collapsing to the floor and Avery picking me up.

I don't know how long I was out. When I woke my head hurt terribly and I could hear every beat of my heart reverberating inside my skull like it was an echo chamber. I had a horrible, dry taste in my mouth and couldn't seem to focus. I heard music and muffled talking in the distance and I tried to turned my head to see where the voices were coming from. 

It was then I realized I was under some kind of spot light and I could not make out the shapes and forms outside the light. I struggled to get up, but couldn't. My arms and legs were like lead. Again I tried to get up and I heard laughter, men's voices splintered by one shrill laugh of a woman and I struggled even harder. I was terrified when I realized I was bound. Not tied, bound to a strange, leather covered table. I was cold and looked down to find myself totally naked. There was something like a tennis ball in my mouth so I couldn't scream. 

I struggled to free myself and the laughter began again. I stopped, trying to get my thoughts together. I needed to escape ... but escape from what ... I didn't know, I just knew I had never been in a situation like this before and I needed to figure it out. My arms were bound with leather straps and tied to the legs of the table. Further down I saw an enormous black leather belt, probably 3" wide holding my waist tightly to the table. 

Further down, the table split, almost like a table a doctor would use, but I was sure I had never seen an examination table like this. My thighs where belted as well, and my legs were spread far apart. I started shaking my head and trying to scream. I knew I was going to die, I had fallen into the hands of some cult or something. I only knew they meant to do me harm. The increased panic brought more laughter and out of the corner of my eye I saw someone approaching from outside the light.

It was Avery. His chest was bare and he wore only black leather pants, to my horror, two other men I had never seen before followed him to the table dressed the same as he.

"Don't struggle, darling. We don't want to hurt you, we simply want to complete our time with you. Yes our time. You see, we are all members of a very special club ... a sort of social club you might say. We care for each other, watch over each other, and share with each other. I had hoped to bring you willingly into our midst, but you resisted. After a brief chat, we decided that we wanted to initiate you regardless of your willingness, so we hatched up this little plan.

You see Frankie and Harry have been anxious to make your acquaintance! They've watched as I made love to you in the country side and in theatre, they were at the restaurant when I tried finger fucking you. They've even been behind the curtains a time or two in your hotel room. I'd just quietly let them out after you had gone to sleep.

But darling, you broke our hearts when you rejected us. Yes ... I see the question in your eyes ... us. We are rather like the Three Musketeers, all for one and one for all ...

But, now, let's see what we need to get done. Each of us carries the mark of the club. Remember when you asked me about the little circle scar around my nipple? I promised I would explain it all to you someday and it seems that someday is now here. When I willingly joined the club, I was branded around my left nipple ... if you'll look closely, Frankie and Harry have the same scars.

Now Sable, here," he put out his hand and a tall, dark haired woman took it and walked into the light, "joined willingly and she carries a little tattoo around her belly button. The woman wore a red leather corset and panties, Avery nodded to her and she removed her panties so I could see the tattoo looking like little shooting stars.

It's a shame you rejected us, darling. Although you are going to join us here tonight, your mark will have to be somewhat unique.

Frankie, are you ready?" Frankie nodded as he walked up to the table between my legs. He carried a bowl of water, and some other things hidden on a tray by a towel. \ "Now darling, don't struggle too much ... oh a little bit would be okay, we do so enjoy watching you ... but we wouldn't want Frankie here to hurt you, would we?

I felt Frankie's hand rub water over my pubic hair and between my legs. I heard the squirt of shaving cream just before I felt him rub that in as well. Avery admonished him, "Don't be too quick, Frankie, you might want to dilly around a little down there!"

Frankie laughed and he rubbed in cream with the tips of his fingers, pushing down on my mound, then they drifted between my legs. He first took one side of my vulva and rubbed it between his fingers, then the other side. With his other hand, he part my lips and flicked his finger there before sliding it down and inserting it. He stayed there for a long time while I struggled and they laughed.

Finally Avery said, "Frankie, we don't want that drying up, you know, better get on with it." And I felt as Frankie began to shave me. The razor was sharp and cold and I froze afraid to move. I didn't know what to do.

Frankie continued between my legs until he assured Avery, "There's no more here, governor ... she's a slick as glass".

He picked up the bowl and dumped the rest of the water over my hips to wash away the soap. Avery walked to the end of the table and looked me over. "You did a real good job, Frankie ... let's see if it passes ... and Avery began to lick and nibble me. He wasn't hurting me, but I was terrified and humiliated as the others just looked on. 

Then Sable walked up to the table, bent over and nibbled at my breast. She wasn't as gentle as Avery and I began once again to struggle. Avery never stopped and neither did Sable, while Harry and Frankie watched it all.




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 11



Harry finally broke in, "Hey! What about me ... it's time for my job, don't you think?"

Avery paused for just a moment and smiled, "Yes, Harry, it's your turn." Avery walked to the top of the table again and began talking to me. "Now darling, it's time for your mark ... the final step before you are properly initiated into our little club." He reached over and began to rub one of my nipples very roughly between his thumb and forefinger. "You see, Harry here is one of London's best artists. Folks come from all over the Continent to stand in line just to get one of Harry's tattoos ... you're going to get one tonight, for free ... and all you have to do is just lay here. 

We wouldn't want you to jiggle about and make a mess of his work and your pretty little twat, would you? And, darling, some good news and some bad ... you're not going to have just a plain little shooting stars like Sable, yours is an ornate garland of flowers ... very specially designed to fill your mound ... it's going to take a little while, my precious, so do try to be patient with us."

I heard the sound as the electric tattoo needle was turned on and felt it's first bite. It was so tender an area that the pain was awful. Tears slid down my face and I tried desperately not to move. Once in a while I couldn't help it and Frankie was standing beside me and would slap my bottom. 

To entertain themselves while Harry and Frankie labored over me, Avery and Sable began having sex next to the table I was bound to. They acted as though no one was there but the two of them. I was sure I had lost my mind and gone to hell ... this could not be happening. I must have blacked out. I don't know for how long. Water had been thrown in my face to revive me and I felt my thighs being unleashed, although ankle straps had been added. 

Avery got a cloth and wiped the water out of my face and my pushed my wet hair to the side. Want to see you mark, darling? Frankie, hold up the mirror for her. Frankie did as he was told and I saw the tattoo. It was a grotesquely colored garland of flowers designed to cover my mons and tendrils reached almost to the my hip bones. It was a mark I'd carry the rest of my life, and a mark I could never hide.

"And now, darling, we'll complete your initiation, and you'll be free to return to your little Alabama ... do you think you could be happy in little Alabama after enjoying all that London has to offer?"

"Harry, you did such marvelous job with the mark, why don't you take first honors?" Avery asked.

Harry walked up to the table, released a latch of some sort, and half the length of the leg extension disappeared into the table. He turned and did the same to the right leg. Avery and Frankie were at my head and I realized the head of the table was being raised so I could see what was about to happen. I was splayed almost as if being in stirrups for a gyn examination. 

Harry unbuttoned his leather pants and pulled out his organ. He smiled at me as he fondled himself, he had already reached a partial erection and it didn't take long for him to get himself ready. Sable walked over and squirted something over my tattoo which had a cooling effect and I was grateful. It felt like my entire crotch was on fire. 

Then she picked up another bottled, and squirted some kind of oil between my legs. As she began to rub the oil heated up ... not hurting, but very warm. Sable smiled and spoke for the first time ... "This oil will warm you, bring blood to the surface so that you can enjoy the full benefit of your initiation." She continued her work until Harry grew impatient and pushed her out of the way.

He entered me with no warning. Thrusting hard into my core. As he grew more excited, he grabbed my waist to help him thrust harder. I didn't think he was human ... I didn't think he would ever finish. Please let him finish. My initiation would be over ... they would leave ... I could leave. It would be over. Finally, Harry roared, grimaced, and shuttered inside me. The others smiled.

"Now darling, Harry's so glad you could come ... you don't seem glad, though. What's wrong, darling, not satisfied yet? Haven't we done properly by you? No? Well, we'll see to that ... we can't have you leaving us without being absolutely sure of our devotion to you", Avery nodded at Frankie and Sable.

Sable untied the tethers from the legs of the table and Frankie unbuckled the ankle straps. I was pulled off the table by a leash attached to a collar around my neck, and let to a mat on the floor. I was forced down on my knees. Each of my wrists were then tethered to each of my ankles. It was almost like being hog tied, I didn't understand. The ball gag was still in my mouth, I could not reason with them. 

I was beyond being frightened any longer. I was humiliated, plummeted, and used. I knew it would continue ... I had no way of stopping them. It would stop when they finished, not before. I was exhausted. I only wondered when would it be over.

Frankie was behind me. I had not noticed the clamps on the mat, but did as Frankie clamped my ankle straps to the mat. Avery approached, his member even with my face. "No, you can't do that, can you? Not with that pesky ball gag in your mouth. Ordinarily willing joiners of our little club satisfy two men at once. She can screw one lucky fellow while the other lucky fellow is serviced by her mouth. 

But what are we to do with you? If we undo the gag, you'll surely scream. That shouldn't be a problem, after all, it's the middle of the night in a deserted warehouse. Maybe that would be the best solution ... but wait ... no, I think not. There's always a chance of a passing bobby, or two teens parked in a secluded spot who might hear you ... and we can't have that, now can we?

Frankie, what do you suppose we ought to do? My word, the girl has already had Harry ... if you fuck her, by the time I get to fuck her, she'll be so loose and sloppy I won't be able to feel a thing! Oh, wait, I have a novel idea ... Sable, Harry, come here and help us will you! Now Frankie, you slide in between her legs ... yes, that's it. Sable, sweet, would you take hold of the leash on darling Jen ... that's perfect, the collar is so becoming. Pull her down Sable ... Frankie, you can grab her tits to move her into the right spot. 

Now then, Harry ... why don't you finish off this lovely little daisy chain by paying some attention to poor Sable ... I'm afraid she's liable to get jealous with all the attention our little Jen has been getting here.

Avery walked around to Sable's behind, grabbed the oil and squirted it all over her bottom ... he gave her several swats as Harry started pumping her.

Frankie had grabbed my nipples and pulled me sharply down, and using his legs to spread my knees father. I gasped ... or would have gasped if it hadn't been for the gag. Frankie was being very rough and I was trying to elude his intrusion into me. I was sore and swollen already from first the tattooing and then Harry's beating.

I was suddenly shocked with I felt a pair of hands on my hips ... my God! Avery was behind me on his knees. He was squirting the oil over my bottom now and my eyes grew wide with panic. Frankie saw, laughed, and called to Avery ... "You got her now ... let her have it!" And Avery thrust into me. Searing pain almost made me pass out. I could not move. Frankie was pushing me up from the floor and Avery was batting me back down to Frankie. The pain paralyzed me. 

I'm not sure how long it went on. Somewhere outside me I heard Sable moaning, and knew Harry was just about finished with her ... I didn't know how long it would be before Frankie and Avery would finish with me. Frankie finished first. He continued to pinch my nipples forcing me back into Avery for a few more minutes, then I heard Avery growl and felt him shudder. He lay his head down on my back and slid his hand around my belly and up to my breast. "My darling, Jen. You were as good as I thought you would be ... I think we have all been well pleased with you. 

He slid out of me and unceremoniously walked outside the light. Harry, Frankie and Sable followed him, while I was still captured there on the mat.

I heard water running, and muffled voices once again. I heard the door open and footsteps fading away. Oh, my God, I thought. They've left me here like this ... here like this to die ... or worse yet be discovered by some other group of perverts. Just then Avery walked back through the light.

He cupped my face gently, like we were lovers or something ... I don't think he fully realized the anger boiling up inside me ... that I wasn't one of his willing participants.

"My darling, let me undo this thing for you," as he undid the gag. I was silent while my wrists and ankles had been freed from the mat. "Now, don't be too angry with us, my dear, after all, no real harm has been done. You will remain one of our special memories ... even when you've gone back to your little Alabama." As he talked he handed me my clothes and shoes, and mutely I began to dress myself. Although I was raging inside I didn't want to say anything to him that would cause him to keep me here any longer.

"I'm leaving now, but a cab will be here for you within a few minutes. Why don't you take a long bath when you get back to the hotel? I'm sure a long, hot soak will take away some of your soreness. I'm afraid I won't be seeing you again, I'm leaving first thing in the morning on an extended holiday."

He took a step toward me, kissed me on the forehead, and turned to leave. I was shaking with rage, I wanted him dead! But I had to keep my wits about me, so I hurried to get dressed. I was outside when a few minutes later the cab arrived and I climbed in. The cabby asked "Where to, miss?", and I answered "The police station".

He looked at me and realized at once I wasn't kidding around and drove me to the nearest station.

I walked in and the desk sergeant asked how he could help me. I told him I'd been raped, and he hurried me off to a private room. Soon a detective and a female officer came in. I relayed the whole sordid story to them and noticed they were shocked and exchanged glances several times during my statement.

The female office asked, "And who did this to you, miss?" "Avery Leigh and three of his friends", I answered.

The detective was shocked as was the female officer, "You mean Mr. Avery Leigh, curator of the museum?" "Yes", I told him. The very same man, as well as two male accomplices named Frankie and Harry and a female accomplice named Sable. "Oh, I don't know, miss", they said. "Mr. Leigh is a pillar of London society, you shouldn't be making frivolous claims like this about such a respected man." 

My rage boiled out, I began shouting, and crying, and shaking, and swearing, and racing around the room. "Now settle down miss, we'll call for the Doctor to get something to help you relax while we look into this."

Soon a Doctor came in the room. He first gave me a shot of something that did settle me down almost immediately, but then he drew a vial of blood.

The female officer came in and offered to take me home, to which I gladly agreed. She walked me up to my hotel room, came in a looked around. "All right miss, you're safe here now. Why don't you take a nice, hot bath and try to get some sleep." 

"We'll be in touch with you tomorrow morning." And she left. I did fill up a tub with hot water ... I never wanted to clean myself so badly, I scrubbed until my skin was red, then I cried, and cried, and cried ... I finally cried myself to sleep.

I was awaken by a knock at the door the next morning. I was startled and confused at first, I guess the shot the doctor had given me the previous night had let me sleep very soundly for several hours. I looked at the clock at it was 10:00! I hadn't slept that late since I was a teenager. I put on my robe and stumbled to the door. I looked out the little security peep hole and saw two policemen with two other people behind them. I opened the door, as the policemen walked in, Avery and Sable were with them. I was shocked that they had been arrested so quickly. Again I was filled with a black hate that wanted to see them both dead.

"How did you find them so quickly?" I wanted to know. The policeman turned to me, "It was easy, miss, Mr. And Mrs. Leigh were just eating their breakfast when we came to their door.

Mr. Leigh told us that you worked for him at the museum, but Mrs. Leigh says she's never met you. They are saddened and alarmed by your accusations.

Mr. Leigh said there was a going away party for you last night at the museum and that he had dropped you off by your hotel because you had too much to drink. And, a very hard time you gave him, too, miss. Mr. Leigh says you wanted to go to a pub and continue to party."

I told them that wasn't true ... I told them this isn't Mrs. Leigh, it was the woman at the warehouse last night ... it was Sable.

"Now, miss." The policeman. "That just can't be. Mrs. Leigh's name is not Sable, it's Carolyn. And Mrs. Leigh is a professor at one of London's finest private academies. That just can't be. Are you sure it wasn't some sort of a dream ... or perhaps you got them confused with some other folks you ran across at another pub? After all, the toxicology report came back on your blood test this morning ... it was a strong mixture of alcohol and tranquilizers ... perhaps they induced some sort of hallucinations."

I was in a frenzy of anger and my voice kept rising, "No ... I did not hallucinate! I was raped! What about the cab driver? He could verify that he picked me up at a warehouse and took me to the police station."

The policeman shook his head, "We thought of that, miss. We contacted every cab company that picked up fares around the time you came in to the station ... there were no pick-ups in the warehouse district ..."

I realized I was defeated. The police did not believe me. I had been too stupid to ask for a physical exam last night, and now any evidence there had been on my body had washed down the tub. My eyes filled up with tears as the policemen turned to go, "Jennifer," Avery said with a slight smile, "despite all this ugliness ... you will remain one of our special memories ... at the museum that is ... even when you've gone back to your little Alabama." 

His wife turned looked at me, "It's perfectly obvious to us, my dear, that you've been through some ordeal. Your skin looks just awful, rough and dry ... I have a wonderful warming oil which will help you to relax ... I'll have some sent over to you this afternoon ... be sure to massage it in thoroughly to achieve the full affects." She gave me a wicked smile and said, "Goodbye."

Jennifer finally looked up at Rose. "And that was it, Rose. I can't even cry about it any more. My desire and my innocence were murdered that night in London. I've been celibate since then, and still carry the mark of shame from that night."

There were very few things which could take Rose by surprise, but this story did. She saw a wonderful, bright, beautiful young woman in front of her who had the very basic pleasure stolen from her. Rose knelt to the floor, took Jennifer's face in her hands, "You carry no mark of shame, Jennifer. You were a victim ... an emotional and physical victim. I dare say those twisted, cruel people have propagated a veritable bouquet of such garlands in these past five years ... I'd bet the farm that you weren't their first victim, and I'm sure you weren't their last. What they did to you is unforgivable, but it could be undone ... if you want it to be. Perhaps you could learn to love again."

Jennifer's eyes filled with tears at that suggestion, "You don't understand Rose. I am in love. Loving is not the problem. Intimacy is the problem. The very thought of a man touching me makes me physically ill. I don't think that could be undone."

Rose sat back up on her bed. "Maybe not, but if it could, would you be willing to try? Do you love this man you speak of enough to find out?"

Jennifer shook her head, "I don't know, Rose. I just don't know."

"Well," Rose replied. "Sleep on it, and you can let me know tomorrow morning over breakfast. Rose gently laid Jennifer down and spread a blanket on her. This young woman needed a lot of tender loving care, that was obvious. But could the damage ever be undone?

Sunday morning promised a glorious day. Rose woke first and ordered room service, with lots of coffee. She'd let Jennifer sleep a little while longer, rest could be part of the cure.

In a few minutes, Jennifer began stirring and Rose greeted her, "Morning, Sunshine! I've ordered room service for us, so we don't have to go down to the café with no makeup and horrible hair! When we're done, we'll just sneak out of here and protect our reputations as ladies of impeccable taste!"

Jennifer sat up and laughed, "Rose, honestly, how do you do it? How do you have such a positive outlook every day? How can I ever expect to be positive ever again? I have to admit ... I slept well last night ... perhaps confession is good for the soul. At any rate, I dreamed of Allen ... that's his name, the man I'm in love with. I've never dreamed of him before ... in fact, I rarely ever dream at all. It was a nice dream, nothing special, just Allen and I together laughing. 

So, I take that as a sign that perhaps I should take you up on your offer to help. But, Rose, I mean it. You promised on your life not to tell a living soul what I told you ... I have never told another soul but you ... I could not tell a shrink or hypnotist, or anyone. Whatever you think you might be able to do has to be accomplished without revealing my shame." Rose knotted up her eyebrows at Jennifer and started to shake her finger. "Okay, Rose ... from now on I'll refer to it as my ordeal."



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 12



Rose smiled, walked to answer the knock at the door announcing room service with the breakfast cart, and said, "Good. That's a move in the right direction!"

They were quiet on their drive back to New Orleans and Rose had Jennifer drop her off at the Tea Room. Rose waved and smiled as Jennifer drove away, but her smile converted to a frown as she turned and entered the Tea Room.

This was like nothing she had come up against before and it would take some very delicate work. She locked the door behind her and went in to the office. 

She sat down and the first phone call she made was to Queen. "Queen, sorry to bother you on a Sunday ... but I wanted to give you something to think about for a while. I can't tell you the particulars, but I'm going to be working with a young woman who's going to need a lot of attention and care. 

She's been horribly hurt, sexually and emotionally abused and doesn't have much of a chance to be happy unless we can help her. Would you roll over some ideas in your mind and see if there are any remedies we can blend which might help her. Thanks. I'll talk to you about your ideas in the morning."

She hung up the phone, thought for a minute, and shook her head. Well, if Allen wanted Jennifer, we'd just have to see how badly he wanted her. She reached for the phone again and dialed Allen's number. "Hello Allen. Yes. I've spent some time with Jennifer and we need to talk. Can you meet me here at the Tea Room? Good. Get here as soon as you can. Oh, and Allen, park in the alleyway and come in the back door. Thanks, see you soon."

Rose busied herself in the kitchen preparing coffee for herself and Allen. It was around lunch so she gathered what she had out of the frig and fixed two salads, generously loaded with meats and cheeses, and she found a loaf of crusty bread.

Shortly there was a light knock at the back door and Rose opened it. "Hello again, Allen, come in, we have a lot to talk about, but not on a empty stomach. Help me carry these things into the dining room."

She and Allen sat and ate quietly for a while, then Rose broke the silence, "Allen, as I said on the phone, I've spent some time with Jennifer and gotten to know her a little. With the help of a couple of Hurricanes and one of my special teas, she opened up to me last night. You were right, she has been physically and emotionally abused, and she's never recovered. As she put it, her desire and innocence were murdered."

Allen started, "Damn, Rose, that's a pretty strong statement! How can I help her? I'll kill the bastard who's done this to her, who is he?"

Rose smiled a sad smile and patted his hand, "Allen, Jennifer doesn't need retribution, she needs a lot of love and attention. I don't think, however, you can provide it just yet and that's why I wanted to speak with you personally. 

I think I can help Jennifer, possibly even cure her, but I'm not entirely sure. You know I'll do my best for her ... and for you ... it's going to take a while, it won't be a matter of just a few days or weeks, realistically I think it's going to take several months. Can you wait that long?"

Allen smiled at once, "Wait ... of course I can wait ... a few months to ensure happiness for the rest of my life, I'll gladly wait."

"Good", Rose said, "There's something else. If I take this commission ... if her desire is to be reborn, I think it must be with a stranger. Someone she doesn't know, and someone with whom there is no emotional investment or possibility of rejection. Can you agree to that?"

"Another man with Jennifer?", the smile had turned to a scowl, "Good God Rose, that's a lot to ask! I'm going to have to think about this ... could I look at her again and not imagine her in his arms? I don't know how it would make me feel to know she'd found pleasure again with someone other than myself."

"I understand, Allen. You can think about it for a couple of days. Call me on Tuesday with your answer ... but Allen, while you're thinking, don't get love and sex mixed up together ... more often than not, the one has nothing to do with the other. Do you want to have sex with Jennifer, or do you want her to be able to be a loving wife to you?"

Allen was torn and confused, he didn't know how he'd answer, but he promised Rose a call on Tuesday. She kissed him goodbye on the cheek, and let him out the back door again, but Rose knew that whether she had the commission or not, she had to help Jennifer in whatever way she could.

I returned from Baton Rouge only slightly less irritable than when I left. I had even met a friendly woman and shared my first interlude in quite some time. Why it hadn't satisfied me, I had no idea ... it just didn't. 

I drove up the driveway of Rose's house and parked in the rear. She'd had a carport built behind the house for me shortly after I moved in. I smiled to myself, I knew why there was no driveway or carport ... Rose hadn't needed one ... she couldn't drive. I don't know if it was her pride that kept her from telling me all these months, but the cat was out of the bag now! She had seen to it that I was supplied with a proper car ... not too ostentatious, not to dull. Just proper and right ... the way she did everything. 

I was actually looking forward to seeing her tonight after she closed the Tea Room. I found Agnes in the kitchen and asked her to prepare a special supper for us, complete with wine, flowers and candles the way it was the first night Rose brought me here. That thought made me smile again, and I hoped it made her smile, too.

Rose came in about 6:00 and I smiled when I met her at the door. She rewarded me with a smile of her own as we walked in to the office. She sat down her purse and asked me to pour her a glass of sherry. I poured one for each of us and we settled down to talk.

"Jackson," she began, "we are faced with a commission for Jennifer like none I've ever had. I can't tell you particulars, I gave my word ... but, trust me when I tell you that she's been abused in the most horrible of ways. She has never been able to recover and that's where we'll come in. I am going to start by working on her self image and ego. If I succeed, then you will become involved. 

It will be a slow process, her libido will have to be awakened a little at a time ... and if we're all very lucky ... she may be healed. One thing in our favor is that she's fallen deeply in love with Allen and is willing to try almost anything I recommend. Do you think you'll be able to work with her on a very limited and scheduled basis?"

I watched Rose over the top of my sherry glass as she spoke, the setting sunlight added a golden glow to her skin and she seemed almost ethereal. It seemed as though every day I was noticing something more beautiful about her than the day before. When I didn't respond she swiveled her chair around to look at me and caught my gaze. One side of her mouth delicately curved upward in an indication of understanding. "Well?", she added.

"Oh, pardon me, I was lost in my own little world for a while. Er, ah, I'm rather at a loss for words ... this is the first time you've asked for my help in this area of the business ... I'm not sure what you expect of me. I don't think I'm a bad lover ... but I'm not clear about how I'll need to be with Jennifer."

"Oh ... don't worry. When I think she's ready, I'll oversee your sessions with her ... they'll be entirely planned out ahead of time. Does that help ease your concern?"

"Oversee? Does that mean we'll all be together ... a menage a trois? That could be interesting ... and something I'd really look forward to!"

The expression on Rose's face changed and became serious, "NO ... we will not be the three of us together! I will take your place behind the mirror to monitor any advancements in her training ... so, I guess the shoe will be on the other foot, won't it, Jackson? How do you feel about that?"

It hadn't ever occurred to me that Rose might watch me with another woman and I was at once excited and repulsed. Perhaps, the thought flashed across my mind in a split-second, perhaps witnessing me with another woman might have the same affect on her as watching her with other men had done to me.

"That? No ... that's not a problem. I am surprised that you'd want me to be with another woman in your bedroom ... I just wanted everything clear in my mind before we venture into this next situation." 

Rose chuckled, "That room? That room isn't my bedroom, it's where I work ... I think of it like a studio or stage. I sleep in an entirely different part of the house." Agnes saved me from further embarrassment by entering and announcing that supper was ready. I had forgotten about this dinner and was happily brought back into the present.

"Rose, I hope you approve, I asked Agnes to prepare us a special dinner, sort of a homecoming for me", I crossed the room to her desk and pulled out her chair for her. I smiled down and extended my arm to escort her to the dining room. Rose laughed and took my arm as we walked together into the dining room.

Rose went in to the Tea Room a little early on Monday morning to talk to Queen. She briefly told Queen what she could and asked if Queen if she knew of any elixirs which might help Jennifer. Queen spoke in whisper, "There are some ... but I wouldn't recommend using them unless the condition is extreme. If all other efforts have been exhausted with no results, there is one we can brew which will make her wild for physical contact for a while. Once its affects are over, though, it has no lingering qualities. 

There's also a possibility that voodoo could be used ... if Jennifer believes, it could help. Other than that, I haven't been able to think of anything we don't already know and use."

Rose knitted her eyebrows, "Well. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I couldn't sleep last night ... I guess dinner disagreed with me ... so I used the time to develop a preliminary plan for Jennifer. I'll start making the arrangements today ... I do appreciate your help with this one, Queen ... and I may need to call on you again if all else fails."

Queen acknowledged Rose's intent and returned to her kitchen.

Rose made a series of phone calls before 10:00 that morning, then called Jennifer. "Jennifer, why don't we take a dinner cruise tonight on the Mississippi Belle. I think I have some things arranged for you which you will enjoy and approve of. Good. I'll meet you at the landing about 6:00. See you then."

In her compartmentalized mind, Rose now filed away the plans for Jennifer, and attended to the needs of the Tea Room and her luncheon crowd.

Shortly after 2:00 Rose received a call from Allen, "Lord Rose! I haven't hardly slept since our meeting yesterday afternoon. There's been a constant battle in my mind ... wanting Jennifer so much and knowing she'll be with another man before me ... I feel annihilated. There's nothing I can do but agree. If your plan works, I only hope I can put the picture of her lying in someone else's arms out of my head." 

Compassion filled Rose's eyes, "Allen, I know this can't be easy for you ... but you're going to have to trust me. I'll do what's best for Jennifer and pray that my plans ultimately work for the both of you. I'll keep you posted on our progress. Try to fill your mind with other things for a while and we'll hope it won't be long before the two of you are together."

Rose busied herself with the Tea Room until a little after 5:00 when she locked up and started walking toward the French Quarter and the landing for the Mississippi Belle. Jennifer was already there waiting, so it didn't take them long to buy their tickets and board. They chose to sit out on the upper deck to take full advantage of the breeze and river views. 

The calliope started playing Dixieland Jazz as the engines were fired-up and the big paddle wheel pulled them slowly into the current of the river. It would be a while before dinner was served buffet style in the main salon, so Rose began the conversation.

"Jennifer, I've made a few plans for you that I think you will enjoy. I'm glad you work at the gallery and have some flexibility in your time because from now until I tell you different, your main job is going to be taking care of yourself. The first thing I did was to make you an appointment day after tomorrow at Maisson de Femme, a wonderful day spa not far from here. Your first appointment will be an all day session. 

You'll have a pedicure, manicure, facial, have your hair restyled and your makeup updated. You'll be served a gourmet lunch with champagne and enjoy a full massage." Rose noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jennifer stiffened when she heard about the massage, "Don't worry, dear. The masseuse keeps you properly draped at all times, and nothing private will be revealed. 

I made sure of that so that I could be sure you could relax and be pampered for the whole day. After that first appointment, you will have a standing appointment there every Tuesday for a facial, mini-massage, and get your nails and hair done as necessary. How does that sound?"

"Well," Jennifer hesitated, "it sounds a little self-centered. I don't know if I can neglect my work so much ... after all ..." Rose interrupted, "Jennifer, this is all quite necessary to heal you ... to make those scars disappear from your mind ... your main focus in life must now be yourself ... and trusting me to help guide you. I promise, I won't hurt you and I won't betray your trust. Can you focus on yourself for a while?"

"Yes," Jennifer replied, "yes, I can. I'll try it your way for a while ... my method of burying myself in work didn't help, so we'll give your ideas a go ... speaking of going, I think I just heard the dinner bell ... are you hungry?"

Rose took her by the arm and steered her toward the salon, "I'm famished! You wouldn't think I work in the Tea Room to see me eat! Thank goodness none of my patrons are here to see me devour massive amounts of food! My reputation would probably never recover from such a tarnishing!"

Rose and Jennifer said goodbye at the landing, Jennifer drove off, but not until Rose had told her to call Friday morning and tell her all about the spa. Rose had a cab waiting and sat in silence during the ride home.

I was in the office of the Tea Room Friday morning when Jennifer called Rose. "Wonderful! I'm glad you enjoyed it ... how do you think you look with your new hair-do and makeup? Great! I told you they were the best ... remember to keep your weekly appointments ... and Jennifer, I've added another facet to your schedule. 

On Monday and Wednesday evenings I've arranged for a personal trainer to work with you at your apartment. You'll exercise for 30 minutes, then a yoga instructor will arrive and work with you on stretches, balance, and meditation. Yes, that's right. Give it a chance. You'll feel better and look better ... trust me. 

Okay, why don't you stop by next Tuesday for tea after you leave the spa ...we'll catch up. Good. See you then."

Rose hung up the phone and looked at me, "Well, Jennifer has taken her first baby step ...no, I suppose it was her second step. Her first step was to allow me to help her ... the second step was the spa. She feels wonderful, I imagine that's the first time she's actually said 'I feel wonderful' in years. I'm encouraged, the first part of the strategy is working out as I hoped it would."

"Rose," I began hesitantly, "when do you think I'll become involved with her training? Do you still think it will still be necessary?"

She smiled at me and I saw mischief dance in her eyes, "Jackson! I don't know whether you're looking forward to the interlude or if it scares you. Pssht! Don't frown so. I was only teasing. Yes, I really do believe you'll be an indispensable and inevitable portion before Jennifer is ready to see Allen again. I hope for his sake that we both can be of benefit to her."

Daily routines took our time and melted one day into the next without any major bumps or bruises, and before we knew it, Jennifer was knocking on the front door of the Tea Room the following Tuesday.

When Rose unlocked the door and let her in, she noticed that Jennifer's walk had already modified. She held her head taller and walked with a new found grace. She sat at a table while Rose brought in a pot of tea, two cups, and tea cakes on a tray. Rose looked at her full in the face, "Jennifer, I can already see the changes in you. My dear, your skin is fairly glowing! Do you like the facials?"

"To be honest with you," Jennifer began, "I didn't think I could tolerate the closeness of the spa ... but I'm really beginning to like it. The technicians there behave like there is no one else in the world they need to pamper but me! And yes ... I've noticed the changes in my mirror ... It took me a couple of days to get used to the new makeup style, but I think I'm doing a pretty good job now. What do you think?" 

She turned her face from side to side showing her new found talent, but didn't wait for an answer before plunging ahead, "But that personal trainer! I've got sore muscles in places I had forgotten I had muscles ... the mini-massages at the spa make it bearable. 

But I love the yoga ... she's wonderful. The stretches, the balance, and the meditation are amazing. I feel more graceful and serene ... although I almost think I soak up the serenity by osmosis ... she all but exudes calm. Wherever did you find her?"

"I've used them both on occasion to work with me or one of my friends when we start to get a little out of shape. We have to start paying particular attention to detail at our age, you know. No matter what we seem to do, the law of gravity eventually takes over and our behinds start sliding down the backs of our thighs closer and closer to our knees!" 

They both laughed and nodded heads in agreement ... "I'm glad you are enjoying everything. In a few more weeks, you and I will go shopping. You'll be ready for some new things and I'm anxious to get you out of those dreary browns and grays you favor. We're going to get some color into your life."

Jennifer finished her tea and tea cakes, "You're the boss, Rose. I'm feeling so much better that I'm game for just about anything."

Rose smiled, "That's the spirit ... that's exactly what I wanted to hear. Stay in touch and we'll be arranging that shopping trip before you know it."

Jennifer left, and as usual, Rose cleaned up the Tea Room, shut down the kitchen, locked up for the night, and called a cab.

At home that night, Rose and I again talked of Jennifer and the progress she was making. "I think, Jackson, that I'll be bringing you into the therapy within the month. Because of the abuse, Jennifer will have to be made aware once again that she can feel pleasure. It may be several sessions before you actually consummate the training. Your attention and focus must be the central point of your aid. As time gets closer we will develop more detailed lessons. 

I think this will be more difficult for you than you imagine. You are going to be in the room with her only to awaken her senses, to remind her of the various pleasure centers of her body. As she reawakens, you, too, will become eager, but I reiterate, it may be several sessions before you actually consummate the lessons. If Jennifer doesn't require it, then it simply won't happen at all. Can you deal with that?"

"I think so ... it shouldn't be too hard ...no pun intended ... difficult. Will I even be allowed to touch her? I've been thinking about it and the way I see it is almost like trying to seduce a teenage virgin .. .slowly and carefully so that I don't scare her away. Is that what you've been talking about?"

"Somewhat ... at this point I don't know if Jennifer will even be able to let you touch her. We will probably use a glass of wine or one of my teas to diminish her resistance, but nothing stronger. Queen knows of a powerful aphrodisiac but neither she nor I would choose to use it unless it became a last resort. Queen has also suggested voodoo, but I don't believe Jennifer would give credence to that sort of thing. 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 12



We may have to use toys, I'm just not sure yet. Please keep thinking about it, I don't want to get her that far only to lose her in the last segment of the training."

The conversation had had a visible effect on me. I was afraid I would embarrass myself by the growing bulge in my pants, so I excused myself on the pretext of having accounts to go over and walked quickly to my room.

I turned on the shower full blast, stripped as fast as I could and plunged in the cold water. It almost took my breath away, but unfortunately did nothing to take the excitement away. I looked down and the goose bumps covering my chest and belly to see the evidence of the conversation still standing. 

Over the past few months, playing my part behind Rose's mirror, I had accepted the fact that occasionally I would have to resort to other means of relief, so I launched into the quickest way of alleviating the tension ... at least I was still in the shower, so I didn't have to clean up after myself. 

The rest of the evening I flipped back and forth from books to TV, from stereo to work I had brought home. Nothing seemed to help, agitation seemed to be my constant companion for the evening. Finally, I poured myself another glass of sherry, rested my head on the back of the chair, and concentrated on the music drifting through the room. I had the stereo on a light classical station and that, combined with the sherry, added to the fatigue at the end of the day, finally started to soften the tense muscles through my shoulders and neck.

I wasn't even really aware that I had dosed off in the chair. In my dream Rose came to me in my room ... she was gloriously beautiful in a simple white cotton gown. The gown billowed as if it were being lifted by a tender breeze and her hair hung softly to her shoulders. She floated over to me and knelt in front of me. She didn't speak just looked at me. 

There was caring in her face that was unmistakable and she lifted her hand to brush the hair off my forehead. She took the glass from my hand and placed it on the table beside the chair and looked back at me again with the softest eyes I had ever seen. The Rose in my dream floated up as if on a cloud, touching her lips to mine so briefly it felt like only a flutter, then she floated out of my sight.

When I awoke in the middle of the night a storm had blown the window open in my room and the curtains were standing almost straight out in the wind. I hurriedly closed them, after turning off the lights I undressed and crawled into bed. I smiled because I remembered the dream I had of Rose and hoped she would visit me again. 

As I drifted off to sleep my dreams were invaded by a succession of raven-haired females ... some babies, some girls, grown women, and some had streaks of silver in their hair ... but all lovely, all fetching, and all unknown but familiar.

Rose was in touch with Allen over the phone and relayed with delight Jennifer's progress. She looked and felt better, she said, that she had felt in years. As the exercise and yoga programs began to pay off, Rose called and talked with Jennifer, "Are you ready to go shopping? Good, then, let's make a day of it on Saturday, what do you think? Wonderful! Can you pick me up at the Tea Room again ... I have several boutiques in mind ... you'll love them ... Trust me! Okay, then, see you Saturday."

As planned, Jennifer picked up Rose at the Tea Room and they set out for Baton Rouge. They chatted amiably on the drive and arrived in an exclusive shopping district before they knew it. "Let's work from the skin out" suggested Rose, "I can tell by your smile and the way you carry yourself that inside feels pretty darned good ... what do you think?"

"Lead On, Lady Rose!", Jennifer commanded, "I will follow." So their first stop was a lingerie shop. Rose and Jennifer examined every rack, every display, every shelf, picking out matching panties, bras, slips, merry widows, and nightgowns. Rose steered her toward flattering colors and luxurious materials. 

"Now, before you buy all these expensive unmentionables, let's go try on one set to make sure they fit properly," and she steered Jennifer into a large fitting room. Rose took her place on a settee and Jennifer was stunned into silence, "Rose, I don't think I want you here while I'm changing, I don't want anyone to see me nude. You understand ..."

Rose admonished her like a mother would a child, quietly and gently, "Jennifer, there are no secrets between us now ... you know I will not betray your trust or your secret ... you have to begin to accept yourself as you are. As you are is beautiful. You must realize that and believe it, perhaps my being here will be your first step toward conquering your shyness."

"Alright, Rose. But, if you don't mind, I'll turn my back." Rose was not entirely surprised to see a blush rising in Jennifer's cheeks as she turned away from her. She faced the fitting mirror and saw that Rose sustained their eye contact in the mirror. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse and carefully hung it on the rack beside the mirror, and then pulled down her jeans and laid them across the arm of a chair. 

Jennifer looked back at the mirror and saw that Rose had not moved or changed expressions, her eyes met Jennifer's. Jennifer unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the floor. She tucked her thumbs inside the elastic of her panties and pulled them down to the floor, then kicked them aside. 

As she stood up, she stiffened and closed her eyes, she didn't want to see the revulsion on her friends face when she saw the awful tattoo. After an eternity of silence Jennifer opened her eyes and immediately connected with Rose's eyes. 

"Turn around now Jennifer, what you've been ashamed of I've seen in the mirror, you have no reason to try to hide it any longer." Jennifer obeyed slowly. "Now, come here my dear, let's see if it's really as bad as all that." And once again, Jennifer obeyed slowly. She walked within two feet of Rose and stopped. Rose examined her abdomen and the looked up, past her breast to find dispirited eyes full of doubt. 

Rose smiled at her, "Jennifer, I was expecting something far worse. I know it holds bad memories for you, but don't you think if you could turn this mark around so that it's to your advantage you would somehow vindicate its existence?"

"What do you mean, Rose? What could I possibly do? This thing spans virtually from hip to hip, and dips where you can't see right now. What on earth could I possibly do?"

"I'm surprised at you" began Rose ... "you are supposed to appreciate art. I've always heard that great art does not come without a price. It's really quite a beautiful tattoo ... you've only viewed it as a mark of humiliation. It doesn't have to be that way. You know, quite a lot of men find tattoos very erotic ... remember Cher? 

You should play the tattoo to your advantage." Rose looked into Jennifer's eyes once again and could tell that Jennifer had no comprehension of what she was trying to get at. "Jen, most of the art is covered by your muff ... have you ever thought of liberating this art from it's fuzzy cover?"

"Rose! Shave! My God, I don't know how you could even suggest such a thing. Do you remember what I told you? How this happened? How could you dare suggest such a thing!", Jennifer turned to snatch up her bra and panties. "No, no ... wait my dear. Of course I don't expect you to shave. But there are wonderful depilatories on the market, and what I see is not a mark of shame, it's rather a badge of courage. You should wear it proudly, as proudly as any survivor wears a badge of courage ... you did survive it all, you know."

"I never thought of it that way ... I'm not sure I want to think of it that way now. At any rate, how could I ever explain it away ... I would never tell another living soul how ..." 

Rose interrupted her mid-sentence, "Jen. First of all, you shouldn't feel obligated to explain anything to anyone. Your body is your business and no one else's. Secondly, should you become intimate with a man, what happened to you ... or what you chose to do ... before you met him is also none of his business. 

If you establish a relationship with that man, his only concerns should be from that particular moment forward. Thirdly, God! I didn't think I had that many reasons, but I guess I do ... Thirdly, if you feel you must explain, you can write it off as a drunken college dare. No one ever need know. I believe you could turn it into one of your best intimate features, if you'll only allow yourself to do so."

"I'll think about it, Rose ... but no promises." Jennifer tried on the lingerie without further conversation and purchased the whole lot. Rose smiled as she thought to herself, beautiful from the inside out!

Jennifer and Rose spent the rest of the afternoon, flitting from one store to the next boutique ... from boutique to shoe store ... from shoe store to bath shops, they exhausted themselves and most of the sales clerks in that neighborhood of Baton Rouge. 

Rose suggested they stop at a little coffee shop before heading back. A strong cup of coffee would do them both good.

Nothing further was said about their conversation in the lingerie shop ... their banter was easy and fun, there were no strained feelings, so Rose took that as a good sign.

Rose called Jennifer mid-week to inquire about her friends reaction to her new clothes, "Rose, it's been great! Everyone loves the new look, they say I'm a brand new woman ... why, I even got whistled at the other day on the street! Do you believe it ... whistled at! That hasn't happened to me since ... Lord! I can't even remember when. This has all been wonderful. Now what shall I do?"

"Well, Jen ... are you sure you want to continue?" Rose asked. "Well, then, I want you to call up that young man you told me about at the inn ... what was his name? Oh, yes, Allen. Well, I want you to call Allen and invite him to lunch. Now, settle down, Jen ... it's just lunch! Would you feel more comfortable if you met him here? Alright then, I promise to hover around ... just call him, okay? Okay. I'll see you toward the end of the week."

Rose hung up the phone and immediately picked it up to call Allen, "Allen, hi, it's Rose. I called to tell you Jennifer is doing remarkably well. I'm very pleased with everything she's accomplished. 

We are now taking a very big step that I wanted to talk to you about. At my urging, Jennifer is going to call you and invite you to lunch. Now, Allen, she didn't want to at first, I really had to talk her into it, but she finally agreed. Yes. I'm afraid she is still frightened of intimacy ... but before we went any further, we have to make sure. We have to make sure that you both are still in love. I wouldn't want to make a misstep at this junction ... it would be a horrible mistake. So, Allen, will you agree to meet Jennifer? Good ... and Allen, one more thing, Jennifer wants to meet you here at the Tea Room for lunch, she wants me around as a safety net if things go badly between you. Yes. 

I'm afraid she insisted, but don't worry, neither Queen nor I will acknowledge ever having met you ... you'll just be another customer off the street. Okay? Okay ... see you later in the week."

Jennifer's luncheon reservation was for Saturday at 12:00, she wanted to be in the middle of a crowded restaurant when she saw Allen again. It had been, after all, nearly three months since she had seen him. As she drove to the Tea Room she thought it strange that Allen didn't act surprised when he got her call ... but he did agree to the meeting ... she supposed that was a good sign after all these weeks. She had butterflies in her tummy and her hands trembled just a little.

It took Rose only a moment to recognize Jennifer's nervousness when she came into the Tea Room. True to form, Rose patted her hand and said, "Let me fix you a special cup of tea ..." and she was off to the kitchen. Within a few minutes Rose produced one of her famous cups and sat it before Jennifer, "Take your time with this, you have a few minutes before your young man is supposed to arrive, I'm sure you'll feel better by then." Rose attended to other customers in the Tea Room but made sure she watched as Jennifer sipped at her tea. 

Finally the bell on the front door jingled as someone opened it and Rose looked up to see Allen coming in. She walked over and extended her hand, "Welcome to the Tea Room. If this is your first time here, may I suggest that table in the corner ..."

"Excuse me Rose," Jennifer got up from her table and walked toward them. The astonished look on Allen's face wasn't lost on either one of the women, "This gentleman is my guest for lunch" and she lifted her hand to take his. For the first time he could remember, Allen was speechless, he simply held out his hand and let Jennifer lead him to her table. Rose watched the two, awkward at first, shy smiles, but the stunned look on Allen's face never left. 

Their lunch turned into a lingering two hours, with many cups of tea, much talk, and soft laughter. Finally, Allen rose to leave. He bent over and kissed Jennifer on the cheek, and he did notice that she stiffened again. But he smiled and said, "Can I call you?" His smile was returned by Jennifer, "Allen, it has been wonderful ... I do want to see you again ... soon ... but I have a few things I must take care of first ... can I call you in a couple of weeks?" 

His face smile faded, but the tenderness in his eyes was still there for anyone who wanted to see. "Yes, Jennifer, I'll wait until I hear from you. Please don't take too long ... I'm not sure I can bear it." Then, uncharacteristically, he bent, took her hand, smoothly turned it over and kissed her palm. Rose heard the quick intake of air across the room when Jennifer gasped, and thought, "Good for you, Allen! Good for you!"

After Allen left, Rose sat down with Jennifer. "Well, how did it go with your young man?" "Oh, Rose, I almost melted when I saw him. I have missed him more than I realized, and seeing him today churned up all those feelings I was trying to bury. I am, I'm afraid, hopelessly in love with him and it breaks my heart!"

"Why, Jen? It was obvious you had the same affect on him ... aren't you glad he still loves you, too?" Rose was on a delicate fishing trip and Jennifer had no earthly idea.

"Oh, I saw he loves me, too ... and I saw the want in his eyes ... but I still can't bear the thought of being touched ... when he kissed me on my cheek ... did you see? ... I cringed. I probably would break down into hysterics if he ever tried to make love to me. It's hopeless."

"Maybe not, Jen, maybe not hopeless." Rose tilted up Jennifer's chin until she looked straight into her eyes, "You've trusted me up until now ... can you trust me a bit further? The road you need to travel now is the last one before your destination. If I'm right ... and I honestly think I am ... when you complete your journey, you can accept Allen and everything he has to offer with open arms and an open heart. 

It will may prove to be a difficult pilgrimage for you, but if you persevere, you'll not regret it."

"What is it, Rose? What is it I must do now?", Jennifer's concern and confusion was evident in her expression and the way she leaned forward to receive Rose's answer.

"I've been giving it some thought, Jen ..." Rose gathered Jennifer's hand with both of hers, "your libido is not dead ... it's just buried or in a comma ... and I think I know a way we can wake it up again. Do you think you could manage to trust me now with not only your secret and your friendship ... I need your permission now for another trainer ... someone who can gently lead you on this journey."

Jennifer quickly sat straight up and looked at Rose through anger and revulsion, "Rose! I've never heard of such a thing ... I can't possibly do that ... it's just not right."

A slow smile cross Rose's face, "Jen ... there's nothing right or wrong about it ... it just is. Sensual pleasure is as important as eating or sleeping or laughing ... and just as essential. Until you can learn to enjoy that part of your life, you'll never be whole again. And, if you don't allow this, those awful people will have ultimately won ... don't give in to them. You can rise above what they did to you ..."

As Rose spoke, Jennifer slumped in her seat. She didn't speak for several minutes, but simply stared at her hands. Finally she looked up, "Before I agree, I have to know more about what you plan. I can't make myself vulnerable to the unknown."

"Alright," Rose began, "I have a colleague ... a wonderful man. He's handsome and gentle and kind ... he has the finesse to guide you through the mazes of sensuality. He has the intelligence to know that it may take several sessions, he has the sensitivity to stop when you become uncomfortable. In all things, in all ways, you will be in control. He will be your guide, but you will lead the expedition. How does that sound?"

"I haven't been alone with a man in more than five years ... I don't think I want to be alone with a man now ... even if you personally vouch for him ... I don't think I can trust that far." Jennifer almost reverted into the gray little mouse she was before Rose began working with her ..."Jen, don't worry. I'll be with you every step of the way ... no, not in the room ... but very near by. If you panic, if anything goes wrong, you will simply need to call my name, I'll be at your side within moments. Does that ease your mind?"

Jennifer shrugged, "A little I guess. Let me think about it. I'll call you tonight. I guess I'd better be going now ... I've got several errands to run before I go home. As she pushed out her chair to leave Rose interjected, "One other thing, Jen, do you ever talk to yourself?"

"Now that's an odd thing to ask ... I guess everyone does, why?" "Well," Rose stood to face her, "from now on ... every morning when you finish your make up and hair ... I want you to look in the mirror and say out loud, 'You glorious bitch! Don't you ever die!" Jennifer started laughing and Rose joined in, they walked arm in arm to the door, and Rose bade her good-by, "I'll wait to hear from you tonight."

Rose hung up the telephone and called for Agnes, "Agnes, would you ask Mr. Emerly to join me on the terrace tonight about 7:00? Thank you, tell him I'll be waiting."

When I walked out the back door I saw Rose standing with her back to me. She was looking over the extensive collection of rose bushes she had planted in the back yard ... making walkways of bark meandering through the gardens, "You wanted to see me?" 

"Yes. Jackson," she began, "I've just heard from Jennifer. She is willing, although very nervous about it, to let you be her guide. The sessions will begin tomorrow afternoon." We began to slowly make our way through the intricate little footpaths as Rose continued to talk. "Jennifer will be here at 2:00 tomorrow. She and I will have tea before I usher her into the studio. I think you should already be in the studio when we arrive. I don't want her anxiety level rising, wondering about when you'll enter and what you might do. 

I've assured her that she is in control of the whole situation, that you are her servant in all ways. If she says stop, you will stop immediately ... if you sense that she is stiffening or tensing up, you will retreat or stop completely ... you will be free, however, to take her as far in each session as she is able to go. Now, have you ever worn a caftan?" 

I shook my head 'no', and she continued, "I didn't think so. I've given this some thought, and while you should be as handsome and charming as possible, I think the caftan will disguise some of your obvious masculine charms, the effect of mystery should also help Jennifer. Love making, after all, is not all physical ... Now then, to a delicate question. 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 12



I've never seen you make love, I'm not exactly sure what your skill level is, so I want to talk to you a little bit about the erogenous zones on a woman's body. If you've heard it before, just indulge me. If not it certainly won't hurt you to learn about them. A woman's body is covered with sensitive areas ... areas that are capable of giving extreme amounts of pleasure before she is actually touched in a sexual way. These areas, when properly attended to, will make her all the more willing and enthusiastic a lover. 

The first is the nape of her neck, just below her hair line ... gently pulling the hair aside as gently kissing his area is very pleasant to a woman, as is the area around her ears and ear lobes. The scalp ... unknown to most men ... did you ever notice how often you see a woman running her hands through her hair? Well, it's not done to flirt with you, it's done just because it feels good. Eye lids, lips certainly, and her throat are all sensitive to delicate care. Of course, the breasts and nipples ... but caution needs to be used in not getting too rough too quick. 

Some ladies like being fondled roughly, to others it's an instantaneous turn-off. Her midriff to each side of the hip responds to licks and kisses. If you get this far with Jennifer, she should start to lift her hips to you. If she does, ignore her. Continue downward and slowly spread her legs, the inside of her thighs and the bends of her knees are full of nerve endings and respond very well to strokes of all kinds. 

I think in Jennifer's case, it would probably be better to start at the top and work your way to the bottom. When you finally get to the pinnacle of your enterprise, give it plenty of attention. Both massage and orally. The labia themselves are very sensitive and respond immediately, her clitoris should be engorged with blood by this time and welcome any and all touches. When you get this far, you can almost be positive that she is ready to accept the final phase, but ask her ... don't just give her a sudden poke. 

If you've done your job properly, she should have already had two or three mild orgasms ... when your coupling is finished, don't say anything. Hold her in your arms, caress her hair, shoulders, arms and back. Let her be the first to leave the bed. It might surprise you that after all this, she may be reticent to walk about the room naked, offer her the sheet to wrap in if she needs it. 

While she's in the bathroom, dress yourself. When she comes out, make sure you kiss her long and honestly. I've promised Jennifer that I will be nearby ... she doesn't need to know I'm behind the mirror ... and that if she gets in trouble she can call out to me. If she does call out, don't take it as a sign of rejection or implication that you did anything wrong ... it could simply be her own inhibitions. We'll work through that if we need to. Now, do you think you can do this?"

The images in my head that were conjured up while Rose talked made me unfit for polite conversation and somehow my pride had been hurt and I was infuriated. I bluntly said, "Yes" and stalked off.

Again that night in my room Rose was in my dreams. She was standing facing away from of me, I pulled back her hair and started kissing her neck, my hands skimmed across her shoulders to slide the straps off her shoulders. When the straps fell, she turned to look at me ... and I beheld the vision of her in front of me. 

My eyes wandered from eyes to lips to breast down to her hips, drinking in her beauty, down slim thighs past curving calves and was awe struck. I couldn't speak, I tried to lift my hand to touch her, but it was frozen at my side, the struggle to raise my arm woke me. I was wet with perspiration and found I had been lying on my arm and it had fallen asleep. I groaned and I sat up and started rubbing my arm. 

Self-doubt again entered my mind. While I had assured Rose that I would be able to do what was necessary for Jennifer, I wondered. How could I concentrate on Jennifer when I knew Rose was behind the mirror, judging and examining every move I made. If I fumbled with Jennifer I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Rose would never accept me. 

After all these months, it shot through me like electricity ...I was in love with her! At first it was lust, then disgust, then longing, gradually getting to know her ... and now I was hopelessly in love. Now the problem was compounded, how had I ever let myself become so ensnared. I exhaled and lay back on my pillow. It was still damp from sweat, so I punched it a few times and flipped it over before settling down again ... I'd better get some rest ... I had a command performance to give tomorrow afternoon.

Jennifer arrived promptly at 2:00. After she and Rose had a cup of Rose's special tea, Rose walked her to the studio. I was standing gazing out the window when I heard the door open, "Jennifer, I'll be very close by, you needn't worry. Try to relax. Your tutor will take it from here. Stay as long or as little as you'd like and remember, you're in control here, you're the boss. I won't see you before you leave, but give me a call in a couple of days and we can figure out what's next." And I knew Rose had softly closed the door.

I turned to see Jennifer standing perfectly still just a couple of feet inside the room. I don't think she really knew what to do, what to say, or what to expect. I smiled and took a step forward, "Hello" was all I could say at the moment. She was obviously timid and I knew it would take Rose two or three minutes to reach her vantage point behind the mirror. "I'm here as your obedient servant in all things." 

I slowly walked over to her and took her hand and kissed her wrist, surprisingly she didn't resist, but let me lead her to a dressing bench in the middle of the room. "Don't I know you?", Jennifer asked. "No, I don't believe we've met and when you leave this room all memory of you will leave as well. Should we meet somewhere someday, I'm sure we'll be total strangers to one another until properly introduced. If I may," as I knelt down, "please sit and I'll remove your shoes." She did what she was told, but I thought a bit too subserviently, as I removed her shoes, I rubbed each foot, paying particular attention to the arch. 

I was hoping Rose was watching, because this was a spot she had failed to mention. Once her shoes were under the bench I stood up and walked behind her in a direction where I wouldn't have to look at the mirror. I stood behind her, brushed her hair aside and kissed the base of her hairline, right where the spine meets the skull. She didn't stiffen, but was still sitting perfectly still, almost as if she were trying to ignore both me and my touch. I cupped my hands and pushed them up through her hair to the crown of her head, never stopping the gentle kisses on her neck. As my hands skimmed back through her hair, my little fingers began to rub just behind her ear lobes. 

She exhaled then and dropped her head to one side as if to give me better access. Within a few short minutes, my hands ran the zipper down on her dress to below her waist. My hand drifted to her arm as I cross back around to face her, she looked up as I lifted her to standing. "You can close your eyes, if you'd like, or watch as I venerate all that is woman about you. I leaned in to kiss her eye lids and at the same time released her shoulders from the dress. She again didn't move, nor did she open her eyes. 

I quietly pushed her down to sit on the bench again, and with lips and hands I did everything I knew to do to awaken her senses. She didn't protest, but stiffened a little as I slid down her bra straps. Not wanting her to be frightened, my hands drifted back up the sides of her neck and I kissed her solidly. I was delighted when she responded by flicking her tongue against mine.

Of course, this was having a profound affect on me and I wanted nothing more than to take her ... or someone ... anyone ...right then and there. It was more than difficult to keep myself in restraint. So, I continued with tiny kisses and fluttering caresses she responded better than I had thought. When I released the clasp in the front, her hands shot up to hold the bra in place. 

I kissed one side of her neck while my fingers soothed the beginning curves of her breast. Within a few minutes I gently took her hands, kissed one palm and then the other liberating both breasts to full view. As I lowered my head I whispered, "You are dazzling ..." Her nipples stood hard and erect, and she held my head as I suckled first one then another. 

As my face and hands drifted toward the tops of her panties she stood up, "No ... no ... not yet. I can't do that just yet ..." and I sat back on my heels. "Very well. I understand. I hope we can continue another day very soon. Call Rose and if you'd like, she can arrange another session." I stood, lifted her hand and kissed her wrist again, "Until next time" and left the room. Thank God Rose had to good sense to put me in a caftan, my erection would have been impossible to hide.

I went to my room and showered, once again forced to take care of myself until a suitable partner could be found. I wrapped up in the white terry robe and lit a cigarette. I wonder if Rose approved of my production. I didn't have long to wait, Agnes knocked at my door and told me that Miss Rose would like to see me in the office.

I dressed ... irritation at her summons dictated that I take my own sweet time ... I wanted her to wait on me for a change. I curiously walked toward the office wondering what I would face there. Rose, this time, was staring out the window with her back toward me, "Pour yourself a glass of wine, Jackson. 

You did very well today and I'm sure I'll hear from Jennifer soon. The session actually went much better than I had anticipated due in no small part to your skills. I've known many men over the years, and I don't know of many who could have shown that restraint or self-discipline. You have my compliments. Now," she turned to face me, "if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do at the Tea Room and won't be joining you for dinner." 

She took long strides to get out of the room, went quickly down the hall and through the front door before I could say a word. As I tried to follow her out of the office, I looked down the hall and saw that a cab had pulled up to the front of the house. She was in it and gone before I could move.

I ate alone in my room that night. It was plain that she was upset, but she said that I had done even better than she expected ... why was she ... Lord! Could it be that she was jealous? The thought brought a smile to my face and a tingling in my groin ... I got up from the chair and paced around the room. Could it be? 

Or could it possibly be that she was frustrated by the sight of the two of us and went off to meet one of her men to be satisfied outside the house? Damn! I didn't know how to read it, but decided we would resolve this issue at the first possible opportunity.

I didn't see Rose at all that night, or the day after, for that matter. She went in to the Tea Room before I woke, and I heard her come in long after dark. On Tuesday she called me from the Tea Room, "Jackson, I've heard from Jennifer. She was pleased with the first session and called to schedule another one. If it's alright with you, we'll make it for Thursday evening about 7:00 ..."

I stood silently holding the phone to my ear trying to judge her feelings by the tone of her voice, but she was very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, "Thursday will be fine," I answered, "We can talk about the particulars when you get home ... I'll ask Agnes to fix us a light supper."

"That would be nice," she said, "I'll see you about 6:00."

I was sitting on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs when her cab pulled up. I walked to the gate and lifted the latch for her. "I've made us a couple of Pina Coladas. I thought they'd be good on a hot night like tonight."

She smiled at me as she walked up the steps, "Yes. They should help cool us off" ... and I wasn't sure her statement didn't have a double meaning.

We sat and rocked and sipped our drinks, talking like old friends about our day. Agnes came out to announce that supper was ready and we casually strolled into the dining room.

We had plates of cold sliced chicken, fruit, potato salad, and a buttery cheese spread for the bread. We didn't talk during dinner, but when Agnes was clearing the plates, she nodded toward the office. I followed her anxious to hear what she had to say. 

"As I told you earlier, Jennifer has called to schedule your next session. She was absolutely giddy about the feelings she had stirring around in her and eagerly wants to explore further. We settled on Thursday evening, like I said. I feel you can be a little more open and aggressive with her during the next session. 

As I said, she was eager, I don't think a retreat will be necessary and you'll be able to consummate her training. I know Allen is anxious and I will advise him on the results Friday morning. Do you have any questions?"

"No, I don't think so. Will you be asking me for assistance if other commissions become available?"

"Of course ... but one other thing. In your next session with Jennifer, I need to tell you about a tattoo she has. I've asked her to use a depilatory since the tattoo fills most of her lower abdomen. Hopefully she will follow my advice. If so, it is imperative that you respond appropriately to the sight of her. I've seen it and it is unusual but not grotesque. She's ashamed of the mark and I want her to begin to view it with pride, a sort of 'purple heart'. If there's nothing else, I'd like to be by myself for a while."

I put down the paperweight that I had picked up to hide my nervousness and responded, "Sure. Good night, will I see you tomorrow?" Damn! Why did I say that? I must sound like a school boy to her! If I did sound ridiculous she gave no indication, "Yes. Please come to the Tea Room tomorrow, I'd like you to take a look at some expansion plans I've been working on."

As I left the room I noticed that she had walked back over to the window and had her back to me once again ... all I could manage to say was, "Sounds good, I'll drop by after lunch."

The next day after lunch I drove into New Orleans and parked in the back of the Tea Room in my usual space. Queen was in the kitchen softly humming to herself when I opened the door. I was in a particularly devilish mood that afternoon so I sneaked up behind her and threw my arms around her waist, whirled her around and planted a kiss on her cheek ... she was squealing and kicking the whole time and when I put her down she spun around and playfully punched me in the chest, "Jackson! You scared me out of ten years, go on ... get out of here! Miss Rose is waiting for you in the office". 

"Jackson, Jennifer called and asked that I arrange another session with you ... is tomorrow night alright with you?" 

"Of course, I've been planning it and looking forward to it."

A shadow passed across Rose's face and she stood, "Well, I'd better go see if Queen needs any help in the kitchen", she side stepped me and walked out.

As I prepared for my next session with Jennifer and Rose hadn't offered any clothing suggestions, I chose a pair of casual slacks and long sleeved shirt on Thursday night. I was slipping on my shoes and rolling up the sleeves when Agnes knocked at my door, "Miss Rose would like to see you in the office."

"Jennifer will be here soon, I just wondered if you had any questions or concerns?" was all she said. "I don't think so ..." was all I could say. Suddenly things seemed very strained between us and we couldn't get to that place where casual banter came naturally, "Will I see you after the session?"

Rose didn't answer at first, just looked at me, "I suppose so. Of course, I'll be behind the mirror, and I think we should talk before I give Allen a call. Meet me here about 45 minutes after Jennifer leaves."

"Alright, I'll go to the studio now and wait for Jennifer. Are you two going to have tea before she joins me?" Again she just looked at me, "No, I don't think so this time. Why don't you have a chilled bottle of wine in the studio and offer Jennifer a glass when she arrives ... I think that might be best, and I'd like to talk to you about a cleansing ritual for Jennifer ... "

I carried the ice bucket and glasses in on a tray. As I uncorked the wine, I heard a knock at the front door, and knew Jennifer would be joining me soon. I took a deep breath and was surprised that I had some trepidation. It occurred to me that the sex was not the issue, it was knowing Rose was behind the mirror. When a woman is in your arms you can instantly read her reaction to your touches, when the woman you crave is an observer, it adds a whole new twist to the situation. 

I resolved to give Jennifer the best I had to offer and if Rose and I were fated to be together, it would just happen. I poured two glasses of wine and was pressing the cork back in the bottle I heard the door open behind me.

Rose did not enter this time, Jennifer walked in slowly by herself and stopped again only a couple of feet inside the door. "Good evening.", as I reached out to hand her the glass of wine, "I hope you like this, it's one of my favorites." As Jennifer sipped the wine I continued, "I'm very glad that you chose to come back, my thoughts have been filled with you and your touch has haunted me." I sat my glass down and extended my hand for hers, coaxing her once again into the center of the room. 

I took the brush from the dressing table and began to slowly brush her hair while she enjoyed her wine. I could tell she had begun to relax when she let her head fall slightly back. I curled her hair up in a loose chignon and clipped it with a barrette then began to kiss her neck and shoulders. I ran my hands down her arms and back to her shoulders, gently massaging. After a few minutes I refilled her wine glass, cupped her face and captured her mouth for a slow insistent kiss.

I walked around behind her and unzipped her dress, following the zipper with my tongue to the small of her back, this time she was not wearing a bra. I felt Jennifer suck in a long deep breath as I pushed the dress from her shoulders, but she did not stiffen this time and turned to face me. I stood at arm's length from her drinking in the charm of her slender body. 

I thought I saw a trace of a smile cross her lips as my eyes lingered on her breasts and I stepped forward to slide my hands around her waist. I pulled her slowly and deliberately toward me and bent my head to again kiss her lips. Very softly at first then more determined as she responded to my kisses with her tongue and I felt her arms circling my shoulders and pulling me equally toward her.

"Tonight will be, I believe, very special for both of us. But, to begin, I've drawn a bath for you ... it will be relaxing and therapeutic ..." and I led her into the bathroom. I had lit several candles that cast soft lights about the room, I left the room and brought in another glass of wine to allow Jennifer to eased herself into the water, handing it to her, "I've prepared a special sachet for your bath." I dropped the little bag into the water and it immediately began to release a pungent aroma, "I mixed chamomile to sooth, white rose petals for scent and purity, and cedar berries ... native Americans believe that cedar berries keep ghosts and evil spirits away." 

I rolled a hand towel and slid it behind her neck, "Try to relax and enjoy the pampering. Imagine that with every breath you inhale, you inhale the light ... a golden cleansing light. When you exhale, envision the tension and worry leaving your body ... that's good.

I'm going into the other room for a few minutes, but I'll be right back to help you out of your bath." She didn't respond, but continued the slow breathing, so I quietly went into the other room. I pulled down the bed linens and prepared the bed by covering it with silk and satin pillows. 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 13



I was already in the dining room when Jackson came in ... I don't know if you should use the word "radiant" about a man ... but that's just what he looked like ... he was radiant!

"Dana, I have some wonderful news! I just got off the phone with Rose ... she will be here by Thanksgiving! Isn't that wonderful! I can't wait for you to meet her ... of course, I've told her all about you and our little project and she's looking forward to meeting you and adding in her two cents!"

As he stood by the sideboard and poured coffee he suddenly looked up at me, "You know what? I think I'm going to throw a party for her ... a Christmas party to show her off ... that's right ... all those invitations I turned down ... I bet they're all just dying to get out here and see what's going on ... what do you think, Dana? Should we?"

I had to laugh, "Yes ...I think that would be a wonderful idea ... and it will give me a chance to wear that gorgeous dress Vonne talked me into.

"Vonne", he interrupted, "I'd better get Vonne working on this right away. Excuse me for a few minutes, my dear ..." and he was still talking to himself making plans as he strode down the hall toward his office to find Vonne.

He returned a short time later, "Vonne will see to everything ... caterers, entertainment ... everything ...so now that you're finally going to meet Rose, I want to tell you how I finally won her heart ...

The most famous of celebrations in New Orleans was approaching ... you could almost feel the electricity in the air. Dozens of krewes had been working on floats since the day after the parade last year ... this was not a friendly competition, but one that every person on every team took seriously. The captain of each team organized and directed the efforts and the results were spectacular. Floats of all sizes, shapes and automation rivaled the most imaginative mind.

Two weeks before the parade the tinkle of the bell on the front door of the Tea Room drew our attention as a costumed character entered. He must have been nearly 7 feet tall and dressed in a garish version of 17th century grandeur. 

His face was done in white harlequin paint, and his cheek was highlighted with sparkling beauty mark. As Rose walked up to him, he removed his chapeau and bowed gallantly from the waist, he didn't speak but rather flourished a large parchment envelope in a high circle over his head then lowered it to Rose's hand. 

She laughed as he snapped to attention, clicked his heels, raised her hand for a kiss, then sauntered away.

Rose headed back to the office where I had been standing in the doorway enjoying the carnival-like display. She was still smiling as she went behind the desk and began to open the envelope. 'Oh, what fun! I've been invited to a masque ball to be held on Fat Tuesday ... listen to this Jackson, the host has leased Oak Alley Plantation for the ball. To add to the magic of the evening, no cars will be allowed on the property and guests will be driven from the designated parking area to the plantation by horse drawn carriage. 

Couples are encouraged to come separately and guests are asked not to ask direct questions of other guests until midnight when the masques are removed ...', she giggled, That might present some couples with a dilemma if they're not careful ... but it sounds just delightful ... I must go now and arrange my costume. Could you take care of the Tea Room for the rest of the afternoon, Jackson?'

I smiled, "Certainly Rose ... it's been too long since you've indulged in any kind of fun ... I think it will be an intriguing evening for you ... go find the most beautiful costume in New Orleans and don't give one thought to the Tea Room. I'll lock up and see you at home tonight for supper."

Rose had been working very hard lately. The Tea Room was always busy, she also had the addition of a Day Spa in Biloxi in the planning stages, and had been contacted about another commission in the near future. 

She reacted to this invitation like a school girl who'd just been invited to the prom. She called a taxi, quickly gathered her purse and just barely had time to thank me before she was out the front door and entering the cab.

I watched as the taxi pulled away, then closed the door to the office. I dialed the phone to thank my associate as I patted my invitation in the breast pocket of my jacket ... it hadn't been too hard to secure an invitation for myself. I responded that both Rose and I would be attending the masque.

That night I waited in the study going over some accounts until Rose got home. Still giddy as a school girl when she carried in several large boxes ... 'Look, Jackson, at what I've picked out!' She untied the first box and brought out a platinum wig piled high with elegant curls. Then she took out a gown of gossamer silver and pink, shook it and held it up to herself, 'I'm going as Josephine!!' as she spun around, 'And the finishing touch is the masque' ... she held up a silver masque that covered her face from her nose to hairline, trimmed with soft pink feathers. 'I don't think anyone will recognize me, do you?'

I walked over to the table and poured both of us a glass of wine, handing one to Rose, "I don't think so ... about the only part of you that will be showing is your mouth and chin ... I think it will be virtually impossible for anyone to identify you."

'Jackson, I don't have an escort for the evening, would you like to go with me?', she was still beaming as she sipped her wine. "I'd love to Rose, but I've already got several appointments in Biloxi to look over some land that week. I'm afraid I won't be able to be back in time ... but if you'd like me to cancel ..."

'No,' she interrupted. As I expected, the consummate businesswoman in her took over and her eyes lost some of their sparkle, 'You'd better take care of those appointments, I'm anxious to get the Day Spa started. Besides, some of the couples will arrive separately, so I won't feel uncomfortable.'

Agnes came in and announced dinner and it was the last we spoke of the masque that night.

Rose was totally unaware that I not only would be at the masque, I had already arranged for my costume. I would appear as Cyreno de Bergerac and my costume included an exaggerated proboscis which would effectively conceal my identity.

While Rose and I had established a comfortable working relationship, she always managed to keep me at a little distance, never quite becoming friends, much less allowing anything else to develop. I was looking forward to that evening ... she and I would meet as strangers that evening on equal footing. Since we were requested not to ask direct questions until midnight, I had hours to pay court to her.

The next week drug by, neither one of us talking of anything but business. Rose went over again the type of location she wanted for her day spa. Gambling looked like it was going to be legalized in Biloxi ... in fact, our sources assured us it was a given. Rose was anxious to secure a piece of land before prices started to sky rocket when the casinos started being built.

The enthusiasm was carried on the wind and touched everyone as Fat Tuesday approached. I left at the beginning of the week before the masque and drove to Biloxi. Instead of having appointments to look over prospective sights drawn out for three days, I arranged for them all to be viewed on Monday and Tuesday. I was able to drive back to New Orleans on Tuesday afternoon. Instead of going home, I checked in to a hotel for the evening and prepared myself for the masque. At 6:30 I called a taxi and headed to Oak Alley Plantation ... I didn't even want to risk the chance that Rose might see the car and recognize it.

As I paid the taxi driver at the parking lot I was approached by a coachman and led to the carriage. He opened the door to the calash which was ornately carved with dolphins and mermaids ... gilded to further emphasize their gracefulness. A pair of black horses in matching livery patiently waited as I climbed up and settled in with three other guests. 

It was dusk as we slowly made our way up the entrance to the veranda at Oak Alley. The horses proudly held their heads high and adopted a prancing gait as if to intentionally show off their breeding and ability. It gave me the opportunity survey the fantasyland carefully orchestrated by our host. 

The expansive front lawn had been divided into separate gathering places as well as the Plantation House being open to guests. Tables of food were located on the veranda, in the house and around the lawn. Several hardwood dance floors had been prepared as well on the lawn. 

Waiters in 17th century costume had begun to circulate with trays of champagne and music emanated from the gazebo, drifting through the spring night. Candelabras located on the veranda, buffet tables, and at the corners of the dance floors offered the only illumination as dusk faded into velvet night.

A rotund fellow dressed as Blackbeard and myself offered our hands to the two ladies in the carriage and escorted them up the steps to greet our host and hostess.

They stood together smiling never more than a few inches from each other. Dressed in patriotic colors as George and Martha Washington they received each of us, "Welcome! In the name of Rex, King of Mardi Gras and Baccus, Lord of Wine, Welcome. Eat, drink and be merry, for Lent starts on Friday ... and Ash Wednesday is a perfect time to make your confession for any transgressions made here tonight."

We four laughed, accepted a glass of champagne and drifted separately into the milling guests below. I stationed myself to the side of the steps which would allow me to see all arriving guests. I didn't have to wait long before a coach pulled up with only one guest. 

The coachman dismounted, opened the door and offered his hand to Josephine, Empress of France. As she stood I was suddenly happy to be alone in the shadows to drink in every centimeter of her. She rewarded him with a smile, gathered her hem in one hand and floated out of the carriage. 

By this time I was able to gather my senses about me once again, I stepped into the light and offered her my hand, "Madame, may I present you to our host and hostess?" I had been practicing my French accent for weeks and hoped it would sufficiently conceal my voice and not give me away. As she placed her hand on mine there was no indication of recognition, 'Merci, monsieur.' I gazed down at her and hoped my glance did not linger too long at her neckline. In keeping with the fashions of the day, Josephine's dress was designed with a tightly fitting empire waistline just below her bust and the neckline plunged to reveal a lustrous cleavage. 

Just in time, my eyes raised as she tilted her head, surrounded by the soft silver masque her green eyes seemed not green at all, but emerald ... shining and sparkling ... we had reached the top step, "General and Mrs. Washington, may I present Josephine, wife of the most fortunate man in Europe, First Lady of France ..."

General Washington smiled widely at the introduction and Mrs. Washington dropped a small curtsey, "Your highness, is this your first trip to the Americas?", General Washington continued the game.

"Oui, monsieur, with Napoleon flitting about to Egypt or Austria or Russia or Lord knows where, I'm afraid France has become rather boring. I eagerly accepted your invitation and welcomed it as a respite from my tedious duties of the empire.", she returned the curtsey.

General Washington took her hand and kissed it, "In the name of Rex, King of Mardi Gras, and Baccus, Lord of Wine, I welcome you and commend you into the special care of Monsieur de Bergerac. Eat, drink and be merry ..."

She took my arm and we strolled around the veranda sipping our champagne. We spoke little ... the comfortable silence between us needed no banter as we watched other guests.

"Madame," I asked her, "would you care for something to eat and another glass of champagne ... it would be my honor to serve you."

She nodded behind her fan and found two wicker chairs on the fringes of the festivities to wait for me. I returned with two plates and a waiter bearing champagne in tow. We nibbled, sipped and watched the play of the masquerading guests. Cleopatra flirted with Doc Holliday ... Caesar danced with a flapper ... Al Capone lustily eyed a belly dancer. 

It was people watching at its best. Now and again, and only if you were very observant, you'd notice a guest slipping out of the candlelight and making his way to the formal gardens at the rear of the plantation. Josephine tapped my hand with her fan, Watch Al Capone ...' and directed my attention toward the dance floor just in time to see Mr. Capone tip his hat and smile at the little belly dancer. She giggled, the gold coins surrounding her bra tinkled as a result and he took his leave of her. 

He nonchalantly walked around the dance floor, paused to pick up two glasses of champagne and ducked out of the light around the veranda. We watched as the little belly dancer accepted another invitation to dance from a pirate. As soon as the song was finished, she made her excuses and meandered her way through the crowd and stepped into the darkness after a quick look around.

I saw the devil dancing in those emerald eyes and she flashed a grin at me, 'Monsieur de Bergerac ... would you care to have some fun?' I was taken aback and disappointed in her, I had never known Rose to indulge in a dalliance during all these months, and I was surprised at her suggestion, "Madame, just what do you have in mind?" I managed a leer as I leaned closer to her. 'Shame on you, Sir! I mean to play a trick on Mr. Capone and his little concubine ... are you game?' I smiled in earnest that time, "Certainly my lady, lead and I shall follow."

We discretely made our way into the night and slipped along side the plantation house until we found ourselves at the entrance to the formal gardens. As was the style, the shrubs and flowering plants had been laid out to form an intricate maze, adorned with statues of skimpily clad maidens and young men. Occasionally a concrete bench had been fitted into a secluded corner and that's where we were sure we'd find the infamous Scarface and his little harem girl. 

They weren't hard to find at all ... we only needed to listen for the jingling of the coins. 

We entered the maze holding hands ... it was black as ink in the maze without even the candlelight to guide us. The gentle night breeze carried the first sounds to us, a slow steady rhythm pulling us further into the maze. The sound stopped and so did we, standing perfectly still, straining to hear the next sound and let our eyes become accustomed to the dark. 

When the tinkles started again, Josephine smothered a snicker and we started toward the sounds again. As we approached, the movement of the hedges alerted us to the oblivious couple on the path opposite us. We stopped and started listening again, at first only 'umphs' and 'umms' ...then the sound of many gold coins being flung and hitting the ground, 'Let me look at those tits ... baby, you gotta set! Come here ...' As he backed up to the concrete bench she answered him with a giggle and a swishing sound accompanied by little chimes as the gold coins began to move in union with the swish. 

Josephine put her finger to her lips and we crept further in, peeking around the end of the hedge. There sat Mr. Capone with his glory waving in the night air. The little dancer was performing felleciato as he tangled one hand in her hair to encourage her motion and fondled her breasts with the other. He had begun to groan softly when Josephine pointed at the gold bra on the ground, 'Shhh' was all she said as she tiptoed to retrieve it and slip back to our hiding place. 

Within a few minutes Big Al pulled her head back and smiled, *Your turn now, Baby!' He stood and pulled her over to the concrete bench, softly laying her down as he flicked his tongue around one nipple then the other as his hand drifted down to the low cut girdle she was wearing. She was eager and offered her hips up to his touch. 

He kissed her again full on the mouth and took a position on his knees at the end of the bench. His fingers ran around her girdle and began to slip it off her hips, he didn't pause until she was naked in front of him. She parted her legs to receive his kisses eventually bringing her feet up to the concrete bench. He threw her pantaloons freeing his hands to push up her bottom as she dropped her knees and started to moan. 

Josephine crooked her finger at me so I leaned in to hear her whisper, 'Follow my lead, and speak loudly!' She stood straight and exclaimed, 'I'm sure I saw her come this way, sir ... surely we will find her soon ... perhaps she's just gotten confused in the maze ...' 

We started walking taking exaggerated steps to make as much noise as possible. We heard What the shit!' and a squeal, we turned the corner just in time to see Al Capone quickly abandon his prize and make a hasty retreat while the little dancer rolled off the bench and scooted under it out of sight. We clomped our way down the path to the place where her pantaloons lay. Josephine, swooped down to get them saying, 'I must have been mistaken, Sir ... there is clearly no one here.' And she steered me back down the path we had just come and started to run. 

Once out of the maze, she doubled over with giggles, 'I bet she's still in there looking for her clothes! Quick, go hide these beneath the azaleas', as she handed me the gauzy costume. I wadded them up, stuck them underneath the closest bush and returned to her. She was still laughing so hard she had gotten the hiccups ... this was a playful side I had never seen of Rose, and I liked it. 

She flicked her fan open and began to quickly fan herself as she tried to control her giggles and hiccups. I took her other hand and led her to the wicker chairs we had occupied earlier, "One moment, cheri ..." I bowed slightly and found the nearest waiter securing two more glasses of champagne. 

When I returned and handed a glass to her, she merely replied, "Merci' and turned her attention to the dance floor. Again the silence between us begged not to be interrupted as we relaxed and caught our breath. Suddenly she snapped her fan closed and motioned toward the far side of the lawn ... there, barely perceptible ... but totally bare ... we saw a young woman running from tree to tree ... trying not to be noticed and trying somehow to escape the party without detection. 

I chuckled and Josephine tapped her fan on her chin, 'I wonder what kind of tip the coachman will take to keep her secret ...'

I put down my champagne glass, and stood as the band began to play 'Moonlight Serenade', "Your Highness," I bowed slowly, "would you care to dance?" She rewarded me with a smile ... her smile ... the smile that nearly always took my breath away ... Why yes, thank you, monsieur.'

I offered my right arm and she took it, I couldn't help but gather her small hand with my left hand as I guided her to the dance floor. "Napoleon, I fear is a fool to allow you out of his sight for a moment. There are no conquests in the world to equal the conquest of the beautiful Josephine." 

She raised her head to look at me and I could see the question in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure, 'I'm afraid, monsieur, that Napoleon has found another. He has fathered a child by his Polish whore and returns to France to divorce me ... I'm afraid I soon will find myself alone in this world again.' 

Only Rose ... beautiful, bright Rose could continue to play this game of words ... pulling true events from history to transmit her availability ... using an emphasis on syllables to convey a double entendre. I gazed down into her eyes again, "Then, my lady, the man is a fool, for rather should he hunger to hold you than to hold in his power all of the known world." 




Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 13



The band finished the song and disassembled for a break. Rather than release her immediately, I stood still and tried to read what was in those flashing eyes. She, too, was lost in the moment and I was tempted to kiss her when our host interrupted for his announcement, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now eleven o'clock ... just one more hour until we remove our masks ... please help yourselves to our meager offerings. The band will be back in just a few minutes and resume play until midnight.'

We slowly stepped apart and made our way toward the buffet tables which had been replenished with country ham, crawfish gumbo, stuffed Cornish hens and standing rib roast. We made our way down the line and wandered back toward our wicker seats ... odd I thought ... no one has even attempted to take those seats, almost like they were reserved for us. I didn't realize it at the time, but they had indeed been reserved for us. General Washington had given the servants instructions that should anyone approach those chairs, they were to be steered in the opposite direction.

We settled down to eating and watching some of the other guests. A large, bare-chested man dressed with a turban and semitar through his sash looked about, not being able to find his partner. He finally shrugged, perhaps giving up and took his place in line to fill his plate. On the far side of the dance floor we could see a tall thin woman dressed as a flapper shaking her finger at a large man in a zoot-suit. He appeared more as an admonished child with his hands in his pockets and head dropped gazing at the floor. I looked at Josephine and she smiled back at me, 'After confession tomorrow, he'll no longer be sorry.'

We finished our plates, "Would you like to stroll about the grounds, Empress, before the band resumes playing?"

She replied, 'I think that would be lovely, let's roam over to the other side of the lawn and see what characters we can find there.'

I offered my arm and she took it, pulling herself closer in to me this time. I could feel the firmness of her breast pressed against my bicep as we walked the outskirts of the crowds, down to the front gate, then crossing over to the other side of the lawn. We walked in silence until we heard a 'Psst! Psst!' coming from behind a tree. Josephine shot a wicked glance at me saying, Yes? Who is it?' A small voice said, 'Please don't come any closer! My clothes have been stolen!'

Josephine released my arm and walked toward the tree, 'Child, how ever could a thing like that happen! You poor thing, were you accosted by some drunken revelers and taken advantage of?'

The young woman's voice squeaked, 'Yes ... yes ... that's exactly what happened and I don't know what to do! My boyfriend will murder me if he finds me like this ... please help me.'

Josephine 'tsk' 'tsked' as she approached the tree, We will be happy to help you however we can, Monsieur de Bergerac, your cloak please ...' and she held out her arm to receive the wrap I was already taking from my shoulders, 'thank you, monsieur. Please call this damsel a carriage so she can be spirited away before her reputation is ruined all together.'

I bowed, "Certainly, madam, it will be my pleasure." I strolled out the gate and motioned for a carriage, when the coachman arrived I palmed a $50 bill in his hand, "For your discretion, sir. Please take the lady wherever she'd like to go."

The coachman doffed his hat, 'You can count on it sir ... I've worked a lot of these parties ... I see nothing and I hear nothing ... I keep my job that way.'

"Good fellow", and we shook hands on it. I turned to see Josephine with her arm wrapped around a pretty young woman draped in my blue satin cloak approaching the coach, 'Now, my dear, this coach will take you to your car, or the gentleman can call you a taxi. You can rely on his discretion ... but you should not always be so trusting of men ... remember, my dear, sometimes the most boisterous ones are the most notorious and turn out to be the biggest cowards.' 

The little blonde thanked us, then as if by delayed reaction, she realized the meaning of Josephine's last comment, 'I won't forget... thank you again.'

We continued our journey arm in arm to the east side of the lawn. As we approached, the bare-chested man walked toward us, 'Oh,' Josephine began, 'you must be he ... your lady, the one dressed like a harem girl ... we just saw her at the gate. She asked us to find you and explain that she was suddenly taken by a terrible headache. She wanted us to let you know she went home and will see you there later.'

The huge man smiled, Thank you ... I was beginning to worry about her. I'll leave now and see if there's anything I can do for her.' He retreated to thank our host and hostess for their hospitality and then made his way to the gate and signaled for a coach. 'I think she's got enough of a head start,' mused Josephine, 'He seems like a nice fellow, I hope she's learned her lesson ... if not, she stands to lose a good man.'

I didn't reply, merely patted her hand as we walked along the fringes of the crowd. We had just gotten to the dance floor when the band returned. The guests had been drinking since early in the evening, and welcomed the announcement, 'Everybody Conga!', as they struck up a Latin beat. 

Before I had a chance to react, someone grabbed Josephine's hand and she was carried away in the Conga line. It took no time at all before the snaking line numbered over 100 people and I lost sight of her. When the dance ended I looked about never realizing before how many women attending the party had worn platinum wigs. Thanking my lucky stars for my height, I began to walk through the knots of people seeking Josephine. When the dance ended I was again in the east lawn and spent several minutes there before walking over to the west side. I passed a waiter and secured two more glasses of champagne while I continued my search. 

Suddenly, to my left I heard her voice. I turned in time to see a man obviously under the influence trying to steer her toward the shadows, 'Sir. I must protest, my escort has simply gone to find another drink and will return any moment. I'm sure you don't want an awkward situation to arise, do you?' 

While she talked to him, she slowly peeled his hand from her elbow as he continued to press his intentions, 'Oh, little lady, I just want a quick kiss, what would that hurt ... don't you trust me, darlin'?' 

As I reached her side I interrupted, "Empress, do you require assistance?" My low tone was in sharp contrast to the set of my jaw as I turned to face the rotund little man, "I'm sure you have friends elsewhere, we would like to be left alone now," as I took a step toward him.

'Oh, no problem, ol' boy, no problem ... I didn't realize the lady was taken, my apologies for ...' his words faded in the night as he made his hasty retreat.

I squared my shoulders and turned to face her, offering a glass, 'Thank you, sir ... but, I'm sure I could have taken care of him by myself ... he was not really a threat.'

"I'm sure you could have, but then what kind of lout would I be ... not coming to the aide of such a beautiful lady ... my poems would never be read again!" She laughed and stepped toward me, 'It's nice to have such a gallant attending me, thank you again.'

A fanfare announced our host again, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are approaching midnight and time to reveal our true selves ... so, if you're not ready to reveal yourself to the person you've been flirting with all night, you'd better make a hasty exit!' 

He then began the countdown, Ten ... nine ... eight ..'" I reached for Josephine's hand, led her into the shadows on the far side of one of the massive oak trees and then I whispered, "Will you reveal yourself to me?"

She didn't reply, only nodded slowly, 'And you, sir, do I know you?' I shook my head, "No lady, you don't know me at all ..." In the background I could hear General Washington, 'five ... four ...' and I bent my head to kiss her. She stepped back, 'I will reveal myself to you, but that does not entitle you to any liberties.' She stood motionless just out of arm's reach.

"Two … one .. Unmask' We could hear the squeals and laughter in the distance as we stared at each other. She moved first and untied the ribbon behind her head that held her mask in place. She held the mask in one had as her arms fell back to her side, "Now, Monsieur de Bergerac, it is your turn.'

I slowly removed my hat, tucked it under my arm and lowered my head. I grabbed the mask by its long nose and slid it bad. I stood for a moment, terrified of her reaction. If she rejected me I didn't know how I could survive being around her day after day, and it wasn't just that, if she rejected me I knew that for the first time in my life my heart would be truly shattered. 

I cautiously raised my head and at first recognition I heard her gasp, "Jackson! All night I pretended it was you … every minute I wanted it to be you. Now like some kind of magic, it is you … " 

I smothered her remaining words with my mouth. I kissed her as though it was our last kiss not our first. All my love, longing and passion were burnt together in that one kiss. When I released her mouth I continued to hold her close to me. 

Finally I loosened my hold of her and took one of her small hands and placed it on my chest, "Do you feel that, Rose" As her fingertip recognized the steady rhythm she nodded her head. "That's my heart. At least it was once my heart. I realized a long time ago that you had taken possession of it and now its pulse shouts my want for you. I love you, Rose."

She stood uncharacteristically still, her eyes never left mine. There was almost a sadness that registered in her eyes that scared me, but it flew away as suddenly as it had appeared, 'Then Jackson, God help you, I love you too.' She raised up on tip toes, held my face in her hands and kissed me softly and sweetly, 'What are we going to do? Can we made this work?'

I took her hands in mine, "I don't think we have a choice. Destiny has brought us here and I have felt you were my fate form the first moment I saw you on the wharf."

I still held one of her hands as I led her toward the back of the house. We walked along the outside edge of the gardens, toward a building that looked more like a silo than anything else. When we got to the door I took a key out of my vest pocket and unlocked the door. Rose had questions in her eyes, but she said nothing and followed me inside. 

I bolted the door behind us and gathered her in my arms once more, when she returned my kisses I scooped her up and carried her up the short flight of stairs to the small sleeping quarters. I lay her on the bed and she looked around, What is this place?'

I sat beside her and explained that it was used as a sort of bachelor's quarters when the plantation was in full bloom. Young men from neighboring plantations would visit and stay here instead of with the family at the main house ... this allowed a little more freedom and privacy.

Her hand ran up my arm, behind my head and pulled me toward her. We came together that night... in fact, I was a young man back then and we came together many times that night. We fell asleep in each other's arms as the world greeted a new dawn. 

I remember thinking before I drifted off to sleep that it was a new dawning for us as well. It was a bright, beautiful dawn bursting with promise."

Jackson had wandered toward the window and was looking out with his back toward me as he finished his story. I was grateful that I could wipe an emotional tear away before he turned around. The turbulence caused by my secret admirer was playing havoc with me and my sentimentality had gotten away from me.

What had started as a curious diversion had quickly become a very important part of my life. Even the maid noticed that I tripped down the stairs every morning to check the mail. When I didn't have a card or note, the scowl on my face was there for everyone to see. If I found a flower on my car seat when I went to run an errand, there was a spring in my step and my face lit up with a smile.

I couldn't wait for the next offering ... and my inquisitiveness was getting the better of me. I began to fantasize about this man ... what he looked like ... what he smelled like ... about his eyes and his smile ...

Every time I blinked my eyes he was there behind my eye lids just out of range. I wondered what his touch would be like. Would it be soft and gentle or turbulent and demanding? How would his lips feel? How much taller than I was he? How would I fit in his arms?

I silently chastised myself a hundred times a day, these daydreams left me feeling foolish. Perhaps that was it ... perhaps he was just standing out of sight delighting in the influence he was having over me. I reproached myself ...I seemed to be falling in love with a man I had never met ... a man who had captured my heart with his poems and words. 

What if he had a horrible humped back or leprosy or was just simply an idiot. Then how would I feel? And him ... if I rejected him ... if he truly felt about me as his notes said ... would he be hurt?

When I slept my dream lover crept into my dreams, lay in my arms. I would be awaken covered in sweat. I had never had so many erotic dreams. More nights that I'd care to admit I would crawl out of bed to take a shower and change my nightshirt just to end up sleeping on the fainting couch.

When I had not heard from him for a day or two I incredulously found myself angry with him ... angry ... angry with a man I didn't know. Then I would think that this beautiful Don Quixote had finally come to his senses and abandoned his quest. Those thoughts left me despondent.

In a span of less than a month my world ... my sensible, carefully constructed world had been turned upside down. I would rebuke myself for being such a fool. No normal, rational woman would willingly stay on such an emotional roller coaster.

Whomever or whatever he was, he was becoming very important to me.

I excused myself on the pretext that I wanted to capture this latest story on the computer. When in reality, I just didn't want Jackson to see the tears I was unable to stop. I turned abruptly and hurried up the stairs.

When I got to my door there was a beautifully wrapped package on the floor. The note only said, 'I had this made for you. I hope you like it.'

With trembling hands I picked it up and carried it into my room. I sat it down on the fainting couch, poured a glass of wine before I started tearing the paper from the box. 

I slowly lifted the lid. Inside was a book ... a kind of book ... like a scrapbook or something. The front cover was fashioned out of handmade paper ... that expensive kind of handmade paper with flower petals embedded in it. It was a soft mauve color with holes drilled down the sides so that a spine of crimson satin ribbon could hold the pages together.

I took the book out of the box and ran my hand over it, I could feel the irregularities in the paper then I lifted it to my nose to see if I could smell the flowers. I could not, but there was a lingering familiar fragrance there. I opened the cover to the first page and read:

'Although not by my side, you are always in my heart. Everything I see I want to share with you ... The music that lifts my soul beats with the resonance of your heart... Delight is absent without you and I can feel no joy ... To fill the empty space I gathered these trinkets, these symbols, these tokens of my love ...

Please accept them as they are offered ... they are but pale substitutes signifying my devotion.'

Oh, my! Whoever this man was he sure knew how to get a lady's attention, so I turned the page to find a pressed dogwood blossom on the next page with the inscription:

'Hope springs eternal... As surely as the flowers patiently wait for the promise of Spring after such a bitter winter, I wait for you to be in my life. While the blossoms may turn their heads to the sun I bow my head and pray that you will respond to my warm touch.'

And so it went, page after page ... photographs of places he said he wanted to take me. I had been to some of them, others I had always wanted to visit. On one page there was a lucky penny, bright shining copper with his wishes for my happiness. On another there was a four-leaf clover. 

Other pages that followed held more pressed flowers, more poetry ... some of it innocent in its longing, some sensuous, some erotic ... but it all touched my heart.

The last page was different from all the others, it took on a more serious note. There was a portrait of a 5th Century Saint ... a beautiful woman with enormous eyes and long braids. Underneath the portrait was her name, 'Saint Donwenna, Welsh Princess and Patron Saint of Lost Love'.

This was followed by a note saying, "Until I found this prayer of St. Donwenna I had never put much credence in this sort of thing. After reading about her life and the prayer offered up to her, I repeat it every night. I plead that She intercede for me ...

'O Blessed St. Donwenna, you who knew pain and peace, division and reconciliation, you have promised to aid lovers and watch over those whose hearts have been broken. We beseech thee, comfort lovers whose vision is unclear. Send mending to those with love lost.'

If I am so blessed, I will find you and reveal myself to you before the New Year.'

I closed the book and held it close to me. Tears began to fall again unbidden and I suddenly realized just how alone and lonely I had become. More than anything I wanted to meet this man. I needed to look into his eyes and determine for myself if his declarations of love were sincere or if I'd be once again putting my heart in jeopardy.

Reluctantly I resolved, if given the chance I would take one more risk for love.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 14



With Jackson's decision to host a Christmas party and fueled by Vonne's seemingly endless energy, the house had become a beehive of activity. Caterers arrived at appointed times carrying samples of their specialties, all in hopes of being selected for this party. It promised to be the hit of the season. Vonne and Jackson would sample, nod at each other, make notes on a pad, then thank each successive vendor with a promise to make the selection soon.

Vonne contacted florists, decorators and musicians to entertain. She interviewed them personally and discussed suitable motifs, adornment of the house and grounds and listened to what seemed like an endless stack of tapes provided by local musicians.

Finally, two weeks before Thanksgiving, the engraved invitations were posted to Savannah's society pillars. Responses were quick in arriving and the party was insured to be a success.

Jackson was an excited whirlwind and had begun to get on Vonne's nerves. No less than half a dozen times every day he would question her about details of the party ... details she had assured him the day before, and the day before ... and the day before ...were under control.

Then early one morning I heard a knock on the door to my room. When I opened it Vonne was standing there, arms crossed over her chest and tapping one foot nervously, 'Dana ... could you please do something with Jackson! He's driving me crazy and actually getting in the way of my preparations for this event. Don't you think it's about time you got the next little bit of his story down on paper? Please! I'm going to have to lock him in a closet if you don't help me!'

Vonne didn't fluster nor had I ever seen her agitated. She didn't get perturbed either so I was convinced she was sincere, "Of course ... I was getting bored anyway ... what with you two so submerged in the planning for Rose's arrival and the party, I haven't had much to do. I'll corner Jackson this afternoon and see if I can't get him talking again. Why don't you get the kitchen to make us a nice, heavy lunch and serve wine ... that should get him calmed down and talkative ... I'll take it from there."

She startled me when she rushed forward and gave me a big hug, Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'll go now and talk to the kitchen staff ... you're on your own this afternoon!', she turned and went quickly down the stairs.

I joined Jackson in the dining room at noon, good at their promise, the kitchen staff had prepared thick beef stew, heavy peasant bread and served a wonderful burgundy to compliment the flavors.

We just exchanged little pleasantries for the first half of the meal, then I broached the subject, "Jackson, you left me hanging ... you told me about the masque and how you won Rose's heart, but what happened next?"

I could see that his blue eyes were going soft with long ago memories. He poured himself another glass of wine and smiled, "I woke the next morning to find Rose lying on her stomach, propped up by her pillow clutched to her bosom ... she was gazing at me. 

The sunlight shining through her tousled hair made her look like a sensuous angel hovering over me and I reached out to run my fingers down her cheek, tracing her lovely neck across to her shoulders. I only hesitated a moment there, brushing dark strands from her creamy shoulders before I continued slowly with just my forefinger brushing the full curve of her breast. I saw a little shudder then a smile on her lips as she bent to kiss the back of my hand.

I lifted her chin and she raised her lashes to reveal the want again rising in her, I swear I felt my heart constrict and I trembled as she leaned over to brush my lips with her tongue. Our kisses became more adamant and demanding as we sought to convince ourselves by touch that this wasn't, after all, just a dream. 

Rather than the animal passion that drove us the night before, we now slowed to relish caresses, exchange gentle nibbles, kisses and smiles. Time was standing still for us and we took full advantage of it. I finally drew her into my arms and held myself above her so I could watch her face as I carefully brought her to climax. 

I gloried in the sight of her. She first bite her bottom lip in an attempt to muffle her sounds, then her little moans and mewing sounds filled the room. Finally her back arched and her eyes closed as her mouth formed silent screams. She clasped her hand over her mouth since she could not contain her screams noiselessly any longer. 

I felt myself well up inside her and together we plunged into the abyss. As my shudders subsided I lay beside her and pulled her to me reluctant to relinquish my connection with her. She nestled her head close to my shoulder and ran her finger tips lightly across my chest.

'Jackson, we need to talk ... our lives have just become more complicated than either one of us could ever have imagined. How are we going to deal with this?'

"Well, my darling, it will be easier to think on a full stomach, so 1'11 go to the kitchen in the big house and see what I can find for us. I brought each of us a change of clothes, hoping beyond hope that we would find ourselves here in the morning ... let's talk about it over breakfast."

I got up, dressed and practically leapt down the stairs. I followed the path to the plantation house and gave a cursory knock before entering the kitchen. It must have been a late night for our hosts as well because I found Alien and Jennifer still in their robes sitting at the kitchen table. Allen smiled when he saw me, 'Good morning ... Jennifer, my love, I'd like to introduce Mr. Jackson Emerly, an associate of our friend, Rose.' I smiled and extended my hand as Jennifer stood and smiled at me, 'It's a pleasure, Mr. Emerly ... any friend of Rose is a friend of mine.' 

I responded to her smile, "The pleasure is all mine." Allen interrupted, This must mean your plans went well!'

"Yes," I beamed, "and now Rose and I are hungry! What do you have in the frig?"

'Never mind that' Jennifer was patting the chair next to her, 'come sit for a minute ... Sally, would you make up a breakfast tray for two please?' Allen could not contain himself any longer, 'Does Rose know that Jennifer and I had anything to do with your conspiracy?'

"No, not yet. And, if it's okay with you, I'd like to try to keep that little secret for a while. I'm sure Rose is going to insist on discretion and I don't want her getting mad at me right off the bat. She needs time to get used to the idea of 'us'."

'Of course not ...' Allen was interrupted by Sally bringing over a breakfast tray and sitting it down beside me. I stood, "Well, if you don't mind, I think 1'11 take this now before Rose faints from starvation. Is it okay if I come back later and call a taxi to take us back in to the city?"

Jennifer stood and gave me a hug, 'Just let Sally know when you'd like her to call the cab. Allen and I will be leaving within the hour, so there's no chance of Rose seeing us.' She gave me a kiss on the cheek as I turned to leave and as I backed out the door I saw that Jennifer was all wrapped up in Allen's arms and just stretching on tiptoe to give him a kiss. They had beaten all the odds and I was happy for them ... I hoped that Rose and I, too, would be as lucky.

When I got back to our hideaway, I found Rose dressed in the pants and loose sweater I had brought for her. She had her hair brushed uncharacteristically back into a pony tail and as she walked toward me I couldn't help but notice the sway of her breasts beneath the soft cashmere. She caught my eye and laughed, "With all your planning, you didn't think to bring any underwear for me ..."

I sat the tray down on small table by a window overlooking the formal gardens. In the daylight it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago it had provided many lovers with seclusion and had been the source of at least one lesson for a wayward harem girl.

I lifted the gingham towel to reveal thick rashers of smokehouse bacon, scrambled eggs, strawberry jam, croissants and a large carafe of strong chicory coffee. We were both ravenous and attacked the food not bothering to talk. Finally when our appetites were satisfied I poured two more cups of coffee, "Now I guess it's time we had that little talk ..."

Rose sank back into her chair and held her coffee with both hands. She didn't look at me as she spoke, but seemed spellbound by steam rising from her cup. 'I wasn't lying last night when I said I loved you ... I didn't want to love you, I tried not to ... but somehow I finally realized I had no other choice. You know what I am ... you know how I make my living ... Can you live with that? Can you go on loving me even though you know that I will share beds with numerous other men? 

I never thought about it before but now I wonder if I could stand the thought of you sharing a bed with other women. I think what we have here is an impossible situation.

By the time I was born, my mother had given up our profession and settled down with my father. He knew of her past and cared nothing about it. She married him and kept her wedding vows as long as she lived ... that was sufficient for him. 

By the time I grew old enough to be taught the ancient ways, my mother had passed away. Her sister, my Aunt Zorah, guided me in the erotic paths. She called upon one of her clients, a man she had helped some years before, to help me in crossing from a mere girl to a knowledgeable woman. He was kind and strong and patient ... and my first lover. 

I thought for a while that I loved him, but it was just an infatuation. Although I've had many lovers over the years ... and many lovers have become friends ... you're the first man I've ever loved ...' she continued to monitor the effects her words had on me. 

She was a master of human emotion ... able to read volumes into a raised eyebrow or in the cadence of breathing. She could read more in the size of the pupils of an eye than most psychologists ever recognized. I was never able to keep a secret from her for very long ... she saw into my soul.

She continued, 'Can we separate our private selves from our professional selves? Most people have a difficult time with that. You know how I felt ... sex and love have nothing to do with each other ... but that was yesterday ... last night I discovered that having sex with someone you love ... making love ... was different. What I found last night approaches something sacred ... I wasn't prepared for that. Do you feel these same things?'

I had been intently watching her as she spoke ... I watched as shadows and clouds crossed her face and drifted across the windows to her soul. She was being honest to the point of vulnerability. I got up from my seat and knelt in front of her with my hands on her waist, "I fell in love with you knowing everything you just talked about. 

I don't expect it will be easy for either of us but I don't think it's impossible ... on the contrary I think it would be impossible for us not to be together. We will somehow manage, my love. We didn't come this far only to be separated." 

She leaned over to kiss me and was once again smiling as she sat back, 'Maybe you're right ... well take it a little at a time and hammer out the problems as they come up ... but now, darling we need to get back to the city. Real life awaits outside these gates and I don't think we can avoid it much longer.'

I never wanted to leave the secure confines of the bachelor house but I asked Sally to call a taxi for us and we were back in New Orleans within a couple of hours.

Rose and I agreed that our personal relationship should remain just that ... personal, we didn't even confide in Queen. At the Tea Room and in the office at the house, we were strictly professional associates. It was more difficult than either of us imagined it would be. In the wild fire passion of newly found love neither one of us was capable of passing the other without a touch. 

When we could not touch, our eyes carried messages of love, lust and excitement to the other. To tell you the truth, I don't think we were fooling any one but ourselves."

Shortly after attending the masque Rose approached me smiling, "I've just gotten a call from Allen ... he's asked Jennifer to marry him and she's agreed. I'm so very happy for both of them and he assures me well be invited to the wedding. They haven't set a date yet but they are thinking about Thanksgiving weekend ... I think the symbolism speaks for itself.'

We spent many nights after Agnes left exploring and understanding the uniqueness of the love we shared. Except on rare occasions when we went out of town or sometimes on a long weekend we never really slept together, but she would venture to my room or I would find myself tapping on her door.

I'll never forget the first time I saw her bedroom. One night after a long and tedious day we lingered over dinner and asked for another bottle of wine. The French doors were opened to the back gardens and the breeze carried in mixed scents of roses and gardenias. 

The candles on the table danced in the breeze as we sat quietly letting Agnes clear our places and finally produced the second bottle of wine along with fresh grapes and cheese. Rose smiled up at her, 'I think that's all for tonight Agnes. Mr. Emerly and I will carry the wine glasses and dessert dishes into the kitchen when we've finished.'

We waited nibbling on the cheese and grapes until we heard the back door close and the muffled sound of the taxi departing. I reached across the table and took the hand she offered. As I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb she asked, Why don't we take these last two glasses of wine to my room?' 

Until that day I really didn't know where her room was, so I just nodded and stood never letting go of her hand. We each carried our wine glasses as she led me back through the main hall of the house. She turned and entered the parlor and crossed to what looked like a coat closet door. She opened it and led me inside. She turned on the lights and waited to see what my expression revealed.

Before me, unlike the studio bedroom, was a simple room painted white. Her curtains, upholstery and bed linens were all gingham and lace. A plain white cotton gown was draped over the chair by her dressing table.

"This is where I go to escape ...this is my refuge ... a place where business matters and cares of the world cannot follow me. Here I surrender to memories of simpler times and places." She led me across the room and in to her private bath ... also done is crisp white with a wainscoting of beadboard painted a wedgewood blue. 

Against one wall stood a claw-footed tub and as I approached it I noticed it was a custom made reproduction. 'You noticed,' she walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, 'this whirlpool was a luxury I couldn't pass up ... I love sinking into the water and having those jets melt away all the cares of the day. Thank goodness I had the foresight to have it built large enough for two ...' as her hands were wandering up unbuttoning my shirt.

She walked around to face me then turned to start the water. It was my turn to encircle her waist and snuggle in close to that lavish bottom. She wiggled a little as she stood and let her head fall back to my chest ... well, you can imagine the rest ...", his blue eyes twinkling at the memory.

He was still smiling to himself, lost in his memories, so I remained silent for a few minutes. When he looked up I asked, "When is Rose arriving?"

"I talked with her last night ... she has all but completed the details of the sale of her businesses ... only a few more signatures, getting the checks deposited in the bank, and perhaps can be here in two or three more days." 

By the time he had completed the statement a wide smile had spread across his handsome face. He wore his love for this woman in full view of the entire world ... shamelessly, completely, and openly. Even a cynic such as myself could not help but be moved by the depth of his devotion and I envied both he and Rose ... they were among the rare few in the world who find such astonishing happiness.

"If you'll excuse me now Jackson, I think 1'11 go up to my room and get this all down on the computer. But, before I go, could I ask a personal favor?"

I had never asked him for a favor and his face showed a hint of being puzzled, "Of course Dana, what is it?"

"Well, I just wondered if you'd go into Savannah with me in the morning. I wanted to get some Christmas shopping done and I could use your help in selections for Vonne and Rose ..."

"Certainly! I need to get some of my own done as well ... why don't we just plan on making a full day of it?" Vonne had entered the dining room and was standing behind Jackson so that he didn't see her silent message of 'Thank you' before he turned around.

'Jackson, your attorney just called. They need to see you day after tomorrow in Atlanta to finish up those papers on that last real estate project ... can I call them back and let them know youll be there?'

He pulled the corner his mouth slightly in to his teeth and thought for a few seconds, "Yes. I suppose so ... Rose should be here Friday so that will work out fine. Ill be back in plenty of time to welcome her when she arrives. Yes, call them and let them know 1'11 be there by noon on Thursday."

Vonne had effectively gotten him out of the way for two and a half days. She could finish up her preparations for the Christmas party just two weeks away.



Secrets of the Tea Room Ch. 15



Jackson and I spent the day in Savannah shopping, then Vonne and I sent him on his way Thursday to meet with his attorneys in Atlanta. When she saw him finally drive out of sight, Vonne's sigh was audible.

"Thank goodness! Well, Dana, if you'll excuse me, I've still got a lot to do to get ready for Friday …" She turned and made her way back into the house and down the hall toward the study. 

I slowly climbed the stairs to my room, for the first time since coming to Tanglewood I felt a little out of place. Jackson was preoccupied with Rose's arrival. Vonne's time was completely taken up with preparations for Thanksgiving and then the ensuing Christmas Party. 

I spent a lot of time in my room, trying to keep busy re-writing some of Jackson's memoirs, but when my mind traveled I found myself again listening to O'Carolyn's music and picking up the mysterious book. The darned thing was always in my way … no matter where I tried to sit or relax, the book was in view, within reach, beckoning to me. I had almost memorized some of the poems written for me … but most poignant was the prayer of St. Donwenna. Without realizing, it had become a daily prayer in my life … "We beseech thee, comfort lovers whose vision is unclear."

Friday the house was alive with activity. The household staff scurried around cleaning, cooking, sweeping verandas. 

Jackson had arrived back at Tanglewood by noon and had been in perpetual motion trying to relieve some of his anxiousness by getting in the middle of everything that everyone else was doing. He was in the kitchen sampling sauces and soups, he inspected the fresh flowers in the foyer , he made sure there wasn't one stray leaf on the veranda. 

Finally late afternoon, we heard a car approaching the house. Jackson was the first out the front door, followed by Vonne, then myself. 

The car slowed to a stop by the front steps leading to the veranda. The driver got out and opened the back door just as Jackson descended the steps. 

The first thing I saw was a bent head full of upswept black curls, then a graceful leg ending in a dainty foot. The driver offered his hand and perfectly manicured fingers accepted his assistance. Jackson, by this time, was at the bottom of the stairs and waited impatiently as the lady straightened herself. I only had a brief moment to glimpse her face before Jackson embraced her and lower his head to meet her upturned face in a kiss.

The kiss was interrupted when Vonne flew down the stairs, "Mama!" and into the waiting arms of Jackson's love. I stood on the veranda, again with my mouth opened in shock and I noticed Jackson turn his head toward me and chuckle.

When the two ladies had embraced and kissed, they walked arm-in-arm to where I was standing, "Dana," Jackson began, "I'd like to introduce you to Vonne's mother and the queen of my heart …"

I looked into the serene face of a timeless beauty. I knew Rose was a few years older than Jackson, so I realized she was in her late 50's; however, the woman who stood before me was vibrant and graceful. Her face showed very few of her years … her smile was genuine and disarming and her eyes sparkled.

Rose stepped forward offering both her hands, "Dana, Vonne and Jackson have told me so much about you I feel as though I already know you. And after your work on Jackson's project I dare say you probably feel the same way … so, let's forego all the formalities …call me Rose. Now, everyone, let's go inside out of this chill."

And so she lead her entourage through the foyer and into the parlor.

I chose an inconspicuous chair to watch the three of them. Suddenly with the addition of Rose to the equation, I could see the resemblance between the three of them. Vonne had Jackson's height and agile build … she carried herself as he did and also had inherited his sense of calm and control. It was obvious that Vonne had inherited her eyes and hair from Rose, and their eyes sharing the same twinkle that concealed an innate wisdom deep within their beings.

Finally, Jackson noticed where I was sitting quietly, "Dana, I know this poses more questions than answers and I promise Rose and I will answer all your questions and explain everything, but for now, if you and Vonne will have to excuse us. Rose and I have been apart too long. 

I've instructed the kitchen to serve our dinner in our room tonight so you two ladies", nodding and Vonne and myself, "will be on your own. In fact, I don't think you should count on seeing us until Sunday brunch … say about 10:00?" 

He had stepped closer to Rose and was steering her toward the door before he had finished speaking … she only acknowledged his explanation to us with a dazzling smile.

Vonne smirked and turned toward me, "Well, Dana, it looks like you have another day and a half to yourself. You'd better take advantage of it … now that Mother is here, I imagine you're going to be working harder than ever once she and Dad come out of their hibernation."

And, she was right. Rose wasted no time in approaching me at brunch on Sunday, "Dana … I was wondering if you had a copy of your work with Jackson? I'd very much like to read it and Jackson thinks it's a wonderful idea Who knows, I might even be able to give you a little more insight."

"I think that would be great … I'll run a copy for you this afternoon and perhaps we could get together the first of the week, before Thanksgiving, I'd love to include your input."

The rest of the meal was filled with gentle banter, catching up, and talk of the upcoming party. As soon as I finished I excused myself and went to my room to produce the copy for Rose. Once it was complete I took it downstairs and left it in the study for her review.

Walking slowly back up the stairs I heard O'Carolyn's music drifting out of my room and when I entered, the book was on the fainting couch turned to St. Donwenna's prayer … "We beseech thee, comfort lovers whose vision is unclear."

I quickly turned off the stereo, slammed the book shut, grabbed my jacket and ran back downstairs and out the front door … I needed a long walk and a lot of fresh air to clear my head. The long walk in the autumn air did little but make me hungry. 

After I returned to the house I went to the kitchen and made myself two little sandwiches out of left over biscuits and sausage patties. I grabbed a napkin and a chilled bottle of wine out of the frig and took them upstairs with me. While I quickly ate the two sausage biscuits I ran myself a tub of hot water and uncorked the wine. 

Tonight, I resolved, I would not be haunted by dreams of my mystery lover … tonight I wanted to sleep dreamless … between the whirlpool bath and the wine I felt sure I could finally sleep through the night.

I smiled and stretched in my red when I realized that the morning sun had awaken me after hours of coma-like sleep.

Rose approached me, "Come sit with me for a while." I followed her into the dining room where she had already arranged to have coffee and pastries on the table, "Sit down, Dana. Jackson told me that he had relayed the story of Jennifer and Allen to you … but there's part of the story he's not aware of … it provides closure …

The wedding was a simple one … Jennifer and Allen had chosen to be married in the home they would share with just a few close friends and family attending.

As Jackson and I approached the front door I turned to him, "Go on ahead … I want to see Jennifer before the wedding … I'll find you in a few minutes."

I climbed the stairs and rapped on the door where Jennifer was in her final stages of preparation, one of her attendants opened the door to reveal Jennifer standing in front of a full length mirror as her veil was being arranged. Jennifer was radiant, happiness seemed to swell from each pore.

She had chosen a traditional wedding gown, heart-shaped neckline narrowing down to a tiny waist and then full bell skirt adorned with seed pearls and lace … but that's where tradition ended. Jennifer had instructed the bridal shop to have the dress custom made from a soft gold satin … her veil and tiara matched. 

Before me stood a young woman glowing like a celestial spirit … "My darling, look at you! Every bride should be beautiful on her wedding day … but you … you've gone beyond that … you are exquisite! I'm so happy for both you and Allen, but before the ceremony begins, I came to see if we could spend a few minutes alone together before you take your vows … I have something for you which can only be shared between the two of us …" 

"Of course, Rose," Jennifer replied as she nodded toward her attendants, "I'll be ready in just a few minutes and join you outside …"

I waited until they had left before stepping up to Jennifer and handing her a plain manila envelope, "You should see this before you walk down the aisle …"

Jennifer looked at me with in a question in her eyes as she unclasped the envelope, a newspaper clipping fell to the floor and Jennifer stooped to pick it up, the headline "Curator Disgraces Museum" caught her eye. She looked over at me before reading, "Mr. Avery Leigh, Curator of the Museum of Renaissance Art, has been dismissed as a result of fraud. 

After a lengthy investigation, authorities determined several paintings recommended by Mr. Leigh were forgeries and not rare works of masters. It was determined that an accomplice, Mr. Harold Smythe a local artist had, in fact, forged the copies which were sold to the Museum as originals. Two others, Mrs. Carolyn Avery and Franklin Sarte were also arrested for their part in the deception …."

"I thought you'd want to know, Jen, that while your life is just beginning, theirs are ruined forever … and there is one thing further you should know …", 

During his whole time Jennifer had said nothing and her face remained expressionless. Now she hesitated for a moment and stared at me, "I was taught that vengeance is the Lord's and I'm sure that's true and it sounds like vengeance has been exacted from that evil bunch … but justice, Rose … where's the justice?"

I opened my purse and pulled out an obituary notice and handed it to Jennifer.

"Mr. Avery Leigh, former Curator for the London Renaissance Museum, was found dead earlier this week just hours before his sentencing hearing stemming from art fraud. Scotland Yard has issued a statement indicating foul play and that their investigation is on-going …"

"Jennifer, I pulled some strings to get a copy of the police and coroner's report … they are both very unpleasant … do you want to know anything further?"

I crossed the room and took Jennifer's gloved hands into my own, "There was justice, Jennifer … Avery Leigh was found in a deserted warehouse, strapped down to a table … he had been tortured and bled to death as a result of castration … evidently another of his victims finally caught up with him. 

I understand that Scotland Yard is not investing a lot of time in their investigation to find the killer. I'd say this chapter in history is now closed."

A tear was apparent in Jennifer's eye, but it wasn't one of sadness, it was a tear of release … Jennifer leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, "The past is dead now … truly dead."

I joined Jackson in the large foyer of the home. Allen and Jennifer had the large area decorated with brilliant autumn colors and arranged with seating for the few guests. The archway to the living room had been draped to match and decorated with fresh flowers, Judge James Johnson stood there to reside over the ceremony and Allen took his place as the soft music began playing. 

Two attendants descended the stairway, the first in a dress of autumn green, the second in a dress of rust the color of oak leaves … they slowly took their places on the other side of the Judge. 

All heads turned toward the top of the staircase as Jennifer appeared … no one walked her to the alter … no one "gave her away" … she went to Allen whole-heartedly of her own free will. We were all surprised when Handal's Wedding March did not begin, instead we first heard the strings of violins and then Etta James' sultry voice as she began to sing "At Last". 

Jennifer slowly descended the stairs toward Allen. He being more impatient than a groom many years his junior, could not stand still … he finally could not contain himself any longer and strode quickly to the bottom of the stairway … he held out his hand to his golden treasure … as she reached to grasp his hand rousing applause from the guests drowned out the music as they approached the Judge together …

Jackson and I stood side by side, an electric current constantly running between us. For the first time in public, I leaned toward him and wrapped my arm through his. Everyone there had only eyes for the wedding couple and didn't see the electricity flashing between my eyes and his. And thankfully, Jackson didn't notice as I bowed my head in a silent prayer asking God's forgiveness for my orchestration of Avery Leigh's execution."

My mouth dropped and I stared into Rose's eyes, "You mean …?"

"Yes, Dana. After hearing Jennifer's story I did a little discrete investigation of my own using some contacts I had in London. There were several other unsolved rapes which had destroyed young women and my friend at Scotland Yard estimated that there were numerous others which had never been reported. 

It was supposed that he would have gotten a relatively light sentence for the art forgery, but I could not in good conscience, allow this monster to be let loose again on young women. I saw to it that he was stopped … stopped permanently … and I'm sure he's dancing with the devil in hell. I don't regret my actions … not for one minute … but I wanted you to know. I do ask, however, that Jackson never be told. If I were to be ever found out, I would not want him implicated in that sordid business."

Her calm, emerald eyes leveled on me and I saw nothing there which would incline me to disregard her wish. "Of course, Rose. This part of the story will stay between the two of us … and I don't think asking for forgiveness was necessary … sometimes we become the tools of God's work here on earth."

She smiled as I finished my coffee and said, "I think Jackson is waiting for me now to continue his memoirs … if you don't mind, Rose, I think I'd better go find him."

She just nodded and I saw her gather strength to contain the tears that threatened to fall from her eye.



Secrets of The Tea Room Ch. 16



I found Jackson in his study waiting for me, "Well, Dana, we're just about finished here. There's only two more stories I want to tell you. Then if you could put together a hard copy for me by the first of the year I'd be most grateful. Of course, we've all grown quite fond of you here at Tanglewood and I want you to feel free to stay here as long as it takes for you to find a new place for yourself."

I didn't realize how close we were to finishing the project and the thought of separating myself from these people saddened me. I had become quite fond of them, as well. "Thank you Jackson, that's very kind. And, I'd like you to know that I have very much enjoyed being here with you and Vonne and look forward to getting to know Rose better."

He smiled and nodded, and indicated by a gesture of his hand that I should take a seat... he was ready to start talking. "You know, Dana, these last couple of months have been really difficult for Rose and myself ... I think it's the longest we've been separated in over twenty years. There was one other time ... that's one of the last stories I want to tell you about ...

Rose walked into the office at the Tea Room and sat down, 'Jackson, I guess we're about to get our first lesson in mixing personal and professional lives, I've been contacted about a new commission.'

I leaned back in my chair and tried my best to keep all expression from my face as she continued, 'Brad Mullen, a gentleman I worked with a few years ago just contacted me.

He is a respected physician locally and would like me to work with his brother, a Mr. Kellen Knight. Mr. Knight became a widower several years ago and has been spiraling further into depression as time goes along. Mr. Knight married his college sweetheart and they spent 32 happy years together until his wife was killed in an automobile accident. 

Since that time he has grown more and more reclusive, lost interest in his business and has made no efforts to seek out any sort of relationship.

I don't believe there will be physical aspects of this commission ... Brad wants me to help Kellen Knight rebuild his ego and help him lay his insecurities to rest. Although he and his wife had a mutually satisfying intimate relationship, they were the first for each other ... Kellen Knight has no idea what another woman might expect, much less how to even begin to pursue another woman.

There is a dinner and silent auction to benefit a charity that Mr. Knight's company sponsors, it's been arranged for me to attend and meet Mr. Knight. If things go well, the commission should only take a few weeks and then we can both devote our time to getting the Day Spa up and running. 

I'm beginning to think that perhaps we should divest ourselves of this facet of our business and expand into more conventional ventures ...'

As was normal for Rose she didn't wait for my input. More often than not these conversations were totally one-sided owing to the fact that she used me as a sounding board to think out loud. Some people not understanding her the way I did might think her incredibly rude, when in fact, it was the highest compliment she could pay me. She had grown to trust me, trust me with her thoughts, feelings, and plans ... trust me to look after her best interests ... trust me to believe in her ... trust me to hold her heart.

So Rose made plans to attend the dinner and silent auction where she would be introduced to Mr. Kellen Knight. Rose arrived at the auction dressed in understated elegance. She had chosen a midnight blue satin gown. It was simply cut and only hinted of the shape of the woman who wore it. Even in a plain gown, unadorned with jewelry, she turned heads as she walked in.

Brad Mullen had been keeping an eye out for her, so when she arrived he was quickly at her side. 'Rose, you look wonderful! I don't see how Kellen, or any other man in the room, could resist you. Let me get you a drink and we will mingle until I can introduce you to Kellen. What would you like?'

Rose smiled, 'Just a white wine, thank you.' and waited patiently near the entrance while Brad went to the bar for the drinks. When he returned he took her arm and started circulating among the guests until they finally approached Kellen. 

His back was to them as he spoke with several men gathered in front of large placard, This is one of the most interesting items up for auction, don't you think gentlemen? Imagine a day cruise on my yacht, waited on hand and foot, petted and pampered, and having the whole thing topped off by a seven course gourmet meal! It's the perfect opportunity for one of you younger fellows to impress the hell out of your favorite lady ... be sure to bid generously ... after all, it's for charity and the whole thing will be a tax write-off for you! That should double your pleasure as well as double your fun!"

Well, Kellen' Brad interrupted, 'I see you are already priming the pump to get this auction underway with a little friendly competition between bidders ...' as Kellen turned when he heard Brad's voice his eyes froze on the woman beside Brad ... a woman more beautiful than he'd seen in a long time. 'Brad! It's good to see you ... and, does my sister know about your lovely companion?'

'Kellen, I'd like to introduce you to Rose Fleming ... Rose, this is my brother, Kellen Knight ....' Rose extended her hand, It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knight. Your sponsorship of this event does wonderful things for so many people, you must be very proud.' 

As she spoke, Rose took in the man who stood before her. He was a man old enough to be her father and totally unremarkable being of medium build and medium height ... but suddenly his insecurity and shyness were clearly evident.

Kellen took her extended hand, as he responded Rose realized her perceptions had been correct. The instant their hands touched his body language changed, his shoulders rounded almost imperceptibly and he only met her eyes in a fleeting glance. 'Ms. Fleming, the pleasure is mine. I do hope you enjoy yourself this evening, but you must excuse me, I just spotted someone I need to speak with ..." and he abruptly released her hand and quickly made his way to the other side of the room.

Brad turned to her, 'You can see now what I mean. He has no idea how to start a conversation with a woman much less carry it on. He's so uncomfortable he always bolts at the earliest opportunity. Do you think you can help him?' Rose smiled, 'Well, I'll surely try, but there are no guarantees you know. Mr. Knight may not even want to involve himself with anyone. Some times when a life-long companion is taken it creates a void which can never be filled again. 

If he feels this way then no one could get through to him. But, well see ... I have a feeling I'd better take this awfully slow or else I'll scare him off altogether.' She took a deep breath, exhaled then said to Brad, 'You can go find your wife now. I think I'll have more luck if I appear to be by myself. I'll give you a call tomorrow and fill you in.' Brad nodded his consent and Rose turned to inspect the number of items included in the auction.

Although several men approached her as she made her way from one display to the other, she managed to maintain her solitary status. When the cocktail hour ended and dinner began to be served, Rose timed it so that she was one of the last guests standing, apparently unable to find an available seat at any of the tables. 

She saw Kellen Knight speaking to the maitre' d near the podium and approached him, 'Excuse the interruption, Mr. Knight, but I wondered if you might be able to assist me in finding a vacant chair?'

Kellen was shocked at first to see her standing there in front of him again, but quickly was able to compose himself, 'Of course ... Mrs. Fleming ...' Rose took the arm he offered, "Please, Mr. Knight, it is Miss Fleming, but I would be grateful if you would call me Rose ... all my friends do.' And that made him smile. 

He motioned to the maitre' d, "Robert, could you assist those two fellow over there at the far table to find other seats so that Miss Fleming and I may sit together through dinner?" The maitre' d nodded and expertly helped the two men find other seats so that Rose and Kellen could be seated within a couple of minutes.

As the soup was being served Rose engaged Kellen in conversation by asking direct questions and never letting the exchange lapse. She was able to ascertain within a short while some of his interests and used them to make him feel comfortable. By the time the dessert was served, he was actually smiling and had even chuckled once or twice. 

Before he left the table to attend to the auction, Rose handed him one of her cards, 'I hope you'll call me, Mr. Knight ... I very much enjoyed your company this evening.'

He was obviously surprised, but gladly took the card, 'Please call me Kellen ... all my friends do.' He smiled at her then made his way to the podium.

Rose waited until the auction was in full swing before she made her way out. She didn't want to still be there at the end of the evening thinking that it would be much to much ... much to quickly for him... she wanted him to have a little time to get used to the idea that another woman might be interested in him.

She didn't have to wait long. The next afternoon she received a call from. They chatted for a while, then I heard her say, 'yes, I'd love to. And she hung up the phone.

Rose turned to me, 'Jackson, Kellen has just invited me to have dinner with him and then attend the symphony on Friday evening. Maybe things will work out for him after all.' 

She smiled at me before leaving the office and I had a horrible chill run through me. I shook it off as jealousy and tried to put it out of my mind.

Kellen's limousine pulled up in front of the house at promptly 7:00 Friday night. He was handsome in his tuxedo and gazed approvingly as Rose met him at the door in a silk dress the color of mulberries. She had chosen the dress to compliment her creamy skin and dark hair and it did so perfectly. 

I watched from the parlor window as Kellen took her arm to help her down the stairs and noticed as he gazed down at her decollete. I was suddenly in a rage and wanted to run after her but contained myself. 

As she had pointed out, this was the first commission she had taken since we had discovered our love for each other and I chalked it up to testosterone poisoning. I loved her and suddenly knew that I could not share her with any other man. The only thing that kept me from running on to the porch after her was her assurance that this commission would have no intimate encounters. So, I poured myself another Scotch and watched them drive off.

It was almost midnight when the limousine once again pulled up in front of the house, and I stood in the shadow of the office door to watch them approach. Kellen once again had her arm ... and that was totally proper, but still resulted in a scowl on my face. 

I couldn't hear what they were saying as the came up they walkway. I heard their steps on the front porch then the jingle of Rose's keys in the door. She unlocked the door and began to open it when Kellen then took her by the shoulders and pulled her toward him. 

Rose did not object and he bent to kiss her goodnight. It was a gentle kiss but it lingered too long for me; however, there was no passion in it, so I remained quiet. When he released her Kellen said, 'Thank you for a wonderful evening ... probably the most wonderful evening I've had in years ... can I call you again?'

Rose crossed the threshold, 'Yes, Kellen. I'd like that. Good night.' and she gently closed the door. She didn't see me standing in the shadows and she waited by the door until she hear Kellen's footsteps retreating before she turned around. 

She saw me then and gasped, 'God, Jackson! You scared me! How long have you been standing there?' I turned to enter the office and threw on the light, "Long enough to see him kiss you ... long enough to see that he wants more than just a kiss."

She followed me in the room and stood quietly for a while, 'Jackson, we knew this would be hard ... I understand your feelings, I've had to consider how I would feel in your place ... that's why I've decided that this is my last commission. It should only take another week or two, then well be free of these demands and ... if you want to ... free to start building a life together.'

What she had said to me slowly began to sink in and I turned to face her, "Rose, are you sure?"

'Yes, Jackson, I'm sure.'

"Then, Rose, when this is over ... will you marry me?"

It was her time to let things sink in, 'Jackson, are you sure you want me? Are you sure that the ghosts from the past won't haunt our future?'

"Yes, Rose, I'm sure."

She entered my embrace and found her home, 'Then, Jackson Austin Emerly, there's nothing I want more than to marry you.'

We spent the night wrapped in each other's arms, falling to sleep smiling after affirming our commitment to each other.

The next day a bouquet arrived at the Tea Room for Rose. Included was a card which read, 'When can I see you again?' and signed with a large scripted 'K'.

Rose noticed the look on my face when she finished reading the card, 'I'm sorry Jackson ... I know this is all incredibly difficult but I promise it won't take long ... and then we won't have to worry about anyone but ourselves.' She crossed the room to where I was standing behind my desk and placed her smooth tiny hands on my chest. She raised up on tiptoe and began to gently kiss me. 

I was rankled and in no mood for gentleness. I pulled her to me and kissed her hard and long. I fairly lifted her off the floor and walked toward the door. I kicked the door shut and releasing her I used one hand to be sure the door was locked. Like some sort of animal in a feeding frenzy, I could not stop kissing or caressing her. 

In only a few moments she was responding in kind and pressed herself tightly to me. I picked her up again and turned, setting her down on the edge of my desk. My mouth was exploring her mouth, kissing her neck, I raised her hands and kissed her palms while I looked deeply into her eyes. Once again our lips met in crushing demand. Our passions had been ignited and could not be delayed nor denied.

As her arms went around my neck I slid her skirt up to her waist ... she didn't protest as I began to remove her panties. Next my finger fumbled with the button on my trousers and zipper, finally they fell to my ankles along with my underwear. There was no foreplay, no whisperings of love, only the need to possess her completely. She scooted toward the front of the desk and I entered her suddenly causing her to gasp. The position was an awkward one and did not allow Rose any participation in this. As I continued her head fell back and I watched as her face began to glow, her eyes suddenly flew open wide, her breath came ragged and erratic. 

I knew she was approaching her first orgasm and I wanted full control of her I growled, "Look at me! Look down ... watch me take you! You are mine! This is mine! Look, damn it! Watch me take you!" 

Rose began to tremble, as she looked up she said, 'I am yours ... I have been yours forever ... even before I knew you, I knew somehow I was yours. We will always be together. Then she shuttered at her own release as I found my home within her. Once the tremors stopped and our breathing returned to normal I kissed her gently, confident once again that we had our whole lives together to look forward to.

We got ourselves back to normal and tried to look nonchalant when we strolled out of the office, but there was the slightest shadow of a smile on Queen's face and a twinkle in her eye as she gave me a wink and returned to kneading her pastry dough.

Rose did call Kellen ... I wished to God she never had ... but she did. They made arrangements to have lunch together later on in the week. Bouquets arrived every day after that, until the day of their luncheon. It bothered me, but Rose explained it away as it being Kellen's attempt to impress her.

Rose kept Brad Mullen advised by phone of her progress. She reported that Kellen had begun to open up, talk about things past and things he wanted for the future ... he had not even considered having a future for several years. His insecurities were lessening and his depression lifting. 

Rose felt that within just a few days he would be ready to strike out on his own and she suggested that Brad and his wife arrange to have a dinner party where Kellen might have the opportunity to meet someone. Brad was anxious to do whatever he could to insure Kellen's future happiness and started planning the dinner party right away.

Rose intended to lessen her involvement with Kellen gradually in the hopes that he would soon become interested in someone else.

After they had lunch, Kellen began calling Rose at the Tea Room several times a day. Rose began to get irritated, but was gracious and gentle with him. She knew the dinner party was scheduled for the next week and she didn't want to bruise his ego at this juncture. She knew she ran the risk of ruining all possibilities of him having enough confidence to approach another woman. 

Kellen asked her to join him for dinner and she declined citing prior, but vague, obligations. Kellen wouldn't give up. He kept calling and kept sending flowers. Soon other gifts were included ... silk scarves, perfume, and finally jewelry. When Kellen's limousine driver arrived with an elegant box I heard Rose mutter, 'Oh, dear God ...' when she saw the contents. 

I walked over and looked in the box. It was a beautifully crafted gold heart surrounded by diamonds, but with a definite crack down the middle. His note read, 'Please see me' and once again was signed with a scripted 'K'. 

Rose kept staring at the box, 'I never gave him any indication that I was interested in him romantically ... my God, we have only shared one or two good night kisses ... what I thought were casual kisses at that. I guess I'd better meet with him and see if I can't straighten this out. I'll call Brad and see what he has to say about this.'

After she called Brad she put in a call to Kellen, 'Hello, Kellen. Yes, this is Rose ... Kellen, I'd like to see you tomorrow for lunch ...how about here at the Tea Room? Well, if you prefer, I suppose I could meet you somewhere else ...where did you have in mind? Okay, I'll see you there tomorrow at noon. Yes ... goodbye.'

She turned to me, 'Kellen wants me to meet him tomorrow at the Napoleon House for lunch. I feel just awful ... neither Brad nor I ever anticipated that he would develop these kinds of feelings in such a short time. I hope I can make him understand ..."

The weather had turned hot and humid so she dressed in a simple green cotton dress. It was light and comfortable and she finished off the outfit with a wide brimmed straw hat under which she tucked her hair off her neck. She came in to the office to give me a kiss and tell me she'd be back between 2:00 and 3:00. 

When she walked out of the Tea Room and entered the cab I had no inclination of the hell I'd go through for the next fourteen days.

Rose didn't come home at 2:00 or at 3:00 or even by 6:00 that evening. I began worrying about her hours before but waited until sunset to call Brad Mullen, "Brad, this is Jackson Emerly, Rose's partner. Have you heard from Kellen? He and Rose met for lunch today and she's not back. I'm beginning to get a little worried about her."

The other end of the telephone line was quiet for a few seconds then Brad began, 'No, Jackson. I haven't heard from Kellen, but let me make a phone call or two and I'll get right back to you.

I'm sure it's just that time's gotten away from them or they ran into some of Kellen's old friends. I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about, but I'll call you back in a few minutes.'




Secrets of The Tea Room Ch. 16



I crossed to the window overlooking the garden. The sudden heat wave had wilted the roses growing there and it filled me with dread. I poured a glass of wine and paced for almost twenty minutes before the phone rang. 

'Jackson, this is Brad,' he started, 'I don't know what to say. No one has seen Kellen. I called his secretary and she said that he was due back in the office for a meeting at 3:00 but called to tell her to cancel the meeting that he would be out of town for a few days.

I was stunned, "Out of town for a few days? I don't understand ...what's that got to do with Rose not coming home?"

I could hear the tension in Brad's voice, 'Jackson, I think Kellen might have taken Rose somewhere. I didn't know before, Kellen's secretary said he mentioned getting married ...'

The world exploded. "My God, Brad ... Kellen's kidnapped Rose! Damn him! I'm calling the police and I suggest you get over here as quickly as possible to be of whatever help you can be for Kellen ..."

'Wait! Wait, Jackson!' there was a panic in Brad's voice, 'If Kellen has coerced Rose somehow, it would not be to either's advantage to become public information. Kellen is the chairman of one of the largest corporations in Louisiana, and Rose, well you know what the press would do if they found out about her commissions. 

I'll be over in a few minutes. Maybe we can figure out how to solve this ourselves without involving the authorities. Please don't call the police until I get there.'

I could only whisper, "Okay" before I hung up the phone. I immediately called Queen and explained what little I knew. Queen beat Brad to the house by only a few minutes.

She went right to the kitchen when she arrived and started to brew tea ... "Damn Queen, how in the hell can you think of tea when Kellen Knight has Rose and God know what ideas he may have swirling around in his head."

Queen was unflappable, she steadied her gaze on me, 'Jackson, there's no amount of swearing now that can help Rose. It's up to us to do what we can ... to do what we do best ... what I do best is make tea. Sometimes the tea can tell me things ... sometimes the magic works for me. 

That's what I'm going to do. You go talk to Mr. Mullen and see what you two men can do.'

I joined Brad in the study ... I wanted to hit him ... I somehow held him responsible for getting Rose into this mess ... he saw something in my eyes, 'Jackson, I never thought anything like this would happen. I never would have put Rose in any jeopardy, you must believe that. But now, we will do whatever it takes to find her and Kellen and bring her home safely.'

I sunk into a chair by the door while Brad made a few phone calls. He arranged for a private investigator to begin on the case immediately, then he started calling Kellen's friends and associates, gleaning what little information they might have to offer without getting specific about the current situation.

Queen carried in a tray with a steeping teapot, three cups and the condiments. She sat the tray on Rose's desk and poured the tea. She offered a cup first to Brad, then to me and lastly took one for herself. The concoction was bitter and strong causing both Brad and me to protest. 'Drink gentlemen. The tea will help us. '

When we had finished our cups, she took them and poured the dregs into an lead crystal bowl she had retrieved from the window table. She added the remainder of the contents of the tea pot and walked behind the desk to sit. She slid the bowl toward her and pulled candles from her apron pocket. 

There were six candles, all different sizes, all different colors. She lit them one by one and dripped some of the wax on to the top of the desk then using the wax puddle to stand the burning candle. She lowly whispered while she lit all six candles and positioned them around the bowl with the tea leaves, herbs, and flower petals floating in a mesmerizing pattern.

She motioned for Brad and I to sit in the two chairs facing the desk and we did so without hesitation. Queen continued to whisper and fan the aroma of the candles toward her face. When she had finished her preparations, she began to gaze into the bowl and the prism of candle lights danced in the cut pattern ... past the floating debris there. 

She was quiet ... hell, we were all quiet, for what seemed like an eternity when we finally heard Queen exhale, 'Rose is not here. She's been taken far ... far across water ... big water, not a river. She went against her will but stays there now because of commitment. He means her no harm, but insists that she be with him for always. He will not take 'no' for an answer and will do whatever it takes to make sure she stays with him. 

He has taken her ... somewhere', motioning with her right hand, 'somewhere there ... she knows no one there. He has mighty and powerful friends who will help him. We need to look for her ... again she motioned with her right hand ... there.'

Then Queen collapsed into the back of the chair.

Brad and I sat still for a while ... he spoke first, 'I'll have the private investigator start at the Napoleon House tomorrow. I'll start at Kellen's office and with his friends.' He stood, 'Jackson, I promise well find her and bring her home. No matter what Kellen's state of mind, he's simply incapable of harming anyone.'

I stood to face him, "I hope you're right ... if he hurts her ... if any harm comes to her in anyway, I will see him dead. Do you understand? I will see him dead." 

Brad looked into my eyes and saw the truth there, he knew I loved Rose and he knew what I said was true, 'Jackson, I'll keep you involved and up-to-date on everything we find out. In the meantime, if you can think of anything, or if Queen can see anything else, please let me know. I'll call you tomorrow with my first report.

I walked him to the door and returned to the study to check on Queen. She was exhausted, but fully conscious once again. 

She stood and walked over to me, 'Jackson ... I don't know how I know ... but I know. Rose will be all right. No harm ... no physical harm will come to her. She will be in this house once again. Now, I must go. She would not want the Tea Room to be slighted during this time ... we must continue for her. I will see you there in the morning.' Queen turned an left.

She did not ask if I was coming in to the Tea Room. But she was right, I'd go crazy in this house worrying and wondering. Yes. I would be at the Tea Room tomorrow morning.

The day was unmerciful ... time drug by, I was on edge and everytime the little bell on the front door jingled, I jumped up to see if it might be Rose ... please God let it be ... but it wasn't ... and I wandered aimlessly from office to Tea Room to kitchen and then back again.

Finally, mid-afternoon the phone in my office rang. Brad was calling to tell me that one of the waiters at the Napoleon House had remembered Rose being their with an older gentleman for lunch. The waiter said he thought it was odd because Rose was obviously upset and angry while the man she was with was completely calm and smiling. 

They left together shortly after 1:00 p.m. Brad was looking for Kellen's chauffeur but had not been able to locate him. The chauffeur did not return to the office with the car and everyone had assumed Kellen had instructed him to have the vehicle serviced and then to take a few days off.

Brad had also contacted the private investigator and given him this information. As soon as he heard back from the P.I., he would call me again.

Minutes passed, hours passed and we got only tidbits of information. The private investigator finally tracked down the chauffeur. He had gone to New York to visit relatives but told the investigator over the phone that he had driven Mr. Knight and the lady to the municipal airport where Kellen kept his private plane. The chauffeur did not know where they were going. 

The private investigator talked to the FAA and found out that the pilot had filed a flight plan to Poza Rica, Mexico. The investigator was flying down there first thing in the morning.

The minutes and the hours drug by ... Brad finally called again. The investigator had been having a difficult time in Mexico. Yes, Senor Knight and a lady had landed there. A private car was waiting ... no one knew who it belonged to, but the license plates were issued in Oaxaca, so he was on his way there. 

Brad went back to Kellen's office the next day to talk to some of his employees to find out if they had any idea of who Kellen might know in Oaxaca. But no one there seemed to know anything.

I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I couldn't even drink myself into a stupor although I wanted to very much. I felt so useless, so alone, so ineffectual. Queen helped me through those torturous days. She plied me with her teas, tempted me to eat something once in a while, and was constantly confident that Rose would return to us.

Agonizing minutes passed and hours passed and turned into torturous days which passed so very slowly and cruelly. Brad called and said he finally had met one of Kellen's friends who was also involved in charity work. It seems that one of the charities sponsored by the silent auction was school near Oaxaca. The private investigator had been informed of this new information and Brad felt sure that finding Kellen and Rose was imminent.



Secrets of The Tea Room Ch. 17



I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to do something and told Brad so. He understood and suggested that he and I fly to Poza Rica. Perhaps we could help, perhaps not ... but it was better than staying here. So, he and I met at the municipal airport the next morning and the same private plane that had whisked Rose away carried the two of us over the Gulf of Mexico.

Brad had arranged for a car to be waiting for us and we were soon driving southwest to Oaxaca. We met the investigator at the hotel bar. Even though the bar boasted of air conditioning, it was sweltering in there and the slow ceiling fans did little to relieve the misery.

Yes, he had been to the school, but the headmaster of the school was adamant that no one there had seen Mr. Knight, much less picked him and a lady up over a week ago. The private investigator didn't know what else he could do. He had run up against a brick wall and no one would talk to him. He had offered cigarettes, money, anything he could think of, but no one would talk to him.

I thanked Brad and the investigator for all they had done and begged off for the evening. I needed time to think so I took a walk around the plaza. The streets were quiet and dark and I was grateful. I didn't need the distractions of sound and people to add to the commotion flying around in me. I'm not sure how long I walked. I purposely tried not to think, feeling that if I cleared my mind a solution would finally float to the top of my consciousness and it finally did.

I returned to the hotel and went straight to Brad's room. I knocked and was soon facing him, "Brad, I've got to stay. I'm sure that someone, somewhere, some time will have to show up in town for groceries or supplies and perhaps I can find out where Kellen and Rose are holed up. I just can't go back to New Orleans without Rose. I'm staying until I find her."

Brad understood and felt obligated to stay, as well. We sat long into the night talking and trying to develop some sort of plan. We finally agreed that I would take a room at the hotel which faced the cantina as well as several small shops. Brad would move from the hotel into a vacant little adobe casa across from the pharmacy and the little town's version of a mercantile. Then we would wait ... we would wait and watch ... and for the first time in my life, I prayed.

For three days I did not leave the chair by the window in my room. The dusty, sleepy current of humanity offered no indication of anything but their ordinary routines. On the fourth day my telephone rang, 'Jackson, it's Brad. Just a few minutes ago a dark blue sedan pulled in front of the pharmacy. The driver was only in the pharmacy for a few minutes then returned to the car with several packages. 

Kellen is a diabetic and perhaps that is what the driver picked up ... anyway, he's headed down the street toward you. Keep an eye out and see if you can pick him up.'

Just as I hung up the phone, the sedan pulled in front of the cantina, the driver parked the car and sauntered inside. I hurriedly pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a loud shirt, and sat a straw hat on my head. I slipped on a pair of hurraches and hurried down the stairs and across the street to the cantina. 

I sat at table next to the man I recognized as the driver and ordered a beer. After sipping on it for a few minutes I caught the driver's eye, "Do you speak English?" I asked. He responded, 'A little, Senor ...'. Without being asked I got up and went over to his table and sat down. 

I stuck out my hand and said, "Hey! I'm Bill ... I gotta tell you, the travel agent really pulled a fast one on me! I was sold a bill of goods about "explore the real Mexico" and I'm stuck here for a week! This is just not what I had in mind, you know? I expected a night life, pretty girls, and stuff to do and see ... instead here I am, trying to find someone who can speak English and keep me from dying of boredom. Bartender ... two more beers for me and my new amigo!"

I could tell by the look in his eye that he didn't want to be my friend or probably anyone else's either ... but he was getting a free beer, so he sat. I continued without hardly taking a breath, "What do you folks do around here for fun? Is there ever any excitement?"

He sipped his beer and shook his head, 'No Senor, we live quiet lives here ... if you wanted excitement you should have gone to Cancun or Acapulco.'

I laughed, "Boy, don't I know that now!" and motioned for the bartender to bring us two more beers although I hadn't even touched mine and he had only drunk about half of his, "Man ... at least are there any Americans around here? It would be nice to maybe talk to them and find out what they like to do around here."

"He finished his second beer with one long drink and then reached for the third one I had ordered, 'Senor, there is no one in this area you would care to speak with ... none who could help a tourist ... you would be better pleased to catch the next bus for Mexico City and finish your holiday there ...'

"Well, maybe you're right ... when does the next bus leave for Mexico City, do you know? But, you know what, I haven't had any tequila since I've been here ... why don't we try a couple" as I motioned for the bartender to come over, "Bring us a bottle of tequila and lime slices ..." 

As I looked back at the driver, he had begun to relax in his seat and I repeated the question about the bus. 'The bus travels twice a week between here and Mexico City ... the next one leaves tomorrow.'

"What a relief ... I'll still have three days left on my vacation to enjoy ...but this afternoon, well enjoy the tequila!"

After sharing a few shots, we walked out of the cantina together laughing like old college buddies, "Well, my friend, where are you off to now?" I asked as I slung my arm over his shoulder and patted his chest. 

I wanted him to think I was a lot further gone that I was. 'Errands, stupid errands for my boss ... look around you ... do you see flowers growing here? No! This rocky dirt cannot grow flowers ... it can hardly grow cactus ... yet this stupid man sends me to pick up rose bushes, rose bushes, so I go to the bus station now. They have come in and he is anxious to get them into the ground.'

My heart skipped a beat and sweat beads popped out on my forehead. I hoped he didn't notice ... or if he did I hoped he would think it was a consequence of the tequila and beer ... "Bus station? Do you think you could give me a ride overthere and I could buy my ticket for Mexico City ... in return, I'll help you load up those bushes ..."

After my generously plying him with free drinks for most of the afternoon, he was more than willing to accept my offer to help, so I climbed into the front seat and within a few short minutes we were at the bus station. When we entered, I spotted the rose buses stacked in a corner, "Hey, look, there they are. Let's get them into your car, then you can be on your way, I'll just walk back to my hotel after I get my ticket." 

It was no problem steering him toward the corner, "Que! Look at this," he pointed, "no leaves, all wrapped in burlap, what do they think?"

I laughed as I picked up two of the bushes in each hand, "That's the way we plant them in America ... it's easier for them to take root and survive" He likewise picked up four bushes and I followed him back to the car. 

While he opened the trunk and lay his four on the floor I was able to tear off one of the shipping labels from a bush at my feet. Without him seeing, I stuffed the paper in my pocket. I helped him with five more loads in and out of the station, then slammed the trunk and shook his hand, "Thanks for the suggestion about Mexico City, have a safe trip, do you have far to go?"

'Oh, no Senor, just an hour away, even on these roads, it's not a bad drive." I closed the car door behind him and waved as he drove off. I waited for him to turn the corner before I started quickly walking back to my hotel. 

As soon as I got in my room I pulled out the shipping label from my pocket ...I took in a sudden breath of air. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath while I read, 'Mr. Kellen Knight, c/o Oaxaca Bus Station', so at least I knew Rose was within a few miles. I quickly called Brad and he came immediately to my room. We decided to make arrangements for an automobile and begin our search to cover a 60 mile radius around the town.

We started the next morning, bumping down one rough dusty road after another. It went on again that way for the next day and the day after that. 

On the third day we had a stroke of luck, we spotted the dark blue sedan pulling out of a side road. We drove on past and he turned in the opposite direction. We drove until he was not longer in sight then doubled back to explore the little side road. We only drove for a few minutes before it dead ended at a security gate. 

Since Brad might have been spotted by Kellen, I got out of the car and played dumb tourist, lost and trying to get directions. While I spoke with the guard I was able to see into the compound, at least a limited view. The house sat back several hundred feet and was an impressive two-story Spanish colonial. The guard was beginning to grow agitated, so I just shrugged my shoulders at him and walked back to the car.

When I got in and closed the door Brad looked at me, 'Well?' "I'm sure this must be the place, but I have no idea where Rose might be. I'll come back after dark and watch to see if I can figure out anything else."

We drove back to town with out talking and when Brad stopped the car in front of my hotel he said, 'I'll be back at 7:00 to pick you up. Well both go and watch ...' I nodded and turned to make my way up to my room. 

The afternoon was torture. It was hot, thoughts and emotions tormenting me. I wanted to sleep but couldn't, so finally I showered and walked across the street to the cantina for something to eat and something cool to drink.

I was waiting in front of the hotel at 7:00 when Brad drove up. Again, we drove out of town without talking. When we had almost reached the little side road, Brad pulled the car off the road behind a stand of mesquite trees. 'I thought it might be best if we made our way on foot, we wouldn't want to give ourselves away with the car kicking up dust or being heard.'

"I agree. Tell you what, I'll go around to the east side of the house and you circle around to the west. Well meet back here after the lights go off in the house and well compare notes."

Brad nodded and reached into the back seat, pulled out two sets of binoculars and handed me one, 'I thought these might come in handy.'

"Thanks," I said and left the car. Dusk was falling quickly, so I made my way through arroyos until I could see the compound a few hundred feet in front of me. I stopped to survey the landscape and found a small hill off to my right that would provide me with an advantage spot to observe the inner courtyard of the compound. I made my way to the hill, climbed up the back side, then lay down on my stomach and put the binoculars to my eyes. It wasn't long before total night fell and I was able to sit up to continue watching.

Not much was going on, lights came on one by one in various rooms, I could see shadows moving behind windows, but there was no way I could determine who was making the shadows. About two hours later the lights began to go off downstairs and a few came on upstairs. I saw servants leaving the house and making their way to the front gate to leave for the evening.

Then it happened ... a light went on in one of the upstairs room and a pair of French doors opened on to a balcony. My heart stopped when I saw Rose walk out. The first thing I noticed was her posture. She always held herself straight and walked with grace, there was no mistaking that. She walked to the railing and stood looking over the desert.

It was all I could do to not run to her, not to shout, not to somehow let her know I was here. But now I knew where her room was ... then it struck me ... was it just her room or did Kellen Knight share it with her. As if to give me an instant answer, I saw Kellen walk out onto the balcony behind Rose and my heart fell to my feet.

I watched as he reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders he turned her to face him. I watched as his silhouette leaned in to kiss her. I saw her step back and saw her hand raise to stop him. Just as swiftly, he grabbed her hand and pushed it behind her back. 

I watched as he used her wrist to leverage her toward him until she finally succumbed to his kiss. Through the binoculars I could see that she did not press her body into the kiss, but stayed stiff and erect. I watched as Kellen Knight drew his hand back, then jumped to my feet when I saw him slap her. 

I began to run down the hill with murder in my heart when I felt my feet being knocked out from under me. I hit the ground with a hard thump that knocked the breath out of me. 

I looked up to see Brad as he bent over me. 'Jackson, get your breath, but now is not the time, it's worse than I thought. Get your breath and let's get out of here!'

When I was able to finally gulp air back into my lungs, Brad helped me up and we made our way back to the car slowly, the desert night hiding many rocks and holes that made us stumble and fall.

Once back to the car Brad turned to me, 'I saw it, too, that's not the Kellen I've known half my life. I don't know what's gotten in to him. It's clear now, though, that we're going to have to get Rose out of there for her own safety, Here's what I've been thinking', as he started the car and we made our way back to town. By the time we had arrived at my hotel, I had agreed to his plan.

The next day both he and I separately gathered the things we felt might be necessary to rescue Rose. Brad picked me up again at 7:00 and we made our way through the Mexican desert to our hiding spot behind the mesquite trees.

He opened the trunk and handed me a bag that contained a length of rope, a flashlight, the binoculars, and sturdy shoes for Rose. He knotted up his brow when I took the pistol from the back of my belt and checked the chambers, 'That won't be necessary ...'.

I returned his gaze, "I hope not, but I told you before, if he's hurt Rose, I will see him dead. Now, come on, we're wasting time."

Brad grabbed a bag he had prepared for himself and we both made our way to the vantage point on the hill. We sat quietly until we saw the lights going out on the first floor. We waited and watched the servants leave, then we watched as the lights went on in several rooms on the second floor.

I nodded at Brad and we began to make our way down the hill and across the empty expanse to the compound wall. We were both thankful for a cloudy night so that the moon didn't hinder our advance. 

The compound wall was only about 4 feet tall and we didn't have any trouble scaling it. We dropped silently to the ground and quickly looked around to see if we had been spotted. Evidentially, the guards relied heavily on the remote desert to keep out unwanted guests.

We quickly crossed the courtyard to the house and made our way to the kitchen entrance. It wasn't locked and we crept inside toward the stairway and began to climb, testing one step at a time, hoping that a sudden squeak wouldn't give us away.

Toward the top of the stairs we stopped, we could hear voices. As we were able to get a few feet further down the hall we could make out Kellen's voice and what he was saying, 'Rose. Please! I know you don't love me but you know how much I love you! I don't want to hurt you and if you just give me a chance, I know you will love me, too! I can't stand it anymore!

'I want you to come willingly to me, I'm tired of forcing you ... you're my wife now ... my wife!'

We heard a couple of foot steps before we heard the crash of something hitting the wall and shattering, 'Damn it, Kellen! Stay away from me! I swear I will rip your eyes out! I married you because I had no choice but I will never ... do you understand ... never be a wife to you!'

We heard a growl, then scuffling and we were still no longer. We burst into the room just as Kellen was forcing Rose onto the bed. I grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and connected with a solid punch to his left jaw. He was stunned and stumbled before he fell. I turned to Rose who seemed to be in shock and paid no attention to what Brad was doing now that he had reached Kellen.

As I pulled her into my arms she was in a panic, 'Jackson ... oh God, Jackson! Please go. Please!'

Although confused, I pulled her to my chest even tighter, "What are you talking about? Do you want to stay with him?" She had begun to tremble in my arms and raised tear filled eyes to me, 'Of course not! But you must go, he is having you watched and will have you killed if I don't stay ...please Jackson! Go now, go now before something awful happens!'

That's when Brad got to his feet and we noticed a syringe in his hand, 'Rose ... nothing's going to happen to Jackson. I've given Kellen a sedative ... he's going to be out for a couple of hours, let's get out of here.'

'NO! NO!', she began to cry, 'He will have Jackson killed! He told me so, he has the money and the power to do it! He told me so!' She looked into my eyes, 'Please, I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you ... go!' And she started to fight her way out of my embrace. Brad pulled another syringe from his cargo pants, quickly injecting Rose and soon she went limp in my arms.

I scooped her up and carried her down the stairs. Brad told me to wait as close to the guard gate as I could and he took off running through the desert toward the car. I positioned us in the shadows of a corner of the court yard and waited what seemed like hours for Brad. I slipped down to my knees and cradled Rose while she still slept in my arms.

Finally I heard a car coming at a slow speed toward the gate. I heard the guard walk outside the compound to await the approaching automobile and used this as my opportunity to inch closer. Brad stopped the car, turned the headlights off, and approached the guard. He tried to over power the guard, but was quickly being overcome. 

I released Rose and raced up behind the guard. I hit him solidly on the head with the butt of my pistol. While Brad opened the back door, I ran back to get Rose and somehow got us both into the back seat. Brad sped down the one lane dirt road until we hit the main road. Instead of turning toward town, he headed in the opposite direction.

He turned his head slightly, "When Kellen comes to, the first place he'll check is in town ... by that time, we should almost be to Mexico City. We can make arrangements to get back to the States there."

I cradled my sleeping Rose as we bumped along bad roads. Captivated by her face in the moonlight, relieved by the weight of her against me, I was finally able to let my heart beat again and allowed the scent of her hair fill me with peace.

Not long after daylight Brad pulled in front of a nice hotel in Mexico City, Rose had begun to stir and waken, 'You two stay here for a few minutes while I check you in, then I'll get busy making arrangements for you to get out of here.'

Rose opened her eyes, confused at first, her last recollection was a struggle in a bedroom life times away from where we were now, 'Jack ... is it really you?'

I bent down to gently kiss her, "Yes, sweetheart, I'm with you now and everything is going to be fine." Her arms circled my neck and I pulled her closer yet to me, unwilling to break our connection.

Brad was at the car door opening it, 'Okay you two, come one, I've got you a room.' Rose got out of the car on shaky legs, but my arm circled her waist and she leaned on me. Brad led us through the lobby, called the elevator and took us to the room. 'For now, order up room service. I'll arrange to have fresh clothes and toiletries delivered. I'll make arrangements for a flight out, then I have to go back and check on Kellen. I'll see you both tomorrow.' 




Secrets of The Tea Room Ch. 17



I thanked him and Rose gave him a kiss on the cheek, 'We'll be here when you get back.'

Brad left and I asked Rose if she was hungry. 'Famished!' she replied, so I ordered up a hearty breakfast for both of us. While we were waiting Rose wanted a shower. 

I turned on the water for her and retrieved a thick white terry cloth robe for her from the closet. When I returned to the bathroom I could see her form through the frosted glass. She was facing the cascade of hot water, letting it hit her in the face and rinse down her body. 

I undressed and got into the shower behind her. She didn't move or acknowledge my presence, but I knew that she knew I was there. I soaped up a wash cloth and began with her neck and shoulders, more massaging than washing, down to her feet. 

I turned her around to rinse off and repeated the process again starting with her neck and working down to her feet. When that was done, I tilted her head back into the spray to get it wet, then I shampooed her hair. She was perfectly still, obviously enjoying the gentle ministrations ... caring and kind, but definitely not sexual.

I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her head, then another one to dry her off. She slipped into the robe, reached up on tiptoe to kiss me, then walked back into the bedroom. 

I finished my shower and likewise put on a robe just in time to hear the knock at the door. 'Room Service', the voice said. I peeked through the security window to make sure and then opened the door. The waiter wheeled in a cart, I signed the check and began to fix our two plates.

We ate in silence, Rose seemed relieved and relaxed, so I decided to let her take the lead to indicate when she wanted to start talking. When we finished she said, 'Come lay with me' as she crossed to the bed and lay on top of the covers. I laid down beside her with my arm across her waist. She turned her back to me, spooning into my body, 'Hold me with both arms ... hold me close.' And I was glad to oblige.

We laid like this for a few minutes when she started to talk, 'I never thought I would see you again.' She didn't turn to face me, so I held her and let her talk.

'I met Kellen at the Napoleon House. Everything seemed okay. We ordered then I took the heart necklace out of my purse and scooted it across the table. I told him that it was beautiful and very sweet. I told him I thought he was a wonderful man who deserved someone who would love him, but that I had fallen in love with someone else. 

In an instant he was a different man. His voice fell to almost a whisper and he grabbed the hand that still held on to the jewelry box. His grasp hurt me and I tried to pull back. He growled that he had found someone who could love him ... me. I would learn to love him in time. I tried to reason with him, but he just kept getting angrier, his eyes were like ice. 

He said he had done some checking and had found out that you shared my home ... he suspected it was you that I loved. I denied it, but it did no good. He leaned across the table and said, 'You are coming with me now and you will do what I say, if you don't Jackson Austin Emerly will not live to see another sun rise. I have a man watching him now. If I don't call by 4:00 this afternoon, your so-called partner will be a dead man. 

From the look in his eyes I didn't doubt that what he said was true, all I could do was give a little nod. Kellen nodded to a man at another table, the man acknowledged that nod, then Kellen escorted me out to his limousine. It was a short drive to the airport. When we got there, the man in the restaurant pulled in right behind us.

Kellen told him that he had new orders. If Kellen hadn't called him by 7:00 that evening, he was to carry out his orders. There was no doubt what those orders were. Kellen's private jet was ready to take off when we got there, only minutes after we boarded we were in the air. Kellen walked toward the cockpit and talked briefly with the pilot then came back to sit with me. 

Suddenly he was like a giddy little boy who had just gotten what he wanted on Christmas morning. He was beaming. He said he had another surprise for me when we landed. I didn't even know where we were going. When we landed, a car was there to meet us. The driver didn't say anything, but I soon noticed that the signs were all in Spanish and I realized we were in Mexico ... but I didn't know what part. 

When we arrived at Kellen's house, we were met by servants who assured Senor Knight that everything he had ordered was ready. When we entered the door a priest awaited us.

Kellen said this was my surprise ... we were going to be married. I protested and began to cry until Kellen reminded me that it was already 6:30 and that if he didn't make a phone call by 7:00 'bad things' as he put it, would happen. So, that was that. I felt trapped and very much alone. I married him.

For the first four or five days he was very kind. I had my own room, he made no demands, and even informed me that he had ordered rose buses to be planted around the courtyard. 

Then he became more and more insistent that we consummate the marriage. I refused. I refused several times, but in the end it wasn't up to me. Jackson, it was awful. I fought him. He slapped me to the floor, then he realized what he had done and knelt beside me to help me up. 

He sat me on the edge of the bed and brought me a glass of wine to drink. As I sipped he apologized again and again, rubbing my hands and forearms. I realized as the heavy feeling started coming over me that he had put something in the wine. 

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke I was tied to the bed. I looked down at myself and realized my clothes had been changed. I was now wearing a black peignoir and Kellen was standing by the bed watching me dressed only in a silk robe. 

He smiled at me while he caressed my cheek, saying he loved me and that soon I would love him, too. He took the robe off and crawled on the bed beside me. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head. He got angry all over again and said that he wished I would cooperate, but it wasn't really necessary under the circumstances. 

His eyes turned very hard as he slowly raised the hem of my gown ... he raped me. He was physical several times after that, but he did not have to tie me to the bed or assault me. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him. If you don't want me anymore I'll understand.'

I had been quiet while she talked and she could feel the tears dropping off my cheeks on to her neck. I hugged her closer and kissed her cheeks and neck, "Not time, or space, or humanity could stop my loving you. We are together and that's all that matters."

She rolled toward me then and saw my tears. One of her delicate fingers reached up to trace its path down my face and I closed my eyes luxuriating in her touch. She kissed me ever so softly and lay her head against my chest as if to reassure herself by listening to my heart beat.

We fell to sleep like that... wrapped up in each other's arms ...

Later that morning there was a knock at the door which woke us up. I again checked through the security window and saw one of the hotel bellman standing there with several packages. I opened the door and he walked in, laying them down on the dresser, 'Compliments of Mr. Mullen. I thanked him and we opened the packages to find fresh clothes, make-up for Rose, and shaving items for me.

Rose and I spent the rest of the day lying in each other's arms and napping. We didn't speak again that day ... or ever again ... of her ordeal with Kellen.

We ordered room service again for dinner and were in the middle of our meal when the phone rang. I answered it and it was Brad. I listened to what he had to say then replied, "I understand. Well see you in the morning."

I walked back to the table and took Rose's tiny hand and encircled it with my own, "Rose, that was Brad. When he got back to Oaxaca Kellen was in a rage. Brad tried to reason with him and tried to calm him down, but Kellen just kept getting more and more agitated. He had a seizure of some sort and collapsed. Kellen died this afternoon." 

I watched her face carefully, ready to provide whatever support she might need.

Rose sat still and quiet for a few minutes, then got up from the table and walked to the window, 'Poor Kellen. He hadn't been happy for many years, now he's at peace and that's probably best. God rest his soul and I'll pray he's reunited with his wife on the other side.' She stood there for another few minutes then turned to me, 'Let's go for a walk.'

I agreed and a short time later we strolled out of the hotel in to a warm, welcoming evening. We wandered through shops and squares and little cantinas. We listened to mariachi music and watched children play in the streets. We were a million miles from yesterday. It should have been cause for a celebration, I wondered why there weren't fireworks.

Brad met us the next morning and we flew back to New Orleans. Queen was at the house to meet us and she and Rose embraced as though drawing strength from each other. Queen was the first to step back and look deep into Rose's eyes, 'Rose, you've got to rest now. Rest for several days ... and no alcohol ... I'll make up a tea for you.' Then she turned to me, 'You see that she does what I say.' Queen didn't wait for an answer, she walked away from us and toward the kitchen.

I put my arm around Rose's waist and she leaned into me, 'I am awfully tired ... I don't ever remember being this tired. I think Queen's right, I'm going to plan on staying home for a few days, do you think the Tea Room can do without me for a little while longer?'

I chuckled as I led her through the parlor to her bedroom, "I don't think the earth will fall off its axis if you were to take a few days off. I'm pretty sure Queen can handle anything that comes along."

Rose undressed slowly, slipped into her favorite white cotton gown and crawled beneath the covers. I bent to kiss her forehead and was aware of her steady breathing as she fell asleep before I could get to the door.

I spoke with Brad the next day. He had arranged for Kellen's body to be shipped back to the States with a heart attack being listed as the cause of death. Surprisingly, Kellen's marriage to Rose was recognized somehow in America. Kellen had no children and Rose suddenly became the heiress to a large fortune. 

She instructed her lawyers to meet with Kellen's Board of Directors and assure them of her non-intervention trusting they would continue to conduct the business as Kellen would have wanted.

Within a week she was up and about around the house, still very pale and very tired. Queen kept her supplied with revitalizing teas, but Rose wanted very little to do with food. She announced toward the end of the week that she'd be coming back to work at the Tea Room within a few days.

The next week she listlessly performed her duties at the Tea Room, welcoming guests, serving many of them personally, only to finish the day and want only to sleep. 

I was becoming alarmed by lethargy, but Queen seemed to understand and did everything she could to help Rose. After about three or four days back at the Tea Room, Rose was sitting at the desk looking over an inventory when I came in. She got up to walk around the desk to me and promptly fainted. 

I leapt to catch her, but she hit the floor before I could get to her. I yelled at Queen and she came bursting into the office. The minute she saw Rose she picked up the phone and called an ambulance. By the time it arrived Rose had regained consciousness, but Queen and I insisted she go to the hospital for a thorough check-up. 

I rode with her the short distance to Tulane University Hospital, but the orderlies and nurses shuffled me away from her and into a waiting room that smelled of plastic, stale coffee, and disinfectant. I agonized for over an hour before the doctor approached me, 'Mr. Emerly?'

I stood, "Yes".

He motioned with his hand, 'You can see Rose now.', and he led the way to a small bed surround by one of those cotton sheet kind of curtains. I pushed it open and found Rose lying on her side crying. I was terrified and rushed to her, "What's wrong ... what did the doctor find? Are you going to be okay ... please, Rose, tell me you're going to be okay!"

I held her hand close to my heart while she tried to control her sobs. 'I'm going to be fine, Jackson, just fine. But the doctor ... the doctor ... Jackson, I'm going to have a baby.' She looked at me through the tears in her eyes. 'Jackson, I don't know if it's yours or Kellen's ... Jackson, I can't have an abortion ... what am I going to do?

I felt my face soften as I gazed into those eyes, "Rose, you're going to have a baby, and I'm going to be right beside you every minute ... at least every minute that Queen will allow. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the only man on God's green earth who could be the father. I am the father, and I hope it's a little girl who's as glorious as her mother."

I softly kissed her lips and she smiled at me, 'If it's a little girl, I'd like to name her after my mother and aunt, if it's okay with you.'

"Of course it will be ... what will be her name?"

I hope Rose didn't see me cringe when she said 'Zorah Yvonne'. I thought what a horrible moniker to hang on a tiny, unsuspecting little girl, but I figured we could call her Vonne.

We spent the next 25 years running the Tea Room and turning the Day Spa in Biloxi into a successful business. A few years ago, Rose turned over the Tea Room to Queen. She still runs it in that same little place on the fringes of the Garden District. 

At about the same time, Queen's daughter, Jasmine, took control of the Day Spa and is using it very much like Rose used the Tea Room to carry on the family business."

I startled at that ... "You don't mean ..."

"Yes, my dear, the erotic instruction tradition is still being carried on. But I can't tell you about that, if you're interested, then you're going to have to get to know Queen and Jasmine to find out if they are interested in sharing their stories with you.



Secrets of The Tea Room Ch. 18



Strangely enough, though, Rose and I were approached not long ago for one last commission. It's the last story I want to tell you about .... although we knew it would require this last separation, we felt obligated to try to help someone one last time.

Rose was introduced to a young man through one of her previous clients. She met with the young man, a man I might add, young enough to be her son, to ascertain the feasibility of taking the commission.

The young man relayed his story to Rose. Due to the circumstances of his particular situation, he was interested in instruction in the romantic arts. He felt his capabilities as a lover were sufficient. It seemed that through callousness, thoughtlessness, immaturity and plain stupidity he had managed to destroy the only future he could imagine for himself.

He asked that Rose enlighten him in the various skills necessary to win and keep his love's heart. He knew that he was sadly lacking in the romantic graces and was utterly void of panache.

After throwing away what he perceived as his only chance for happiness he had fallen in and out of one tawdry affair after another. He realized these affairs only amplified his loneliness and magnified his knowledge that without his love he would never be a complete man again.

You know my Rose has a soft spot in her heart for all suffering lovers so she agreed to take this last commission. She and I had already chosen this house and she, by necessity, needed to stay in New Orleans to divest herself of her business interests inherited from Kellen Knight. She used that time to tutor this young man.

She found that although he had a genuine love, he was incapable of putting his thoughts into words. It's not uncommon these days, you know, I think both men and women have lost their ability to expose themselves and their vulnerability when in love. Most seem to remain guarded as though they expect to be hurt in the long run and somehow seek to diminish the inevitable hurt they are so certain will occur.

During long sessions Rose taught him the language of love, not just the words but how to express the words and feelings in tangible ways ... to offer symbols of his romantic intentions. She showed him that the courting and winning of a woman did not end with wedding vows. She taught him that couples must show their love each and every day in some way, with daily considerations and affection. 

He learned that desire for each other must not be allowed to wane, that passion needs tending and needs to be nurtured and he was an apt student. He was eager and willing to learn, to go through any lengths necessary to master those things which might redeem him from the despondent shadows void of warmth and caring."

I noticed that Jackson never broke eye contact with me as he relayed the beginnings of this story, it was one I could tell which touched him very deeply and I was anxious to hear more of the details. Before he could continue, Vonne knocked on the study door, "Dad ... there are some last minute details of the party I need you to okay ..."

"Well, duty calls, Dana ... perhaps we should postpone the finishing of this until after the party, let's plan on getting together on Monday to finish up."

"Sure. Vonne, before you go, could you help me with my hair for the party tonight? I'm afraid I don't have the slightest idea what to do with it."

She smiled before following Jackson out the door, "Of course! I'll see you tonight about 7:00 to put the finishing touches on you. You'll knock half of Savannah on its heels tonight when they see you in that burgundy dress!"

I smiled to myself, "Yeah, sure ..." but I was looking forward to the party and wouldn't let anything dampen my spirits, after all my mystery lover had said he would make himself known to me before New Year's, maybe he would be included among the guests tonight.

I decided to head up to my room as much out of self preservation as anything else. The house was being invaded by all sorts of people preparing for the festivities. My best course of action would be to stay out of their way and that would give me plenty of time for a manicure, pedicure and leisurely bath before getting dressed.

As dusk settled over Tanglewood, twinkling lights threaded through shrubbery began to glow. The drive was lined with a Southern twist on luminarias: the decorators had taken antique blue mason jars, tied red satin bows around the tops and placed votive candles in them. The effect for arriving guests was impressive.

The verandas had been decorated with candles, fresh and silk flowers, lights, and a group of Dickensonian Carolers stood to one side singing in perfect harmony as the guests walked up the stairs to be greeted by a doorman.

The decorations in the house were sophisticated and subtle. No twinkling lights but soft candlelight danced over the walls and offered a calming atmosphere. Waiters had begun to circulate with trays filled with a variety of tempting indulgences while others carried trays of filled champagne glasses.

In one corner of the parlor a string quartet had begun playing light classical and seasonal music. As guests began to arrive and recognized each other, they shared their curiosity about Mr. Emerly. Several of Savannah's single women had been invited and hoped to snare the attention of this most recent gentleman. Soft laughter and the hum of conversations drifted up the stairway.

Vonne was good to her promise and knocked on my door promptly at 7:00. I had already slipped into the dress and heels and had applied my make-up a little more dramatically for the evening. My hair was freshly shampooed, shining and waiting for Vonne to do her magic.

She gave me a quick look as she came in, 'I was right about that dress it brings out the absolute best in you. Now, sit here and let's see what we can do with your hair.'

I sat with my back to her and could only feel as she brushed my hair to the top of my head, capturing it in her other hand. I felt pins as she secured curls and locks in a loose pattern but I had no idea how it would look. After only a few minutes, she finished with hair spray and gave my head a generous spritz to help it stay in place. 

She handed me a mirror and it was as if I were looking at myself for the first time. Staring back at me wasn't the little so-so, average, unremarkable woman who came up the stairs this afternoon.

I looked at Vonne with a question in my eyes and she took my hand and led me to the full length mirror. I was overwhelmed ... the image in front of me was a beautiful woman, a sensuous, sexy creature I didn't know.

'I told you, Dana, didn't I? You were made to wear this dress. Now here, put on the earrings and join the others down stairs.

I only have a few minutes to get my dress on before Mother and Dad make their entrance and I don't want to be late for tha. I want to see the faces of Savannah's nobility when they finally have their curiosity quenched. I don't think they even know about Mother yet, so that should be really interesting! See you in a few minutes.' she called back over her shoulder as she was leaving.

I took one more look in the mirror to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, then took a deep breath and started down the stairs. I found a quiet little spot by a credenza in the foyer where I had a birds-eye view of the stairwell and many of the guests. Within just a few minutes Vonne joined me, dressed in a stunning cream satin dress that was draped off her shoulders and fell gracefully to the floor. The color was perfect and accented her exquisite coloring and hair.

Vonne watched the top of the stairs and I noticed her give an imperceptible nod. She then signaled the quartet and they finished playing their selection. She made her way to the stairway and climbed to the third step, 'Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. First, let me welcome you all to Tanglewood. We are so pleased that you could join us here tonight to share our hospitality and help us usher in our first holiday season here in Savannah. Now I'd like to introduce you to your host and hostess, Jackson and Rose Emerly.'

As Jackson and Rose appeared at the top of the stairs she slipped her hand through his arm as they descended toward the guests together. Every pair of eyes took in the stunning couple, so complimentary to each other, so perfect together.

When they reached the foyer, guests were welcomed personally by Jackson and Rose. The quartet started playing again and their curiosity having been somewhat satiated, the guests began to circulate again.

The evening went quickly and flawlessly. The food, the wine, the music, the guests, the hosts were beyond reproach.

Somewhere around 10:00 Rose found me in the library talking with a group of people there, 'Pardon us, could you excuse Dana for a minute, please.' as she took my elbow and steered me toward the study.

'Dana, I know Jackson told you something about this last commission we accepted. I wanted to add just a little more information to his story. This was an exceptionally challenging commission. As I worked with the young man, it was necessary that Jackson also become involved. 

However, our client's stipulation was that no physical contact was to be made ... not between himself and me, nor between Jackson and the lady he was working with.'

"Rose, all this time I didn't realize Jackson was working on a commission. I haven't seen anyone else around here in a couple of months, he most certainly was discrete."

She smiled that enigmatic smile of hers, 'Yes dear, I know. Jackson is the very soul of discretion ... but ... well ... there's just no other way to do this ..."

I cocked my head to one side and looked at her with a puzzled expression on my face totally unaware that anyone else was in the room with us.

Then behind me I heard, 'Dana ... I've said my prayers every night. Did you pray to Saint Donwenna, too? Have my prayers been answered?' For several seconds I couldn't breathe. I felt my hands begin to tremble and my knees felt suddenly like they were made of taffy.

A heavy silence hung over the room as I turned. Out of the shadow beside the window a tall, dark, mysterious man stepped out. Before I saw his face, I recognized his scent. The same scent from the cards, from the book, from my dreams. My throat closed, my mouth was dry, and I reached for a chair to steady myself and he walked closer. "Peter..." 

- Finis - Postscript

There were only three of us there. The room was bathed in the amber glow of candles even though the curtains had been drawn tight.

His gunmetal hair now shown a brilliant silver and he lay bolstered by pillows underneath his back to aid his breathing. We stood back and watched the final chapter in this remarkable life. A beautiful woman in her late 30's sat by his bedside holding his hand while he slept.

He stirred and awoke, turning his head he smiled when he saw her face, "You look so much like your dear mother. It won't be long now until I see her again, I'm looking forward to it. No, don't cry, it's alright. I'm anxious to go. She and I have spent too many years apart over our lives. I don't want to wait this time."

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw us standing there, "Of all the commissions we ever had, yours was the most special ... it does an old man's heart good to see you here together. Thank you for coming."

His head sank back into the pillow as if those few sentences had taxed what little energy he had left. Peter and I stepped up behind the young woman and I put my hand on her shoulder as we watched in silence.

With great effort he turned to Vonne, "Darling, hand me that package on my dresser." 

She did as he asked then he looked at me, "Dana, I've saved the work you and I did all those years ago ... it now belongs to you. If you want to try to have it published, you can do so with my blessings." and he closed his eyes and became quiet once again. 

His eyes opened one last time as he gazed beyond all that we could see and he smiled, "Finally, my darling ..." then he was gone.

The young woman was racked with sobs, "Don't cry, Vonne. He's with your mother now and they both are happy."