The House at Sand Pines
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Prologue - An unlikely friendship begets unlikely gifts. And then there was "The Face." Stranger things might have happened, but not to me.
My name is Nolan Hunter and I edit a twice-weekly local newspaper as well as doing some reporting. It's one of those doorstep free papers that rely on advertising to survive, and survive is truly the key word. The Comox Valley Clarion was a money pit in my opinion. However, it gave me a modest income and something to do in my spare time. My current (unpaid) occupation involves the writing of the "Great Canadian Novel." In all honesty, the novel is going nowhere so far. My other task involves finishing a very unusual house that I had been given.
That's right, I had been given a house. A friend of mine, Lewis Rawlings, had originally built the house and we had spent many weekends together, working to complete his forever unfinished home. I had met Lew at college where he was a guest lecturer. For some reason, and despite my youth, we became very good friends. Lew was almost a surrogate father to me, mine having died in a freak skiing accident when I was eighteen. Regrettably, Lew contracted cancer and died just before his 68th birthday. Life is very unfair. I had lost two fathers.
No one was more surprised than I was when his will was read and I had inherited both the house and his thirty-two foot sailboat, along with his chocolate lab, Travis. Lew, unknown to me, was a very wealthy man despite his reasonably humble surroundings. I shouldn't have been surprised at his wealth. He had a master's degree in economics and had been a consultant to big business for many years. He had left much of his fortune to his second and third ex-wives and a handicapped daughter in New York. Lew had been married three times, all three unsuccessful unions.
Lew also left me a letter, which he had dictated to his third ex-wife when he became too weak to write. He told me how much he valued my friendship and my youthful perspectives on a variety of topics. He'd never had a son and he had "adopted" me when we had become friends. I've kept that letter for the thirty months that he's been gone, and I will continue to keep it. He'd been confined to his living room on a hospital bed in his last weeks. A nurse and his third ex-wife, Allison, were with him constantly, making sure he was comfortable, while she dealt with the various tubes and bags. To the end he kept his spirits up, telling me more than once he wasn't afraid to die. I often wondered if that was true.
I was over on the mainland visiting my mother at Christmas when Lew died. Back home on the 28th I immediately phoned his house to see if I could come over. No one answered. I left a message and a few hours later Allison phoned me to tell me Lew had passed away the day before my return. The funeral services would be on Friday with interment at the Courtenay cemetery in the afternoon. It took all the joy out of that Christmas for me. I knew it was coming, but even then, I wasn't ready for it.
I still stop by to visit Lew's grave now and then. I don't talk to him or anything like that. I just mentally pass along my thoughts and regrets at his passing and happiness that I knew someone I admired, and possibly even loved, like Lewis Rawlings.
Shortly after I graduated from university (journalism), I had the good fortune to win a lottery prize. It wasn't one of the big mega-millions prizes, but two million and change was nothing to sneeze at. I gave half to my mother, even though I knew she probably didn't need it. My father had been an architect and had made a very handsome living. He designed a lovely home out by the University of British Columbia on the endowment lands where Mom still lived. She seemed to be happy with her life, at least, that's what she told me. There was no sign of any men in her company, but I wasn't there that often.
I moved to the Comox Valley when the newspaper job became available. A contact through my professor got me an introduction with the publisher and he decided to take a chance on me. It gave me a look at the world of local news and I seemed to grasp what was required fairly quickly. The publisher owned a number of local free papers in several communities. Much of the non-local copy was supplied by the main office. After I became accustomed to the routine, I also realized that it was really only a part-time job. The paper was published and delivered on Tuesday and Friday, leaving me more than enough time to assemble and edit the content.
When Lew's estate passed through probate without being contested, I took possession of the house. Apparently the other two ex-wives had been well taken care of in their divorces, including Allison, who attended to Lew in his final days. The house itself was almost too unusual to describe. Located in an area called "The Sand Pines," it was a hexagon at its core, with three wings coming off alternate sides. The wings contained the kitchen, master bedroom with ensuite, and one of the guest bedrooms. Each bedroom had access to a large deck that covered the entire front and rear of the house. The house itself sat on a promontory above a dead-end road, with a view of the Comox Glacier from the front, and a narrow view of the Coast Range Mountains on the mainland from the rear.
The center of the hexagon was the great room, dining area, and front entrance to the house. The main bathroom was in the back of the hexagon, with a third bedroom alongside. The house was all on one level with the exception of a small basement under the kitchen and utility area. That housed the furnace and hot water tank and some useful storage area, including Lew's compact wine cellar. I estimated the square footage of the liveable area of the main floor at twenty-one hundred feet.
The construction was what Lew called "modified timber frame," and I could see what he meant. There were large beams supporting a canopy-like ceiling in the great room, while the exterior walls were 2 X 6 wood frame except at the corners. There, 12 X 12 Douglas Fir posts were stationed, custom cut for this application. The roof was 4 X 6 double tongue and groove cedar decking, overlaid with cement tiles. It would last a very long time. Outside was rough cedar vertical siding, pre-stained to a natural cedar tone. Inside, the walls were gypsum board, the ceiling exposed decking, while the floors that were finished were either slate tile (kitchen, entrance, and utility area) or carpet in the bedrooms and great room. The carpet in the great room was worn and shabby, while the bedrooms were in fair condition.
So there it sat among the pines near the Strait of Georgia, nicely suiting its surroundings. There was a lot of work yet to make it what I visualized it could be, but I had the time and the money to do the job properly. It would be a good investment in my opinion. I'm sure Lew would have agreed with me