Chapter 4: Frieda’s Story

Thanks for the introduction. Now I’ll get on with my side of the story as you requested. Jonathan Samuels was the son of a small-time businessman who did good but not great. Charles, his son wanted more. By all accounts he was an intelligent, educated, handsome and energetic young man. He sweet-talked his way into society by marrying Marguerite, the only surviving daughter of Martin and Marietta Rockefeller. Her branch of the family had all the connections and glory but far less money than previous generations. Charlie, as friends and associates called him, took full advantage of this situation and soon leveraged several successful deals. One of them snagged this mansion.

I am the daughter of Garrison Gregory Johnson and Gabrielle Gorman. As kids we never knew which GGJ initialed our notes and report cards. We lived in Marrero, a suburb of New Orleans on the west bank of the Mississippi River. Dad was the manager and v.p. of a big chemical plant on the river. Gabby, that’s my mom, worked for Jefferson Parish, our local ‘county’ government. My family and I lived the American dream in a nice three-bedroom two-bath home. I was the oldest by three years. As kids, my brother and I went to local public schools and did well. He was active in several sports. I was active in cheerleading, swimming and volleyball. I wasn’t a great student, earned mostly B’s with some A’s and never got less than C. Taking summer classes allowed me to graduate quite early at 16. After high school I went to the University of Southeastern Louisiana in Hammond. Near the end of my sophomore year I answered an ad for summer workers and was hired as the lifeguard and pool technician by the Rockefeller turned Samuels Estate in Folsom, LA. For those that do not know, Folsom is a small town on Highway 25 about 30 miles northwest of Covington. It is the epitome of the proverbial saying, “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”

Our dear Charlie had one weakness—young women with big breasts. His money made almost every woman willing. At the time my figure was a trim and shapely 36C-22-34. Although Charlie was careful and never dallied when Marguerite was home, I am sure she knew about his extramarital activities. I lived with another woman and her children in a cabin like this. For all I know, it could have been this one. All the female servants living on the estate were unmarried yet had children and lived in cabins like this one. Ten women lived and worked here. More were hired for parties and special events. Virtually all the construction workers (men) needed for an estate like this lived and ate their meals in a small bunkhouse. All medical needs were handled by a full-time nurse practitioner. A certified teacher and her assistant operated the on-site day-care center for young children. Children over six-years-old spent almost all their time at boarding schools or camps. Although the Samuels did not allow children over six to live on the estate, they had liberal travel and visitation policies. Happy parents meant happy employees.

Discretion and dignity were important. Although we gossiped among ourselves, no word about any activity on the estate ever reached the public. Threats, intimidation and occasionally money kept everyone quiet when outsiders asked questions.

I had only been there three weeks when old Charlie saw me cleaning the pool while wearing my maillot swimsuit. Within a week I was ‘chosen’ for a special assignment and standing totally naked in front of several uniformed maids. Two maids ever so gently applied a special depilatory crème to my body. From that day forward everything below my neck has been smooth and hairless. After a quick shower they gave me an opaque, white robe to wear. Thus far this was a pleasant yet strange experience. Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined a full-service salon like this. While one woman was carefully washing, cutting and styling my now not so long blond hair another was giving me a manicure and pedicure. When they finished a different woman demanded I stand absolutely naked and still in front of her clothed personage. I can honestly say I never felt so truly naked and vulnerable. Her sharp eyes saw more details than any camera could ever reveal. My face ... entire body turned red with embarrassment when she began dabbing perfume in places that I never considered erotic. Then she helped me slip into a strapless pastel yellow gown with blue trim and slits to my hips. Once zipped it clung to every curve of my body. It felt so strange and wildly exciting knowing that silky slinky dress was the only thing between me and total nudity. By comparison the prom dress I wore over two years ago seemed like a mediaeval suit of armor even though it definitely flattered my female body. Oh my! Was the beautiful, sensual, blond, blue-eyed, woman in the mirror really me? She ... I looked like a misplaced photo from Playboy, Hustler, Penthouse or some other defunct magazine. Her nipples visibly poked the fabric. Her breasts, legs, even her most personal place were erotic shadowy outlines.

A few moments later the servants smiled and pointed down the hall. Ten million thoughts and fears swamped my mind as I walked down that long hall. Every step made me wonder ... What would my girlfriends say? What would Johnny Bergeron, the boy who took my virginity say? What would Carl, my sometime boyfriend say? How did this normally shy middle-class college girl like me get here? What does it mean to be chosen? What happens to me if I tell this Charles Samuels man to choose another girl? What happens if I say yes?

I nervously knocked on those huge, heavy carved oak doors at the end of the hallway. So many crazy thoughts churned through me that I did not feel the massive doors open and stumbled in yet somehow never fell. My first wide-eyed glimpse into the previously unknown and unimagined opulence looked very strange. The ceilings were high and ornately decorated yet seemed unusually far away. Several large portraits and paintings hung on the walls, each one in a huge golden frame yet looked upside down. That splendid cavernous room was bathed in a strange golden and ethereal light.

I never saw or really felt anyone’s presence until he spoke. Only then did I realize my dress had shifted and exposed far too much. With righteous indignation, I disengaged from his strong hands, stood upright and defiant as an eighteen-year old five-feet-seven-inch girl thought she was a woman could possibly do while straightening my dress. An instant before I tried uttering what would have been appropriate but very unlady-like words he politely introduced himself while gently holding my arm and escorting me into a wondrously beautiful world now rightside up.

As we walked around the room a tall handsome man described every painting to me but I honestly do not remember a word. Of course, I learned all about them later. Right then, I was mentally flustered and desperately needed some personal attention. I do not usually say things about a bathroom but this one was different. Two large black onyx sinks rested on a countertop made from the most beautiful pearly white granite with thin pink and gold stripes. A gold and silver trimmed mirror covered the entire expanse from the countertop to ceiling. White marble tiles and black grout on the floor added to the room’s opulence. The men’s urinal and a bidet (something I had never seen before) were also shiny black. The walls behind the extra-large whirlpool tub were made of exquisitely colored tiles with gold-colored grout. The faucets were also shiny and golden. I was afraid to use the plumbing until Charlie walked in and calmly used the urinal right in front of me. After washing he showed me how to use the bidet and left. I stood there speechless and astonished that one could actually use these appliances. With the need to pee approaching panic I kicked off my shoes then locked the door. Ten quick steps brought me back to the toilet ... bidet. Oh my God! What if ... I shook with horror because my dress was so tight the only way I could use that urgently needed appliance was to remove it. I sat on the shiny black throne naked and alone for what seemed an hour but was probably less than a minute before relaxing enough to get relief. One instant after holding the wand and pressing the button I shrieked. The water felt ice cold. When I finally got the controls right that gentle stream of warm water felt wonderfully pleasant. After that experience I washed my face and a few other body parts then slipped into that dress again.

I left that marvelous room smiling and refreshed. Charlie took my hand and gently led me outside to the terrace then offered me champagne. I was so awe-struck that I did not respond. His partially covered patio was bigger than my parent’s home. Charlie probably repeated his offer a time or two before my eyes and mouth resumed functioning. Although I rarely drink, I gladly accepted and made some silly toast when our glasses clinked and sparkled in the golden sunlight of late afternoon. We talked for a while and consumed two or three glasses of very delicious and obviously expensive champagne. I swear I never heard or saw anyone coming or going yet there on the table was a summer salad for each of us. As the night wore on candles and torches lit the patio as servants silently brought a six-course feast to us.

I should have gone after dinner but did not. I should have left after he kissed me. I should have gathered my wits and dress then run away the instant his hand pulled the zipper and dress away. If one of my dates dared to touch my bare breasts and nipples as he did I would have slapped his face. He caressed my nipples and breasts with impunity. I should have said no when he removed his clothes and led me to the bed. I should have stopped after he kissed me in all the right places. To this day I cannot say if it was the champagne, dinner, music or fear of losing my job but I never said “No.” He had me panting, swooning and begging for more.

In the morning I woke alone and naked in his massive antique bed. I damn near panicked and barely made it to the bathroom. Once there I found soap, tooth paste and a new toothbrush laid out on the counter along with clean clothes in my size and this note: My Dear Frieda, Business has called me away. I trust you enjoyed last night. I did immensely. Please enjoy my suite for the morning. There should be a tray of fresh fruit and cereals for your breakfast.

Charlie Ps. Please, take the day off with full pay and benefits.

After using the world’s most gorgeous bathroom ... Oh my God! Fears and tears flowed. My emotions went wild. What if he knocked me up? Shit! I was such a fool! I let him do everything. How stupid can you fucking be Frieda G. Johnson? Shit! Why don’t you just resign and get the hell out? You are just another dumb slut. You really fucked up! You got a bastard is your belly! I cried until no more tears came. Then I showered, even shot water up there hoping to flush his sperm out, dried off, got dressed, fixed my hair, ate breakfast, gathered my things and left.

For the next two weeks work ... everything was absolutely irrelevant. Blood ... my menstrual blood was the only thing I cared about. My cycle was like clockwork. Such misery came every month in the moon’s third quarter along with a big pimple on my nose. When that ugly pimple appeared and blood came from my female core three days later than normal, I was the happiest girl on earth. The female curse, cramps, mess and misery became my friend. No man will ever understand the crazy rhythmic cycle of blood, cramps and misery followed by a few days of normalcy women endure every month. Thank God I was not pregnant! Charlie zoomed in and out, often without notice and requested my presence every time. For obvious personal reasons I refused to see him. I was not his personal sex toy. Actually, I was afraid to say no and terrified I would say yes. Sometime in early August one of the maids led me to Charlie’s suite again and instructed, make that ordered me to remain there until Charlie came home. I tried to protest but neither of us wanted to be disobedient or fired. One second after she left I locked every door. Fortunately, someone left some sandwiches and a salad for dinner. Although I remained fully clothed and mentally resisted being intimidated, my body eventually tired. I fell asleep in a reclining chair. In the morning when I got up to use that beautiful bathroom, I saw this note: Good Morning, Relax, indulge with all the personal items available, then decide. If you come with me, I’ll show you the world. If you stay, I’ll say goodbye and send you back to school with a substantial check and terminate your employment. There will be no problems or hard feelings either way. If you decide to come with me you won’t need anything but the clothes and toiletries on the right side of the counter. If you decide to leave you can keep the clothes and everything on the left side of the counter. I will be waiting downstairs for your decision at noon today. I know you’re hungry. A tray of fresh fruit and cereal should be on the veranda.

My Best Always, Charlie

My curiosity and mind began to stretch beyond known limits as I thought about his offer. Stay in school or leave and see the world ... Wait, this is not the Navy. Wait! Oh shit! The doors were ... are locked. How did anyone get in here? It was all so sudden. What about my parents? Friends? College? Does he really think I am that type of girl? Then all those practical questions came into focus. What about us? Birth Control? Your wife? My salary and expenses?

I pawed through both piles of clothes while hurriedly checking the sizes. Everything in both piles was my size. Everything—the halter style sundress and matching jacket, thong, low cut socks, canvas shoes and satchel was pastel yellow. The neatly stacked clothes on the left began with plain white cotton panties, followed by what looked to be a very comfortable and utilitarian white 36-C bra, white athletic socks, new blue jeans, a pale yellow flowery printed blouse and the piece de resistance, a new pair of my favorite running shoes in baby blue with soft pink stripes. A check with my name on it for $75,000.00 was on the bottom. After eating breakfast and bathing my mind reeled with possibilities while changing clothes several times. That money would pay for my books, tuition and housing, even a car—all my remaining college expenses. But when would I ever get the chance to see the world? Paris? Rome? London? Tokyo? Beijing? Bombay? Rio de Janeiro?

I walked out of the room a few minutes before noon wearing that pastel yellow halter style sundress and matching jacket with that barely there thong hugging my truly bare vulva plus those pastel yellow socks and shoes on my feet. The yellow satchel contained some of that exquisite perfume, one new toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, my driver’s license and $39.65 in cash.

My excitement dwindled with every minute that beautiful grandfather clock ticked off. While waiting for Charlie at the bottom of the stairs every negative emotion raged inside me. At 1:13 P.M. 1313 in military time Charlie finally appeared. After a quick hug and apologies he put some plane tickets and a credit card in the satchel then kissed me goodbye and left. Two hours later his chauffer escorted me through a short VIP screening line in the New Orleans International Airport. Nearly seven hours later due to weather delays I landed at LAX and met Monique, one of Charlie’s chosen girls. After a quick meal, we walked to another gate and boarded our flight to Hawaii.

Although our seats were in the first-class section, two drinks, jetlag and my whirling thoughts left me feeling out of sorts and quite confused. I remember landing in Honolulu and walking through the airport then entering a small private terminal but not much else. I woke up quite feeling strange. OMG! What happened? Where am I? Why am I naked? Where are my pajamas? Even more alarming, a naked woman was sleeping in my bed. She mumbled something, yawned, stretched then stood up and stretched again. She made no effort to cover her naked body, calmly walked into the bathroom and did her morning routine. I quickly and thankfully put on one of those white opaque robes. The moment she came out of the bathroom I ran in, locked the door and did my routines.

After I came out Monique pointed to a table laden with Charlie’s signature breakfast--fresh fruit, coffee, cereal and milk. We both ate heartily and silently. In her best English but heavily accented French, Monique stated we were in a special hotel on one of Charlie’s islands somewhere in the South Pacific. It was not actually Charlie’s but my groggy mind never understood her explanation. When she opened the drapes I saw a vast vista of blue. Except for a comparatively thin strip of green grass immediately in front of the house and a beautiful white sandy beach I saw nothing but blue ... deep blue water below and the bright blue sky above.

As I sat there admiring the view, Monique silently darted about the room with cat-like agility and fashion-model grace while cleaning the room and making the bed. Her gently tanned skin was flawless. Her short straight black hair swung around her head like a million long needles yet always came back to form a perfectly styled coiffure. My eyes then zoomed past her cute little titties topped by tiny pink nipples and riveted on two thin lines of coarse curly black hair parallel to her female slot and otherwise bare mons venera. As she did her chores her tiny tits and pink nipples sometimes were less than an inch from my face. I wondered what she would have done if I were a man and suddenly nibbled on one of her nipples. Her voice broke my gaze and wonderment as she began stating the rules in her best English.