Chapter 7 - High Society

Hazel Parmentier Steele Lemmer looked over the ballroom-a look of distaste momentarily marred her patrician features. She'd lots rather be shagging George out in the hayloft of the barn, on their Long Island estate. But George's friends had insisted and he agreed that it might be good for business.

So here she was, guest of honor at a reception in Manhattan-that she and George had to pay for!

'Quit bitching, Hazel!' she sternly told herself. 'You knew that some of this went with the territory, when you decided to marry George.' A smile crossed her face. She could have had George any way she wanted him-including a permanent shack-up, if that would have suited her. Amazingly though, she'd fallen in love with him; and he wanted to marry her. Well, what's a girl to do? If the man you love wants to get married, isn't that the natural response?

The immediate problem was that they'd invited all of George's really close friends to the wedding. What tonight was all about was the myriad 'good acquaintances' that he worked with. And their social climbing wives. Plus a few genuine friends who hadn't been able to make it to the wedding.

From the day the announcement of their wedding at the ranch, with pictures, had appeared in the New York papers, George had been bombarded with a clamor to hold a reception, so 'everyone' could meet George's new wife.

George's story was well known: His first wife, whom he'd loved desperately, had died young. He dated rarely and was not a womanizer, but rather threw himself into his work of investment banking, and his hobby, riding show horses. He was very good at both his business, having moved from 'well off' to wealthy, and at riding, with an Olympic silver medal for the 3-day event.

It was through the Olympics that he met Hazel... and recognized in her a woman who could be a soul-mate-besides being able to not only turn him on, but fuck his brains out.

Hazel had to admit that George was good for her too: Excellent in bed-though she wouldn't tell him that, directly-and an interesting, attentive companion. They'd gone from lust to love and, along the way, had become best friends.

Although she'd grown up in the eastern branch of the family, Hazel spent most of her life on the ranch in Oregon. She was a bit rusty on current relationships, but was conversant with the east coast 'aristocracy'. Frankly, she preferred the ranch and had stayed there even after her husband died.

Now she had a new husband and a new job to do-for him. She'd do everything she could to promote George, without sacrificing what she believed or their essential privacy. George came first. She was not about to let herself be drawn into the 'social season' swirl of 'important' events. They would go to things George wanted. If that meant breaking an engagement, tough.

George came first!

Putting a smile on her face, Hazel retreated to the suite George maintained in the hotel, to put the finishing touches on her face and get into the new gown she'd ordered for the event. That really put a smile on her face. She'd spent more on that dress than she usually spent on clothes in a year! And George suggested that she might want several. When she'd protested about the cost, he smiled and said he wanted her to have them.

She remembered a lot about society, but was not used to living with this kind of wealth. On the ranch, the money went into the ranch-a new prize bull, to improve the breeding stock of Angus cattle; or a new mare, to see if the colts would be as good as those already being bred there.

The ranch gave her another smile. She was sixty-though she looked like a healthy and energetic forty-and had great-grandchildren growing up in the big old ranch headquarters where she'd spent most of her life.

George came into the room. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, in bra and pantyhose, finishing her makeup. Walking behind her, he gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, to not smudge her face. His hands caressed her breasts, too, causing her to give a little gasp of pleasure.

"You know, dear," she said, "I'd lots rather be trying to get you in bed than standing in a receiving line."

George laughed, "I would too. But ya gotta do what ya gotta do."

"You know, darling, we haven't talked much about this. How do you want me to play it?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want me to play the society woman, as if I'd always been here? Or the newcomer, anxious to learn? Or the rich bitch who doesn't give a damn?"

"How about you just be Hazel? As long as you're only horny for me, just be yourself. Anybody who doesn't like it can take his neuroses elsewhere. Most will love you for yourself. Who knows? You might even make some friends?"

She had to laugh. He was right. She'd just be herself and let the cowpies flop where they would.

With that reminder from her husband, she approached the evening as a job to do-and an opportunity to make new friends.

Soon enough, they were standing near the entrance to the ballroom, greeting their guests as they arrived. A majority of those they met were business acquaintances of George's and their wives who wanted to say they'd met his new wife... 'And isn't she a dear?'

Some were real friends of his, who hadn't been able to come to the wedding. George had a special signal for Hazel for those and she made an extra effort to remember them.

There were even a few horse people, who knew the sport and the significance of the ranch. Horses bred there, trained by Hazel's son and daughter in law, Martin and Adoré Steele, were becoming the standard for winning steeplechase and show jumping mounts.

That two of her grandchildren, Rob and Audry Steele-married to each other, too-were Olympic champions on ranch-bred horses helped a lot. The two precocious brats won most events they cared to enter-with her George just about their only competition.

(Adoré had closer blood links to the family than most knew, too. Her father was Hazel's cousin and her mother was a slightly more distant relative.)

To Hazel's great delight, a few members of the Knicks and the Suns dropped in. They became friends with Rob and Audry at the Olympics and got to know Hazel during visits to the ranch. She was genuinely delighted to see them, but also took a wicked glee from the reaction of their other guests to the young, rich, black athletes, who were obviously good friends of hers. She made a point of introducing the basketball players to the real horsemen in the crowd. It sure made a dull event more interesting.

By the time the evening was done, Hazel had done her best to charm the socks off her two hundred plus guests-and mostly succeeded. She'd answered the same inane questions many times, each time as if it were an interesting and novel thing to ask.

She'd been photographed for several newspapers and suffered a short TV interview, with George at her side.

Her favorite 'trick' was to ask questions of her questioners. Usually, she asked the same types of things they wanted to know about her. How long married, how many children, and so on. To her amusement, no one asked about great-grandchildren, thinking her grandchildren must be only infants.

Finally the last guests left and George and Hazel returned to their suite, where they collapsed in each other's arms, laughing uproariously.

"Do you know," George choked out, between titters, "that most of the folks there think you're a 'trophy wife'?"

Hazel laughed so hard, she rolled on the bed. Finally, clutching her sides, she pleaded, "Please. Don't make me laugh any more. It hurts." George was hurting a bit himself and readily agreed. "Do they really?" Hazel asked. He had a manic sense of humor and might be putting her on.

"Yeah. Really. I overheard more than one conversation about it."

"That's too precious. I can't wait to share that with the kids. They'll love it!... How many know that I'm actually three years older than you are, George?"

"Besides family, I don't know of any. Everybody thinks I'm younger than I am, too. You did, as I recall, you cradle-robber."

Hazel punched him, gently. "And don't you love it? What a hoot!... Besides that, and that alone makes the evening worth the trouble, how do you think it went?"

"Oh, it went just fine. We'll have a big spread in the society pages. You'll get scads of invitations to all kinds of things. Go to what you want to. It's up to you."

"But don't you have lots of social obligations that you have to keep up?"

"Sure, but you can do what you want about it."

"George, darling, you've been a bachelor way too long. You need to remember that I married you-all of you. If you want, I'll start 'socializing' in a small way and work into it. But everything will be with a very strong caveat that your plans come first. I will not allow us to go to different events, or appear separately. If you want me home at night, that's where I'll be. Honey... fuck society! I'll only do what I have to, in order to help you. I'm happy on Long Island with you and the horses."

"That's just what I wanted to hear. Let's make that our pattern, if it suits you. We live on Long Island and stay here only when we have to be in town late."

Hazel held him close and began removing the studs from his shirt. "I like it. Let's use each other as excuses to turn down most invitations, too. There are a few things we'll have to attend. Other than that, let's just be ourselves, with occasional evenings with real friends for our 'social life'."

George kissed her. It would work out just fine.

Hazel returned the kiss with interest and finished getting him out of his tux. Reaching behind her back, in that motion only a woman can do, she unzipped her gown and popped the hooks on her bra.

While George stepped out of his shoes and trousers, Hazel removed the pantyhose and stood naked in the light of a bedside lamp.

"God, baby, you're so beautiful!" George breathed, as he embraced her.

"Not bad for a grandma, huh?"

"Not bad for a teenager, baby!... Have I told you today, how much I love you?"

"As a matter of fact, you have. But I really don't mind if you repeat yourself on that subject. I'm kind of crazy about you, too, you know."

By then they were joined, Hazel rocking steadily above him, her breasts dangling in reach of his greedy lips.

Capturing a nipple, to their mutual enjoyment, George licked and sucked Hazel's offering. "Your boobs are wonderful, baby. So full, yet so firm. I love to bury my face in them."

She pressed her chest harder against him.

When she felt her body start to lose control and the orgasmic process was beyond stopping, she gasped, "Not bad, for a bimbo trophy wife, huh?"

George, just as he was starting to spray her womb, caught what she'd said and was overcome with laughter.

It was the most unique orgasm either of them had ever enjoyed. Convulsing in laughter just as the body was spasming in climax...

"You witch! You did that on purpose!" George accused her, when he'd caught his breath.

"And you loved every bit of it!" Hazel shot back.

He held her and kissed her thoroughly.

Still locked together, he cradled her head to his chest and pulled a comforter over them. They didn't move until the phone woke them in the morning.

George had a full day's work in the city. Hazel said she'd stay at the hotel. Maybe do a little shopping. She'd wait for him and ride with him to Long Island when he was done for the day.

When he realized that she was serious about doing whatever she could to help him, but was not really concerned about making a place for herself in 'society', he essentially gave her carte blanc to organize their life.

One of her first decisions was whether or not to buy their own place in the city. There was no doubt that they needed a place to sleep and do light entertaining or business in Manhattan. The question she had was, would they be better off to keep the hotel suite, or get their own townhouse or condominium?

In the end, she decided to stay with the hotel. The expense was a write-off and it was hassle-free. They didn't have to worry about maids or plumbing or anything else. Yet the space was theirs, exclusively, and the location was as good as they could find.

The other immediate concern was her social schedule. The relationship with the Parmentiers of Virginia was well-known, after the reports of the reception in the society pages. She had three invitations per day, for everything from tete-a-tete lunches to lavish charity balls...

She needed her own secretary.

For most of a week, she fretted about it, while correspondence piled up, awaiting response.

Finally, she consulted her husband.

George gathered her in his arms. "Damn, I love you! You wow society, then have trouble hiring a servant. Hazel, don't ever change." He rang for the butler. When that worthy appeared, "Fred, Mrs. Lemmer needs a social secretary-someone to handle her correspondence, keep her calendar straight with mine, and so on. Get her some suitable candidates for the job to interview, would you?"

"Yes, sir... Ma'am, if I may... ?" Hazel nodded for him to continue. "One of the maids might be suitable. She took the housekeeping job as an interim thing. She's a graduate of the Smithson secretarial school in the city. Her references are very good. I think maybe you should speak to her first?"

"Good idea, Fred. Is she in the house?"

"Yes, ma'am. She has several hours yet on her shift."

"Well, run her in. We'll talk to her right now. What's her name?"

"Gloria, ma'am."

"OK, thanks... Fred, would you do me a favor?"

"Anything, Mrs. Lemmer."

"When we're alone, call me 'Hazel'. Please?"

"Ma'am... Hazel... Thank you. It's hard for me to do that, because if I start to think of you by your given name, I am too likely to forget and refer to you that way in front of staff-or in front of guests. So, thank you. But forgive me if I cannot do what you ask."

"OK, Fred. Whatever you're comfortable with. But I want your thoughts and ideas. I'll share a little secret-of course it's no secret at all: You know a lot more about living this way than I do. So I'll be picking your brain regularly. Will that be a problem?"

"No... Hazel. I'm happy to provide whatever service I can."

"Great. Let's see Gloria."

"At once, ma'am."

The young lady Fred brought to them was an attractive blonde, slightly overweight, and slightly coarse-featured. Her eyes were blue, but a bit close together and 'squinty'. So she missed beauty, but would attract men, nevertheless.

Interviewing her, Hazel, who despite living most of her life on a remote ranch was a lady instinctively, sensed that this woman was anything but a lady. Though she tried, her attitude showed a coarseness that seemed offensive to Hazel.

Finally thanking her, she dismissed the girl to return to her work.

"Fred, she was a good idea. Technically, she's well qualified, if she can do what she says she can. But she won't do for me. She's everything I'm not." A big grin at her husband, "About the only thing we have in common is we like men a lot."

"Thank you, madam, for sharing your thoughts on it with me. I confess, I hadn't seen her that way. I'll bring you some other candidates I think you'll like better."

Hazel was not sitting at home, vegetating. She worked at helping George. And she took over the stables. She rapidly discovered that she'd forgotten more about horses than the head groom had ever known.

Within a week, Hazel hired a social secretary. The lady was named Theresa, called 'Terry'. "And no, I don't know the Dragon Lady," she'd confided with a laugh.

Hazel liked her and trusted her to handle the 'regrets', which were her normal response to invitations.

Every morning, George looked over a list of the social invitations that had arrived the previous day. He commented on the occasional one that he thought might be worthwhile. Those women, Hazel invited to private lunches, to get to know them a bit.

Rarely, George would ask her to accept one. Or would call to tell her of some function he thought they should attend. She was always happy to go anywhere he wanted to take her.

One of the reasons she chose Terry was that the girl could ride. She'd never be in the Olympics, but she was an adequate weekend foxhunter. So Hazel made it a part of the job, that she assist with the horses.

Most afternoons, then, the two women, with the two grooms, could be found on the horses, making sure they were adequately exercised. Hazel didn't neglect training Ginger and George's other jumper. George rode Ginger himself at least three days a week. On those occasions, Hazel took the role Adoré played at the ranch-coach and trainer. She wasn't as good at it as her daughter-in-law, but was still much better than anybody else in the vicinity.

Terry found that there was indeed a Dragon Lady. The maid, Gloria, who had been passed over for her job, turned spiteful and started doing little, mean things to her. It culminated when she carefully poured a coke on the keyboard of Terry's computer, while Terry was at the stables with Hazel. Fred saw it and dismissed her summarily, ending her reign of terror before it got started.

A plus in the situation, besides George and Hazel becoming more besotted with each other as the weeks went by, was that Hazel's help was making both George and his horse much better than they'd ever been-and they'd been very good. And her connection with the NBA players resulted in an additional source of cash for George-several of the really top stars wanted to invest substantial sums in some of the IPOs George put together.

~~ ****~~

On the ranch, life was proceeding. Audry was proud that she got pregnant just a few months after giving birth to Erin. Regardless, she was determined to compete at Nationals, having missed the previous year.

I didn't care. I liked the horses and working with them. I'd won about everything I could and enjoyed the competitions. But I just wasn't driven to win any more.

More and more, I found myself either doing mom's work, training the new colts, or critiquing what she was doing-why did she do this, and not that?

Mom is known to the world as Adoré Steele. She's no dummy. One afternoon, she sat beside me on the top rail of the training ring, watching dad train a foal to change leads.

"Robby, are you tired of riding?"

"No, mom. Why?"

"You seem to be spending more time working with the young horses and less on keeping your own horse-and your own riding-sharp."

"I guess. I enjoy the work. And really, mom, what do I have left to win?"

"Well, I'd kind of like to see a few more Olympic golds in our trophy case."

"Sure, I enjoy the Olympics a lot. It's a rush. But Sam and I have dominated for so long, it's kind of stale."

"Well, let me see if I can provide a bit of motivation," mom said, with a smile. "First, it's part of your job. Winning gold medals makes what we do here on the ranch more valuable. Every time you and Sam win, his stud fee goes up. Winning is money in the bank, son."

"Yeah. I know that, mom."

"There's another aspect. Soon your kids will be competing. Zach's old enough to ride at the county fair. If he starts competing-and the girls will be right behind him, never fear-he'll need you and Audry as role models. If you're still competing when he gets old enough to appreciate some of the fine points, he'll work even harder to do as well as you."

I had to think about that. "I guess... Anyway, I'm good for the next Olympics. Audry's got her heart set on it. Damned if I'm going to let her compete without me and Sam there, pushing her."

"Well, Robbie, that was something else I wanted to talk to you about..."

"What, mom?" I hated it when she made me drag it out of her.

"I think it won't be you and Sam, pushing her."

"Huh?"

"Rob, how old is Sam?"

"Uh. I don't really know. Nine or ten?"

"He's twelve, and you know it. It's past time he's put to stud, exclusively. With lots of time to just run around the pasture. Oh, once in a while, we'll take him on a trail ride. And I'd like to use him some to train Zach and Moira."

"I suppose I knew this was coming. I just thought it would be after the Olympics..."

"Rob, you're letting sentiment get in the way... just like you did with Shannon, before. Sam might get you to the Olympics, but he wouldn't win for you there."

"I don't think Windy could do individual events and the 3-day like Sam."

"You're right. Windy can do either, but not both. With that strong Appaloosa coloring, he's so pretty and distinctive, I think you should ride him in the arena events. Sheik could be your 3-day horse."

I was really surprised. "I thought you were training him for that friend of the family in South Carolina?"

"I was. But you come first. He can have Mabel." (That was what we called 'Marybelle of the Deschutes', a promising filly mom had been working with.)

Mom and dad were over for dinner that night and the conversation was continued at the table.

"I dunno, mom. Sheik's got a nasty disposition. What do you think of Mabel as a 3-day horse?"

Audry answered. "No way. She's got great form and heart, but not stamina. You'd kill her."

Mom nodded.

Dad said, "Sheik just needs a stronger bit. Work him with a four-rein bridle for a while. I'll bet he gets the message real quick."

Dad was right. I was a good enough horseman that the temper of the mount didn't matter too much to my ability to make him perform. I'd gotten lazy, with Sam and Windy; they both had so much to give and worked to please their rider.

Audry had put Shannon to stud the year before, leaving Clay as her only competition mount-we knew she couldn't do a 3-day for a couple of years anyway.

The next day, we saddled Sam and Shannon, putting Clay and Windy on leads, and set out for a couple of days in the mountains. Zach and Moira wanted to go along, but we promised them a turn later in the summer. "This is a time for mommy and daddy to be alone together," Audry told them, in a loving tone that still conveyed that there was no room for negotiation.

Shawna would care for the kids, with our parents nearby if they were needed.

We went first to the archeological site, to say hello to the Indian crew. There were only five of them there, doing mapping and plotting, in preparation for detailed work. They welcomed us and took pleasure in showing us all they'd done and discussing their plans for future work.

It seemed to us that they had things well in hand, so we left after an hour or so and rode on toward the hills. I had in mind an overnight camp in a sheltered little draw, just inside the border of the home ranch.

When we reached it, Audry said she'd never been there. "Sure you have, honey. When we were little, we came here with grandma that time."

Then she remembered. "It was right after that, I told grandma I was going to marry you when we grew up..." Her face turned sad, briefly. "I came real close to blowing that, didn't I?"

I wasn't about to let her turn weepy on me.

Gathering her in my arms, I said, "But you didn't. We are married, and have three and a half wonderful kids to show for it. I'm a happy husband, with a gorgeous wife. Now get crackin', girl. It's gettin' on to supper time!"

That did it. Audry started laughing, even as she tried to hit me. Kissing her soundly, I put her down and went out to check the horses.

Good thing I did. Some rough-looking guy I'd never seen was just about to untie Shannon from the peg I'd staked him to.

"You lookin' for something, mister?" I hollered. I hoped Audry would hear me and come to back me up. I was unarmed. Though we habitually carried rifles, I'd left mine at our camp.

He took one look at me and backed away from the peg. "No. Just admiring your horse, there. He's a mighty fine one, isn't he?"

"Yeah. My wife sets a lot of store by him. Good thing you didn't get by that big one over there. He'd have taken your ears off. That one there, now, he'd maybe let you get aboard, then wipe you off on a low tree limb or something... Where's your car, mister?"

"Well, ya see, my, ah, old truck kind of broke down, over to the road. I was trying to find somebody to help."

I spotted Audry. She had a rifle and was under cover, keeping this character in her sights. GOOD girl, that Audry!

"OK, pal. Down on the ground, flat on your face!"

"Huh?"

"I said, get on the ground, flat on your face, arms straight out to your sides. DO IT NOW!"

Audry rocked the bolt of her rifle and the man dropped like she'd shot him.

Being careful to stay out of Audry's line of fire, I walked over and tied his hands together behind his back, using the rawhide thongs we always carried. Then I searched him carefully. He didn't have a gun, but was carrying two knives-and some needles and little pouches with strange substances in them.

"You ever go to school?"

"Sure. Don't everybody?"

"They didn't teach you to read, though."

"I can read."

"Well, you sure can't read big words, like 'hunting' and 'trespassing', can you? Even with a little word, like 'no' in front of them."

A try at an 'aw shucks' grin. "Well, I'm broke and I thought I'd see what I could see."

"Well, friend, you just 'broke' yourself some time in the county jail, when I get around to calling the sheriff."

His eyes got real big. "Now, you wouldn't go and do that to a feller, would you? I ain't done no harm."

"You are trespassing on clearly posted land and you were trying to steal a horse. In a bit, I'll take a ride back on your trail. I'll see how broke down your truck is... Why, if I can make it run, I'll bet I could use it to take you to the sheriff, now couldn't I?"

"Come on, mister. I didn't hurt nothin'. Just turn me loose, and I'll be on my way clear out of this country."

"Well, I don't see trying to steal one of my horses as not hurting anything. You got caught before you succeeded, is all."

"I wasn't going to steal him. I just wanted a ride to where I could get help."

I thought a minute.

"OK, lay back down, on your face. Feet spread wide. Audry, keep an eye on him. Shoot him if he moves. I'll saddle us up and we'll go have a look at this guy's truck."

Our unwanted visitor started to protest, until I kicked him in the side with my boot.

"Next time, I break a rib."

I soon had us packed and Audry and I were in the saddle. Our visitor led the way to the road-with his hands firmly tied behind him. The contents of his pockets, including a billfold with almost a thousand dollars in cash, were in a saddlebag.

When we got near the road, he became a bit too eager. I halted him and placed a rope around his neck, giving Audry the end-suggesting she tie it to her saddlehorn. "My wife is going to stay right here with you, mate. If anything should happen to spook her horse, why it might just take off running. Of course, that would be too bad for you, since that rope's around your neck. Maybe you'd survive, though." Audry knew to keep the rope tight on him and not let him walk toward her.

"Is there anything I need to know about your truck? Friends waiting for you, maybe?"

He was sweating heavily and licking his lips. He didn't like it at all.

"You know, if there's shots, that would be certain to spook my wife's horse. Why, he'd break into a dead run in an instant. Probably leaping over stumps and going right through the juniper brush. Until your body caught on a log or something and stopped him."

"Hold on, Mister," he said. "Uh... yeah... I have a couple partners waiting for me at the truck. There's a rifle and a pistol under the seat. Charlie would use them, if he felt like it. Kind of sudden, Charlie is."

"Well, that's real thoughtful of you, to tell me all that. Tell you how we'll do it. You just walk over to that big pine over there and stand there, facing the tree."

"What you goin' to do?"

"You'll see in just a minute."

I tied him securely to the tree. I had him sit and put his legs on either side of the tree. After I'd tied his ankles tightly together, legs around the tree, I repeated the process with his arms. There was no way this character was getting loose without someone turning him loose.

"You're not going to leave me here, are you?"

"Oh, just for a little while. We'll take care of your friends and then come back for you. At least, you'd better hope we take care of your friends. They'd never find you, on their own."

He didn't like that. He liked the gag I put in his mouth, to keep him from yelling, even less.

Audry and I rode near the road, then dismounted and tied the horses where they couldn't be seen and were unlikely to be heard. We walked to a point where we could see the road. On the shoulder was a large stake-bed truck, with a half-dozen of our Angus cattle in it. Two guys leaned against the hood, smoking.