Chapter 88

In the hallway, Susan threw a load of wet towels on the cart, then a moment later came back out of the suite with the vacuum cleaner she had been using. Muttering to herself, her face red, she hung the vacuum on the side of the cart and started for the next suite.

"What's wrong, Meemi?" Arlene asked as she caught up to her grandmother.

"Two people. Two people in there and they used up all the towels we left for them, plus extras that they demanded last night at 9:00 o'clock, then they had the audacity to complain about not having enough towels when I went in to clean the room. Some people should not drink. There was water all over the bathroom floor. Plus, the whole suite looked like a pigsty. Then they critiqued my cleaning: 'You missed a piece of lint there on the carpet. Did you put clean sheets on the bed?'" Susan said, mimicking the occupants of the suite with a fake nasal voice. "I've heard of biting your tongue to keep from saying anything, but I literally did it in there," she finished, jerking her thumb back over her shoulder at the suite she had just left.

"I guess I lucked up on both the suites I've cleaned so far, then," Arlene said. "In the first suite, they told me they would go for a walk and look around until I got through. In the second suite, everything was already straightened up, and they stayed in the sitting area while I cleaned the bathroom and bedroom, then went back into the bedroom while I vacuumed the sitting room. Both suites had used some of the soft drinks from the refrigerator, but all the empties were in the trash. Both suites had left their used towels on the side of the tub, and there wasn't any water on the floor of the bathrooms at all."

Susan knocked on the door of the next suite. When no one answered, she cracked the door open and announced who she was. With no response, she propped the door open and she and Arlene entered. Arlene knocked on the bedroom door and eventually opened it to find an empty room. "Why don't we work together for a while, Meemi? I'll start on the bathroom if you want to start with the bed."

The work went quickly and Susan was shortly in a better mood.

"Why didn't you sleep with us last night, Meemi? We missed you."

Susan stopped and looked at her granddaughter as they stood in the bedroom of the suite. "I'm still a little embarrassed. I really didn't expect that to happen yesterday. But I can't get my mind off it. I could... feel his love for me. Not just imagine it, but feel it. I've been so attracted to him ever since I came out here — and I didn't want to be. I can't get my mind off his nursing my breasts. My nipples are staying so sensitive that I feel them all the time, and the bra rubbing against them won't let me forget. I guess leaving the bra off for a few days has spoiled me, but I've never orgasmed that hard in my life. I've never fainted from an orgasm before — ever.

"I didn't want to get out of his lap at breakfast. I wanted him to hold me, and I wanted to push my nipples into his mouth, have him drink my milk. I can't get my mind off him. How many women does he have in that big bed anyway, ten? I'm number eleven. I can't believe I'm even considering this. How can it happen? I ... Oh, shit. I can't believe I'm talking like this to my granddaughter."

Arlene hugged her. "Stop, Meemi." Amazing Susan, Arlene held her at arm's length and giggled. "As they say, you're over-thinking this. He's an Alpha, Meemi, even more so, a Prime. We all feel like that. Just go with the flow and quit fighting it. We all love each other, and we love him — and he loves us. That's all that is important. I'll bet you didn't do too much thinking when he shoved that big cock up you," she laughed.

"Arlene. You're talking about your father..."

"No, Meemi," Arlene interrupted, "I'm talking about my husband. Oh, it gives me a charge sometimes when I think about him being my daddy as he's screwing my brains out, but when we're making love, I just know I love him, and he loves me. I still call him Daddy most of the time, and I guess it's sort of a turn-on to do it, but he's my husband. You need to forget about convention and just love him. He's a Prime. You can't fight it, anyway," she said with an assurance that brooked no argument.

When they finished with the suite and started down the hall, Arlene looked over at her grandmother, "You need to be with us tonight. He'll make love to all of us. If you don't show up, Mother will send him after you."

Before Susan could answer, Nat, Nicki and Whitney met them pushing a cart loaded with soiled bedclothes and towels. "We're headed to the big washers in the basement. Give us your stuff and we'll get things going," Nat said as she started unloading Susan's cart.

A few moments later, Susan glanced after the laughing girls as they pushed the cart on down the hallway. "They're having a ball," she said, smiling.

"We all are," Arlene agreed. "Why don't you and I work together? If you get any more assholes, I'll handle them, or call Daddy to set them straight. You should never have let them harass you like that. You've given Daddy heck for years. I can't imagine your letting someone run over you."

Susan sighed and looked at her granddaughter. "Baby, this beautiful place isn't mine. I'm a guest here, too. I don't have the right..."

"Stop," Arlene interrupted. "You're not a guest here," the teenager said with force. "Where in the world did you come up with that? You're family. We're all family here — all part of our Prime's family. This is your home. It belongs to you just like it does to us. I guess I need to have Daddy talk to you some more." Arlene suddenly hugged her grandmother. After the hug, Arlene grinned at Susan and started pushing the cart. "We'll work together. Just let one of these people smart off to you. I'll set them straight."

The helicopters arrived, unloaded and were soon gone for more people. Other guests got their first view of the abyss as they arrived via ground vehicle. Security thoroughly checked vehicles and people, although the technology made the searches seem to the guests like only brief glances.

Jennie got a workout at the front desk, but Wainwright had grouped the guests by families, and by estimated arrival time. His hard copy of the scheduling was dead on with the exception of one couple who arrived via commercial carrier at the airport two hours behind schedule, but that was no real problem.

A little later, Jeff had just finished chatting with a lady and had turned toward the inside garage when his radio vibrated on his belt. With the advent of the security detail, and with Jeff not wearing a helmet, he had been equipped with a small radio that rode in a case on his belt, the radio looking like a cell phone. An earpiece sat behind his ear, looking, if anyone noticed, like a tiny flesh-colored mole. The microphone looked like a small patch of discolored skin on his throat.

By bone conduction, Jeff heard: "Colonel, this is S100 — uh, Lieutenant Mayfield. We have a small problem."

Jeff turned to apparently stare out a window toward the back of the retreat. "What is it, Lieutenant?" he subvocalized.

"One of the guests took a fall on the beginner's ski slope and hurt her ankle. The ski instructor immobilized it and S110 is bringing her in on one of the snowmobiles. Should our medic check her out, or do you want me to arrange for an ambulance to take her to the emergency room in Winter Park, or had you rather..."

"Tell 110 to bring her to the back door. There will be a wheelchair waiting. We'll check her out and take it from there."

"Yes, Sir. S100 out."

Jeff turned and sprinted for the kitchen. As soon as he pushed the door open, Diana stopped what she was doing and turned toward him, a question on her face.

"Slight problem," Jeff said. "Need you and Helen to go with me." Looking around, he spotted Arlene. "Need you to get a wheelchair and meet someone at the back. One of our guests took a fall and has hurt her ankle."

By the time the four of them stepped out of the mudroom onto the stoop, the snowmobile was pulling up, one of the new security officers driving with a laughing lady sitting behind him. Despite her laughter — caused by embarrassment, Jeff guessed — her right foot and ankle were encased in an emergency air splint. As S110 got off, Jeff, Diana, Helen and Arlene gathered around.

"I keep telling everyone it isn't broken," the lady said, "but they wouldn't let me try to walk on it after they saw it swelling."

"Mrs. Hartley?" Arlene asked. "Did I get the name right?"

The lady swung her left foot over the snowmobile seat in preparation for getting off, but Jeff prevented her from trying to stand. "Easy. We need to look at that ankle before you put weight on it."

Before she could really protest, Diana put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's be careful and err on the side of caution. If ... the ankle is broken, you could do real damage by standing on it, not to say anything about how much it would hurt. Let Jeff get you into the wheelchair, then we'll get you back to your suite and have a look at the ankle. I have a sister ... who is working at the hospital in Winter Park." Diana managed to abort before she could say sister-wife, but it was a close thing. "We'll run you down and have it x-rayed if we think there's the slightest chance the ankle is broken. That sound good to you?"

"Well, yes, it does," the woman said as she looked down at the bright blue air cast on her ankle. "But I still think it's only a sprain. I guess I should have gone with Simon on the snowmobile trip, but I thought I would surprise him and learn a little about skiing while he was gone. Going to be a surprise, all right," she laughed. Then turning to Arlene, "You remembered my name. With all the people who have come in here today, I'm impressed."

"Well, a nice lady like you is hard to forget," Arlene said with a big smile, playing down her memory.

Jeff thought about asking the woman first, but instead just reached down and scooped her into his arms, took the few steps, and put her gently into the wheelchair sitting on the stoop.

Impressed with how easily Jeff had lifted her, "Well, at least make it look a little bit difficult," the woman laughed. Then, "How long have you been a concierge here?" she asked.

"Oh, not long," Jeff laughed. "Not long at all."

Diana held the door open to the mudroom as Arlene pushed the wheelchair. As they went through the inner door into the retreat, Frank met them. "Patricia, couldn't you find something better to do to yourself?" he joked.

"Well, you're getting married, so all that was left for me to do was learn to ski," Patricia Hartley laughed.

Frank looked at Jeff.

"We're going to get her to her suite and have Diana and Helen check out her ankle," Jeff said, but more meaning than that passed between the two Alphas.

Frank raised an eyebrow and Jeff responded with a faint nod.

They were stopped four times in the hallways by people who knew Mrs. Hartley and her husband. As they walked down the last hallway, Jeff and Diana lagged back. "Have Arlene stand by the door and keep anyone from coming in. You and Helen pull the air cast off and examine her foot, I'll have Little One put her to sleep and fix whatever is wrong."

The women communicated with a minimum of words, and clandestine looks, none of which Jeff understood.

Jeff, assisted by Frank, gently lifted Patricia out of the wheelchair and put her on the couch in the sitting room of her suite. Diana and Helen knelt at her feet and unlaced the boot all the way. Gently, Diana slipped the boot free as Patricia hissed in a breath. Even through the thick sock, it was obvious the ankle was already severely swollen.

"Here, prop your foot in my lap," Diana instructed as she positioned her knees and sat back on her butt, supporting the woman's foot. "This might hurt a little, but we need to get the sock off."

"Hurts more than I expected. Nothing to do with your slipping the sock off. Just started hurting worse as soon as the boot was off. I guess the boot being tight on my foot helped, somehow." Patricia tried to turn her foot a little so she could see it better. "My goodness, look at the swelling," she said, biting her lip, worry beginning to be evident in her voice. "I must have hurt it more than I thought."

"Sprains can be bad enough," Helen offered. "I tore some ligaments once as I was playing tennis. I limped on it for a while."