Chapter 19

After I called the secretary from the pixie's house, inviting her to my house as soon as her work day finished, my sister and I headed home. I edited the first chapter there while my sister painted. Time passed quickly. I prepared spaghetti. My sister threw a salad together. By the time the secretary arrived carrying the two changes of clothes from the night before in her arms and going back for the shoes, the food waited to be eaten. We ate leisurely and giggled and got horny reminiscing about the previous day. The secretary put on the casual outfit and my sister helped with her hair. She neared completion when a knock announced the heiress's arrival. I opened the door to the chauffeur. The heiress and her entourage stood beside her Bentley. She smoked a long thin cigar. Tall, with a long thing face and a trace of wrinkles, its tightness reminded me of the old flapper only more regal. She looked me up and down and guffawed. "My god," she said in her regal New England cultured voice, deep and raspy, "you're a child."

I smiled and approached her. "It's an honor to meet you ma'am." I said extending my hand. Clothed in loose silky pants and a flowing long sleeved blouse, she looked casual and eccentric and regal all at once. Her pale face contrasted with her long black hair and arched black eyebrows and extended black lashes. Her lipstick on thin lips looked bloody but sexy. Her frail long fingers grasped my hand. She held it with a delicate pressure. "My secretary will be ready soon," I said. "Would you like to come in for a moment? I have cognac but no proper snifters." The entourage minus the chauffeur entered my humble abode. Immediately the heiress confronted my sister's canvas.

"Wow," she said.

My sister heard when she joined us. I introduced them and the heiress introduced the contractor and the architect. The contractor held his heft well, a muscular thickness graduating into softening middle age. He neared fifty and his dark brown hair sparkled with threads of gray. The architect presented a handsome and youthful forty, tall with wispy blonde hair retreating back creating a widow's peak. The heiress continued her appraisal of the canvas along with the two canvases on the floor. "You're painting my sister?" she asked.

I handed her some drawings stacked near the palette, splashes of errant paint on a couple. "Okay," she said. "Okay. Who's your teacher?" My sister's mentor caused a smile. "Good. Okay."

The secretary looked lovely and subtly sexy in her pale blue Bermuda shorts and matching blouse revealing her thickening but voluptuous figure. The heiress noticed all of her. They shared a stare for a moment, and the handshake persisted for longer than expected. The smile turned cockeyed on the heiress's face, and I smelled her natural perfume coloring the perfume she wore. "Well then, shall we?" she said, draining the last of her cognac. Like puppets, her entourage did the same. I set mine aside after a couple of warming, easing sips. I suggested walking the short distance, and she agreed.

Arriving at the hidden driveway, the heiress chuckled. "We disguised it well, didn't we," she said. Past it, she shook her head at the sign, probably remembering the violence sticking it into the ground. She looked back at the hidden entrance and began her commanded changes, asking the contractor various questions about opening the entrance and building an arch as signage. The secretary took notes. The contractor did too until the heiress told him just to listen and the secretary would record. As we walked to the entrance she talked about smoothing and paving. At the gate, she withdrew a large padlock key and tried opening the lock. The innards had rusted. I took over and with more patience it released. The manly contractor removed the heavy chain and per instruction tossed it aside. The gate squealed uneasily when it opened. The path my earlier entourage had broken receded into the rest of the long grass, but remained a hint. I broke through the grass, broadening the passage.

With the contractor and me tugging, we removed the boards on the front door. The skeleton key proved easier in its lock. Inside, two beams of light from the architect's and the contractor's flashlights because of the dust our every step disturbed were visible. "The canvas is going to have to be large," said the heiress looking at the broad wall at the end of the library. "And the hearth needs to be expanded. How soon can we get electricity? Your sister needs to paint the portrait here."

"I'll bring a generator," said the contractor.

"Of course," said the heiress. "How soon will we make the driveway accessible?"

"Do you need it paved?" asked the contractor.

"No. Just smoothed and denuded of brush. We'd probably ruin the tar with the heavy trucks.

"A couple weeks at the most," said the contractor.

"Excellent," said the heiress. She turned in a circle. "Fantastic. I used to dream about this place. Even when the monks left and shelving and things remained, it seemed like a cave demanding to be civilized." Shaking her head, she remarked, "More nightmares really. The sooner we civilize the place, the better."

"Could you tell me the nightmare?" I asked.

Taking a deep breath she said, "You sound like my head shrinker. Okay, my sister and I and some boys play in this cave like place, dancing and spinning around, and then my sister collapses and the walls collapse on top of us. Of course I awake before feeling the cement bricks crushing me." She shivered and then smiled bravely. "I don't know if I feel any better. I guess." Then she spoke of shelves and ladders and carpeting and long couches and chairs and tables and making windows in the gray walls.

The architect shook his head. "We need to check the structure before making holes," he said.

"Could you shore it up?" asked the heiress. "Some beautiful but hardy wood could arch like the interior of a cathedral." He nodded. "Maybe buttresses on the outside."

"We don't do that anymore," said the architect.

"Well, whatever it takes. We need outside light." Everyone agreed.

Touring the residential part of the building, the heiress sighed. "You know my sister wanted to retain the building, keeping these impossible portals. It's so depressing. We have to widen them. And of course gut the inner walls. Rooms need to be three times their size in width." The corridor between the rows of rooms gaped, with great columns holding the roof. The second level on either side of the corridor had walkways with iron bars protecting from falling. "It's like a prison," said the heiress. "I like the columns though. We could extend the rooms out and build more stairs." We got to the end and the broken toilets and showers. "How practical would it be to have every two apartments share facilities?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," said the architect.

"We'll need to make false walls and build a bigger cesspool," said the contractor. "I wonder if there's a well. If there is, it may need expanding and the water needs to be tested. Otherwise we'll need to pipe it in along with the gas."

"There must be," said the heiress. "If not, we can build one. The water table can't be all that deep."

We headed into the chapel. "Lovely," said the heiress. "I like the winding staircase. Can we make it stone or wood?"

"Stone might be too heavy," said the architect.

"Wood it is and wood to match on the walls. Let's find ourselves some stained glass and a bell."

We climbed to the top of the tower. "Lovely. I like the privacy and the narrow view. We'll keep the cross. I like the rawness and simplicity."

We circled the building and entered the basement. "More windows," said the heiress. "Otherwise perfect." The architect and the contractor examined the machinery and shook their heads.

"We found the well," said the contractor. A large old pump leaned on a cracking circle of masonry at the middle right side of the vast space.

"We'll keep the space open," said the heiress. The basement had a row of wide column and arcing braces. The architect and the contractor examined corners and column and braces, taking the flashlights with them. We stayed in the light of the doorway. Their voices echoed as they talked. "There may be three or four different things happening here. A kiln, a carpentry workshop, a place to weld and sculpt; a press or two will be necessary. We'll need lots of ventilation to keep the dust and leavings and sawdust from invading the other areas. Strong pumps vacuuming air out and circulating in new air are going to be noisy. Maybe some kind of baffling on the walls and ceiling would help. Too bad we can't carpet the floor."

"Everything is structurally sound," said the architect. "It's a fortress. We'll need to make a new well though outside. I don't know what they were thinking. Filling in the well will actually help strengthen it."

"Of course we need a large furnace and water heater and lots of plumbing and wiring," said the contractor.

"Okay. And we'll need to make sure the electricity is plentiful. Let's go up and have a last glance inside. I want to tell you exactly what's needed aside from the basic rooms. When the necessities are in place, see how many rooms can be created." We headed around the building and up. A staircase existed, but we didn't trust it. After another quick tour, the heiress commanded we head to my house. My sister awaited our arrival.

"Your girlfriend wants us to join her at the old couple's house," she explained. When we walked to the Bentley I heard a whistle. Looking beyond the cemetery, I spotted the Amazon and the great granddaughter waving from their piebald perches and pointing in the direction of the old couple's big house.

I explained the plan, exciting the heiress. "I remember them. They were sweet. Wasn't their son the one that showed my sister the retreat?" I nodded, worried. "It's fine. My sister loved the place. It could have happened anywhere."

Tempted to ride in the Bentley when she invited me, I decided to take the Morris with the secretary. My sister however joined them. She enjoyed the short ride.

The old couple must have heard the purr of the grand car and greeted us outside the door. They hugged the heiress, making her suddenly weirdly childlike. Beaming, she loved the intimate greeting.

The old woman made scones for everyone. We sipped coffee and ate the delicious scones and talked excitedly about old times and new. I didn't, but enjoyed listening. The Amazon and the great granddaughter joined us for awhile until the young one was ordered to bed after a bath. Pouting, she cheered up when the Amazon volunteered to help bathe her and put her to bed. I wanted to as well, except the bathing. When I whispered, the energetic kid heard. "I wouldn't mind," she said. "She told me how amazing you are. I'd like to chat."

"Only if you close your eyes, young man," said the old lady. I promised but didn't.

Stripping naked the teenager revealed her lithe, budding womanhood. Her breasts, firm circles, promised a future weight. A waist began to curve, and the butt rounded. It felt sinful to enjoy her body, but I sinned. "Do you like it?" the youth teased. I nodded. "I think you're cute," she said.

"Get in the tub you hussy," said the Amazon, smiling.

"I want you to scrub me too," the precocious cutie said to me.

"I don't think so," said the Amazon.

"Please," moaned the teenager.

"If you tell, he'll get in all kinds of trouble," explained the Amazon.

"I know," said the girl.

I removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeve. "Goody," said the kid. As soon as my washcloth made contact with the water, she guided it to where she wanted to be clean, between her slender thighs and held me there. "I dreamed about you the first time," she explained.

"When was that?" I said.

"The night we met," she said, moving her hips and reddening.

"You never touched yourself before?" asked the Amazon.

"I never wanted to. Sometimes I felt funny riding, but good funny. My girlfriends told me about their fantasies and touching themselves. I figured I needed a fantasy. I waited for you."

"I'm taken," I said, kissing the Amazon lightly on the lips.

"I know. Kiss her again but mean it," she said. We did. Her movement quickened. She brought the Amazon's hand to a breast. The Amazon squeezed her budding breasts through the cloth. I dropped mine and carefully caressed the teenager's labia and found her tiny clit. "Oooh. Can I touch it? Is it hard?" referring to my growing penis. Nodding while kissing didn't communicate permission. I detached a moment and allowed it verbally. Her fingers touched my pants. Realizing they would get damp I removed them, keeping the penis hidden behind my boxers. Her hand changed that, sliding the silky material away and grasping my naked shaft. "It's big and kind of scary," she said, but her hand kept exploring. "Keep kissing. Make her feel sexy like me. Oh yes. Squeeze her breasts like she's squeezing mine. Oh god." she muttered. My fingers thrust inside, careful not to go too deep. My thumb pressed her clit. Her moans amplified, threatening to be heard. I grabbed a towel and dampened it in the sink just within arm's reach. "Put it in your mouth. We can't have the adults hearing," I explained and she obeyed. Her hand abandoned my penis and the Amazon's took over fisting me to completion. Both the teenager and I groaned our orgasms, the kid shaking and going still and a blush covered her face and chest. "Kiss me," she said breathlessly. When I did her mouth went wide. "Close your mouth darling and relax," I said. "Open it only a little when you feel my lips open. Okay?" She nodded eagerly. When I pushed my tongue against her teeth she stopped kissing, shrugged and resumed the kiss, giving my tongue access. Too excited to hold back, she began rising, threatening to embrace me. I ended the kiss. "Whoa, kid, you can't make me wet." I didn't mean to use the expression for stopping a horse, but it worked and she smiled and giggled. The Amazon and I dunked her under the bath water and shampooed her hair. Draining the water, she showered and we toweled her off. The Amazon dried the floor of water and my spunk. I dressed and the cutie wrapped a towel around her body and another around her hair. We followed her to her bedroom, dainty and lacy and light pink.

Sitting at a vanity, looking into the mirror as the Amazon brushed out her hair and I perused her small library of books, looking for poetry and finding a large anthology, she asked the Amazon, "Do you like it?"