Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (39 page)

"But… You have also shown me that you have a more… ‘Exotic’ side. A side to your personality that you save for private moments with those you love and trust. I believe your appetite for intimacy is insatiable. I don’t believe I have begun to satisfy it."

Lenore stared at Rory, eyes squinting. "Rory, you have me thoroughly confused. You sound like something out of paperback romance novel. Are you complimenting me or condemning me? Are you praising me or preparing to release me? I need something concrete, Rory. Please give me concrete."

Rory shook his head and smiled. "You know… You’re right, Lenore. I went Victorian on you. It's the spirit of the house getting the better of me. Let me see if I can put this more clearly. You see, Staffordshire has been led by powerful women since its creation. For generations, Staffordshire has been dominated by our matriarchs. We men…? Well… We have our role here. But in my family, the St. Cloud women rule things in and around the estate. St. Cloud women love their families, work hard at their careers, and give their all to their charitable causes. But the privacy and safety of these walls permit them to play even harder. Lenore, I sense that you want to play with more abandon than you ever have before. This house will give you that luxury and much more."

Once again, Lenore could not figure out who or what possessed the Rory she knew, turning him into a poor replica of Mr. Darcy.

"Still not concrete, Rory."

"Let's walk, Lenore. If you don't like what you see, hear, and experience, I suspect we will soon know whether Staffordshire is right for you or whether you will want to walk away.”

Lenore gripped Rory’s forearm in panic. "From you, Rory? Or just this house?"

"Unfortunately, Lenore… For reasons that will become obvious as we tour… This house and I come as something of a boxed set."

Lenore wondered if she had just stepped into a hallucinogenic fugue. "Let me be certain I understand you, Rory. Are you suggesting that if I do not like this house, we cannot marry?"

"If you don't like this house, Lenore, you won't
want
to marry me. It will all become clear to you as we take the tour. Everything on this tour will take place exactly as it would on any given day at the estate. If you don't like what you experience, I suspect our visit will be over quickly.

“But if you are the woman I suspect you are... If you are the erotic..." Rory slipped, hurrying to correct his unfortunate telegraph of the shock and awe to come. "…if you are truly the evocative woman I have come to know and love, I suspect by the end of this tour you will be prepared to marry me and become so much more than just my wife.”

Still bewildered, Lenore shrugged. "Rory, I have seen just about everything in 26 years of life. I have been to a few exotic countries and seen many unusual things. I am certain I can handle this place."

"I hope so, darling. Take my hand. Let me show you around.”

Rory led Lenore on a brisk tour of the first floor. The few servants they encountered greeted them deferentially with "Ma'am," or "Sir," or "Yes, Mr. St. Cloud," or "Good Morning, Mr. St. Cloud." They passed numerous original paintings and lithographs of the masters with a particular emphasis on Rory’s obsession with French impressionists. Monet, Cezanne, Matisse.

One painting in particular caught Lenore’s attention. She clapped her hand to her mouth in shock. “Rory… Is that what I think it is?”

Rory smiled. He would indeed marry well. “Yes, darling. Not many people recognize that piece. It will be on loan to the Philadelphia Museum of Art next year.”

Rounding a corner, Lenore gasped again. In a flattering touch, Rory had lined the inner wall of the west wing with a dozen framed mattings of Lenore’s most famous – and racy - magazine covers. He had his favorite shot blown up to life size and hung prominently in the center. It was of Lenore’s infamous “body paint” bikini shot from her junior year in college. Shot in St. Tropez, the entire series showed off
all
of Lenore’s curves and assets.
A minuscule, realistic looking, painted-on, leopard print triangle top did a lovely job of introducing the world to Lenore’s youthful breasts and perky nipples. Alas, the thong bottom was real.

Lenore blushed. Rory crushed. They paused for a few minutes to make out in front of the photo.

The tour continued, passing through two kitchens, a large game room with multiple pool tables, the Olympic sized indoor pool (with attached shower and changing rooms), the enormous, chandelier-lit, formal living room, a large library (over 5,000 volumes, most first-edition classics), a solarium with a multi-level indoor garden, and the masterpiece of the home, the grand ballroom. In the ballroom Lenore imagined great charity benefits with hundreds of people milling about the estate, pouring their money into the family’s philanthropic passions.

Lenore noticed nothing out of the ordinary on the first floor. Rory's cryptic meanderings seemed unwarranted. She breathed easily. Perhaps the stress of living alone in such a home made him see ghosts that were not there?

The second floor beckoned. The abundance of bedrooms and drawing rooms and sitting rooms – fourteen in all - took Lenore aback. Off the main balcony were doors into four bedrooms. The combination locks on each door struck a curious note of secrecy in an otherwise open-access home.

Rory gestured toward the balcony doors and the pair headed toward the far stairwell. "These are guest bedrooms.” At the other end of the balcony, he pointed down a long side corridor. "These five are for children and other family members.” Rory gestured back over his shoulder in the direction from which they’d come. "Let's head back toward the Master Suites."

Walking back along the balcony, Rory and Lenore encountered the upstairs maid exiting the last guest bedroom nearest the Master Suites. A stunning Latina, the maid stood about 5'4" tall with a medium sized body molded by the gods, endowed nicely in all the right areas. Lenore examined the maid as the woman set down a basket of linens and locked the guest room door. Her uniform seemed a little short, with a hemline stopping just above the garter-attached lace tops of tight-weave, fishnet stockings. Black, patent leather pumps with glinting, steel, 5” stiletto heels added a curious note of kink. Not exactly the kind of uniform a hard-working maid would wear for a day of cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms. From the side, the maid’s appearance seemed off.

As the maid rose with her linens and tugged down on her uniform, Lenore got an eye full. An impossible-to-zipper, intentionally kinky eye full. The uniform hugged her curvaceous hips and wrapped her abundant rump, but from the waist up it left nothing to the imagination. Half of each bountiful, unsupported, tan-line-free tit roamed free, acres of cleavage and boob straining for release above a taut, ab-crunched tummy. A luring hint of areola teased Lenore as the maid offered her hand to the comfortably bi-sexual girlfriend.

"Hello, Master! Is this our future Mistress?"

The maid leered at Lenore, slipping her tongue across her lips. The motion did not escape Lenore’s attention, striking her as wholly inappropriate for a first visit. On the second, perhaps…

"Indeed she will be, Maricela. That is,” Rory winked, “assuming she still likes us after she's concluded the tour. Maricela Estrada, please let me introduce Ms. Lenore De La Fuente.”

Maricela snared Lenore’s hand with a firm, two fisted grip and immediately groped her wrist and forearm. “Ohhh… Ms. De La Fuente... I so
adore
your work! You are such a beautiful and gifted woman and such an inspiration to all of us! We are all sooo excited about your visit! Have you enjoyed your stay so far?”

Lenore swallowed hard, pupils dilating, pulse racing. Her skin electrified and goosebumps popped all over her body. “Why… Yes… Yes… It has been… Uh… Wonderful. So far.”

The maid traced her index finger up Lenore’s forearm, invaded Lenore’s personal space, and leaned into her ear. Lenore inhaled sharply. "Please, Mistress…
Please…
Let
me know if I can do
anything
…
Anything
at all… To make your stay more… Pleasurable.”

Lenore exhaled with a huff. "Thank you… Maricela. I will… Uhm… I will let… Uhm… Rory… I will let Rory know if I need anything.”

Maricela lifted Lenore’s palm to her lips and kissed. She switched ears to take Lenore’s brain through an erotic spin cycle. "Ohhhh… Noooo, Señora. Master Rory has instructed me to
personally
attend to your
every
desire. I am yours to do with as you wish, Mistress.”

Maricela could tell from the look on Lenore’s face that she still wasn’t getting it. One last time, she pressed her lips to Lenore’s ear, tracing the ridges with her tongue.

“Ohhh… Señora Lenore… Soy tu esclava. Mi cuerpo es tuyo.”

Lenore’s eyes widened. Opening her mouth to reply, Lenore suddenly felt breathlessly heady. "I… Yes... You… I… I will... I will let you know… Maricela.”

"
Thank
you, Mistress! Thank you so much!”

And just like that, the maid moved on. Maricela released Lenore’s hand, stepped back, and picked up her linens. Lenore panted at Rory’s side, trembling, brushing the back of her hand across her sweating forehead. Rory inquired regarding other preparations for Lenore’s visit as if the whole encounter was just a part of normal life at the estate.

“By the way, Maricela, how are things downstairs?”

“Everything is ready, sir. We are prepared for you as soon as you complete your visit to the master suite.”

“Thank you, Maricela. That will be all for now.”

With a nod, the maid turned and vanished around the corner, heading toward the back stairwell and down to the kitchen.

Breathing came in fits and starts for the stirred girlfriend. Rory allowed Lenore a moment to recover. She stared gape-mouthed at her tour guide, eyes blinking slowly. Taking Lenore by the hand, Rory continued the tour as if bi-play was just part of an ordinary day at the big house.

"Come this way, darling. Let me show you the master suite.”

They took a left turn just beyond the guest room and walked hand-in-hand past two other nondescript bedroom doors to the last room on the right, next to the wooden stairs at the back end of the hallway. Rory punched in a 3-digit code on the mechanical lock.

Though still a little stunned, the high-security lock did not escape Lenore’s attention. "Rory, I have been wondering… Why do you have locks on the bedroom doors?"

"Ohhh… We just want to protect children from adult liaisons. Now,” Rory opened the door, “welcome to our bedroom, my love.”

The titillation of the maid’s seduction evaporated. Lenore’s jaw dropped. Scaled to match the excess of the home, the master bedroom measured 30' x 30', with a four-posted king-sized bed situated in the very center of the room. Enormous, hand carved, head and foot boards bookended the mattress. Ceiling mounted mirrors filled the area otherwise allocated for a canopy. Mirrors filled the entire ceiling, in fact. Red satin sheets called to Lenore. A half-dozen pillows of varying shapes and sizes leaned up against the headboard.

Scattered around the room were the requisite pieces of furniture. Two dressers each for the Master and Mistress of the house, a vanity for the lady, and dressing racks for both. Also scattered here and there were unusual pieces of furniture. Near the bed sat a large, single-piece chaise lounge in the shape of a sideways "S." Lenore recognized the shape. India, she thought. Was it a... A "Tantra" chair? Of the Karma Sutra?

On the outer wall, between floor-to-ceiling windows, an ornate, stone-laid fireplace sat between two reclining love seats. A large, animal skin rug laid on the floor between them. Lenore felt romantic imaginings take root, envisioning Rory and she locked in a lover’s embrace on the rug, lounging near a warming fire.

...Until she realized there were "two" sets of love seats in the "master" bedroom.
“Hmmm…”
Lenore mulled with delight.
“Perfect for Lena and her ‘The One’.”

"Let’s check the closets,” Rory suggested.

Rory led Lenore to a door to the left of her vanity. Inside was a fully stocked walk-in closet with all the latest fashions. There were dozens of dresses, suits, gowns, jeans, tops, skirts, and shorts, all seemingly selected in her size and fitting her signature style. In the near corner, Lenore recognized several of Shalamar’s custom designs, originals Raquel created only for Lenore and withheld from retail channels.