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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#33.txt) ---
Ch. 33 Codes: Mf, teen
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Somehow I got through the rest of the day without losing my mind.
NexTerm closed at 56 5/8. Marianne and Hayley were out by the pool
when I got home, but I gave them scarcely a glance as I ran up to my
office. I logged into my company network and prepared a sell order for
the next morning. I sat there with my finger on the mouse, trying to
make myself send it in. But I couldn't do it. The deal could still
fall apart, leaving me with nothing. But if it went through, it would
happen at a lot higher than fifty-six. I could be losing a million
bucks or more with one click of the mouse.
After a few minutes, I canceled the order and shut off my computer.
Marianne appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but her yellow
thong. Her perfect breasts were already tinted a pale pink with
sunburn.
"Is something wrong?"
"Not exactly."
"You know, you've been acting really, really weird ever since we got
back from Santa Cruz."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"So what is it?"
"I can't tell you now. Right now, it's nothing. I don't want to get
your hopes up."
Her eyebrows creased.
"Is it bad?"
"No. It's potentially very good, but it hasn't happened yet."
"But you can't tell me about it?"
"I'd rather wait until it's solidified more."
She pursed her lips.
"Okay."
I reached for her.
"Come here."
She climbed into my lap, straddling me and putting her arms around my
neck. I played with her breasts for a couple of seconds.
"You're getting a little burned here."
"I burn, then I tan. I don't want any tan lines this year."
I slipped a finger under the waistband of her thong.
"What about this, then?"
"I can live with that. But I don't want lines around my back and
shoulders. That way I can wear those slinky dresses you like."
I kissed her, then pulled a breast up to my mouth, tasting suntan oil.
"How's your sister doing?"
"Still depressed. But maybe a little better."
"And you?"
"I'm happy. It was nice to see Mom, but I understand how it has to be."
I kissed her other breast, making her squirm. A little giggle escaped
her lips. I reached under her with one hand, pressing a finger against
the bottom of her thong, where her labia bulged against the fabric.
"Mmm. I like that."
"I know."
I hooked my thumb under the elastic, pulling it aside. A prickly nest
of blonde pubes was soon in my hand. My middle finger slid slowly
inside her. She inhaled sharply, pressing her forehead tightly against
mine.
"Where is Hayley?" I managed.
"Still down by the pool," she gasped.
I undid my slacks with my free hand, and Marianne reached for my
erection as soon as it was exposed. She pulled it into place and
settled down onto me as I held her thong to the side. We both groaned
as I sank into her, and then she was kissing me passionately.
She rode me eagerly, rolling her hips back and forth, making the chair
rock against my desk. I pulled her breasts to my mouth, sucking on
one, then the other. She held my head close to her chest, moaning.
Her movements sped, and little whimpers were soon flowing out her
nostrils. I held her tight butt in my hands, trying to help her (since
she had me pinned down quite securely), and within a minute or two she
was shuddering in my arms. She bit at my shoulder as her climax
peaked. Then she let out a long breath, relaxing against me.
"You didn't come," she said after a few moments.
"No."
She held my shoulders, leaning back.
"On the floor."
I half-stood, still connected, and picked her up. We lay on the floor,
and I began driving rapidly into her as she bit at my ear and whispered
random perversions. I let out a groan and erupted inside her very
quickly. I lay on top of her as she stroked my back.
"Steve?"
"Hmm?"
"This summer . . . once school is out . . . could Tiffany move in with
us?"
I lifted up to look at her.
"How? Where is she going to sleep?"
She glanced timidly around my office but said nothing. I sighed.
"Oh."
"There's room in the bedroom for your desk and your computer, isn't
there? We could put it in the sitting area by the window."
"Giselle *and* Tiffany?"
"Would it be a problem?"
"Was this your idea or hers?"
"Ours. We were just talking about it."
She stared up at me with her pretty blue eyes.
"Steve, I've realized that I do love her. I really would like to have
her living with us."
"This isn't a change in our relationship?"
"No. Tiffany understands that. She'd just be another kitten for our
cathouse."
I laughed weakly.
"Oh, God."
I reflected that if this NexTerm thing went through, the circumstances
were going to be very different anyway.
"Okay. I'll give it some thought."
She hugged me tightly.
"Thanks."
NexTerm opened at 58 the next morning and continued climbing. At noon,
Cisco came back with a counteroffer of 65, which was three points more
than NexTerm had ever traded at. We were in serious deal territory
now, and I suspected that it would close one way or another--if it was
going to--very soon.
It did.
Cisco, IBM, and NexTerm apparently stayed up through the night fighting
it out, and early the next morning, when I turned on CNN, I found
myself watching an impromptu press conference outside the NexTerm
offices in Sunnyvale. Cisco had prevailed. The deal had closed at 85,
all of it to be paid for with Cisco stock. A high price maybe, but
from one perspective it was nothing but paper anyway. Cisco certainly
had enough market value to swallow a company like NexTerm without
burping.
I didn't really come back to earth until I realized I was sitting out
by the pool in my boxer shorts, and Marianne was standing in front of
me trying to get my attention.
"Steve? *What* is going on? You are going to tell me now!"
I looked up at her dizzily.
"Sit down."
She did. I tried to explain as best I could. Her face got very pale
as she listened to me.
"So what does this mean?"
"It means . . . that in a few days, I am going to get almost nine
million dollars in Cisco stock transferred into my account. Stock that
is probably going to increase rapidly in value in the future."
Her eyes swelled.
"Nine million dollars?"
"Yes. It means I can retire. We can buy the ranch and the horses and
everything. We can move to Santa Cruz and do everything we talked
about."
Her jaw was shaking violently now, and a tear ran down her cheek. She
gasped for breath against her agitation.
"We can?"
"Yes, Kitten, we can."
She let out a joyful squeal and threw her arms around my neck, hugging
me so tightly that pain shot down my back. A moment later, she pried
herself free from my arms and jumped up, taking my hand.
"We have to tell Hayley."
She dragged me upstairs in a half-run, and we burst into Hayley's
room. She had just emerged from the shower and wore nothing but a
towel. She jumped back in surprise.
"Hey!"
Marianne ignored her look of outrage and grabbed her arm. The story
rushed out in a flood, and Hayley's eyes grew to the size of dinner
plates.
"We could move?" she said softly when Marianne finally stopped to catch
her breath.
"Yes!" Marianne said.
"To a ranch?"
"Yes!"
"It's what I'm thinking of," I said.
"Could . . . could we get a horse?"
"A half-dozen of them if you want. That's the idea."
She began to cry.
"We could move."
"We'll be near Mom," Marianne said. "I'll go to school there, if,
please God I get in, and Steve will retire. Everything will be
perfect."
Hayley hugged her, sobbing in joy, then hugged me. I saw something out
of the corner of my eye and realized Giselle was standing in the
doorway.
"What's going on?"
Marianne excitedly explained what had happened. Giselle's face dropped
slightly, and she looked at me.
"You guys are going to move?"
"But you can come with us," Marianne said. "We'll get a really big
house and you and Tiffany and Mom and all of us can live together."
I laughed, holding up my hands.
"Whoa. Wait. Let's not run too far ahead of ourselves here."
"But Steve, she's living with us now anyway. You said Tiffany could
move in. What difference would it make if we're here or in Santa Cruz?"
She had a point.
"At the very least, I don't know what your mother will want to do."
"But could she?"
"I guess so. I really don't know if she'll be comfortable doing it,
though."
Hayley squeezed my hand tightly.
"But if she does, can she, please?"
I laughed.
"Okay. Yes."
She squealed, hugging me tightly. I just shook my head in amazement.
April flew by in a blur. My NexTerm stock converted to Cisco, which
shot up another five points after the deal. I was now worth just over
thirteen million dollars. I called an estate realtor in Monterey and
asked him to begin looking for potential ranches for us to buy. I gave
notice at work, telling my boss I would retire in June.
Elizabeth went into shock at the news, but after I explained my
reasoning and that I had planned this for a long time, she broke down
and cried. She said she had to think about moving in with us, but that
it was a possibility.
Marianne got into UCSC, provoking a hysterical phone call to her
mother. Tiffany got in a week later. Giselle had planned to go to the
Cal State campus nearby, but she began looking into the possibility of
going to school up north. Ashley had already applied to Stanford (the
Dean of Undergraduate Admissions, as it happened, was a friend of mine
from B-school, so I wrote her a nice letter of recommendation), and if
she got in, she would not be very far away. Hayley simply bounced
giddily around the house, forever about to burst with happiness. She
called her mother frequently to gush over what had happened and had
already picked out a name for her horse.
The prom came and went, and the girls mutually agreed to simply blow it
off, not wanting to create a scene by bringing me. Blowing it off
created something of a stir anyway, but not as much as my showing up at
the dance would have.
The first weekend in May, we drove back up to Santa Cruz to see the
properties the realtor had found for us. I had told him $4-5 million,
40+ acres, horse-ready, with at least seven bedrooms, views optional
but preferred. With that sort of price tag, we got the red carpet
treatment from the moment we arrived. Elizabeth met us at his office,
where we found a limo waiting for us.
The first place we went was, well . . . nice. Nothing special, but
nice. The house was big but worn-out and needed work, and the land was
pretty but just didn't turn me on enough. The second place was simply
too small. Also nice, but just too small.
After lunch (which the realtor paid for), we looked at another property
near the beach, which was the most disappointing of all. It had good
views of the ocean, but they were disrupted by all the commercial
development along the water. Not something I wanted to spend my
retirement looking at.
We set out for the last place just after three o'clock, driving out of
Santa Cruz and into the hills. All of us were feeling a little down
after three straight disappointments, and I detected an edge of panic
in the realtor's voice, as he sensed his six-figure commission slipping
away. But he seemed excited about this last possibility or was at
least trying to act that way.
We finally turned off Highway 17 onto a little back road that ran
through several stands of coastal redwoods. A mile down the road, we
stopped in front of a tall stone gate, where a bearded, heavyset man in
overalls waited for us, standing beside a mud-splattered pick-up truck.
"That's the caretaker."
He leaned out of the limo window and talked briefly to the man, who
then went back to his truck and opened the gate.
"This place belongs to an old California family," the realtor went
on. "The matriarch apparently just passed away. They're having to
sell it because of the estate taxes and because her kids couldn't agree
on what to do with it."
I nodded vaguely, as he had been telling us stories like this all day.
We followed the road up through the redwoods, and when the trees
finally thinned out, we got a good look at the property.
"Oh, wow," Hayley said.
Elizabeth leaned against the window, sighing.
"Oh, my."
What else to say? It was love at first sight.
The property was a good fifty acres, and we couldn't see all of it
right away. The road ran through a broad meadow, wooden ranch fences
on both sides. The land looked almost virgin--uncultivated,
unmolested, unspoiled. Up ahead was the ranch house, a sprawling two-
story building that looked like something out of "Bonanza." Behind it
was the horse barn and what looked like a guesthouse, and around the
other side was a six-car garage. Beyond the house, the land rolled
downhill into another stand of virgin redwoods, and the Pacific Ocean
glittered off in the distance. The view at sunset had to be
breathtaking, and it was awe-inspiring even now.
"There's a creek that runs through this place, apparently," the realtor
said. "There's supposed to be a nice waterfall toward the back of the
property."
The girls bounced around in the limo, trying to take it all in at
once. We pulled up in front of the house, and they burst out of the
side door. Hayley ran up to the fence and climbed up on the lower rung.
"Look at all this! This is huge!"
Marianne half-ran, half-jumped around the side of the house to look at
the barn.
"Where are the horses?"
"There aren't any here now," the realtor said. "The family has pretty
much moved everything out. But I think the barn has space for eight or
ten of them."
Hayley ran up beside us, and the two girls ran across the yard to look
into the barn. The realtor turned to Elizabeth and me. He seemed to
have assumed that we were married, and, not wanting to have to explain
things that were none of his business, I hadn't tried to change his
mind.
"Shall we go inside?"
It was everything I had fantasized about--not the trendy "ranch-style"
furnishings that were in vogue these days but real antique furniture
and decor, and all of it very well-maintained despite its age. The
front door led into a broad two-story foyer with a staircase leading up
to the second floor. To the left was the huge main room with a vast
stone fireplace and windows looking out on the pasture. Three elk
heads hung on the walls. To the other side was the dining room with
another fireplace and enough room to feed twenty people at once.
The main room led into a library and study with floor to ceiling built-
in bookcases on every wall. To my surprise, quite a few books were
still on the shelves.
"Is the family going to move this stuff out?"
He shook his head.
"What you see is what you get. Apparently they don't want a lot of
this. My understanding is that they've already removed what they
want. As you can probably imagine, most of this furniture wouldn't
really work anywhere else."
"It's beautiful," Elizabeth said.
He nodded in his solicitous realtor fashion.
"Isn't it?"
Beyond the library was a hallway leading to the rear wing, where we
found three large bedrooms with more of the same. In the back of the
house, behind the library and kitchen, was another sitting room with
windows facing the barn and the back porch, which led to a swimming
pool, the guest house beyond that, and looked out onto the trees and
the ocean.
My one concern with this place was the kitchen, which I feared might be
something out of the 1940's, but my fears proved unfounded. It had
been remodeled within the last few years, and did not look to me to
need any more work. It already had enough modern equipment to feed an
army and a nice little breakfast nook that looked onto the meadow
outside.
Hayley and Marianne came running across the backyard and burst into the
rear den a moment later. I could see bits of hay all over their
clothes.
"You should see the barn," Marianne gushed, "it's so neat. It's got
all this old farm stuff all over the place."
"And it has a loft and like ten stalls for the horses," Hayley
said. "We climbed up there and looked out. You can see like forever."
Elizabeth and I exchanged a glance, which the realtor caught and
probably thought he understood.
The upstairs was just as nice, and the master suite was simply beyond
description. It had a large sitting area between the bed and the
bathroom, and its own wraparound deck above the rear porch. The view
from the deck was worth the purchase price alone. Marianne hugged me
as she looked out across the property.
"Is this it?"
"I think this is it."
We looked at the rest of the property (it did indeed have a pretty
creek and waterfall back in the trees, and we found yet another
building--the caretaker's cottage--around behind the barn), but we were
more or less sold on it already. The sun had begun to set by the time
we were ready to leave, and we stood on the rear porch watching it go
down.
"Should I tell the owners you're prepared to make an offer?" the
realtor asked.
I nodded.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
We went out to celebrate that night, and the girls chattered non-stop
about all the things they wanted to do. Hayley pestered Elizabeth
about living with us until I patted her arm to get her to calm down.
"Let's take one thing at a time."
"It's a beautiful place, honey," Elizabeth said, "but there's a lot I
need to think about."
I got Elizabeth alone after dinner after the girls decided they wanted
to take an evening swim in the hotel pool. We walked around the
grounds looking down at the lights of Santa Cruz.
"You don't have to decide about this tonight or even this month. But
you really are welcome to move in with us."
She sighed.
"I would like to. But I keep feeling like there may not be room for me
in this thing you have going on with Marianne and her friends."
"It's up to you. I'm fine either way. But you know the girls would
like to have you."
"It's just that I only know how to live with them as their mother. Not
as part of this household you're putting together."
"Marianne is really the one putting it together. Somehow I woke up one
morning to discover that half her friends were moving in with us."
She smiled and touched my arm.
"I know. I'm not passing judgment on you. I have a rather
unconventional lifestyle myself right now."
We walked another minute in silence when I had an idea.
"You know . . . if you wanted . . . you could live in the guest house.
Make it your own place instead of having just a room in ours."
She stopped short, and I watched her jaw dropping slowly as she
digested this proposal. She didn't say anything for a few moments.
"I could do that."
"Would that be enough of a boundary?"
"Yes. But still very close to Marianne and Hayley."
"You're welcome to it. Even with Tiffany and Giselle living with us,
we're still going to have four spare bedrooms in the main house."
"I think . . . I think I would like to do that."
"Then it's done."
She smiled broadly.
"Thank you."
We unveiled the idea to Marianne and Hayley when we returned to the
room, provoking a lot of shrieking and excitement. I went over to the
realtor's office the next morning and filled out my formal offer for
the property. He called back that night with a counteroffer from the
owner's agent, which I told him I wanted to sleep on.
We said good bye to Elizabeth and went home that night, since the girls
had school the next morning. I called the realtor from work with
another offer, and he called back after lunch to tell me it had been
accepted. He Fed Ex'd the sales agreement to me the next morning, and
we closed the deal at $4,250,000. I liquidated the funds out of my
investment account and sent it to the escrow company. After capital
gains taxes, moving costs, new furniture, and various and sundry other
minor expenses (not to mention the horses and a certain sports car I
was now thinking of buying), I would have just under eight million to
retire on, most of it in Cisco stock.
Enough to live a pretty good life.
And, just maybe, raise a family on.
* * *
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