A Matter Of Respect Ch. 04

I open the door and Christine darts out between my legs. Ms. Peregot is standing there wearing a snug fitting white t shirt and blue jean shorts. And brother is she ever there. The t shirt is tied in a tight knot a few inches below the ample swell of her breasts, showing her firm flat stomach. She has on a big floppy sun hat and sunglasses. On her feet are a pair or worn Keds. Christine stops at her feet and looks up, meowing.

"Well hello Hollywood." I say with a drawl.

"Hello yourself. This place is beautiful!" She replies. She looks down at Christine smiling. "I suppose this is your watchdog?"

"This is Christine." I kneel and ruffle her fur. She arches her back and meows in response. "She gives anybody new the once-over."

"God I love your driveway. The trees go on forever. I can't wait to take a look around." She tells me enthusiastically.

"Come on in. I was just about to put a pitcher of tea on. Hope you're hungry."

"You cooked? She asks as she walks inside.

"A meal comes with the tour honey." I respond with a big grin.

"Wow. How much is this tour costing me?" She asks.

I give her a good long look up and down. She is wearing a bra under the white t shirt, but it leaves little to the imagination. She has to be proud of herself. This woman has a rack any man would be proud to hang his gun from. Her nipples show through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra in two small bulges. Her faded blue jean shorts cling to her thighs and hips in all the right places. They aren't quite as short Catherine Bach's but they are certainly close enough to do her perfect justice.

"Your admission is already paid, young lady." I tell her behind a wolfish smile. 

She blushes and giggles. She looks incredibly vibrant when she flashes that bright smile of hers.

"I hope you don't mind me dressing down. I wanted to look around so I figured I should dress comfortably. The newspaper said this place has an artesian well. "

"Yes it does, and on the east side of the back forty is a rock face with a waterfall about eight feet or so tall." I say, looking again at the way her t shirt fits. "And I don't mind in the least." I tell her.  "Not in the very least."

"That's good , since I have no idea what a back forty is." She chirps.

'That's a southernism for the back end of the property. So, would you like to see the inside before we take a walk?

"Love to." She replies, taking her sun hat and glasses off. 

For about the next twenty minutes or so I show her around the inside of the house. It's an eighteenth century plantation house. It was built, owned and operated by the Trebenaeu family for one hundred and seventeen years. They were French immigrants who came to the land of new opportunity with a good sized chunk of money in their pockets. Over the years the plantation grew to several times it's original size. Their main cash crops were pecans and tobacco. For whatever reason they got out of the tobacco business and dedicated almost the entirety of their acreage to growing pecans. Estimates say that at one time they had over a thousand pecan trees. They hired indian and freed slaves as labor. Through the years they also raised horses, cattle, and sheep. There are three big fish ponds on the property. It was rumored they used the ponds to grow blue cat and shellcracker. Back then fishing for your dinner was a common way of feeding the wife and kids when times got hard and you had to draw the ol' purse strings tight. People would pay big bucks for a few hundred hatchlings to stock a family owned fish pond. That makes sense to me. Seven months ago the last remaining member of the family died and soon afterward the whole nine yards was put up for sale. 

I took her through the house, pointing out its more noticeable attributes. The architecture is French, with elements of the period in American history evident in places. The rooms are built in even symmetry. If there is a door three feet from the wall on the left side of the room, then there is a door on the right side as well. Everything is even and centered. The ceilings are thirteen feet high. Even with new insulation that makes it a challenge to heat the place. In the summer the hot air rises to the ceiling and the rooms stay cool and airy. I was surprised at how little it takes to keep this place brisk and comfortable. Once winter gets here I will have my work cut out for me when I fire the fireplace up. There are four double fireplaces, each with a huge hearth and wrought iron screen for keeping the mess to a minimum. I can picture Ms. Peregot sitting on the hearth in fuzzy pajamas with a big mug of hot chocolate in her hand.  Now that's a pleasant image. 

I take her downstairs and show her the basement. The basement is huge, with a root cellar and three genuine oak wine casks. The casks are so wide three grown men can wrap their arms around and touch finger to finger. There is a mechanical dumbwaiter that operates off a rope and pulley. It runs from the basement to the great room of the house. Back in those days the room would have been called a hall. When the realtor showed me the dumbwaiter he told me I could oil the pulley so the dumbwaiter wouldn't squeak when the rope was pulled. There's no way in hell I'm going to do that. That would take away the personality of the thing, and that just isn't right in my book. With time the basement was modernized by adding electricity, a laundry hutch and a telephone. A big air conditioner sits in one of the windows facing the back yard. There is a long clothes line in the back yard, which I use sometimes daily. The detergent commercials are right. Clothes fresh off a line do smell wonderful. 

Our little tour ends in the kitchen. The house here is beautiful and the property is just as pretty. The kitchen on the other hand is worth the asking price all by its lonesome. This kitchen is my pride and joy. The kitchen is a room to itself. I love to cook, and this kitchen suits me to a tee. It has a pot belly stove in one corner, and next to it sits a square brick oven about four feet wide and tall. A wide black stove pipe over each runs up the length of the wall and up through the ceiling. There are four long counter tops covering the middle three quarters of each wall. When this house was built a big kitchen was a priority. With a big labor force to feed you would be cooking enough to feed two hundred people at any given time. And that's three times a day, mind you. When you have that many mouths to feed you need room to move. A big gas stove with eight burners sits against the back wall of the kitchen. There are all kinds of modern kitchen gadgets here and there. 

I take out a tea kettle and fill it with water and put a tea bag in. I wrap the string on the tea bag around the handle of the kettle and set it in the stove to heat. Ms. Peregot sit and talk while I point out some of the interesting history I have learned about this place. 

"Why haven't you asked my name?" She asks me suddenly. 

This seems out of context, so it must be important to her. 

"I assumed you would tell me. I never take it upon myself to pry. I've met some women in the professional world who are very sensitive to giving personal information. I let them tell me, and if they don't then I don't ask. " I tell her. 

"That makes sense. I have had more than one security jock for a boss that acted like my life should be an open book." She replies.

"Unfortunately that is pretty common. One reason I applied for this new job is because of the small number of people I will be working with. Too many people in the suit business take it upon themselves to create a competitive element. That's not smart or safe, if you ask me." 

"Suit business?" She asks.

"Private security." I reply. "In this business there are too many young guys like Mr. Finch who have built themselves up into some kind of three dollar James Bond. But... "  I pause  "Let's leave work at work. I hope you're hungry."  

"What are you making?"

( I better get her out of the kitchen before the room starts to smell. Don't want to ruin the surprise. )

"It's a surprise."

The tea kettle starts whistling. I turn the gas off and take a big pitcher out of the pantry. I fill the pitcher half full of ice cubes and add some sugar. I pour the boiling tea into the pitcher then stir it with a wooden spoon until all the ice is melted. 

"Won't that crack the pitcher?"

"Nah, it's crystal. If you cool the tea off quickly after brewing it, that takes away the bitterness. It's very easy to drink." I say. " Plus this is decaf tea. It's less bitter any way."

"So you do know your way around a kitchen."

"You can be the judge of that later, young lady." I say grinning, putting the pitcher of tea in the fridge. It's hard not to smile talking to her.

"My name is Julia. Julia Elaine." She says.

"Well now, that is a very fetching name. It suits you nicely."

"Why thank you. I think it's very refreshing how you always go out of the way to be polite. That's so rare."

"Thanks honey but it's actually quite the opposite." I reply. "I never go out of the way. I was just raised that way."

"Your mother has to be very proud then."

"I like to think so." I say, raising an eyebrow.  "Now, let's take a walk."

I crack the door of the stove just a bit and kill the heat. The pizza stone will continue cooking the food slowly until it is done. Never rush the simple pleasures.

I walk her around the porch first. It is usually the first thing people mention about the house. Whenever I travel to a new place I like to stop and eat at the little mom and pop restaurants and cafes along the way Every person I talked to about this place mentioned the porch. With good reason, too. It's a beauty. It wraps around the entire house. The house has two floors, and the porch does as well. There are stairs at each corner that take you to the upper lever of the porch. I made a donation to the local vfd after moving here. A few days later one of the resident good ol' boys called me asking if I had any use for some old church pews. I got four of them. One sits on each side of the bottom level of the porch now. They are about twenty feet long and solid. Adds a nice touch. The house and porch are painted parchment white. In moonlight the whole damned thing seems to glow. I notice Ms. Peregot touches the wood in places as we walk around, feeling the texture. I do that, too. Old wood feels nice. It has a heavy solid quality that comforts you. 

After we leave the porch I take her to the barn and stables. The plantation has only one barn, and it's a giant. It holds eighteen stables and pens. There are eight bays for tractors and such. I have found all kinds of old tackle and tools. I imagine I could make a king's ransom selling the stuff to collectors, but I plan on all of it staying here. There is even an old metal lathe. It has a stamp on it dated 1822. It feels like it weights ten tons. If somebody can steal that bastard, they can have it. In the back of the barn is a storage room with a small forge. Several heavy iron tools are sitting in a wooden box on the floor beside the forge. A big bellows is attached to the side. I don't know if the bellows still works, but I'm not going to squeeze it and find out. The rubber webbing is old and might crack if it is moved. When you find something that old and precious, it's best to leave it alone. 

Ms. Peregot is looking at something in the box.

"What is this?" she asks, holding up a small thick corkscrew of metal. It has a square flat base and a small plug of wood in the middle of the corkscrew.

'That's a courting candle holder." I said. I took the metal corkscrew and held it upright. It felt heavy in my hand. "When a suitor would come calling to visit the young lady of the house, mama would put a candle in the corkscrew. When the candle burned down to the top of the corkscrew it was time for him to go home. If the parents didn't like the fellow they would twist the wooden plug way down so it didn't take much time for the candle to burn down to the top. If they liked him they would set the plug up so it took the candle a good while to burn down. "

"That's so cool. And sweet." 

"This thing is dusty, probably been in this room for a century. Think you could clean the cobwebs out of it?"

"I might be able to." She answers.

"Good. It's yours." I say with a wink.

She smiles and cradles the holder.

"Now let's move on to the good stuff." I say and take her by the hand. 

For another hour we walk around the property. It's impossible to see everything here in a month, much less an hour. I try my best to show her everything I think she might like. It's obvious she's very taken when I show her the artesian well and waterfall. The Trebenaeu  family had river rock brought in and packed around the top and base of the fall so the running water wouldn't erode the fall. The basin at the bottom is about thirty feet wide, circled with shiny black river rock. Cool green moss grows on the rocks closest to the water. Big  fat bull frogs sunbathe lazily on the rocks. Dragonflies glide over the clear water while honey bees hover in a small cloud over wild honeysuckle. The fall gives off a cool spray that feels soothing. 

Julia is standing speechless looking at the fall. 

"My own little piece of shangri-la." I say to her. "I like this place alot."

"It's beautiful" She replies in an awed voice.

I look into those bright green eyes of hers and smile.

"Lots of things here are. Now, let's eat."

As we make our way back to the house she walks a bit closer to me. There is something in the very presence of a woman like this that makes a man feel good. She is holding the candle holder in both hands, looking at it as we walk and talk.

"So." She speaks up. "How did you end up out here on this big place all alone?"

I figured she would ask me this eventually. And are you alone? She is actually asking. It's perfectly understandable. I have been feeling her out just the same. All is fair that way.

"I travel sometimes. I stumbled across this place and decided it was the right place at the right time. Besides, this place is like Valhalla. I love just about everything about this place. And I am alone for a number of reasons." 

I stop walking and turn to her.

"Let's just say that I wouldn't be here if I didn't think this is the best place for me at this time in my life. I hope that doesn't sound like an evasive answer, but it's the plain truth." I tell her. She's listening intently, watching my face as I talk. She's studying me. That doesn't bother me. Someone who knows a lie can also spot the truth. 

"Things that have happened in my life have made it so that it benefits me to be alone sometimes. Nothing that anyone would have to worry about. That is just the way things have turned out to be."

"I understand Nails." Her eyes meet mine and hold them. "Tell me one thing."

"What is that?" I ask.

 What are you trying to do here?"

"Learning to breathe again." I reply with some effort.

"I understand." She says and takes my hand. "And I'm hungry."

The sun is setting behind us as we return to the house. The parchment white paint is taking on a faded orange color as the sun slides below the horizon. I haven't seen many sunsets this beautiful. Far less in the company of such a pretty woman. That is the truth of it, too. Julia is very attractive, and genuinely pretty as well. Alot of women are attractive and 'hot' so to speak, but many of them lack that soft feminine air about them. Julia is a desirable blend of both. Sometimes one more than other, but always both. When we reach the steps leading up to the porch she turns to me and gives me a quick kiss.

"Well now, that was nice." I say to her.

"Least I could do."

We walk through the front door, and the smell of the food greets us immediately.

"God that smells good. What is that?" She asks. 

"Come with me and find out."

I lead her into the dining room. In the center is a long table with eight chairs. In the middle of the table is a big vase full of magnolia blossoms. The table is draped in a white crocheted tablecloth. The tablecloth hangs off gracefully at the corners of the table. I pull out a chair for her to sit. 

"I'll be right back." I tell her.

I return a few minutes later with our dinner on two silver dining trays. I sit a tray in front of her and one to her right. The aroma of the food is maddening. 

She looks at her trays and her eyes grow wide.

"You made calzones!"

"I'll be right back with tea. The half on the right is mushroom, the left is spinach."

"Oh it smells so good. I can't believe this." She says. 

"Thank you young lady." I reply. "Glad I could cook for you."

I return with the pitcher of tea and two tall glasses. Both glasses have plenty of ice cubes and two wedges of lemon on the rim. I pour both glasses full. Soon we are chatting happily and enjoying our meal. I've been looking forward to this, and it has been worth every minute of waiting. I am pleased that the conversation never leads to work. Julia is a very dedicated worker, but for me it's just as much a relief that she has a life outside work. To my surprise she eats almost all of her dinner. I believe in overkill when it comes to simple pleasures, so I put alot of food on both our trays.

"So." I speak abruptly. "I need to ask you something Julia." 

She looks at me with a serious expression on her face. This can go really good or really bad, no in between.

"The answer is yes, before you ask."  She responds. " I keep my private life private and my professional life professional."

Well now, that was unexpected. In the best possible way.

"I'm glad we see eye to eye." I say as I rise from my chair. "Would you like me to make something for dessert?"

"No." She says, rubbing her toe up the length of my calf. "Dessert is on me."

Wow. I need to cook italian more often.

Julia helps put the dishes away while I wrap the leftovers in foil. I noticed she has taken her Keds off. She seems different from the woman I met at work. She is a very attractive hard working woman. I can't help but wonder why she's here with me instead of leading someone like Mr. Finch around by his little misguided dick.

I probably just answered my own question. I know more than one woman who was taken by a young corporate climber only to find out his dick wasn't the only part of him that was misguided. Besides, I like where this is going. 

Julia is bent over putting the last of the dishes in the washer. I walk up behind her and put my hand on the small of her back. She stands upright and turns to me. Our eyes meet and we embrace and kiss. She smells like heaven.

"Thank you for the tour." She whispers into my ear.

"My pleasure. Maybe I can show you the rest of the property sometime." I reply quietly. Her eyes are a deeper shade of green in this light. I don't think I've ever seen a shade of green quite like it.

"There is something I am very interested to see before I go Nails."

"And what might that be young lady?"

"Your bedroom."

"My pleasure honey." 

I take her by the hand and lead her to my bedroom. I have a big california king bed. The first time I saw the bed it looked roughly the size of two football fields. The bed is piled deep with quilts and comforters. The top quilt is one my mother made for me years back. I don't even remember how long I've had it. It's the only thing from home I have left, but now is no time to think about things like that. There is a lamp on a small bedside table. I click the lamp on and sit on the bed. Julia sits beside me and we being to kiss. She bites my beck gently. I place my hand on the flat of her stomach. Her skin is warm and soft. I nuzzle in her hair for a moment. She unties the knot at the front of her shirt.

"Shall I?" I ask.

"If you don't I will mister." She replies.

I slowly pull her shirt up and over her head. Her breasts seem like they are about to burst from her bra. She reaches behind her and her bra falls away. My breath catches for a moment. She has the most impressive breasts I have ever seen. Her nipples are a washed pink color. The areola are a slightly lighter shade of pink. I cup her breasts and slide my tongue in her mouth. She welcomes my tongue, sucking it, lapping at it with hers. Her lips feel warm and sweet as they glide along my tongue. I take my shirt off and cast it aside. Her hands begin exploring me, rubbing my chest and back. I can feel her hard nipples rake against my chest. She eases her hand down the front of my jeans. Her finger grazes the head of my cock. I stand in front of her. She opens the buttons on my fly and pulls my pants down. She gives my underwear a tug and they fall away. Julia's hand grasps my cock, rubbing under the head with her thumb. My cock is painfully hard. She strokes it slowly. I pull her close and put my hands on her shoulders. I perch the head of my cock just an inch or so from her mouth. She sticks her tongue out and closes her eyes. I put the head of my cock on her outstretched tongue. She wraps her lips around the head then slowly slides down on my shaft. 

She reaches around me and grips my ass hard as she slides down on my cock. Her nails dig into my skin. I close my eyes and revel in the sensation. Our breathing is the only sound I can hear. Her mouth is warm and enticing. I admire her hair, brushing through it with my fingers as she devours my cock. As she goes down her tongue squirms and tickles my skin. She swallows my cock to the hilt and holds it deep in her mouth. She squeezes my balls and sucks with greater friction as she withdraws. With each stroke I find it harder to stand. The urge to throw her down on the bed and fuck her senseless is almost overwhelming. She stops at the head and licks the underside. She clasps my balls and inhales my cock once more. 

I touch her on the the shoulder. She looks up at me and I look at the bed. She lies back on the bed. I unzip her shorts and pull them away. She is wearing white cotton panties. She takes her panties off, balls them up and throws them at me. All I can do is smile. I kick my jeans and underwear off. I kneel on the bed beside her, then bring my leg up and over her, straddling her chest. She places her hands on the sides of her breasts and squeezes them together. She has this sublime smile on her face I can't quite describe. I position myself squarely over her and place my hands on the bed by her shoulders. I pivot my hips forward and my cock penetrates the warm crease between her tits. She utters a small moan as I begin to fuck her cleavage. With each pump she makes content little noises. She closes her eyes and squeezes her beautiful breasts together hard. I keep my momentum steady, lingering in each deep slide between her warm soft tits. 

I can feel the aching full sensation begin to build. As it grows closer I concentrate, slowing my movement and sliding in and out of her cleavage with longer more deliberate strokes. When I feel the moment is close I pull away from her chest and she rises up, mouth open. She greedily consumes my cock all the way to my balls. I grab the back of her head and she begins sucking like mad. I feel the rush begin to overwhelm me. My orgasm strikes me like a bolt of electricity. She obviously knows what she's doing. She comes up on my cock slowly, sucking hard as she goes. Her lips envelope the head in a sweet kiss and I cum like a violent eruption. She inhales my orgasm as the shock runs through me.  then she goes down on me hard and cups my balls. 

I stay knelt over her for a few more moments, feeling the tidal draw as she swallows my load. When I feel I can move again I rise off of her. My body doesn't want to move. My cock certainly doesn't want to leave her mouth. I slip down and in between her legs. I begin kissing her stomach just below her navel. Our eyes meet as my tongue makes a sticky trail down to her sex. I can feel the small bulge of her clitoris under my tongue. At the touch she sighs aloud.

"Nail me baby."  She whispers.

Fade To Black.