tagNovels and NovellasNewburyport Ch. 01

Newburyport Ch. 01

byPariscorey©

Newburyport: A New England Novel Of A Woman, Her Loves and Lusts

Chapter I: Holly's Seduction


It was another rainy weekend. On this dark and dreary midwinter Sunday morning Holly had cleaned the huskies kennel, finished the week's laundry, talked to her oldest daughter in Alexandria, and gotten more and more depressed. The past few weeks had been brutal. Between a day job consisting of eight hours of listening to reasons a phone bill hadn't been paid and the evenings and Saturdays on her feet behind a counter at the store the unremitting pace with no let up for recreation was wearing her down. This week the store had been the worst. It was the week after Christmas and there was a cloudburst of frantic returns and complaints to deal with. It seemed that everyone's patience had run out on Christmas night and that rudeness and impatience toward all had taken it's place in the ensuing days. She had also been bothered by the continuing decline in the health of her father. Since he had served in the Army during World War II he had suffered from a wide variety of ailments associated with that terrible time, but, of late, the periods in which he enjoyed even some semblance of health had become rare.

Her comforts were the dogs. Five female huskies. Since she was a child growing up in the North Country she had been enthralled by sled dogs, and now she had her own team. In earlier years the needs of Joe and the girls had to take priority to her wishes, but with the girls in Virginia and Joe gone from her life she realized that she could fulfill this lifelong dream, and the dogs Was one dream that had turned out just as she had hoped. Even at the end of the worst of days she had this joyful group who lived for her return. The huskies, being more wolf than dog in their habits, had established an societal order with her as the leader. Of course there was a canine leader as well but she was acknowledged as the dominant female in an all girl group. With this honor came responsibility. She was called on for attention to all of her subjects in the pack. To slight one for another was to invite a quarrel among the girls, as she thought of them.

In a season when it should have been mid winter but because a warm temperatures and rain there was no snow to run a sled on, even the dogs were not enough to pick up her spirits. In the dull late December morning she listlessly leafed through the Boston Sunday Globe. Turning the pages automatically and not registering what she read. A little quarrel between the girls brought her mind back to the present and as she looked down again at the page before her she noticed a large add for a Day Before New Years Brunch at the Old Port Inn in Newburyport. The menu of food looked inviting and the Dixieland band sounded up enough to perhaps save her day.

Into the closet for something to wear. She had always been attracted to clothes, they helped set her mood and brighten her day. In the past few months there had been little time for anything except work and no time to dress up. She had a suit that she had been saving for an occasion and perhaps this was it. It was navy blue with a blazer top who's brass buttons closed it just high enough to be acceptable but low enough to be noticeable. The plain skirt was narrow and came just above the knee to show off her long well shaped legs in the dark blue thigh highs that she selected. From a draw she extracted other saved items, a dark rose low cut bra and tap panties to match. Navy patent pumps completed the look.

A little time spent on nails, hair, hands and feet, then into the shower. She came out feeling good and for the first time in quite some time, a little excited. Looking in the mirror she surveyed her body and thought not bad for the time and the miles. She had worked hard to keep her figure and had succeeded well, she thought at the end of this examination. She still had nice firm breasts, that could even be described a perky. Her nipples stiffened a little from the shower stood out as they should and the effect was that of a much younger woman. Her tummy was reasonably flat descending to a triangle of brown curly hair. Her bottom was curvy and upright. Looking at her legs she was glad for those hours spent on the Stairmaster at the club. Those had been hard mornings to make at times but the results were well worth it.

She dressed carefully, first the bra and tap pants. She loved tap pants because of the feeling of freedom that they gave her. They didn't cling to her neither places as conventional panties would but instead allowed some feeling of nakedness and access to her most private parts if that was required. The tap pants also could provide a very nice and fulfilling friction at other times. They also provided a world of opportunities when she pursued her long time hobby of casual flirtation. The navy thigh highs had lace tops that went well with the delicate lace that trimmed the deep rose panties. She wriggled into the narrow skirt and slipped the blazer over her bra-covered breasts. The navy heels set off her legs just in the right way. She was beginning to feel almost excited by the prospect of a leisurely brunch and the possibility of a chance at a little innocent flirtation. The thought of using her legs on a poor unsuspecting husband and evoking his wife's wrath on him for his attention to her was exciting and a favorite game when dining alone. The dogs sensed her improving mood and were as happy and lively as she had seen them in days.

The drive to Newburyport was interesting. Her narrow skirt necessitated that her legs be exposed nearly to the tops of her stockings in order to drive. At the tollgate she purposely selected the manned booth even though she was well stocked with tokens for the automatic exact change line.

She also purposely selected a fifty-dollar bill from her wallet so that the toll taker would have to take the time to make change and as he handed the change to her she decided to ask for a roll of tokens to make sure that he had a ample look at her assets. She then took her time asking directions to Newburyport and putting the change in her wallet and the wallet in her purse. As she was pulling away she was almost certain that she noticed a satisfying bulge just beginning to appear in the attendant's trousers. It always gave her a warm glow to know that she had the power to elicit such a wonderful response.

She drove south on the turnpike passing a line of trucks coming down from Maine and the Maritimes. As she passed she was aware that at least some of them were enjoying the view that she was providing. One of them speeded up to stay along side on her right while another took advantage of the four lanes to occupy the left side of the gallery. She pretended not to notice but taking her right hand from the wheel she began to caress the inside of her thigh. She could feel their eyes and almost feel the excitement that her actions were generating. This was one of her favorite games and it seemed to her, a logical way to pass the time on the highway when she felt sexy. The caressing of her legs in the presence of the known male attention warmed her as well. She could begin to feel the welcome sexual tension build in her loins. Little twinges of sexual feeling tweaked her bottom and the crotch in her tap pants began to show a satisfying dampness. All too soon she came to the Newburyport exit and turned off leaving the truckers to discuss the "beaver seat cover" on their CBs. and to do whatever else made the miles bearable. She could imagine that hers was not the only crotch that was a little damp.

High Street in Newburyport is lined for almost a mile with what is said to be the greatest collection of Federalist Houses in America. This impressive collection was still clothed in it's Christmas finery and a grand sight. To her left, down the cross Streets, she caught glimpses of the Merrimack River looking cold And gray. She pulled into the parking lot past the great white clapboard wall of the Inn. Just as she swung her feet from the car the sun peaked through the clouds that had obscured it for what seemed to be weeks. With only nine hours between sunrise and sunset in this latitude in late December there was little enough daylight available even in perfect weather and that glimpse of blue sky came now as if as a good omen for the day. She walked into the Inn confident and pleased with herself for the first time, it seemed, in weeks.

The hostess gave her a pleasant New Years greeting and it being only eleven o'clock there was a wide choice of tables. Holly selected her position in the room with care. The right table, with the right lighting, in just the right location was important to the game she had decided to play after her preliminaries on the turnpike. She took a table set for two at the far end of a windowed wall looking out at the river in the distance. This table faced the entrance to the room.

The lighting was good and everyone who entered would look in that direction to see the view for which the dining room at the Inn was famous. When she sat the narrow skirt rode about half way up her thighs, to rest only about two inches below the lacy top of her stockings. The cute young waitress introduced herself as Kitten, complemented her on her suit, and brought her a mimosa and a menu showing the dishes on the buffet. She sipped the mimosa and shifted her position causing her skirt to rise another inch along her thighs.

On the far wall diagonally across from Holly was a somewhat stuffy looking middle aged couple. The woman was plump and looked unpleasant and the husband, who was facing Holly, looked bored. On her second glance Holly noticed that she had managed to get his attention. He was staring at her long supple legs that were so well displayed in the light of the window. The woman was talking, nagging continuously at him, but she had completely lost his attention. Annoyed by this she turned, finally, to follow his gaze and met Holly's eyes with a look that could freeze mercury. She tugged at her husband's sleeve to try to redirect his attention, but only succeeded in diverting him momentarily. She continued to talk in an increasingly animated manner, and he continued to direct all of his attentions to Holly's exposed and shapely thighs. To further distract him Holly shifted again, re-crossing her legs to give him a hint of a glimpse of her inner thighs. At the same time she let the napkin slip from her lap to the floor beside her right foot. She sipped her drink and looked around the room.

Then she seemed to notice the napkin was not on her lap. Looking down, she uncrossed her legs and reached for the napkin. This brought her right foot back and her knee down, and her legs spread. Her victim now had a clear view of the carefully selected deep rose panties and a hint of something more. She slowly reached for the napkin but her hand brushed it further away in her initial attempt, causing her to reach further and spread her legs a bit more. By this time the skirt had ridden up well above her stocking tops and she was quite exposed as she groped for the elusive napkin.

She heard a crash and looked up to see that her audience, in his distraction, had brushed a carafe of red wine onto his wife's beige covered lap. After soaking the woman the carafe had then rolled to the floor. Holly quickly regained the napkin and straightened pulling down her wayward skirt. Meanwhile the wife, in a fury, had demanded to leave the restaurant to change her soaked and ruined clothing. Holly glanced over at the husband and smiled in sympathy as he was unceremoniously dragged out the door.

Only then did Holly notice the attractive dark haired lady who had also apparently been part of her audience. She was sitting further back in the room but had a clear view of Holly's table. Holly colored a bit when she realized that this woman had observed her flirtation with the other diner.

As Holly glanced her way again the lady raised her mimosa glass and smiled intimately over it at Holly. Holly's view of the woman was not nearly as good a the woman's view of her. Holly was sitting at a table in full light of the window, while the unintended observer was in deep shadow. During the next few minutes Holly would glance would be drawn again and again to the beautiful woman's direction only to find her gaze steadily met with an inviting smile.

Finally, her mimosa finished, Holly went to the buffet to survey the offering. She selected a little fruit and some yogurt from the offering, and went to look at the array of cold dishes displayed on the next table. As she walked along this table a voice behind her asked huskily what one could do with a tongue. Startled, Holly turned to find her female admirer examining a boiled beef tongue in aspic. She smiled at Holly and repeated the question. Holly thought for a moment and said that it was such a complex question that it required careful examination. The woman said that she hated eating alone and would be pleased if Holly could join her at her table to consider the question at length. Holly readily agreed and went with the woman to her table.

Walking behind her guest Holly had an opportunity to get a better look at the woman. She was striking. She looked to be about fifty- five and very well cared for. Her clothing was extremely tasteful and expensive. She had full hips, beautiful legs and a regal walk which attracted the attention of most of the guests in the rapidly filling dining room. As they sat she introduced herself to Holly as Darlene Gilmore. She told Holly that she summered in her ancestral home in Newburyport, but normally spent this time of year in Tucson, at her winter home. She had been called here over Christmas for the funeral of an ancient uncle. She asked if she could contribute a bottle of wine to the conversation and ordered expertly from the very attentive waiter. This was obviously not her first time in the restaurant and it appeared that she was known to the staff as an important client.

They talked about this and that. Holly described her huskies and the woman her silver gray imperial poodle, Sebastian. Sharing a love of dogs and with the addition of the wine on top of the mimosas loosened the conversation until it came around to Holly's game played earlier. Darlene told Holly that she often wanted to play this sought of game herself but lacked the confidence to do it. Holly could not imagine that this polished, obviously worldly woman lacked the confidence to try anything, but took it as a compliment. She also complemented Holly on her suit and her figure, saying that she knew how much work and dedication was involved in keeping a beautiful body.

As the wine and food progressed Holly found herself drawn to this exotic lady. During a third trip to the buffet table Darlene pointedly referred to the beef tongue again, this time with a knowing smile that brought a tingle to Holly's tummy.

Over coffee and brandies in the quiet dim lounge, Darlene suggested that Holly come to her house for tea and a tour of the historic residence. Holly eagerly agreed and after finishing their drinks they left the inn, walking up High Street several blocks to the old Rice Mansion. As noted earlier High Street is known for it's display of Federalist Architecture and the Rice Mansion is considered by many authorities to be the centerpiece of this display. The house lies behind a white ornate picket fence, set well back on a wide lawn filled with huge beech and white pine trees. It is a huge square house of three stories, with wide windows and doors that greet and invite the world.

The house was the pride of Captain Peter Rice, merchant, ship owner, lumber baron, and privateer in the American Revolution. Captain Rice, a patriot, had done well for his country and himself during that historic struggle. His ships, under Captains and crews of sailors for which Newburyport was famous brought riches to the Captain and the town and woe to the British merchant fleet around the world. The family had continued to prosper in the textile trade during the industrial revolution that followed Lowell's return from England with the secrets of the spinning and weaving machines. They invested heavily in Lowell's development of the city that bears his name and the family became a Massachusetts dynasty. They did have one problem however in that the births in the family ran to girls or boys who perhaps would have been happier as girls and so the family for all it's wealth and power tended to diminish in number to carry the Rice name. Darlene, with the death of her ancient, and gay, Uncle Josiah Rice was the last of the direct line of male descendants of the Captain.

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