Cougar House Ep. 044: Hire Elevation

Cabot Ross crossed the line.

From the second he stepped over the threshold into Roselyn Albright's 8.1-million-dollar mountain top home he felt out of his league. Raised middle class in Wildwood to always work hard for your future, a trait instilled by loving parents, he always kept a level head. Even when he tried suckering Margo Needy just to tap her hot ass when her son Elliot went to France. At first devious but as time went on, he grew to love Margo to the point of guardian angel. Here and now, he had stepped back into old habits just to help secure Margo's dream of financing a Bed & Breakfast to save her late husband's legacy.

While Margo might not necessarily approve of his deception here on Albright Mountain her own psyche needed the help. She would find a way to make amends when she too played border patrol. It wasn't like Roselyn was struggling financially like Margo was. This mission for Cabot was from the heart and he told himself he too would make Roselyn feel his dedication. Earlier seeing her in a nightie and sucking his cock so energetically he had a moment of inspiration. He might just rebuild this woman, diminish her physical flaws, treat her well, and if he did have to walk away, he would leave her thanking him.

"Beautiful home for a beautiful woman." He looked about the well-lit foyer, a massive open concept living room, kitchen, dining area, she even had a pool table and aquariums built into the wall. "No pets?" Fish didn't count.

She lingered behind him her hormones screaming for attention. Wearing this dog collar, she dared to admit. "Only koi fish. I guess I'm my own pet now that I wear this."

"No, you're MY PET! Get used to being treated as such Roselyn." He stepped in further, snapping his fingers at his side to coax her along, "You wanted me, you courted me, I'm here until you disappoint me."

"I will try my best not to Cabot. I've been alone a very long time. Yes, I've had many men up here, but they all demand the same of me. Sex, money, and more money. I will not give away my own future so easily."

"Sexually only! I made that clear. I can leave if you think otherwise." You go, Badass!

"I would like to know you better. I will serve you sexually, any and all things pertaining to. I must be protective of all other areas of my life."

"Understood! Like I said, spoil me as you see fit. The day I walk away I'll give it all back. When I can afford to spoil you in some fashion I will. Let's get to know one another, Rosie. Any beer in this castle?"

"In the downstairs fridge by the bar. I often watch movies in our, my theater and get drunk by myself. I bring men up here on rare occasions but most times until I feel them honest, I go for hotel rooms. I hope my inviting you here gives you hope that I'm putting faith into you."

"Because I gave away your thousand-dollar tip?"

"That was very admirable. You were the first to ever do such a thing."

"Take that nightie off, leave the stockings and garter." He told her without even looking, his curiosity exploring the artwork on the wall. While she removed her blue sheer nightie she toyed with her areolas. "These don't look professional."

"Good eye! I paint to relax. All mine!"

"You must paint a lot." He counts eight oil paintings within sight.

"Some were when my husband was alive. He would go off on business trips and leave me here to my imagination."

"My imagination from here on. When I leave you, I'll always find something constructive for you to do while I'm away."

"Sexually? If I'm nothing else... how would that work exactly?" She observed him strolling from painting to painting, hands held behind him at the wrist for a professional almost art critic look. He didn't want his hands in his pockets or folded arms to look uneducated. He had seen enough movies to copycat the actors. James Bond mostly!

"This painting. What were you trying to say while constructing it?"

"The pond? The row boat! Serenity I suppose."

"Point A to point B. OAR... you're lost. This oar is backwards compared to the other one. You can't make up your mind which way to travel. Unhappy marriage... correct?"

"We had our moments. He was a good man. I know he loved me. He... satisfied my needs even if he couldn't always do it himself."

"Such as inviting Darryl Needy to fuck the shit out of you?"

"Margo... my husband. With me as well. I have a chill; might we sit by the fire?" Fireplace well-lit but requiring stoked. No gas in the main living room, all wood. Nodding once more without looking back at her he turned toward the fireplace and took it upon himself to snatch up a fire poker to adjust the wood, throwing one more cord of cherry tree on to keep things toasty. In such a big room it was necessary to adjourn closer to feel the heat. Oddly enough she kept a bearskin rug in front of the hearth.

Once the fire danced wildly, a tribute to Wildwood itself, he stood up placing the poker in its upright position amid numerous other irons. He was used to stoking coals after last night's bonfire. "Panties off! Naked! Garters and all now." She complied with a sheepish effort wanting him to watch her undress. The bearskin rug reminded him of the first time he and Margo had sex in her basement. Just like this! Utilizing that day as inspiration he had a focus as to where this was all going. Eyes ignoring direct contact with hers, or even in her disrobing, Cabot instead stared up at the painting above the fireplace.

"No paintings of your husband?"

"He would never sit still for me. Are you really truly that fascinated by my artistic abilities?"

"Does this old building exist"

"Yes! It's the entrance to an old coal mine dug here back in the 1920's. The building is crumbling, barely standing now, but I captured it when we first moved up here in June of 2001. It was right after he and I married. I don't believe it's been in use since the 1950's."

"MINE! ALL MINE!" He recited turning to face her finally. Pointing at the rug he continued with, "Crumble before me. Your imagination is captured." Always use someone else's words to your advantage. Con Artist 101!

Trembling she dropped down to sit on the soft fur. "Well, at least my cave hasn't been out of use since the 1950's."

"None of that! You weren't even born in the 50's. It makes you sound as if you think of yourself as old."

"43! 44 next month."

"Young at heart! I'd be here even if you were 50. I am 19! Robbing the cradle they say." He grinned for once. "Lay back! Watch the flames, not me. Finger that pussy until I say differently. I'm going to find a beer and I had better hear you screaming over the acoustics in this place. Do you want a beer?"

"Just a bear." She giggled caressing the fur beneath her. "Hurry back Cabot."

"Lure me back! Loud and proud Momma Bear!"

"You so take my breath away."

"Oh, you're going to be gasping by dawn. Now get the fuck busy."

"Yes! For you, my Master." She immediately tormented her clit, watching the flames flicker wildly. Fingers relocating within her she plunged into her troubled waters. With Cabot stepping away she did defy him if only to look at her lake painting. The juices within her cunt the lake, her body the boat, the oars her mixed emotions. "Cabot is quite insightful." If not in sight himself. "Please lord? Let me keep this one. He... collared me like a dog."

Shivering at the prospect of actual ownership again after Wardell had departed, leaving her leash dangling at his bedside, she recalled how Cabot voluntarily offered to go exercise with her. The goals of pulling off these last 25 pounds on her wish list compelled her to give him a chance. "We shall see." The pet concept degrading but erotic just the same. Of course, she had been down this road before in serving her husband. "Please make him tell me to roll over." Moans echo! She would have to steam clean the bear. With no maid service she was on her own.

Finding of all things an elevator going from the main floor to either the second story or the basement Cabot puckered, "Fancy! Why not?" He pressed a button and waited until the door opened. Stepping inside he found the floor panel. Eyes flaring, he noted five levels. "No way! What the heck could possibly be three floors down?" Holding the door open he made certain he could hear Roselyn crying out. She sure was enjoying herself that's for certain. Nodding he pushed floor five just out of curiosity. Door sliding shut the elevator lowered quickly coming to a halt just as fast. Hissing open, with a dull thud he was greeted by darkness.

"Heated down here so it has to be... whoa!" Taking three steps from the elevator, sensor lights came on, illuminating a massive room with an underground pool. "Who would have thought they would have an indoor pool and an outdoor one. Nice! A sauna and massage room. Home theater even. Wonder what this room is?" He rounded the Olympic size pool and explored the side rooms, a sliding barn door revealing an open bar complete with dance floor. The decor spoke ballroom dancing. "I might have to take Rosie dancing down here." No beer at the bar. One more room was locked but through a porthole like window that looked like a big collar he could see dungeon aspects within, electronic fuck machines and the like. "Nice!"

The next room over was a wine cellar and a meat locker. "Hell let me remodel one of these bedroom's down here and I'll move in." He no more than said that he retraced his thoughts, "Nope! I like it at Margo's. Sad thing is now that I mentioned the pool job to Heath he's going to try to steal Rosie and abuse her finances for himself. Honestly, what red blooded American male wouldn't. She's too smart for that though. Bathroom? Good deal!" He hovered over a toilet and took a piss. Flushing, washing his hands and taking his leave he ventured back to the elevator. Fourth floor pitstop. This floor had a multitude of large bedrooms, like a few down below by the pool. Each housing a different theme from cave dwelling, to British Victorian, and even a Vegas casino feel which was one by the pool downstairs. His last stop on that floor found a huge surprise.

"I just knew there was another bondage dungeon in here like the one downstairs. Her hubby must have liked going from floor to floor. Damn! Both of these places put Darryl's attic to shame. Big cage hanging from the ceiling, sex swings in every corner, shackle mounts on cross beams to hang women on, or men I guess, if it's Rosie's fun." Losing track of time, he went up one more floor and found a fridge near a pool table and another bar. "With her husband gone I'm surprised she keeps the fridge stocked. I hope this beer isn't like three years old." Twisting the top off of a Bud he took a sip, "Tastes fresh! Makes me wonder if she entertains more than she admits. Is she playing me as much as I'm playing her?" Time would tell.

Heading back up to the main level, he heard her crying out still. "At least she kept her end of the bargain." Shuffling in he took a seat on the sofa across from her outstretched bear hug. "Big place you have here Rosie. I took the elevator all the way down. Seems to me this could almost be a Bed & Breakfast too."

"My husband liked to entertain. This was in a sense a swinger's resort. I'm surprised Margo didn't tell you about my home."

"Hands and knees, ass facing me. Fuck yourself sniffing Yogi."

"Yes, Master Cabot."

"We need a simpler approach to that. Let's start calling me... something regal, but not Sir nor Master. Maybe...?" He looked up at the painting over the fireplace, "Palette! I believe I like the canvas before me."

"Are you for real?" She sighed heavily, "Are you certain you're not just painting me into a corner?"

"Not many people know this... but I used to paint with my grandmother. For the longest time, then I discovered sports and... girls. That just gave me an idea. My grandmother's in a nursing home. Maybe I'll go buy a canvas and paint with her. Good bonding moment, right?"

"Really? I believe she might like that."

"I can't see up your cunt. Spread those lips." He was having fun trying to persuade her there was more to him than a simple waiter and wannabe chef. "I also discovered cooking. I may be a waiter right now but I intend to go to culinary school once I save up." Grow up as well!

"You could have used that tip I gave you." She peered at him through her legs while her fingers pried open her wet vulva. "I could use a tip right now myself."

"When I'm ready Rose. Don't rush this."

"May I suggest something far better that Palette?"

"Honor me!"

"Always! Perhaps Baroque? Or Nouveau? Even, dare I say it Dada? All forms of artistic expression."

"Hold that pose." He ordered her, then took out his phone to Google the terms Baroque first, "Let's see here. B-A-R-O-Q-U-E?" His spelling pulled up a correct translation, "Baroque style does everything it can to inspire a sense of awe and emotion, detail, contrast, chaos, and rich color."

"Not to mention it oozes strength and sexiness."

"I exude the strength, that hole the sexiness. Tell me Roselyn, are you a blank canvas these days?"

"I've lost all that once was vibrant."

"You haven't lost me. I'm still here."

"Will you remain or simply use me?"

"I'm using that pussy as soon as I polish off my Bud here. We'll discuss tomorrow when it gets here. I will make you breakfast in the morning. Concerning vibrant? I'll update that color scheme. A fresh coat and you'll be as good as you. New even."

"Nouveau! Will my breath ever return?"

Guzzling his beer he sat the empty bottle aside, even placing it on a coaster to prove he wasn't totally barbaric. His mother trained him in the art of cleanliness. Standing up, he slowly, methodically, stripped out of his clothing and neatly positioned all but his shoes on her coffee table, shoes beneath. "Keep the mineshaft open." She was wavering but trying hard to not lose her stance.

Kneeling next to her on the bearskin he took his fingers and measured just how many he could install within her pried lovely pink circumference. Three easily, four with encouragement. Digging in she gasped. "Release!" She thought he meant a flood, no problem. She saturated his fingers in a warm creek of sacrifice. "Face into the fur, arms folded behind your back." Smothering herself she locked her arms around her spine and felt him knuckle fuck her, building up speed as he terrorized her interior.

"Meet Hand Gogh!" He chuckled. "This is his friend PicASSo." Left hand sinking fingers inside her anus she cried out her lust of his charisma. "Cum extremely hard for them and I'll let Leonardo Seven Inchy in to paint your Moana Leasha." Dumb but inspiring.

"THANK YOU, BAROQUE!"

"That's me, going for Baroque. Baroqueback Mountain!" He thought it was funny. It was! She of course knew the movie involved gay cattle herders. Still, with his fingers running rampant inside her she didn't think too much on the topic. She truly hoped Cabot was not bi-sexual. Bad enough her late husband was. While not opposed to women herself it did strike a bad memory of male-on-male antics. Love and acceptance overcame her squeamishness.

"Was your husband a hunter? I saw trophy heads on the third level walls."

"He loved hunting. He often went on hunting trips with clients."

"What did... I don't even know his name? What did he do?"

"Many things. His family was wealthy long before he was born. Working from home he was a stock market analyst, trader applying talents his father taught him. You haven't gone upstairs yet; he has a very large office. I really only go in there to cry."

"Miss... still no name?"

"Wardell! Third generation name. I rarely mention his name because it hurts that he's not here to guide me anymore. I learned to be shrewd with our money through him but he did handle everything. I've graduated myself to half of his level at best. I was merely his trophy wife, if not top shelf quality. Your fingers feel wonderful."

"On your way to that top shelf Rose. Serve me well and I'll guide you toward greatness. I'm a runner. Track in high school, so I kept fit. I've always been athletic, don't let my painting or wanting to be a chef fool you. I'm all man."

"I am learning this Baroque."

"Not gay in any way Rose. I saw you tense up when I mentioned Brokeback Mountain. I just found it humorous. Not even my kind of movie. I only know of it because my buddy Eric is a theater manager. He collects movie posters."

"As I said I have a theater downstairs. Complete with a popcorn machine and fountain drinks, although I don't keep those tanks filled unless I have guests. It seats 20 people."

"I noticed that." He had plans to tell Eric of the theater for when he had Margo's porn pieced together. If he could keep Roselyn under control, he could utilize the theater to make even more money yet. There was no reason for Eric to lose his job by showing off Margo in a public theater. "Once you feel you can trust me completely, I'd like to invite friends to watch a movie down there. You would of course be right beside me. In my lap! In other laps."

"Oh my! I do so love being the center of attention."

"You and Margo have a lot in common."

"If I only had her beauty."

"Quit the pity party shit! You're built and you sure don't look 43."

"42 maybe?" She giggled. "I know I show my age Baroque. There is no need to try persuading me otherwise. I'm simply doing my best to maintain what appeal I still have."

"I think I'm done here." He removes his fingers from her holes. "If you can't see what I see, you don't need me." He stood up to go get dressed.

"Cabot please wait! My apologies Baroque. My self-esteem is just not what it once was. I know men find me attractive but I also know my money is more appealing. Men often say what they think I want to hear."

"You're not perfect. You will be. I might be young but I know what I want. Evolving you is just like that painting. Each color makes a difference. Composition is everything." He licks his fingers of her pussy juice. "Mmm! Rosie tastes good."

"I'm glad you approve." She sits up on the bear. "Tell me more about what you would want from me."

"Cumslut! You live up here in paradise and I bet you still wear clothes every day. I think you need to correct that."

"I don't always wear clothes at home. Wardell often made me go without. With he gone I guess I don't feel the need."

"If I keep you... I expect nudity 24/7. You don't have that many visitors to disrespect. Right?"

"Only my personal trainer and my old pool cleaner, but he's no longer employed here. Oh, and my grocery delivery driver. Way up here I have everything delivered. The only other visitors I get is if I need something fixed."

"The occasional date you said earlier."

"Yes! I do however try to avoid inviting men here because I want them to know there's more to me than being rich."

"You invited me here without question."

"The tip you gave away inspired me to trust you."

"Does my dick look limp to you?" He stood looking down at himself.

"Not at all. He's quite sturdy."

"Tell me why."

"I must turn you on."

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be rock hard. Get that fucking self-esteem dealt with. I'm off work today at Hilltop. I need to visit my grandmother but after that I'm free. This mountain has trails right?"

"Many! I don't often venture out alone because I know there are at least coyotes, possibly wolves up here."

"Margo's property just had a mountain lion on it. Cornered my friend Heath and Margo up in Elliot's treehouse."

"Oh goodness! They must have been terrified."

"Cat was domesticated fortunately. It escaped from a big cat sanctuary. Perfect timing, the owners of the place showed up at Margo's house as a warning. Terrified? Heath and Margo fucked the whole time the cat was in the tree with them. So, I hear at least." He reached for his cellphone and shared the video Brian Hancock had sent of the cougar on the roof of the treehouse. "Heath is my suggestion as your new pool guy."