Loving Claire Pt. 02

"Architect, nothing must mar this view. Access to the house has to be from the side or rear. Can we do that?"

Going back to the car, all three of us were higher than a kite, overcome by the possibilities of my house in its special spot. I made them sit in the back so they could work off excitement in a wrestle. I provided a running stream of dire outcomes. "The County will never give us a permit. The contractor will mess up the special concrete. A poisonous grass will be found in the meadow. The architect fails to graduate and can't get a license..."

The back seat was not amused. "Do not give us that prophet of doom stuff. You are our architect and your house will rise in that shadowy nook in the forest. Hurry up so we can get to work on the application."

At the condo, they declared the clothes might have poison oak on them and were to be deposited in front of the washer. I grabbed a stray boob and was threatened with loss of privileges. "You can have us later if you get to work while we shower and do the dinner. There might be a margarita in your future if we see paper coming out of the printer."

In the following days, I worked furiously on the application for a residential horse facility. Claire decided we should go all out to impress the Planning Commission, since her land purchase and development plans were subject to much gossip and even a small article in the local paper.

"Elliot, in this zoning game, it is no holds barred. We are giving it our best shot right up front."

I pulled her into my lap and said, meekly, "Why don't you find a name architect somewhere around here? A guy who will carry the day with his fancy reputation."

She slapped my face, none too lightly. "Do not talk back to the client! Your design is terrific. Stay the course, young one. Elise and I are your adoring clients and you can't let us down!"

She sealed that with a searing kiss, and I was done for. Back to work. I did several boards of sketches showing the sheltered hideaway for the house, and the attractive riding ring adjacent to the large expanse of pasture. Elise crept up to apply a neck massage, whispering that the Planning Commission would have no choice but to approve our application.

The two of them decided to invite neighbors of the property to a soiree at the Woodacre house to review the plans. Generous refreshments would be provided. "Neighbors are everything to the members of the Commission. We must quiet the usual dissent to any development," said Claire.

"It's back to the shack, is it? Before that, George Collins must see these boards. That is a non-negotiable demand." I gave them a fierce look. As fierce as I could manage without laughing.

Claire was lucky enough to catch Collins on her first try. "George, I have an emergency. We must meet to discuss his design at the earliest possible moment! We will come to you if necessary."

I had proposed this idea but was shaking in my boots. Claire used her most persuasive lobbyist voice. There were a few more words and she slammed the phone down.

"Ha! He invited us to his house for dinner. Said he needed to properly defend his excellent pupil. We are to bring an adequate quantity of fine wine. Tomorrow evening at 6:30."

I swooned to the sofa. They perched on top, grinning down. I said, "Do you know he lives in one of Maybeck's concrete masterpieces? He is going to take one look at my concrete exterior and I will be history!"

"Our architect needs a stiff drink." Elise walked toward the kitchen.

"Listen to me, Elliot. You are going to walk into his concrete house with head high and a confident smile on your face. Your dressed up womenfolk will greet Joyce with kisses and compliments for the house, saying we are so glad that Elliot has absorbed some of the master's touch." Claire's look was stern.

Her serious smile was infectious. "I don't have any choice, do I?

"Of course not," said Elise, extending a glass.

Chapter Seven - A Presentation to the Dean

Their determination rejuvenated me. If they could be tough with the Dean of Architecture, so could I. I sipped the bourbon I had been handed and thought about the proper approach with Collins. He would like the drawings and sketches I had done, but they were not enough.

"Come sit with me." They settled to each side, sipping their own drinks. "Since we are getting a royal welcome at an historic residence, there are formalities to be observed. Claire will deal with the fine wine requirement, and include discreet but memorable hors d'oeurves. Elise will assist me in preparation of the project proposal and accompanying materials. Everything must be professionally mounted on quality pasteboard. The sketches need to be colorized. The details of the drawings completed to perfection. The Dean will discover deficiencies in any event, but not too many!"

I was smothered in kisses. I nibbled here and there. "Ladies, does that satisfy your rule about our best shot up front?"

Taking more deep swallows, their slitted eyes stared me down. "Best shot, Elliot?"

"Well, shots plural, I guess."

They were sinking me in lust. Two hot women. Women with far more experience than the architecture student. I stood quickly, a body under each arm. My alpha male voice said, "Any more cheap shots and there will be severe punishment!"

Suddenly, my new lovers were giggling. "Elliot, we are going out for an early celebration! No more teasing! We have a reservation at that nice French place in San Anselmo. Put on your better clothes."

An hour later, we were seated in low key ambiance and an amazing menu, which Claire glanced at and then dismissed, saying we were already signed up for the evening's tasting menu. Shortly, a very fine bottle of white Burgundy arrived, along with a printed version of the tasting menu, most of it in French.

This was too much. I squeezed their hands and expressed thanks. The fashionably decorated eyes and sultry voices said they were impressed no end with my work and actually, all of my talents.

What does one say when two women who have shown you what good sex is all about are promising more rewards?

I kissed each hand and mumbled, "If this doesn't work tomorrow evening, I am resigning my commissions and leaving for the deepest Amazon jungle."

Claire was quick to counter my pessimism. "Not a chance, young one. The horses would never forgive us for letting you get away!"

I liked that idea. The horses would not be as critical as George Collins. I was poked and prodded and entertained with horse stories through the rest of a memorable meal. My women turned down dessert and said it would be at home. I tried to reach for my wallet, but was waved off. "The clients are paying!"

In the morning, with my head reminding me about the fine wine, one naked body sat on my legs applying massage to my back while the other delivered dark roast coffee and fresh croissant.

I was very hard and reluctant to turn over. "Elliot, do not be shy. You have used that weapon on us to good effect."

I did turn over, and he did quickly wilt as we discussed all the work needed before we left for Berkeley at 4:30.

The two of them were into tees and shorts and out the door on errands before nine. By ten, a half dozen different panels were complete and waiting for their mounting boards. My fingers flew over the laptop keyboard to build plagiarized pages from my latest project booklet, suitably altered to describe the merits of Ms. Claire Cartright's residence and horse facility proposal. I was generous with longwinded praise. I deliberately gave Collins openings for criticism.

The project assistants came barreling through the door before noon, their hands filled with bags. There was silence as they ducked under my arms and examined my morning's work.

"Elliot, they are fabulous. You have so damn much talent, it makes me want to cry."

"No crying. The person who has to be impressed is Dean Collins. Let's work on mounting these and then we can have the lunch sandwiches."

With extra hands available, the tricky business of getting everything straight and ironed into place took only another hour. They did look nice, I said to myself.

"Claire, why don't you call Joyce and ask if we can get away with pretending the cocktail hour is a student presentation of a term project. Tell her you are members of the student team."

Elise and I fixed lunch while a loud conversation went on in the next room. The former roommates were very profane.

I got a swat to the head and an exclamation, "She thinks that is a great idea. Said George won't know what to say when two deep pockets clients show up in a student team!"

The mood was upbeat when the team piled into Claire's fancy car to fight our way across the bridge to Berkeley. The women were marveling over the Maybeck home as Joyce welcomed us inside. I was the assigned mule, bringing the mounted panels with me, along with handouts. After the baggage was put down, I got a special hug. She whispered in my ear, "This is inspired. Give it the old college try!"

We were shown into a library with a very high ceiling and an enormous fireplace with logs blazing. Our hostess had even found easels for the panels, which we turned to the wall.

Joyce said, "There is booze on the sideboard. Help yourself. I will retrieve George from his study."

We had rehearsed a presentation script. Elise was going to take the lead. Claire had given Joyce a slip of paper with names on it for the introductions. She had told George that the cocktail hour was going to be unusual and he was not to say a single word until the end.

Walking up to Elise, Joyce said, "This is Nancy Albright, the leader of the student project team, along with Helen Cameron, and Peter Sylvester. Because of your busy schedule, George, they are taking this opportunity to deliver their project report."

George looked bewildered but played along, shaking hands and accepting a gin and tonic from his wife. She led him to a sofa with a view of the easels.

Elise was at the top of her game. In five minutes or so, she described the project, which was to design a home for a very demanding client in Marin County.

Claire took up the next part of the presentation, speaking from notes I had prepared, and also handing George a fifty page booklet of project narrative.

Finally, it was my turn and I carefully combined the previous material from Elise and Claire with my own analysis, including design alternatives considered and rejected. George was giving me his best frown, but nodding at the same time. One by one, the panels were turned to face the sofa, illustrating my key points. By the time I got to the end, almost twenty minutes of presentation, he and Joyce were standing and clapping.

George pulled Claire into a crushing hug, "You devil, how did you get this out of him? It's an amazing job!"

I wasn't paying attention and found Joyce's arms around me. "Elliot! You outdid yourself! Terrific job."

I kissed her cheek and said, "It's these two coeds. They get all the credit."

George finally got to me. "Damn, Elliot, that house in those trees is going to get you all kinds of awards."

I thanked him and allowed as how I was a nervous wreck. "I guess you told me she would be an unusual summer employer. Do you think we can get this by the Planning Commission?"

He was beginning to answer when his eyes caught something behind me. It was Elise with the sketches for her house which she had hidden in the trunk.

"Look, he has done a wonderful design for my new house in Colusa."

In the flickering firelight of the room, they looked spectacular. Even I was impressed.

George grabbed his wife, "Look what he has done with the cistern motif. Pulling that into a modern home." Turning to me, he said, "Joyce grew up near Chico, in a farmhouse with a redwood cistern. The kids had to pump water every morning before school."

"Two outstanding designs in less than a month!" Joyce had my arm, leading us to the dinner table. "George's faith in you is being demonstrated!"

I whispered in her ear, "What about that awful fib she told him about firing me?"

"He didn't believe it for a minute! Asked me what devious scheme she was pushing."

"I've seen this before, Elliot. People get it in their head that George can solve all their problems and look for ways to get his attention."

I kissed her cheek. "You are exceedingly kind to invite us to your gorgeous house to hear about Claire's problems."

She impulsively kissed me back on the mouth and said, "You've been in their beds, haven't you? A woman can tell."

I squeezed her hand and responded, "Not possible. The Dean makes sure we are instructed about appropriate behavior with clients!"

People were still finding their places and I got another whisper in my ear. "Nonsense, you are truly dangerous!"

Elise was on the other side of Joyce and heard the end of her comment. "You can say that again. I've never fallen so hard for a guy in my life."

I groaned and looked for help from George, who was in deep conversation with Claire. She noticed my hand on top of Joyce's and frowned. Joyce and I looked at each other and almost giggled.

Elise said, "Joyce, he's hitting on you. Giggling like a teenager is not permitted at the Dean's dinner table!"

Things only got more mellow after that. When Claire dangled the bait of a Sea Ranch weekend, George took the hook in a flash, agreeing to walk the property and give us hints about how to reach a successful conclusion with the Planning Commission.

Somewhere along the line, I changed from wine to water and was legally sober by the late hour at which we straggled down the front walk and into Claire's fancy auto. Two minutes later, they both were out like a light. I smiled and drove carefully.

Chapter Eight - Acing the Final

I was sipping strong coffee and digging through the paper the next morning when two groaning bodies limped into the kitchen. Elise pulled my hair. "You weren't supposed to be so nice to us. Carrying me to bed? I didn't even wake up!"

I frowned. "Look, we aced the final. The toughest grader in the school gave the team an A. Didn't one of you mumble something about sticking together?"

I found them seats and made some ugly looking drinks to cure their heads. Tried and true fraternity remedy.

After a bit, I raised Elise gently and marched her to the second bedroom. By the time she was under the covers with me, her clothes missing, suspicions had formed.

"What are we doing in here. The other client will be unhappy."

Saying nothing, I worked the fine body, stretching, prodding, twisting and inflicting damage here and there. She tried to talk, but I sealed her lips with mine. After a few minutes, she was limp and I pulled us tightly together.

"We need to talk. That was sneaky but nice of you to bring the Colusa sketches. While the pot bubbles here in Marin, I would like to go back to work on your house. But I don't want to get crosswise with you or with Claire, so we are having this little tete-a-tete to discuss plans."

She turned into me with a low moan, "Oh Elliot, this is too much. Your cowgirl client isn't used to a full court press!"

Her hand gripped my shaft and her teeth nibbled on my ear. "The only plan I want to hear about is this inside me."

Joining with Elise sent a torrent of sensations through me. She was right, the only plan for right now was two bodies enjoying great sex. She threw back the sheet and invited me to the glorious spot where her enticing legs joined.

"Ohhh!" I bottomed with a shout and a hot kiss. We started slow, but the cowgirl in her took charge, twisting so she was on top, laughing and bouncing.

Elise shouted for her roommate to come quick. Claire staggered in, nursing a cup of coffee, eyes widening at the sight of us. "Roomie, how can you do that hungover?"

"His magic potion fixed me up. Now he says we got an A grade last night for the team project and he is going to work on MY plan. But instead of a plan, he sinks his big cock in me! What do I do?"

I pulled out and let them roll around, giggling helplessly. Hanging out with me had released all their inhibitions. These weren't middle aged females with men troubles, they were sexy coeds who had hooked up with a horny almost architect.

Claire propped herself on a pillow and glared at me. "HER plan? What happened to my plan?"

I palmed an unsaggy boob and applied my tongue. "Claire, honey, I am a two-fisted fighter. In between bouts with your Planning Commission, I can work on Elise's plan..."

"Aieee! You are a devil. Give me that evil cock!"

Damn, this was fun. Another hot body was after me. My slippery shaft and her slippery cunt came together with a bang! A few strokes and we were both hollering about a come.

I slammed hard and erupted, blasting a full load into the thrashing body that was cursing me and coming wildly.

"Damn, damn, damn. Why do I let you get to me?"

Elise kissed her shuddering friend. "Stay here, I will work on more breakfast."

Calmed down, I whispered in her ear, "Last night was all for you and your project. I woke up just now realizing she needed some TLC about her project."

"Elliot, you are the nicest, sexiest guy we have ever met. This cock of yours seems to have enough staying power for two women..."

"Careful sexpot, or he'll be right back in paradise."

We were still wrestling when Elise returned with a tray, wearing a beautiful smile and nothing else.

With a sexy grin, she pointed to one plate of scrambled eggs and asked, "Elliot, I heard you were into sharing?"

They weren't finished with me, but it was time to turn down the heat. We demolished the breakfast quickly and Elise removed the tray from my lap. Claire tried to take charge, but I threatened an immediate attack on her bare bottom.

"This coed behavior must stop! How do you expect the architect to get any work done on your house project? There are a million details to worry about."

Straddling my lap and allowing my cock to rise between us, she said softly, "If your magic cock will behave, I am ready for the shower and a work list."

I bent her horizontal and applied a tender kiss. "You are still the best client ever. I promise he will behave."

Elise said loudly, "We don't believe that for a minute, but will behave ourselves. When do you think we can go back to Colusa?"

Standing under Claire's waterfall shower, I ran down a mental list of things to be accomplished before we could leave Woodacre. The slippery bodies rubbing on me were a delightful distraction. How many aspiring architects got naked showers with their clients?"

I sat on the bathroom floor, applying lotion and asking questions. "Claire, is there a water main or a sewer line anywhere on your property? Elise, what do we need here in order to move the horses?" I got in a lick or two before they complained that I was not behaving.

Dry and clothed, we sat on the condo balcony overlooking Fairfax and made individual work lists. The individual ones were impressive, the consolidated version would be intimidating. I pondered the impossibility of accomplishing it before I had to return to school.

On an impulse, I asked, "Oh Imperial Lobbyist of Wide Renown, when George and Joyce come for the Sea Ranch weekend, I have a challenge for you."

The lobbyist relocated to my lap and buried her fingers in my hair. "What is it now, architect?"

"You know the saying about 'learning while doing'? Looking at these lists, it is obvious I cannot go back to school in September without setting everything back by months. What is needed is a third year curriculum that substitutes what I will be doing on your projects for a fistful of ordinary course credits. In addition, I need to have the courses I do take arranged in not more than two or three days a week."