Mike & Karen Ch. 24

The lights came on, and Jordan walked slowly onto the stage in his usual dignified manner. He stood in front of a nine-foot concert grand piano, nodding politely to the audience before speaking.

"And now, Paxton Kim, performing the Faerie's Aire and Death Waltz," he said in a sombre tone before turning and exiting stage left. All was silent.

From stage right, the young Korean-American virtuoso entered silently, wearing a tuxedo. He slid onto the bench, placed a musical score atop the instrument, cracked his knuckles before spreading his fingers out over the keyboard and taking a breath...

After a brief series of taps on the lowest B flat, his hands began swooping quickly and fluidly over the keys, picking up speed with each passing moment, a sense of frantic urgency building in the music. With a preternatural swiftness, his fingers danced across the notes, seeming to cover several octaves at once. The discordant cacophony grew, both in volume and speed, filling the listeners with what could only be described as anxiety.

Relentlessly, the young man battled the mocking notes on his pages, starting to hunch over as he fought to control the music. One of his wrist cuffs popped. His fingers screamed in protest as he dragged them up and down the keyboard, followed by trying to hammer the individual keys into submission. Sweat dripping from his forehead made the black and white keys slippery, and his pulse was racing like the tempo of the piece he was playing.

The seams on one shoulder of his tuxedo frayed and tore away, exposing the soaking white shirt sleeve below. His laces untied as his feet worked the pedals frantically and the sole of one of his shoes broke.

The treated wood around the keys began to smoke.

As the tempo of the music reached a Satanic, frenzied crescendo, Pax's other sleeve fell off, his starched collar popping and smacking him in the face. In exhausted desperation, his lungs on fire, he played on, searching for the end of this Hell somewhere on the sheets through a haze of tears. The assault-rifle staccato of the bass chords frayed both finger tendons and instrument strings.

At last, with an agonizingly long glissando, his strength gave out and the last crunch of notes was accomplished by his chin crashing into the keys.

Silence echoed through the concert hall as his unseeing eyes stared into the blackness of the audience, his tongue lolling out of his open mouth and drooping over the edge of the keyboard.

Heedless of the nigh-dead young man behind him, Jordan walked back onto the stage and nodded to the audience.

"And now, Karen's Very Bad Day," he said simply before walking off again.

As some final, desolate treble notes echoed, caused by the piano's inner workings succumbing to the abuse, the lights all went out.

There would be no encore.

***

Mike & Karen

Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older while portrayed engaging in sexual activity. This story is a prequel/sequel (sprequel?) to my other work, Alex & Alexa. As always, many thanks and gratuitous panty shots from Freja and Jeanie to my long-suffering editor and beta-reader for their assistance in polishing up and improving this work. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice. Enjoy!

Please Note: There are incest themes with a secondary couple in this story. Just a forewarning.

Chapter XXIV- Karen's Very Bad Day

One quiet morning...

VLABADA-BOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

An explosion reverberated through Blackwell Manor and Karen shot upright in bed, her eyes wide. The pictures on the walls rattled, and she heard Valentina, one of the maids, shriek in fright.

"Michael!" she gasped, still not recovered from being shocked out of sleep. "What was that?!"

The titan form of her husband, lying next to and facing away from her under the blankets, shifted slightly, as if turning his immense bulk to cock an ear and listen, while also talking to his wife.

"Mmmmm, was a model rocket exploding outside," he mumbled before turning back on his side to continue sleeping, clearly convinced that there was no threat to his safety. "Or a Corsican cheese..."

She scowled at his slumbering form for a moment before getting out of bed, quite naked. She pulled a silk kimono-style robe around her gorgeous body and marched toward the door, sliding into slippers along the way. Her eyes glanced around, detecting no movement on the third floor.

As she glided quickly but gracefully down the stairs to the main floor while tying the knot on her robe, she began to hear voices from the main floor, and what sounded like confusion and exasperation. She emerged from the stairwell in the east wing and came out into the hallways. Valentina was standing at the end of the hallway and sensed movement. When she saw Karen, she squeaked in panic and bolted.

Undeterred by the skittish help, Karen strode into the grand foyer, where she found Tatyana, the seneschal of Blackwell Manor, along with Dave, the senior landscaper, looking out the open front doorway in bemusement. Tatyana made to say something, but stopped as Karen held up a single, silencing finger and marched by them, heading out the front doors. Tatyana and Dave stayed right where they were.

She stood at the top of the white marble stairs, staring stonily down at the three smoking, smudged figures who were approaching, walking rather unsteadily. Alexa was in the middle, with Freja and Jeanie on either side. They were covered head to foot in greasy black soot. Jeanie's kinky brown hair was flung out in all directions as if a cartoon bomb had gone off in her face.

"Don't... even... think of trying to enter my house in that condition," Karen warned before they reached the bottom step, her voice dire. The tone stopped them dead. "What unspeakable thing have you done?"

Jeanie's brown eyes tried to focus on the Blackwell family matriarch. She looked like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep.

"Boom..." was all she could say in a warbling voice.

Clearly Jeanie was no help, not that this was anything new. Karen looked at Alexa now, standing in the middle. She was swaying slightly, her sapphire eyes unfocused. She looked like she couldn't hear what Karen was saying, although it should have been fairly obvious, based on her older sister's body language and expression.

She made to speak, but then coughed, spitting out a clod of dirt and grass. She hacked and rasped, doubling over as she tried to clear the flora and detritus out of her lungs.

Karen looked over at Freja, hoping the third time was a charm. The Danish girl burped crudely, a puff of black smoke coming out of her mouth.

"We were... tryings one of my model rockets..." she began, hoping Karen could hear her over the sound of her little sister coughing up sod. "I ams making a new form of the fuel... it is very strong..."

"And where were you trying out this new weapon of mass destruction, might one inquire?" Karen asked. Were those sirens she heard from beyond the property?

Unsteadily, Freja turned and pointed at an area of the front lot where normally there was an abundance of carefully manicured grass, just recently free of winter snow. Now, it looked like a blast crater one would use in a movie about the Battle of the Somme. A hole in the ground was surrounded by almost three meters of scorched earth and very dead grass.

"Am I to understand..." Karen said quietly as she pinched her eyes. There were indeed fire truck sirens growing closer. She could smell cordite and rocket fuel now, and not just emanating from the three miscreant girls. "That you thought it might be fun to try out your experimental model rocket fuel on my front lawn? Before seven in the morning? On the day the Bishop is coming to interview my son and baby sister about their controversial marriage?"

None of the girls answered. Both 'yes' and 'no' seemed decidedly damning.

"What did you even expect to happen?" Karen demanded, now smelling various chemicals from the unexpected blast. She'd kept her pregnancy nose ever since having Alex almost nineteen years earlier, and what she smelled horrified her now.

Dear God in Heaven, is that cyclopentane?! No wonder my grass is dead!

"Any last words?" Karen asked them.

"Boom..." Jeanie repeated, still having not come back to herself, although with her, it was hard to tell.

"Miss Prospero," Karen called out, loud enough to be heard. There was a squeak from inside the grand foyer, and the short brunette girl came hurrying out, looking somewhat panicked. She was already in her work uniform, but had forgotten to take the kitty ears she habitually wore off her head.

"Take Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod here around the back, without going through my home, and get them to the old workers' showers down in sub-basement two," the bronze-haired woman instructed. "Miss Kachelmeier tells me the showers are working, so get these three clean. Sandblast them if you have to, but they are not to be seen by any living being until they're restored to acceptable parameters. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress!" the maid said, curtsying hastily and then hustling down the stairs to lead the three dazed teenagers off around the side of the house to the old Edwardian workers' entrances in the side of the Manor, away from prying eyes. "C'mon, ladies!"

No sooner were they out of sight than the strobing red lights of fire engines and their ear-splitting blare echoed around the neighbourhood, along with several police cars, all tearing up the long driveway toward her. Karen closed her eyes again, knowing this couldn't be an auspicious start to what was already going to be a difficult day.

"Hey, mom," Alex remarked, yawning as she came out of the foyer, dressed in a black and gold kimono-style robe and rubbing his neck. "What's all the noise about?"

"Just like your father," she grumbled, trying not to scowl at her basically innocent son. "You could sleep through a nuclear blast."

Alex looked past her at the smoking crater that had been the lawn. "Did I?"

He then sniffed the air and made a wry face, his nose wrinkling. "Did somebody detonate a Corsican cheese?"

Karen exhaled loudly through her nose like a bull before stomping down the stairs to go and greet the fire chief and police officers.

***

Some time later, in Sub-basement Two...

Karen paced back and forth in front of the three girls, all of whom were still standing naked in the anteroom to the old worker's showers. They held their hands behind their backs and tried not to shiver. This room was pretty chilly, as their nipples attested to.

"The people's court is now in session," Karen said as she lifted a lock of damp golden-blonde hair on Alexa's shoulder, moving it over to the back. Alexa didn't dare budge. "I have not brought the Lord High Executioner with me, because I thought I would give you a chance to plead your cases. What say you?"

"In my defence, I was left unsupervised," Jeanie said.

Karen raised an eyebrow. "But Alli was with you."

Alexa shrugged. "I was left unsupervised too."

The bronze-haired woman shook her head and then looked at Freja. "And you, Roberta Goddard?"

"Neither of them told me it was a bad idea," Freja said defensively.

"Hey now!" Alexa said rather angrily, turning on her heel to scowl at her best friend and soulmate. "You can't just throw me under the bus like that after I told you to move it to the backyard!"

The two began arguing in heated Danish, and Karen just frowned as she watched the pair, their hands on their hips, close enough that their nipples were touching while they squabbled. The French Canadian in Alexa came out as she began to wave her hands around while arguing. This continued for some time before Karen lost patience.

"Ladies..." she said calmly, and then a little more forcefully once she was ignored. "Ladies?"

Enough was enough and she reached in with her elegant, but surprisingly strong hands and took each of them by the closest nipple, pinching hard enough to get their attention, and pulling enough to turn the pair back toward her. One hand reached farther than the other, since Alexa's tits were at least two cup sizes larger than Freja's.

"Aua!-aua-aua!" Freja yelped, scrunching her eyes shut. Alexa just keened, shaking as her older sister reined her in.

"That will be quite enough out of you two," Karen growled, releasing them. Alexa looked hurt and rubbed her abused nipple while staying quiet. Freja, not surprisingly, not only rubbed her nipple, but her free hand had glided down to cup her suddenly moist pussy.

Wide-eyed, Jeanie put both her palms over her nipples defensively, staying silent.

"Let's get one thing perfectly clear," Karen said in a menacing tone that brooked no debate. "This afternoon, we are getting a visit from His Excellency, the bishop of the cathedral, head of the largest diocese in the Dominion. He is coming to discuss the matter of your pending marriage..."

She looked directly at Alexa with the last sentence. The blonde girl swallowed.

"How we present the matter to him will decide whether he recommends to the congregation's elders, and the synod of Her Majesty's church in Canada, that they support your union on legal, moral, and scriptural grounds. I am certain we have a good case for all three."

Alexa sighed silently in relief.

"But the bishop is also a man largely devoid of humour, as you well know, Alli, having met him," Karen said rather forcefully. "If he comes here to our home, as my husband, the most respected elder in the congregation arranged, and the first thing to greet his eyes is a war zone on my front lawn, this will leave a dim impression with him indeed. And by tomorrow, I'll be regrowing my lawn using my new Danish fertilizer."

All three girls went pale. Freja was Danish, Jeanie was Danish by virtue of marriage (sort of), and Alexa was an EU citizen, meaning she could be interpreted as such. They were all potential fertilizer.

Karen, still wearing her blue kimono with silver cranes adorning it, crossed her arms and looked at the three young women, her golden-amber eyes piercing, like a wolf's or a hawk's. "I have a lot to do today. I expect my lawn to be fixed before the arrival of His Excellency at three, no questions asked. Should its appearance impact his decision negatively, then I will have you know that the Blackwells own a little, ancient, and dilapidated château near the Ardennes forest in Wallonia, and it could no doubt use a steward and two pin-headed lackeys to see to its care."

Alexa felt a chill crawl up her spine. Had her sister just threatened to banish her to Belgium?

Jeanie made a wry face as she thought about what Karen was saying. "Fix the lawn by three? That... sounds like a lot of work. Should I cancel my mani-pedi?"

Eyes blazing like molten gold from a Dwarven smelter, Karen thrust her finger out, pointing at the door. Clearly she was done with them, and each moment they hung around was another moment of peril. They all hurried by her, none of them caring that they would be naked once they got back upstairs. The embarrassment of everyone seeing them in the buff was a far less terrible fate than what awaited them if they irked Karen any further.

"Not you, sugar crotch," Karen said as Alexa tried to race by, her hand reaching out and gripping her sister's long, golden hair. Alexa lurched to a stop, her eyes wide and her spine bending back as her older sister assumed control. She began walking into the shower room. "You're staying with me."

"Gnnnn, Kar..." Alexa whined as she stumble-walked backward, her spine still arched. "Stahhhhp, you're turning me on!"

"Bully for you, you jiggling Jezebel," Karen said plainly, choosing one of the showerheads and moving toward it while undoing her robe. "Honestly, Alli, what were you thinking, letting Ig and Ook play with a bomb on the front lawn? I was with the police and fire department for almost forty-five minutes, trying to smooth things over and assuring everyone, nosey neighbours included, that there was no terrorist threat at work, just idiot teenagers."

"Sorry, Kar," Alexa mumbled, rubbing her palm on her scalp as Karen finally released her hair. She watched as her sister disrobed and turned on one of the showers, waiting for it to heat up and then stepping under the scouring deluge. "Uh, why're you using the showers down here where the Morlocks live?"

"I am not going into my husband's presence smelling like a mishap from a kiddie chemistry set," Karen said firmly as she closed her eyes and imagined the reek of Freja's incendiaries sloughing off her skin. "He would turf me from his presence and shun me, and rightly so."

'I think you're bein' a li'l dramatic there, Kar," the blonde ventured. If Karen was making unreasonable arguments, it meant her wrath had waned, at least for now. "He told me about you in the bog up in Kapuskasing. If you lookin' like the Swamp Thing with leeches in every nook and cranny didn't drive him away, nothing will."

"Be that as it may, I choose to not tempt Fate," the older sister said, holding out her hand while she stayed under the water. Alexa blinked for a moment and looked around, finally spying the bodywash that she, Fre, and Jeanie had been using earlier. She handed it to Karen, who began slathering the pearly goop around her body. Alexa's mouth went dry. Karen proceeded with her ablutions, knowing that she shouldn't dawdle. Not only was the bishop visiting, she had a funding proposal to write and send off to the university, she had to make sure the Royal Ontario Museum received a priceless artifact from the Blackwell vaults for a seasonal display, and she had to see that a staff member for a neighbour picked up some of her old, used lingerie, for purposes she preferred to not think about.

One issue at a time. She had to get showered and get Alexa back upstairs. It had been something of an ordeal earlier, with poor Valentina trying to herd the three of them to their destination and into the showers on this sub-basement level of the Blackwell Manor. They had been built decades earlier for labourers as a courtesy, the hired daily help who would come and construct or build things, and this afforded them a chance to clean off before going home to their families. As aristocratic and aloof as the Blackwells of times past might have been, they were not completely devoid of human concern. Or at the very least, they saw the advantage in clean workers.

While the three girls, comically dazed and deafened by the explosion that had basically happened right in front of them, tried to wash themselves, Valentina had waited patiently near the door. However, neither Freja, Jeanie, nor Alexa seemed even remotely capable of performing these ablutions, simply standing under their showerheads and staring blankly at whatever wall they happened to be facing.

Worried what might happen if she didn't complete her assigned task in short order, Miss Prospero sighed and shed her clothes, now as naked as her charges. She moved in and began using a sponge she'd found stored in a small supply locker, no doubt stocked there by Andrea, the estate's resident mechanic and trouble-shooter for her own use if she spent the day down here. Using some bodywash, she knelt in front of Alexa and cleansed her thoroughly, desperately trying to not notice how turned on she was. She did the same to Freja and Jeanie and then exited to go and find towels and clothes for them.

But then Karen had marched by her in the sub-basement hall, heading toward the showers, and she just decided to stay upstairs. What happened now was no longer her concern.

"Well, find a cloth or a sponge, girl," Karen said, snapping Alexa out of her haze. The blonde girl looked around and stepped out into the anteroom to the locker Val found earlier. There was no sponge or cloth to be had.