No One Notices the Hired Help

Neither of them noticed their old schoolmate Herbert, heir to a farm just outside of town, who was admiring hats in the store window. All too typical, Herbert mused, that they didn't: he'd grown up admiring Celestine from afar and never seeming to garner any notice at all in return. Just as well, he supposed, for his father's close friend and business partner had snapped up Celestine for his son, Troy. Herbert had never liked Troy any better than he'd liked Dylan, or Celestine as long as she failed to notice him. But Herbert, a budding businessman, knew a hazard when he saw it. Troy's respect was a good thing to have, no matter how begrudging.

This time of the afternoon, Herbert knew just where Troy would be: hobnobbing with his father at the Barcroft Club, which Herbert had begrudgingly joined himself last fall at his father's insistence. It was a short walk down the hill. Herbert set off.

"Dylan, can I ask you something intimate?" Celestine asked as they approached the woods that cloaked the Green Lake.

"I'm about to see you naked, aren't I?" Dylan chuckled.

"That's just it," Celestine said. "Do you...like my body?"

"It's beautiful, Celestine! Of course I do!"

"Well, you know, if you ever want to join me in the water..."

"You are engaged, Celestine."

"Not if I can help it!" she snapped. "I'm sorry, Dylan, it's just...I don't want to marry Troy. At all."

"You're not saying you want to marry me, are you?" Dylan asked as if it were some sort of joke.

"Well, is it really such a crazy idea? You just got done saying you think I'm beautiful, and we've always got along so well..."

"Your mother'd never allow it, you know that."

"I've had just about enough of living by her rules at all," Celestine declared as they reached the shining rocks on the edge of the majestic lake, its surface glowing as enticingly as ever. "And no offense, but I've spotted just how beautiful you think I am. It's a bit hard to miss after all." She giggled. "You know, I've been reading in that book at the library, just how all that works. The spongy tissue in your penis engorges with blood, and --"

"How very romantic," Dylan interrupted. "Anything about sex you haven't learned?"

"That's the joy of it, there always seems to be something more to learn." Celestine had lately been regaling her best friend with a literal embarrassment of the facts of life.

"You women are so lucky, the way you can hide when you're feeling randy," Dylan admitted, helping himself to a seat on the rock. "Beautiful and lucky."

"You really do think women are beautiful?"

"How could I not?" Dylan asked.

"You should hear the way my mother talks about our bodies," Celestine said, kicking her shoes off. "But never mind that. Sure you don't want to join me in the water?"

"Someone has to stand guard, doesn't he?"

"It's not the end of the world if we get spotted." But Celestine argued the point no further. For a couple of years now, they had a deal when it came to the Green Lake: She undressed and let him look at her body for as long as he liked, and he stood guard while she was swimming naked in the glowy water. No one else had ever spotted her. On the rare occasion when other people had approached, there had always been plenty of time for Dylan to notify her so she could climb onto the rocks and pull her dress back on.

Having long since grown accustomed to their deal, Celestine had no qualms at all about disrobing in front of her old friend. Her grin was genuine as she pulled her brassiere away to let her pert, supple breasts fall free and stood utterly naked before him. "Enjoy the view," she said.

"I always do." His gaze lingered longer than usual on her triangle, and Celestine could only guess just how badly he wanted to run his fingers through it...and she thought she just might want that even more than he did. That made her intimate hunger even more intense, and though she wasn't yet in the water, she had no doubt her vagina was wet to the touch. Thanks to that book, she now understood just what was happening -- her randy mood caused increased blood flow that led to the formation of lubrication -- but for the moment she cared less about just why it was all happening than how wonderful it felt.

And how hungry she was for her dear friend's touch.

But he had said no, and she kept her hands on her hips and enjoyed the sun on her breasts and belly, and resolved to scratch her own intimate itch later on.

"Okay," Dylan said at last. "I'd better turn around before I burst. Enjoy the water." He did turn around, and Celestine swallowed her disappointment -- right up to the bitter end, she'd hoped he might at least ask to caress her -- and slipped into the warm water.

"Welcome, Herbie," said the concierge as Herbert burst into the Barcroft Club lobby.

"Hey," Herbert said, opting not to bother telling the man yet again how much he disliked being called 'Herbie'. There'd be time enough for that later. He flashed his membership card at the clerk and rushed up the stairs, and wasn't surprised at all to find his father schmoozing with Troy.

The old man didn't seem surprised to see him, and Troy didn't look like it mattered at all. "Herbert," Father said. "Troy here was just telling me about some plans he has for the lot Portia's is on once he's in charge over there. Seems it'd be perfect for a diving club."

For the moment, Herbert's urgent errand was forgotten. "You can't do that!" he said. "Portia's is an institution. Everybody loves that place!"

"Everybody isn't losing a ton of money on a golden opportunity they're pretending isn't there," Troy said. "You see, Herb --"

"You can tell me about it later," Herbert interrupted. "Listen, I've got news you need to hear, Troy."

It really wasn't necessary for Dylan to face away from her while she was swimming, Celestine thought yet again as she waded through the warm water and the warmer glow. It wasn't as if he couldn't keep an ear out for others while also admiring her. Today, it was doubly frustrating in light of how desperately she had longed for his touch. But Celestine was never one to ignore a silver lining. With him looking the other way, she had a modicum of privacy in the water.

Scarcely believing she had found the nerve to do it, Celestine reached down in the water and ran her fingers through her bush, just as she was sure Dylan had wanted so much to do. She imagined it was his hand instead, and it felt wonderful even before her fingers found her magic spot...would he know how to do that? Celestine could only guess.

What was the word? Clitoris. She'd read all about it, knowing through every page that her mother would demand it be taken off the shelves if she'd known. But she didn't know, and so now Celestine did know a bit more about her body, including the sweet spot that had brought her so much private joy for so many years now, defying her mother's admonitions that women weren't the horny animals men were. At last she knew its name and purpose: the clitoris, there for pleasure and pleasure only...why shouldn't she embrace such a gift? Lately she had done so with even greater gusto than usual in the privacy of her room. The added taboo of being outdoors this time only made it all the more fun to tease her clitoris again and again with her fingers.

Not for the first time, Celestine wondered if her mother even had one. The book said all women did, but not once had Mother ever had a kind word to say about intimacy, except that it was her duty and the price of feminine privilege. The privilege of being forced to marry a man she didn't even like?

Now was not the time to think of that. Celestine effortlessly put it from her mind as she breathed in the fragrant air and rubbed circles around her clitoris and imagined she was taking Dylan's hard penis -- another word she had only recently learned -- inside her. She hadn't a clue just how that would feel, but for some time now she had been most eager to learn. Right now she imagined the most delicious sort of envelopment within her body while his face was up close against hers. A tender kiss, a playful caress on her breasts, which she did rub with her free hand, and his warm breath on her bare skin as she pushed him gently in and out...

Celestine didn't feel the orgasm coming until it was upon her, and she let out a gasp of joy before she could regain control of herself. That caught Dylan's attention, and he whipped around to look at her in disbelief while she giggled.

"You didn't..."

"Oh yes I did!" There was no point in hiding it now.

"Guess I should've joined you after all!"

"You're still welcome!"

"I think I missed the boat, though." But he was laughing too hard for her to feel sorry for him.

From his perch in an oak tree just on the other side of the lake, Troy couldn't hear just what they were laughing about. But he'd seen too much to care. He leaned back against the trunk and felt like beating his head against it. The only thing that stopped him was that he didn't want to draw attention to himself. But he would have Celestine's full attention this evening, thank you very much!

There was, of course, no way to explain away bringing a towel on their secret trips to the Green Lake; and so Celestine had never brought one. She preferred to lie back in the purple heather that grew just beyond the rocks. As usual, Dylan watched, titillated but silent, as she settled herself to dry off in the sun.

After what they had almost shared, Celestine couldn't resist an invitation. "You know, you're welcome to join me," she cooed.

"Then we might both be caught naked."

"I told you, it's not the end of the world."

"What if Troy heard about it?"

"Then I'd have a good chance of getting away from him, wouldn't I?" Celestine offered.

Dylan chuckled. "You really don't want to marry him, huh?"

"Not at all. But you know what good a young woman's wishes do for her in this place."

"I never knew you to settle for that, Celestine."

"I don't want to! But what choice do I have?"

"What if we went to Polerma?" Dylan asked.

Celestine couldn't stop a bitter laugh. "How? I mean, I'll tell you what, Dylan, if you can get the money, I'll go with you, even if it's after I marry Troy, but --"

"Really?" Dylan stood up on the rock, looking every bit like he wanted to jump for joy. He didn't, but it inspired a wonderful flutter in Celestine's heart, and another one in her vagina.

"Yes," Celestine said. "I'd love to go away with you, especially to a place like that. But how would you ever get the money?"

"I'll get it somehow, if you really mean it. I promise that!"

"Care to seal that promise with a kiss, my friend?" Celestine sat up and held out her arms.

"I'm willing to seal it with more than that. Is the invitation still open to join you?"

"Yes!" Celestine squealed, and presently she was treated to the wonderful sight of Dylan tearing his clothes off. His chest was pasty from working inside at the store, but it was broad and toned. Naturally she was most interested in his penis, the first she had ever seen. It looked just like she had imagined it, perhaps a bit bigger, and it was fully erect just for her. "So lovely," she said as he lay down beside her.

"I've always thought the same of you, like I said before," Dylan said. "Sorry I didn't give you a look at me until now. I just felt so...ungainly next to you."

"Ungainly? Dylan, you're beautiful!"

"Well, thank you." He didn't sound like he really believed it. But in that heady moment Celestine didn't care.

Troy didn't see Dylan join Celestine in the heather. He had taken his leave as soon as she got out of the water, and pedalled his bicycle furiously back into town. "House on fire, Troy?" called out some old school chum whose name he couldn't recall as he rushed through the streets, blinking back tears of rage. His and Celestine's fathers had a deal -- didn't that matter to her?

Arriving back at the Barcroft Club, he found he couldn't face his father or anyone else in there right then. Instead he stayed on his bicycle and rode down to the seedy end of the waterfront and his favourite pub. It was early for drinking and there was dinner with Celestine and Portia later to think about, but just then that was the last thing he cared to dwell on.

Especially when his eye happened to land on an old standby in the window. Ruth was five or six years older than he and had lost her husband to the sea, and had taken full advantage of her freedom since then. She had taught Troy most of what he knew about women, which he looked forward to putting to good use with Celestine when she finally wouldn't have the right to put him off any longer. A roll in the hay with Ruth was just what he needed right then, he concluded; then he could forgive Celestine, for they'd be even.

Ruth was looking lovely in a red and white dress and a matching flower in her hair, and she gave Troy a cordial smile over her wine glass when he stepped inside. But once he'd collected his scotch on the rocks and made his way to her table, cordial remained the best of it despite his hearty, "Ruth, looking lovely today!"

"Thank you," she said with a tight smile. "What's wrong, Celestine still not putting out for you?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Troy grinned through his disgust, and wondered if maybe he ought to admit she was right.

"Old friend?" Ruth slammed her glass down hard enough on the table to catch the barmaid's attention, though she stayed away. "After all the fun we had, you've wanted nothing to do with me for how long, now? And don't think I haven't heard from your friends who know all about what we did!"

"It's not as though your lifestyle is a secret around here, Ruth! Come on, and I am here now. How about a round for old times' sake?"

"If you're right about me, then I think I could do better than you, Troy."

Troy forced a smile; he'd gotten through to harder-to-get women than this. "Wouldn't you like a chance to make me better? I'm sure there's still some stuff a mature, well-travelled woman like you could teach me, and I've got to admit I'm dying to learn more before Celestine and I tie the knot."

"A crumb like you would know where to find others who can teach you a lot more than I can," Ruth replied. "If there's anyone left in Candover you haven't used and thrown away like you did to me."

"Excuse me?!" Troy had reached his limit. "Just what are you calling me, and should you really be throwing stones?" That gave him an idea. "You know, Ruth, whatever you think of me, the upper crust in this town still considers me one of them. I have their ears, and you'd be surprised at whom I haven't yet told what a slut you are."

"What did you just call me?" Ruth stood up and clenched her fists. Once again the barmaid took notice, and in the corner of his eye Troy could see her rushing off to the back office.

"I said nothing that isn't true," Troy sniffed, confident that she wouldn't do worse than yell at him. But he stood up as well to glare at her eye to eye. "And here I'm offering you some fun we both know you love, and then I'll keep my mouth shut with the folks that really matter!"

"I wouldn't go to your bed again for all the money your father has laundered!" Ruth growled.

"You bitch!" Troy had just enough time to slam his fists on the table before Carleton, the security man, grabbed at his arm.

"Let's go, Troy," Carleton said.

"You stay out of this!" Troy kept his glare fixed on Ruth, who smoothed out her skirt and sat back down with a triumphant smile. But he was no match for Carleton, who effortlessly dragged him to the door.

"This is the last time, Troy," Carleton said as he shoved Troy out onto the grass. "One more time and you're banned for good, you got that?"

Troy stumbled and fell backwards onto the grass, but only his pride was hurt. He got up and dusted himself off with a dirty look at Carleton but no words. Straightening his tie, he looked around for a place to walk to and regain a bit of dignity. But all the passers-by had seen everything, and most of them didn't even look surprised.

Troy's glance landed down on the next corner, to a sign out front that had lately been repainted, and stood brightly against the scrubby grass and rocks: "Fliss' Place Tavern and Hotel". Troy laughed through his humiliation -- why would Fliss bother pretending her house was a hotel when everyone in Candover knew what it really was? But the stately looking old house behind the sign looked respectable enough to fool anyone who wished to be fooled.

After what he'd seen at the lake and the anticipation of what he'd planned to do to Ruth, Troy concluded, for once he was willing to be fooled. He had always prided himself on not needing to stoop to such things. But he needed to fuck someone and he needed to do it now, and it would serve Celestine and her ice-queen mother right. Troy dusted off his trousers and ignored the knowing looks he was sure he was attracting as he marched up the path to Fliss' front door.

Though Troy had never been inside before, he'd heard from many of his friends that the waiting room could pass for an ordinary tavern, albeit a low-class one. Stepping into the dimly lit room, he found that just right: a fully stocked bar and a crowded clutch of tables set against three walls decorated with various obscene drawings and paintings, and a doorway at the far end of the bar with a glint of bright light and a pastel-coloured couch beyond. Most of the tables were occupied.

A heavyset wench in a dress much too tight for her held court at the bar. "Bit of a wait this afternoon, I'm afraid, Troy," she told him. "Two ships just put in today, y'see."

"How'd you know who I am?" Troy demanded. "Are you Fliss?"

"It's none of your nevermind, but I am," she said. "And you really don't want to know how I know who you are, Troy. Let's just say I do."

"Fine, but could you please stop saying my name out loud in this place?"

"I can if you buy a drink and a girl, Troy. Otherwise you'd best get lost."

Troy slapped down a wad of cash on the bar and said, "A beer, please, and have you got any blondes?"

"Ah, right, you're marrying a brownie, aren't you?" Fliss chuckled, but true to her word, she did not call Troy by name again. "Yeah, I've got one, but you're third in line after two of our sailors over there. You want to try to pay your way to the front of the line, be my guest." She took his money and offered no change, but Troy was just as glad she didn't ask for more.

The sailors she had pointed to laughed and raised their glasses to him. "Come on and join us if you want," one of them said. "You ain't cuttin' the queue but you're welcome to drink with us in the meantime."

"Gee, thanks." Troy decided he might as well try to be agreeable now -- he'd come in here on his own; he was no better than the rest for the moment. "So you just got here today, did you?"

"Yessir!" one of them said. "On the Reprise. Never been here before, but our captain --"

"Ain't you in enough trouble with him already, Stradlater?" said one of the others. "No offense, young man, but our captain wouldn't want anyone else knowing what he just said."

"My lips are sealed," Troy said. "I know how to keep a secret. Especially if you pretend you didn't hear my name just then."

"Deal," said the sailor. "But I did hear it. You're James Russell's boy, aren't you? Marrying Portia's kid?"

"Yeah." Troy felt like crying in his beer. Instead he took a long sip of it.

His three new friends laughed. "Don't worry, boy, what happens in this place stays in this place," said the one who hadn't spoken up yet. "My name's Ben, by the way."

"Troy, but you knew that." Troy shook his hand.

The other two shook hands with him as well and then fell back into the conversation Troy had interrupted, but Ben remained focused on Troy. "I take it you had a fight with the little woman? Sorry to hear that, I just met her at Portia's and she is one fine little dish!"