No One Notices the Hired Help

"Not a fight." Troy tried to leave it at that, but he was bursting to let it out to someone, and hadn't Ben said it wouldn't leave this room? "No, but I saw her up at the Green Lake with another man. Swimming naked!"

"Oof, that's a bad break, my friend!" For a wonderful moment, Troy thought his new friend might let him have his turn at the popular blonde first. He didn't, but he did say, "Can't blame you for comin' here, then. Maybe you'll learn a couple of tricks that'll keep Portia's kid at home from now on, huh?"

"I already know plenty if she'd let me near her," Troy groused. "I mean, once we're married she'll have to let me. But until then..."

"Ah, ain't nothin' to be ashamed of," Ben said. "No decent lady'd ever understand, would she?"

"Got that right." And Troy raised his glass to clink with Ben's.

He did eventually get his turn with the blonde, and was surprised to learn she was a girl he'd known at school years before, though he couldn't recall her name. (He had little doubt she did remember his name, having spotted the same resentment in her eyes that he had earlier seen in Ruth's; but he didn't care.) He did enjoy the encounter well enough to stop feeling guilty about paying for it, especially now that he knew what Celestine looked like naked. With that thick brown hair, he had always suspected his betrothed sported a monstrous jungle between her legs, and now that his suspicions were confirmed, he was more than happy to enjoy a round with a lady who knew how to groom herself properly. Confident as he was that he would be able to persuade Celestine to do something about her personal hygiene, he welcomed the chance at a fling with someone who didn't need to be talked into being bare and smooth around her feminine treasures.

That lovely look and feel were still fresh in his mind when he arrived at Portia's door that evening, having made a detour to his own home for a shower and shave. He hoped Portia wouldn't notice, but as Jameson led him into the sitting room, her first words were, "You too, Troy?"

"Me too what, Portia?" Troy did his best to look innocent.

"Your hair is wet. You weren't with Celestine when she fell in the lake, were you?"

"She fell in the lake?" Troy was at least able to look surprised. "I mean, no, I wasn't with her. I just had a shower before I came over."

"Oh, you really don't need to do that for me, my dear," she said. "You are nearly family, after all."

"Is Celestine all right?"

"Yes, but I have to be frank here, Troy; I was rather hoping you were with her when it happened."

"Well, I never would have allowed her to fall in, Portia, you know that!"

"You're right. You're quite right." Portia drained the last of her before-dinner aperitif. "But you see, Troy..." She abruptly left her sentence unfinished when Celestine blossomed forth from the foyer, also having washed up and changed into Troy's favourite of her dinner frocks. At least she was trying to make amends, he allowed as she let him kiss her good evening. "Thank you for blessing us with your presence, Celestine," Portia said, standing up. "Shall we?"

"I got here as soon as I could get myself presentable for dinner," Celestine said. "Or would you rather I wore my day dress and had my hair all messy from my accident?"

"Enough of that," Portia snapped, and without another word they filed into the dining room.

Across town, Lorelei poured some wine for her son as he set the kitchen table for their dinner. "Think I got the meatloaf right this time, Ma," he said.

"I'm sure you did a fine job," Lorelei said, taking her seat as he served her the meat and vegetables. "So how is Celestine?"

"Fine, I guess." Dylan was glad he didn't have to look at her as he got his own meal together at the counter.

"You guess? Dylan, she's your best friend, and you just spent the afternoon together. How is she really?"

"Well, Ma...how do you think?" Dylan sat down and made no further effort at a brave face. "She's engaged to that swine Troy and would do anything to get out of it, and I'd do anything to help her, you know that, don't you? But I can't."

"You're my son, of course I know that," Lorelei said. "I brought you up to care about what women want, whether you really need to or not."

"I do need to. Especially Celestine."

"I'm very proud of you, Dylan. But you're probably right, you can't. At least not on your own."

"What do you mean on my own?"

"Just tell me one thing, Dylan, and remember I am your mother and I'll find out soon enough if you lie to me. Do you love Celestine?"

Dylan sighed and set his silverware down. "Yeah. Desperately. But, I mean, what can we do?"

"True love conquers all," Lorelei said as she sipped her wine. "Tell me this, Dylan. If you could, just what would you do for Celestine?"

"Take her to Polerma," Dylan said.

"Polerma!" Lorelei couldn't resist a laugh. "You are your mother's son, aren't you? Yes, I think you'd both love it there. I'd miss you, but I'd love to have you both living your lives together there.

"I'd miss you too, Ma, but I wouldn't worry about that," Dylan said. "I mean, what are the chances of me ever being able to take her there? And do you know, she told me this afternoon she would go with me if I could afford it!"

"Did she?" Lorelei had a better poker face than her son did, and he saw nothing in her eyes as she considered her options.

"Yeah," Dylan said. "And I mean, there must be a way, but I sure can't think of anything."

"Let's see if I can," Lorelei said. "You know, I always did hope the two of you would get together. But you know what her mother would have thought of that."

"I'm a little past caring what her mother thinks," Dylan replied. "No, in fact I'm a long way past that!"

The subject of Dylan and his mother's conversation was, at that moment, discussing plans with Troy for the wedding. "I am sure Celestine's school friends will all look lovely in pink," she opined, looking at Troy but not at her daughter.

"I was really hoping for lavender, myself, to match the trim on my favourite coat," Troy said. "You do like lavender, don't you?" At last he looked at Celestine, though her mother did not.

"Well, no," Celestine said.

"Pink is our family tradition, in any event, so that is settled," Portia said.

"I really don't like pink much either, Mother," Celestine said.

"I really don't like your attitude much, Celestine," Portia said. "When it's your daughter, then you can decide." She laughed a bit. "Sorry, Troy. I mean she and you can decide."

"If I let her," Troy rejoined.

"Correct," Portia said. "And that reminds me, Celestine, I had better not see a repeat of your behaviour with those sailors this afternoon."

"From the Reprise?" Troy could have smacked himself silly as soon as the name was out, but neither woman seemed to care how he knew that.

"What behaviour?" Celestine asked.

"You know what behaviour," Portia replied icily. Turning to Troy, she explained, "She was a common harlot with those men this afternoon, flirting shamelessly with them. Of course you wouldn't know anything about a woman like that, Troy, but I've served enough sailors their dinner in my time to know what's on their minds. I'm afraid you'll have your hands full to see that my daughter minds you once she is your responsibility instead of mine."

"Oh, Portia, you know I'm up to the challenge!" Troy said with the boyish grin that had long ago sealed the deal with her late husband. He turned to Celestine and continued. "It's not as though any wife of mine'll be waiting tables anyway. You'll have our nursery to keep, won't you?"

It took every ounce of resolve Celestine had to avoid telling Troy what she really thought of him, or at least giving him the dirtiest look she had ever given anyone. Instead she looked ill, and found she did not have to feign it very much. "Mother, I'm not feeling well. May I be excused?"

Portia nodded her consent, although she was annoyed that Celestine had already pushed her chair back without waiting for a reply. She glared at her daughter every step to the doorway, and then turned to Troy. "Were you aware she was unwell?" she asked him.

"A gentleman doesn't ask questions," Troy said. "At least not until we're already married. What do I know about women's troubles?"

"Oh, it's not that," Portia said. "The laundry ladies let me know when she's got it. Not that I don't trust you, Troy, but I was a girl her age once, and trust but verify, correct?"

"Always," Troy said. "Maybe she caught a chill when she fell in the lake?"

"That is why I was hoping she was with you when that happened," Portia grumbled.

"So I'd have saved her from catching a chill?"

"That too," Portia said. "But what I really meant was, perhaps if you had been there, you could explain how she fell in the lake and then arrived home in a dress and shoes that obviously hadn't been wet."

Celestine, in her seclusion upstairs, couldn't hear her mother invite Troy to spend the night, nor his hearty acceptance. Neither would have surprised her: Portia knew full well that she and Troy had never really bonded, and she never missed an opportunity to have them spend more time together as if that would change anything. She also wouldn't have been surprised at the furtive look her mother gave Troy as he made his way up the stairs to the guest suite next to Celestine's room, or even at the 'accidental' mention Portia made that Celestine didn't have a key to her door.

None of that would have surprised Celestine, for she'd been observing her mother's machinations all her life. But she heard none of it from the settee by the window, where she admired the sunset over the rooftops of Candover and wondered just what Dylan was up to at that moment. Probably a nice comfortable dinner with his mother, and to think she'd have been welcome there! If only, if only...

Celestine stood up and drew the curtains, and lit the lamp on her bedside table. It cast a wonderful romantic glow over the room, and being mercifully oblivious to Troy's presence in the next room, she didn't think to use the skeleton key her mother didn't know she had in her lingerie drawer. Flush with the much more pleasant thoughts of Dylan, she sat down and pulled her stockings off, and for good measure she also reached up and removed her panties.

It was a warm night. Usually she kept her dress on for what she planned to do next, in case her mother burst in unannounced. But it seemed safe to assume Mother would not want anything to do with her tonight, and besides, the way Dylan had admired her -- and at long last even touched her a bit -- today filled her with such naughty confidence that she almost hoped she would be caught.

And hadn't Dylan agreed to make another trip to the lake tomorrow, weather permitting! This time, she knew, she would prevail upon him to join her in the water. At least.

Before any doubts could catch up with her, Celestine reached back and unclasped her dress. Recalling Dylan's adoring looks and his shy hands in the heather, she felt utterly on fire as she pulled the dress off and undid her brassiere. Joyfully nude again, she strolled aimlessly around the room, rubbing her newly-freed breasts but not reaching any further down yet, the better to enjoy her stroking once it did happen. After all, hadn't Dylan gazed ever so longingly at her bush without touching it?

The memory of that had her delightfully wet when she finally lay down and spread her legs. If only Dylan had taken a chance on caressing her, she marvelled at the thought of how her body would have welcomed him. Now, in her imagination, she did welcome him, in her room, in her arms, in her vagina.

"Ohhh, my darling," she murmured as her fingers did their practiced magic, and she imagined they were Dylan's body rubbing in a loving rhythm with hers. She rubbed harder and caught herself by surprise. "Ooh!" she squealed out loud, bringing everything to a screeching halt just for a moment. Then she reasoned Mother was surely still downstairs and Troy must have gone home, and she let herself fall deeper into her tryst with Dylan.

The book at the library had said something about a loss of control as sex progressed. Celestine could only guess what that would feel like, and even the book had said the feeling of an orgasm was "indescribable". But right then she welcomed the mystery as she imagined her body enveloped in sensation and Dylan's gentle touches and his whispered words of love. She imagined her hands rubbing his chest as she had wanted so much to do at the lake, teasing him into a tizzy of his own until he lost control and came with a cathartic yelp that also brought her over the edge.

Having concluded that she wouldn't be overheard, Celestine had no qualms about letting out a loud sigh of joy as she came. It was loud enough for Troy to hear in the next room, where he had to admit it sounded more genuine than what he'd heard from the blonde that afternoon. Maybe, he mused, he could learn to live with her hairy snatch if she came that hard.

Then it struck him: she was thinking of him, of course, not knowing he was available and even had a tacit invitation from her mother! Should he go next door?

Troy was already on his feet and pulling his coat back on when he realized the poor thing would want to know how he knew just what she was up to. He did not want to have to tell her he knew what a woman's orgasm sounded like! Of course, maybe it was all her way of inviting him in? But then, did he want her thinking he would come running like this every time she wanted a bit of fun?

He felt sorry for her, but Troy took his coat off and decided he'd better just go to bed -- to his own bed. It wasn't as though Celestine would have to wait much longer for him, after all.

There was one establishment in Candover that was lower still than Fliss' Place. The crude tavern on the far end of town was so low it didn't even have a name; this made it easier for the constable to pretend it wasn't there anyway. Colloquially it was known as "the Aldrich Gang place" because Jimmy Aldrich and his crew of street urchins could be found there most nights.

Jimmy Aldrich never missed a chance to remind anyone who would listen that his surname meant "wise old ruler", and all could see he fancied himself as such among his gang. All could also see he was anything save wise or a leader, or old for that matter, though the results of innumerable fistfights did give him the appearance of being much older than his thirty or so years. Long ago he'd been a terror on the rugby field and a contender to earn an athletic scholarship to university and lift his family out of the slums of Candover. One too many altercations with a referee had cost him any chance of that, but had earned him the undying admiration of his fellow troublemakers.

One of those fellow troublemakers was none other than Ben, whom Troy had met at Fliss' Place that afternoon. He and Jimmy and a few others had joined the Navy after school, but whereas Ben had learned to play the sailor's game well enough to thrive there, Jimmy had proven impervious to all efforts to instill any respect for authority. Scarcely a year into his service, a wrong word from a fellow sailor at Portia's restaurant had triggered a fistfight that in turn led to a dishonourable discharge. With no other prospects remaining, Jimmy and his fellow washouts had taken to spending their days on the docks looking for odd jobs, and their nights at the dive that now unofficially had his name. When a boat or a horse went missing or someone got knocked down in the high street, the Aldrich Gang place was a dependable source for the police to find suspects.

That very evening found Jimmy sitting at the bar, sipping his first beer of the night at just about the time Troy and Celestine were going to their separate beds. Naturally he knew nothing of what was going on in Portia's house. Though he harboured a seething resentment of her for causing his ouster from the Navy, and he had designs on some sort of revenge, he knew well enough to steer clear of her part of town until he was ready to strike. But that was not on his mind that evening, for he had enjoyed an unusually good day of cleaning and painting boats on the docks and he was looking forward to seeing what sort of girls would turn up tonight.

When the door opened, he hoped to see what would be on tap tonight besides the beer. What he saw instead disappointed him at first -- until he realized just who the sailor in the doorway was.

"Ben!" Jimmy jumped up from his stool.

"How'd I know you'd be here!" Ben said, and they met in a handshake that was as close as Jimmy Aldrich would ever allow any other man to him.

"Didn't even know you were in town," Jimmy said. "Can I buy you a beer?"

"Sure," Ben said. "But I think you'll want to buy me more than that when you hear the news I've got."

"You finally beat that pirate ship we used to talk about, did you?" Jimmy laughed, remembering the boyhood daydreaming of adventures they were so sure awaited.

"Better," Ben said. "Listen, I know it's been a while and I hate to bring up ancient history, but have you still got it in for that Portia lady?"

"That bitch?" Jimmy slammed his beer mug down on the filthy bar. "You bet your ass I still want a piece of her. No offense, you're an old friend of mine, but I mean, every time some goody goody sailor comes through town, all I can think of is, that could've been me, you know? Instead here I am washing boats and fixing fishnets for a living. All 'cause that bitch couldn't mind her own business."

"You know her daughter, then?" Ben said.

"The Celestial body?" Jimmy quipped. "No one in town doesn't know about her. And engaged to that rich bastard, what's his name? Tony?"

"Troy," Ben corrected. "But that's what I wanted to tell you. A little bird told me today she's been going to the Green Lake with some other guy."

"The Green Lake?" Jimmy perked up and looked at his old friend. "Alone with a guy not her fiancé?"

"You've got it," Ben said. "Imagine the scandal if that got out."

"Especially if her precious little girl was no longer pure," Jimmy said with a grin.

"Hey, hold it, Jimmy!" All at once Ben was all business. "I don't want anything to do with any rape."

"Then don't come with us," Jimmy said. "No one needs to know how I ended up there."

"Oh, Jimmy, please," Ben said. "I just meant you could blackmail Celestine or something like that."

"You know me better than that, Ben." As Jimmy swallowed the last of his beer, the door swung open again, this time with the visitors he'd been hoping for before. Two young women, one looking just as hard-bitten in her own way as Jimmy, the other terrified despite her flashy clothes, stepped into the barroom. Jimmy saw them and leapt down off his stool. "Peg!" he said. "You brought a friend!"

"The tide still ain't washed you out, huh, Jimmy?" said the older-looking one, who Ben guessed was Peg.

"You're not rid of me yet," Jimmy said, reaching into his pocket for his remaining cash. "Or is that what you brought your friend for?"

"Don't even think of it, Jimmy!" Peg said, putting a protective arm between him and the other woman, who looked to Ben to be a few years younger than he, while Peg looked much older. "She ain't ready for any of your stuff. Have a heart."

Jimmy looked back at Ben. "You're right, I do want to buy you something," he said. Turning back to Peg, he said, "what'll both of you cost?"

"You can buy us both for your friend if you want," Peg said. "But I'll never let you touch me again!"

"You will if you want a place to sleep tonight, kiddo," growled the bartender. "You know the rules, Peg."

"Oh, all right," Peg said. "But I want your friend and Relly here in the same room."