Aunt Penelope's Harem (2 page)

Three days later, on Saturday, Melanie relaxed in her first
class seat on a plane from Wyoming to Florida. She’d never flown first class in
her life, but the lawyer had explained that the terms of her aunt’s will
included first-class travel for Melanie to her funeral, which sounded exactly
like something that Aunt Penelope would do. The seat cushion was more comfortable,
she had more legroom, and she wasn’t crushed between two portly gentlemen with
flatulence issues…now
this
was the way to fly.

Too bad it wasn’t for a happier occasion.

She’d always loved Aunt Penelope, or Amazing Aunt Penelope,
as she liked to be called. Aunt Penelope always had the best stories, bought
the best Christmas and birthday presents, and took her out to amusement parks
and rock concerts when she came to visit. Melanie’s parents had died five years
ago, three weeks apart, and Aunt Penelope had been the greatest force in
getting her through that terrible time.

How could somebody with that much zest for life be dead? She
was only forty-six.

At least she went quickly. A heart attack. There wasn’t even
any pain, the lawyer had told her.

Melanie wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered that
joyful, pretty woman who was the sweetest, kindest person she’d ever known, and
who understood the importance of ample legroom and a lack of flatulence.

* * * * *

She couldn’t even begin to count how many people were at the
funeral. Aunt Penelope’s only living relative besides Melanie was her daughter,
Gretchen, who had inherited none of her mother’s warmth or sense of adventure.
But Aunt Penelope had more close friends than most people had casual acquaintances,
and they were all seated in the park on this sunny morning.

A tall man in a bright green dress shirt took the podium and
cleared his throat. “Last year, my beloved client Penelope Margaret Carlson
told me that she had no intention of dying until she’d made the world record
for the oldest, crabbiest wench on the face of the earth.”

Some people laughed, but the man’s voice cracked as he
continued speaking. “Sadly, she did not achieve that goal. But though she was
taken from us far too soon, she lived a full life, a happy life, and I’m sure
that she would want us to celebrate the life she lived, rather than mourn her
passing. Though she had no plans to exit this world any time soon, she was also
a strong believer in being prepared for any eventuality, and she left me this
statement to read at her funeral.”

He began to read from a piece of paper. “‘Wipe those mopey
expressions off your faces or I’ll come back to haunt each and every one of
you. You know perfectly well that I’m not going to put up with a bunch of
pouting at my funeral. This means you, Rebecca.’”

A sobbing woman in the front row forced a smile through her
tears.

“‘Since I’m paying for this shindig, I expect you all to
have some fun. And keep the eulogy short. Nobody likes to sit through those damn
things. I love you all dearly, and I’ll see you on the other side.’”

The man gestured, and the band played “Don’t Worry, Be
Happy.”

* * * * *

Melanie sat across from the lawyer’s desk. Gretchen sat next
to her, eyeliner smeared. She’d been the only person at the funeral to wear
black.

Gretchen resembled her departed mother in many ways. She had
the same round features, the same blonde hair, and the same slight build. But
she didn’t have the same spark. Even as a kid, Gretchen had been happy only
when she was miserable. Apparently she took after her father, although Melanie
had never met him and Aunt Penelope rarely talked about him.

Richard Campbell, still wearing his bright green shirt,
shook each of their hands. “As I’m sure you know, the two of you were Penelope
Carlson’s only living relatives, and if you exclude several substantial
donations to various charities, you two are the only beneficiaries in her
will.”

“How substantial?” asked Gretchen.

“Exactly ten million dollars in total.”

Melanie’s jaw dropped. She’d known Aunt Penelope was loaded.
The woman had an uncanny eye for investments and she’d gotten in early on
stocks for a couple of companies that had done extremely well, but
ten
million
dollars? Good Lord.

Gretchen winced as if she’d been struck. “She gave away that
much?”

“Yes.”

“Well, shit, they’d better appreciate it.”

“I’m sure they will. Ms. Carlson, you have been left the
after-taxes sum of exactly one million dollars.”

Gretchen snorted. “Good to know that her own daughter is
one-tenth as important to her as those charities.”

Melanie wanted to slap her upside of the head and scream
“What the hell are you complaining about…you’re a freakin’ millionaire!” but
figured that would be inappropriate.

“Ms. Clover, you have been left the after-taxes sum of
exactly one hundred thousand dollars.”

Melanie’s legs went weak. She could take a real vacation.
She could move into an apartment with adequate soundproofing.

“In addition, my client has left you her home and all of her
material possessions, and has set up a trust fund that will cover all expenses
involved in maintaining this property.”

“
What
?” Gretchen demanded. “She gets the house? The
house is worth more than I got!”

“You’re absolutely correct,” said Mr. Campbell, nodding.
“What a pity.”

“This is bullshit. I’m her daughter.”

“The terms of the will are very clear.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t over. I’m gonna hire a lawyer.”

“That’s a fine idea,” said Mr. Campbell. “With the million
dollars you’ve received you should be able to hire an excellent one.”

Gretchen stood up and stormed out of the office.

Mr. Campbell smiled at Melanie. “Your aunt was right, her
niece is a lovely woman.”

Melanie felt herself blush. “Thanks. I mean, I know you’re
just saying that, but thanks.”

“Did you ever get a chance to visit your aunt’s home?”

Melanie shook her head. “I knew that she moved into a new
place about a year ago, but I’ve never seen it. Whenever I saw her, she always
came to me. She liked to travel.”

“She certainly did,” said Mr. Campbell. “She was my favorite
client…one of my best friends. I’m really going to miss her.”

He stared at his desk for a long moment, but then wiped at
his eyes and smiled. “Obviously, there’s a tremendous amount of tedious,
lawyer-style paperwork to go through, and you won’t be able to actually take
possession of the house for several business days.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Melanie. “Actually, my plane back to
Wyoming leaves in about three hours, so I can’t stay anyway.”

“That’s too bad. But I’d be more than happy to give you a
ride to the airport, if you’re interested in driving past your new home.”

* * * * *

“No way!” said Melanie, gazing in awe at the immense white
mansion. “This can’t be it.”

“It is indeed. And that’s just the shed…wait until you see
the actual house.”

Melanie laughed. “This is amazing.”

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Campbell said. Then he frowned. “You do
realize that I was only kidding, right? This isn’t the shed. It’s the actual
house.”

“I got that.”

“Good.”

The place was absolutely incredible. It was bigger than the
Wal-Mart back at home. There was a huge fountain in the front yard, and even
some topiary animals, including a bear, an elephant, and a flamingo. Melanie
simply couldn’t believe that Aunt Penelope had lived in such a nice place…and
that she’d inherited it.

Unreal. Completely unreal.

* * * * *

Melanie had done a lot of difficult things in her life, but
giving her two weeks notice at work was not one of them. Although after Harold
proceeded to vomit into his wastebasket upon receiving her written resignation,
she’d agreed to stay on an extra week.

She knew that she’d have to sell Aunt Penelope’s mansion
sooner or later. Probably sooner. But the idea of living in that place, even if
only for a short time, was too exciting to pass up. She’d live like a queen for
a while, and then head back to reality.

“What reality?” asked Dawn as she helped Melanie throw her
accumulated crap into boxes. “There’s no reality here. You’re rich! Stop acting
like you’ll be waiting tables next week.”

“I’m not acting like that,” Melanie insisted. “I just don’t
want to get carried away, that’s all.”

“Melanie, you’re going off to live in a mansion.
Your
mansion. Your mansion, all expenses paid. Things are already carried away, you
just need to sit back and enjoy it.”

“I’m going to.”

“Good. Oh, and please remember me as the friend who was
always there for you and not the friend who set you up with all of those
losers.”

“Don’t worry. As soon as I get settled in, I’m sending you a
plane ticket.”

“I can’t wait. I’m so excited for you. This is going to be so
much fun!”

* * * * *

One month after Aunt Penelope’s funeral, Melanie stood in
front of the double-doors to the mansion.

It was hers. All hers. Wow.

She rang the doorbell. A moment later, one of the doors
opened to reveal a tall, thin, elderly gentleman in a black suit.

“Ah, Ms. Clover. Welcome to your new home. Won’t you come
in?”

Melanie just stood there, staring in shock at the immense
entry room. Marble floors, a winding staircase, vases, expensive-looking
statues without arms…it was too much to take in at once.

“Ma’am?”

“Huh?”

“Please, come in.”

“Oh. Right.” She shook her head back and forth to clear it.
“Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed. I had no idea this place would be
so…sizable.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, ma’am.”

She wiped her feet and stepped inside. The man gracefully
closed the door behind her.

“Your coat, ma’am?”

“I even have coat service here?”

“Yes, ma’am. As your butler, I provide numerous services,
including taking your coat.”

“My butler. Oh my God.” Mr. Campbell had told her about
this, but she still didn’t quite believe it. “You’re Rupert, right?”

“That is correct, ma’am.”

“And you have a British accent! That’s so cool!”

“Yes, ma’am. During my formative years in Britain I found it
extremely convenient.”

Melanie realized that she was making an ass out of herself.
“I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit giddy,” she said, letting him help her out of
her coat. “I never in my life dreamed that I’d have a butler.”

“Well, ma’am, I hope that I meet all of your expectations
and that you see fit to retain my services.”

“Oh…I’m sure I will. I mean, Aunt Penelope hired you,
right?”

“She did. She was a sweet woman. I’m sure I don’t have to
tell you that she is sorely missed.”

“No, you don’t. I mean, yes, she is. Was.
Is
…missed.
Sorry, I’m still distracted by the statues.”

“Would you like a tour?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Right this way, ma’am.”

With each room, Melanie found herself more and more
astounded. The dining room was larger than her entire apartment. The kitchen
looked big enough to service an entire restaurant, and she had her own gourmet
chef. There was a library, an indoor pool, a sauna, an entertainment room with
pinball, billiards, and air hockey, a tennis court, a room filled with about
four dozen multi-colored beanbag chairs, and more other rooms than she could
even remember on the first walkthrough.

The bathrooms alone were spacious and luxurious enough to
make a perfectly suitable spot for a two-week vacation.

“This is absolutely amazing,” said Melanie. “How long does
it take to vacuum this place?”

“Less time than you would think,” Rupert informed her. “We
have a superb vacuum cleaner.”

He showed her through several more rooms, and then led her
down a long corridor that ended at a mahogany wooden door. He hesitated at the
door, obviously a bit uncomfortable.

“Is something wrong?” Melanie asked.

“This next area was your aunt’s favorite place in the entire
house,” he said.

Melanie nodded. “It must be difficult to be in areas that
were so special to her.”

“Well, yes. But not exactly. You see, your aunt was an
enthusiastic woman, with great zeal and an unmatched zest for life.”

“I know.”

“And this zeal stretched into all areas of her life, if you
know what I mean.”

“I do,” said Melanie. “She had a lot of interests.”

“Yes. She was particularly interested in, how shall I say
it…pleasure. Of the physical sort. Extremely physical.”

Melanie felt herself blush. “You mean sex?”

“Sex, yes. I’m glad you said that, because that’s exactly
what I mean. Sex. She liked sex.”

Why was Rupert so uncomfortable? Though Melanie had
successfully gone her entire life up to this point without envisioning her aunt
having sex, Aunt Penelope was an attractive, healthy woman. There was certainly
no reason for her to lock on a chastity belt after her divorce.

“So what’s in this room?” she asked.

“The harem, ma’am.”

Melanie stared at Rupert. “The what?”

“The harem.”

“What harem?”

“Your aunt’s harem.”

“What exactly do you mean by harem? Because the mental
picture I’ve got right now is obviously mixed up with some antiquated meaning
of the word.”

Rupert cleared his throat. “Essentially, your aunt kept
eight gentlemen here to service her physical desires.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Eight men?”

“Yes, ma’am. One for each day of the week and two for
Sunday, as she liked to say.”

“So, what, you’re telling me that my aunt was, like, this
huge slut?”

“She preferred the term ‘free spirit,’ ma’am.”

Melanie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This is a
joke, right? Aunt Penelope always did have a goofy sense of humor. I mean,
remember when she had Mr. Campbell read that statement at her funeral about not
being all pouty and stuff? This is all just a gag from beyond the grave,
right?”

“I assure you that I’m completely serious.”

“So where are they now?”

“Beyond that door, ma’am.”

“They’re in the
house
?”

“Yes.”

“All eight of them?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit! What if they get out?” Melanie looked at the
door in panic. “Is it locked from the outside?”

“You have nothing to fear from these gentlemen, I assure you,”
said Rupert. “They are exceedingly well-trained and well-behaved.”

“Well-trained?”

“Yes, ma’am. Each member of your aunt’s harem went through a
rigorous screening process and training course.”

“Training course? They have a
training
course?”

“Yes, ma’am. Quite a fine one.”

“And how do you know that? Did you go through it?”

“No, ma’am. My services here are strictly platonic.”

“Did I mention that this whole thing is sick?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“Well, I’m leaving,” said Melanie, heading back toward the
doorway they’d come in. “If you need me, I’ll be in bathroom number five.”

“The gentlemen were rather looking forward to meeting you,”
said Rupert.

“It’s not going to happen. I want them out of here by the
time I…uh, before I come back to this part of the house. Which will be soon. So
I want them out of here soon.”

With that, she stormed out of the room.

Then she walked back in.

“I don’t want you to think that just because I’m throwing a
fit now that I’m going to be one of those mean people who orders her butler around
all the time. I’m nice, really. You’ll like having me around.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“In fact, you don’t even have to call me ma’am. Call me
Melanie.”

“If I may speak freely, that would make me very
uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. What name
would make you more comfortable?”

“Ma’am.”

“Oh. Okay. Ma’am works. But I just want you to know that
it’s optional, and any time you want to drop the whole ma’am thing it’s
perfectly fine with me.”

“Duly noted, ma’am.”

“But get the men out of here, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. They’ll be most disappointed. They were hoping
that you would be inclined to continue their contracts.”

“They have contracts? For being harem slaves?”

“Personal attendants, ma’am.”

“Well, they can forget it. Send them back to Harem
Headquarters or wherever the hell they came from.”

Melanie stormed out of the room again.

Then she walked back in again.

“You promise they’re not scary?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“They won’t attack me or anything?”

“No, ma’am.”

“So it’s completely safe?”

“I will be more than happy to equip you with a shotgun if
you desire, ma’am.”

“There’s no reason to be a smartass, Rupert.”

“My sincerest apologies, ma’am.”

Melanie thought about it for a moment. “Okay, well, if you
promise they’re not scary, and they’re not going to attack me, I guess there’s
no reason for me to be rude. I should at least introduce myself before I have
you kick them out of the house, right?”

“That sounds fair, ma’am.”

“Fine. Open the door.”

* * * * *

There was only one word to describe the sight that greeted
Melanie upon stepping through the doorway, but she was too overwhelmed to think
of it. She was in a huge room, most of which was taken up by a swimming pool
with a water slide at one end and a waterfall at the other. There were about a
dozen beach chairs, a beautiful white tile floor, a large hot tub, a sauna, and
a bar, as well as several closed doors. Music with a tropical beat played in
the background. It was like a luxury resort under her own roof.

And then there were the men.

Three of them were swimming, three relaxed on beach chairs,
one rested in a hammock that hung between a pair of artificial trees, and a
heavily tattooed one was doing push-ups on the floor.

They were all muscular, tanned, and drop-dead gorgeous.

“She’s here,” said one of them, climbing out of the pool.
The others immediately got up and headed over to where Melanie stood. She took
a couple of cautious steps backward.

“May I present,” said Rupert once they were all in front of
Melanie, “Ms. Melanie Clover, your new princess.”

“Hi, Melanie,” they all said, not quite in unison.

“Uhhhhh…” she replied, proud of herself for managing to
speak even that particular syllable.

“She’s a bit nervous, as you might expect,” said Rupert.

“Well, we’re most pleased to make your acquaintance,” said
one of them, a guy with curly black hair, taking her hand and kissing it.

There was definitely a motif here. None of the men was
shorter than six feet tall, and they all looked to be in their twenties. They
all had rugged, male-model looks, and most of them had dark hair, except for a
blond (the guy who’d been on the hammock) and one who was bald. Only one of
them had facial hair, a neatly trimmed mustache. Aunt Penelope was a woman who
knew exactly what she wanted.

Had she really had sex with
all eight
of them?

“Perhaps you should introduce yourselves,” said Rupert.

The one who’d kissed her hand grinned. “I’m Dennis, milady.”

“I’m Carl,” said one with short brown hair and a cheerful
twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Ben,” said the one with the mustache.

“Stephen,” said the blond-haired guy who’d been lying on the
hammock, “but you can call me Steve.”

“Nate,” said the bald one.

“Julian,” said the heavily tattooed one who’d been doing
push-ups. The tattoos were elaborate drawings of fantasy creatures, including a
dragon tail that wrapped around his left arm from shoulder to wrist.

“Keith,” said one with a crew cut, barking out his name as
if speaking to a drill sergeant.

“Leo. Pleased to meet ya,” said the last one, speaking in a
Boston accent.

“Got all of those?” asked Carl. “There’ll be a quiz later.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not good with names,” Melanie admitted.

The man with the mustache (Ben?) shrugged. “Just call us by
numbers. We’re easy.”

“Well, I just wanted to, you know, stop by,” she said. “I’ve
got a lot of cleaning to do, so I’ll see you guys, uh, later.”

“Cleaning?” asked Carl, raising an eyebrow.

“Unpacking. I meant unpacking.”

“Rupert will unpack for you. He gets paid for that kind of
stuff, just like we get paid for—”

“No, no, I don’t want to impose.” Melanie backed up toward
the door. “It was nice, ah, seeing you all. You can go back and swim or hammock
or whatever you were doing. Sorry to disturb you. Bye.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Carl, taking her hand. “I’ll give
you the grand tour. You’ll love this place. C’mon.”

Before she could protest, he’d pulled her through the crowd
of men and over to the edge of the swimming pool. “Here’s our wonderful pool,”
he said. “Twelve feet deep at the far end. The other pool in the house only
goes to ten feet. Do you like to swim?”

Melanie nodded hesitantly.

“Then this is the best place for it. You’ll have fun, I
promise. Watch your step, though, the tile can be kind of slippery.”

He led her over to the bar. “Leo can mix any kind of drink
you want. Do you like strawberry daiquiris? You could have one right now, as
strong as you want. Are you thirsty?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You sure? They’re good. Leo went to bartending school.”

“That’s okay, really, I’m fine.”

“All right, no pressure. Over here we’ve got the sauna,” he
said, leading Melanie over to the wooden structure in the corner of the room.
“Your aunt would stay in there for hours, even though you’re not really
supposed to, for health reasons. Sometimes all nine of us would sit in there
and just chat and relax.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” said Melanie.

Carl frowned. “You’re opposed to chatting and relaxing?”

“No, I’m opposed to this whole thing!”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit that the water slide is
pretty neat.”

“I don’t mean this place, I mean the fact that you
all…physically pleasured my aunt. It’s deviant! It’s…it’s…”

“Morally reprehensible?”

“Yes! Morally reprehensible. I can’t believe you guys just
let yourselves be used as boy-toys. Don’t you have any pride? Don’t you have
any dignity? Self-respect?”

“Those are not unfair questions,” Carl admitted. “But I
think if you just hang around for a while we’ll show you that—”

“Forget it! I don’t like to be possessive, but this is my
house now, and I want you out of here!” She looked over at the rest of the men.
“All of you! Well, not you, Rupert. Everybody who’s not wearing a shirt right
now, I want you gone by this evening!”

“Again, not an unfair attitude,” said Carl. “But I’d like to
explain some of the advantages to—”

“No.”

“You’d be surprised how—”

“No.”

“Maybe—”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“I’m sure you guys have had a great ol’ time hanging out
here, but Aunt Penelope has passed away, and we’re under new management. So
pack up and get out. Goodbye.”

Melanie stormed out of the room, and this time she didn’t
return.