Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (20 page)

“Dear God… Will I have to listen to this crap if I take the job? Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! Get back to the orgies, St. Bellicose.”

“…We do not leave sex education to the schools or to other outsiders. We maintain an open and candid dialog about sex with our children…”

Sonia nodded attentively, hearing only, “Yada, Yada, Yada…”
“Scripted stuff, St. Sweetlips… Would make a great platform plank at the DNC. I’m still waiting for the juicy stuff, Horny Boy.”

“…Some of our guests find this hypocritical, but we expect abstinence of our children until they reach maturity. We also instruct them in the importance of using protection once they become sexually active…”

“Abstinence? Really? You honestly think these kids aren’t going to get busy until they’re out of college? Really? Forget hypocritical. Try NAÏVE!”

“…Once our children move away, we must trust we have done our best to educate them about their sexuality. We must let them make their own choices, even if that means letting them make their own mistakes…”

Rory gestured around the foyer, pointing to the balcony above and the guest rooms beyond. “Every intimate encounter at Staffordshire takes place in sound-insulated rooms…”

“Okay, St. Windbag. All I wanted to know was if I was the new Orgy Coordinator. Enough with the ‘protecting the children’ bit. ORGY! ORGY! ORGY! Where’s the stuff about the ORGIES?”

Rory leaned toward Sonia and elbowed her. “…After all, some of us can become quite vocal…”

Sonia feigned attentiveness. “You get loud around here, do you?”

“Miss Nichols, this estate is not surrounded by acres of open space simply for the view.”

An image flashed through Sonia’s juvenile mind, of a woman and man standing on an outdoor balcony, actively engaged in free-standing coitus. The woman screamed,
“Oh! Yes! Fuck me!”
through a megaphone.

“In every other way, though, we take great pains to ensure that our children are raised in as normal and loving an environment as possible.”

“YEAH RIGHT! ‘Normal’ and ‘loving…’ For an ORGY FACTORY!”

Sonia’s boredom with inanities regarding “abstinence” and “educating kids” and “blah, blah, blah” crushed her attention span. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but… When
do
you tell your children about the ‘fun stuff’” Sonia air-quoted, “that goes on around here? You know…”

Sonia made an “O” with the thumb and index finger of her left hand, took the index finger of her right, and slipped it in and out of the “O.”

“Well, Miss Nichols, we only inform our offspring of our more active lifestyle choices
after
they graduate high school, after they are mature enough to fully understand the implications of our ‘fun stuff’,” Rory air-quoted.

“But otherwise… I think it is a fair assessment to say…”

“C’mon, baby… you want to say it. JUST SAY IT!”

“…We really do enjoy a good orgy…”

“YES!” Sonia fist pumped.

The boss leaned toward Sonia, pressed his mouth to her ear, and introduced his next line with a tantalizing insertion of tongue.

“As often as two or three times a month.”

Sonia’s mouth gaped. “WHOA, SON!” She threw her palm up in front of Rory’s face. “I said, WHOA, son!”

Rory leaned back, grinning like a smug frat boy.

“Okay, Sonia! Get OVER the risks, baby! After all… What’s the harm in a nice, broad spectrum antibiotic or unplanned pregnancy among friends?”

“Remember, Sonia, you may back out of this visit at any time, but you must also remember that this conversation and all of our activities here today must remain
strictly
confidential.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Two or three times A MONTH? That… is… so… fucking… HOT!!!” she shouted. Sonia’s soprano echoed throughout the vacant foyer and adjacent rooms.

The reality of an “oopsie” paid Sonia a return visit, furrowing her brow.

“But… Orgies can be risky. I really don’t want to get an STD.”

“Uhhh… Mr. St. Cloud… You’re
sure
nobody gets infected…?”

“Of course there are no guarantees, Miss Nichols, but we believe the health and emotional benefits of daily intercourse are well worth the risk. We take every reasonable precaution. And it will be
your
personal responsibility to see that our precautions are observed. The quality of your work will determine everyone’s risk, including your own.”

Sonia glanced back and forth between the future boss and the foyer.

1. A 40,000 square foot, ultra-romantic orgy factory.
   Check.
   
2. A super-hot boss who liked to fuck the help.
   Check.
   
3. $10k just for showing up for the orgy factory tour.
   Check.
   

“Oh fuck it. Just do it, stupid! You’re in the middle of a stinking recession and the handsome prince just handed you a glass stiletto. Take it!”

“Well okay, then,” Sonia deadpanned. “I’m sold.”

“Now, Miss Nichols… Do you have any other questions before I take you on the tour and fill in a few more blanks?”

“Yeah… I can think of a blank or two I’d like you to fill in…”

“Just two. First, we never talked salary.”

“$85,000 a year to start including a 1500 square foot, fully furnished, two bedroom apartment here at the estate and full access to all the estate’s amenities.”

Sonia’s face went pale, her jaw fell open.

“Not enough, Miss Nichols?”

“No, no… That will be quite fine, sir. Does that come with medical and dental?” she quipped.

“Why yes it does, dear. What was your other question?”

“Do I have to keep calling you Mr. St. Cloud or can I just call you Rory.”

A look of unexpected sadness filled Rory’s face. “That is one aspect of our relationship, Miss Nichols that we must never forget. Sadly, it, too, is a part of the stipulations of this house. When in the public areas of the home, the owners and their family members are ‘Sir,’ or ‘Ma’am,’ or Mr., Mrs., Ms., or Miss. Staff is called by Mr., Mrs., Ms., and Miss. or by their first name. So when we are in public or around other staff, you must call me, ‘Mr. St. Cloud,’ or, ‘sir.” I will always call you either Sonia or Miss Nichols, but, more likely, simply by your first name.”

The Cheshire Cat grinned again. “There is, however, one notable exception to the rule about not using my first name. I suspect you will figure out that exception when we reach the appropriate point in our relationship.”

Sonia pursed her lips. The word “when” was not lost on her.

“Shit! Then I guess that means I need to clean up my mouth, too?”

“Not necessarily. As long as we are in a private conversation or in a secure area of the estate you may be as profane as you wish. I personally find a woman who uses profanity… Quite provocative. But when we are in public or with unscreened visitors, we must maintain professional decorum.”

Nodding her smiling agreement, Sonia urged the negotiation onward. “Fair enough. Clean mouth in public, potty mouth in private. I can handle that. So, should we take that tour now? I’m dying to know more about this place.”

“Yes, Miss Nichols. Where would you like to begin?”

Sonia cracked her knuckles. “Well, sir, how about someplace the contract was specifically designed to protect?”

Fourteen

Rory toured Sonia throughout the mansion and the surrounding compound for more than two hours, skipping over several rooms during the tour, noting somewhat cryptically,
“If you are offered this position, you will have access to this room…”
Sonia used her imagination, fantasizing about what probably went on behind those dead-bolted doors.

The scope of the home was breathtaking. The quantity and size of the rooms left Sonia breathless. Three staircases led to the second floor, one at each end of the foyer and a third heading down from a back corridor into the kitchen/recreation area. At the end of the south wing sat a 120’ x 120’ formal ballroom with a soaring, chandelier-laced, gold accented ceiling and arched windows offering unimpeded sunlight from all directions. On the second floor Sonia counted 14 bedrooms, each with a private bath and all with walk-in closets. Certain bedrooms, such as the master suite, included several, larger walk-in closets that would serve as an apartment to most commoners. There were two kitchens, each at opposite ends of the house, one for the family, the other for guests.

After visiting the main kitchen, Rory took Sonia down to the basement, to a long, straight hallway that stretched throughout the underbelly of the mansion. Many of the rooms were off-limits to Sonia as an applicant, only available to her upon agreement of employment. The few rooms Rory permitted her to enter included fantasy suites designed for adult play. A fantasy hotel pool. A fantasy doctor’s office. A fantasy drive-in movie theater complete with a vintage ’57 Chevy convertible.

As Sonia quickly learned, at Staffordshire the word “play” always followed the word “fore.”

At the end of the long, underground hall, a lone, vault-like black door remained sealed. A nearby pushbutton keypad required its own, unique code. When Sonia begged Rory for a hint of the room’s contents, all he would offer was…

“That is a very special playroom for a very special person.”

Rory took Sonia back to the main level, to the large indoor greenhouse and solarium. A winding, multi-level pathway with occasional wrought iron benches set a romantic, relaxing ambiance. At night, Rory explained, the trees lit up with thousands of twinkling lights, making it one of his favorite rooms in the main house. In a state of closely tended stasis, Sonia used her imagination to picture lush, green foliage, a wide assortment of colorful flowers, and a stocked aviary filled with exotic birds.

Outside, they toured the eight-bay garage and four luxurious servants’ apartments above. Down by the lake, they visited several “cottages,” as Rory called them, 2500 square foot colonial style homes for married staff and their families. On the way back from the lake, they toured the 10-stall stable, with its two luxury apartments, and the nearby training facility complete with competition-grade jumping and dressage rings.

As the last stop on their tour of Wonderland, Rory and Sonia visited the Olympic-sized indoor pool. Near the inner wall, an eight-person hot-tub sat drained and covered, awaiting the next generation of St. Clouds and their servants. Rory explained that as a matter of family tradition, every facility on the property was freely available to the staff and their families, encouraging the children of privilege and the children of their loyal servants to live and play side-by-side without distinction by class. If a servant was not on the clock, it was not unusual to find them lounging by the pool right next to the Master or Mistress of the estate, watching their children play together without a thought for social status.

Sonia and Rory explored rooms and hallways and stories dating back nearly 120 years. Rory was not just an advertising executive of international repute. He was a historian, with a keen, detailed grasp of the home’s history, its many inhabitants, and it’s quiet, though pivotal, place in world events. Secret peace summits. Delicate, war-time treaty negotiations. Training spies during the first and second world wars.

At the conclusion of the tour, the applicant and her prospective boss returned to the foyer and the right-side marble staircase. Sonia seductively climbed five steps and turned, leaning against the banister. She scanned the space, tracing the view up, down, and around several times. The romance of the grand home intoxicated her.

Sonia tired of waiting for the boss to make the first move. The grand spectacle of the visit was all a formality. He probably had his mind made up before she arrived. She was also going to get seriously fucked. Randy Rory probably put Rambunctious Regina up to suggesting the stockings.

No time like the present.

Locking eyes with the boss, Sonia took a wide stance on the step, gripping the banister for balance. She crouched slowly and rose, on the first descent keeping her knees together, wiggling her legs back and forth like a pole-dancing pro. On the second descent, she spread her legs wide. Sonia repeated the motion several times — closed then open, closed then open — doing a seductive dance to a pulsing soundtrack in her mind. Her skirt inched upward with each downward shimmy. Finally lowering herself to sit, Sonia spread her legs wide and exposed herself to The Master, giving him a clear view up her skirt. Sonia’s black satin panties shimmered in the shadows. A little “provocative” profanity seemed in order.

“Well, sir…,” Sonia began, leaning forward and giving her lips a long lick. “I think we’ve covered all the important shit. So… Rory… Do I get the fucking job or not?”

Sonia placed her palms to the inside of each knee and dragged her fingers toward her pussy. She gripped the hem of her skirt and pulled it higher, exposing the lace tops of garter-attached stockings. Sonia leaned back, running her hands upward across her chest and then downward to her thighs. Reclining and closing her eyes, Sonia stroked her thighs and teased the boss with an unimpeded view of her V.