Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (28 page)

There was silence in the room, but the sexual tension was palpable. Mr. Delacroix handed something to Marie-Louise and she slid to her knees on the floor. I heard the hum of a vibrator.

“Marie, she’s very sensitive, so less is more for her, but I want you to give her the best clit orgasm she’s ever had. Drive her wild for me. I want to show you and Jackson how fine her pussy is when she comes. Nezzie, don’t move a muscle. If you do, I’ll have to use these shackles, unless you’d prefer I do so now.”

I remembered how badly I wanted to be bound on previous occasions. “My lord, if you please. Bind me now.”

“Oh Nez, you already know what to do. You hardly need me to help.” He came to me with leather cuffs for my wrists and ankles. He attached them to the ropes that hung from the pulleys. “Not too tight, Nez?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Go ahead, Marie-Louise,” he said.

I closed my eyes waiting for what came next, and to my delight, Marie-Louise knew exactly what to do with the tool she was given. The intense vibrator brushed my clit so gently, it almost felt like a breeze. Marie-Louise teased my clit to a frenzy using her tongue and the tool Mr. Delacroix so generously provided. I could feel my clit standing at attention as she pressed a little more firmly on my sensitive button and then pulled away, back and forth, making the vibration travel through my spine. Her other hand found my vagina and entered aggressively. I could feel her fingernails against the wall of my canal, but she was gentle. She ran her nails down the sides along my lips and outlined my anus.

I was thankful to have been bound, as I knew I could never be still for this. My hips moved involuntarily as Marie-Louise licked and used that vibrator with such expertise. I felt a sudden and all-consuming rush travel through my center and outward toward my arms and legs. The violence of the orgasm took me by surprise and I cried out. My shoulders convulsed back into the bed, pulling my wrists tight against the cuffs. My ankles worked against theirs. I lost all awareness except for the incredible sensation between my legs. I wanted it to go on forever but at the same time, the fierceness of it caused my body to fatigue and cramp. I was relieved when it ended, but very aroused. My vagina ached for anything to fill the void.

Understanding my state, Mr. Delacroix said, “Nezzie, Jackson’s going to fuck your pussy now.”

“Yes, sir,” I panted.

In moments, Jackson was on top of me, missionary style, while I lay bound and defenseless. I could not see what had happened to Marie-Louise and I looked frantically for Mr. Delacroix.

“I’m here, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’m here, sugah. Just relax now and let Jackson fuck you. Remember, Nezzie, I’m the one who knows what you like.”

“Yes, sir,” I said and looked into Jackson’s doe eyes, soft brown and warm.

“Thank you, Miss Nez,” Jackson said before he plunged into me with a loud grunt, knocking the breath out of me. I could hear Marie-Louise giggling while Jackson drilled me and then pulled away. I was stunned that he’d pulled out so soon. I regained my breath and he drove into me again, this time keeping a hard, fast rhythm that was painful. My head hit the headboard repeatedly. He had handfuls of my hair and pulled. His breath was hot on my neck and he grunted loudly each time he gouged into me, as if his aim was to cause pain.

Sheer oblivion now as my orgasm rushed forth. I could no longer hear Mr. Delacroix. I was afraid to let go completely without him there. “Mr. Delacroix,” I exclaimed and Jackson slowed.

“I’m here, Nez. Right here on the chaise watching this gorgeous scene. I’m watching you, Nezzie. I can see you. Do you want Jackson to keep going fast like he was?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead, Jackson, fuck your mistress hard. Fuck her till she can’t walk.”

Hard, fast thrusts kept coming. Jackson’s staying power was remarkable. The deep thrusts went on for what seemed a half hour or more. Jackson pushed harder and groaned with each push as he pulled on the headboard to shove himself in. It was painful, deep, and rich. I lost myself in pleasure and I did not care if I was ever found again. Jackson exploded against my cervix, and like a shooting star, he vanished from my sight. The next thing I saw was my dear Mr. Delacroix unhooking my cuffs.

“Did you like that, my love?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should thank Jackson and Marie-Louise for their efforts,” he said and helped me sit. “Do you need some water?”

“Yes, please, sir.” I looked at Jackson and Marie sitting on the chaise. “Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Nez,” Jackson said, breathless.

“Hey, Jack, go ahead and get Marie-Louise ready while I get water for everyone,” Mr. Delacroix said as he walked out of the room.

“Yes, sir.”

Jackson came to me and helped me off the bed to the chaise without a word. I wanted to say something to him, but I had no idea what to say. My legs were weak and I felt dizzy, so I sat in silence.

“Come, Marie-Louise, your turn,” Jackson said with a smile as he held his hand out for her, but instead she bounded over the foot of the bed and jumped a few times with her chains making a jingle sound. “Marie!” Jackson said in an angry tone.

“Master, it feels so good.” She delighted in the way the chains felt on her points as she jumped.

“Marie-Louise, it won’t be me who punishes you this time, you know. Now lay down!” Jackson reached up and tried to grab her arm but she pulled away. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows. “She’s so insolent. Sometimes I’m at a loss.”

Marie-Louise kept jumping and smiling like a little kid or a madwoman; I could not tell which she resembled more.

“You certainly have your hands full,” I said to Jackson.

“Ya know, Miss Nez, I don’t think she means disrespect. Every day she tells me how much she loves me and wants to please me; how grateful she is for me, that she lives for me. And I know she respects you. She and I both hope you’ll be the new mistress. Honest to god, Miss, she just can’t help herself. She’s just so damned impulsive.”

He and I sat and watched her jump. “Shall I try to speak to her?” I asked.

“Be my guest, miss. She certainly isn’t hearing me.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it. When Greg, I mean, Mr. Delacroix, was under me, he was so good. He behaved so well. But this one is out of control. I guess after Mr. Delacroix, I lost my touch.”

I turned to Marie-Louise. “Marie, Mr. Delacroix wants Jackson to get you ready. Can you stop jumping so he can get you ready for your turn? I bet it’s gonna be something good.”

She was out of breath and looked down at me with questioning eyes, but kept jumping.

“Marie, remember what Mr. Delacroix asked Jackson to do? He is supposed to get you ready for pleasure.”

Breathlessly, she said, “Your master is the king of pain.” She twirled around as she jumped and I was afraid she would fly off the bed. No wonder she had scars.

“He can be, I suppose,” I said. “Now come lay down so Jackson can get you ready. If you’re good, maybe Mr. Delacroix will pleasure you, but I bet if you’re bad and don’t listen, he’ll be disappointed. Don’t you want to please him?”

“Does it please you?” she asked, finally slowing down.

“Yes, Marie, it would please me if you stop jumping and lay down.” I tried to sound cross.

“Are you mad at me?”

I was not sure how to answer. I was amused by her antics, but I also happened to realize that present company, excluding Marie, took this all very seriously. She craved the attention.

“I’m not mad at you, but I’m not pleased either,” I said. “Come on, Marie. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you don’t stop.”

She suddenly stopped jumping and looked me in the eye, sweat dampening her chocolate hair as it stuck to her brow. “You’re afraid?”

I held out my hand and she took it. “Yes, I am afraid you’ll be disappointed if you don’t let Jackson prepare you.”

Astonishingly, she bounced down on her butt in the middle of the bed and lay back, placing her wrists above her head. She was waiting for Jackson to cuff her when Mr. Delacroix spoke. “I see who has control of this situation.” He held a tray with four glasses of water.

“My lord, how long have you been standing there?” I asked, and I noticed his eyes had that scary look to them again.

“Long enough, Nezzie.” He set the tray down. “Marie-Louise, you’re very bad,” he said as he walked over to the bedside and leaned close to her face. She coiled in on herself without changing her position. He whispered something that neither Jackson nor I could hear. Marie-Louise was motionless except when she shook her head in response to something he said. Tears welled up in her eyes as he stood up.

“Sit up, Marie. What do you say?”

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said to Jackson. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s not my intension ever to displease you.”

“And what do you have to say to Miss Nez?” Mr. Delacroix commanded.

“Miss Nez, I didn’t mean disrespect. I know I didn’t address you properly. I should be punished for that and I should also be punished for not following our master’s commands. I have been very bad and disrespectful to you. I don’t deserve your pleasure.”

I attempted to accept her apology when Mr. Delacroix said to me, “Nezzie, since you took control of this situation, I’m leaving it up to you. Should we continue and allow Marie to play with us or should she be alone tonight as punishment?”

I looked at Marie-Louise and her expression was pathetic, as if being alone was the worst torture. Her tears ran freely now. I honestly did not know what to say. Jackson was clearly angry, and Mr. Delacroix sat impassive, not giving me any sense of what I should do.

“Nezzie, it’s up to you, but how you decide dictates the trajectory of your . . . our relationship with the Scotts. Are we on top or not?”

We?
I thought. I recalled my fear of domination. I understood that if I gave in now, I would allow myself and possibly Mr. Delacroix to be dominated by not only the two people before us, but also by their dysfunction. I had no choice but to exile Marie-Louise for the evening. It broke my heart to do so, but it was the right thing to do.

“May I ask a question, my lord?”

“No, you may make a decision,” he said sharply, his eyes shooting through me like a bullet.

“Yes, my lord,” I said.

“Look at Marie-Louise and tell her your decision. Look in her eyes and make sure she understands why.”

I turned to Marie-Louise. “You embarrassed your master and showed outrageous disrespect for me and Mr. Delacroix. We were enjoying one another until you ruined it with your antics. I don’t know why you did what you did, but you did, so you must be punished. You’ll stay here for the rest of the evening and while you’re alone, I want you to write down the reasons you think you did the things you did. Tomorrow I want you and me to spend time together to discuss what you write. I am doing this because I believe in your potential. Do you understand?”

Marie burst into tears, making my heartbreak even more acute, and before I could say another word, Mr. Delacroix took my arm, led me out of the room to the master suite, and closed the doors behind us.

“Jackson will take care of it from here,” he said.

I was afraid for Marie-Louise. “What will he do, sir?”

“Nezzie, shhh, the last thing we’ll do is cause her pain,” he said, his voice low, “because she loves pain. Trust me, pain is not a punishment for her. It’s the opposite. She’ll be okay having a night without pain or pleasure. Jackson’s gonna give her a drink of water, cuff her, and leave her in there for a while. Don’t worry. She’s fine. Jackson will take care of her.”

“Sir, I . . .”

“Let me tell you something. You’ve made the right decision. This is what I was hoping to see out of you this week, that you’re ready to come here and take all this on, especially Marie-Louise.” He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him for me to sit. “And this punishment is good because it also punishes Jackson for letting things get so out of hand. Now for the rest of the evening, he’s charged with checking in on her, making sure she follows your commands and that she’s okay. He can’t relax and have a good time. He’s punished too, as it should be. Oh, and your idea about writing down why she pulls this shit was brilliant. Where did that come from?” He was smiling that broad, white smile. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said, his eyes slowly regaining their electricity as they locked onto mine.

“It came off the top of my head, my lord, because I want to know why she did that. Does she always fly off the handle?”

“At least two or three times a week. Lately, it’s gotten worse.”

“I remember you saying something when you came back from the roast last month, sir. Maybe she just doesn’t deal with change very well.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll be curious to see what she writes.”

“About that, sir,” I said. “Is it okay if it stays between Marie-Louise and me?”

“No. You’re required to show it to me and I’ll decide if Jackson should see it.”

I was disappointed. “Yes, sir.”

“Nezzie, if you hide something, anything, from me, especially something that’s going on here at Twisted Oak, you’ll be sorry.” His eyes returned to that unsettling darkness. “Mark my words, girl. This is my domain and you’ll do as I say.”

“Yes, sir. I promise. No secrets.”

“Good girl. So, my Nezzie, how did meting out your first punishment feel? Answer me. How do you feel?”

“It broke my heart, sir, to punish her,” I said.

“I’m pleased you understand that punishment is heartbreaking even for the one who gives it.” His voice was soft and with a heavy sigh he said, “Welcome to my world, my love, the master’s domain.”

Jackson sulked as he sat at Mr. Delacroix’s feet. Mr. Delacroix handed him his glass of water that he had sipped on earlier and pet his head with empathy.

“Sir,” Jackson said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Jack, you never seem to,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Did my dad do everything for you? Did he not teach you a single thing?”

“Only thing your old man taught me, Mr. Delacroix, is that love hurts.” His voice was angry and spiteful. “It’s cruel, ruthless, and temporary. It rips you up. Love fucks with you, sir.”

“I’d ask you if you love Marie-Louise, but we’ve already covered that, haven’t we? You don’t love her, you never have.” Mr. Delacroix caressed the side of Jackson’s jaw and throat. Jackson intuitively moved his head so that his throat was more exposed.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said. “I’m not capable of loving anyone like I loved James. When he died, I thought I would too until I took one look at you and realized my love for you through him was all I had, that I had to go on for you.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Delacroix said, “but you manipulated me and then ultimately manipulated yourself with Marie-Louise, didn’t you? It occurs to me that you’re just too damned selfish to love anyone but yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson admitted. “I knew that you’d someday want a woman and a family like your dad. I thought maybe if I collared Marie, she could be the woman and you and I could carry on. Sir, I loved you. I still love you.”

“Jackson, how many times do I have to tell you that loving me will not bring my dad back? I am not James.”

“I know, sir, but I thought I’d try to . . .”

“To manipulate people for your own fucking gain,” Mr. Delacroix interrupted and slapped Jackson’s jaw. “This is like beating a dead horse. I know my dad taught you the importance of being honest. I know he did, but you took advantage of Marie and her situation and hoped I’d be stupid and use her like some kind of baby machine. God, Jackson, that’s fucking disgusting on so many levels. Do you really think I was ever that stupid or morally bankrupt?”

“No, sir,” Jackson said.

“It’s offensive. You’re selfish. A selfish little bitch.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was low, but exuded a fever pitch. “Do you think I wasn’t mourning Dad too? Did you ever stop to think about where my head was, where my heart was? I was a kid, for god’s sake.”

“Sir, maybe I should leave,” I said.

“Na-na, cher, you need to hear this. You need to know how fucked up Jackson is and why my dad knew that he’d need to step down eventually.” Mr. Delacroix had a handful of Jackson’s hair. “And Nez, you need to learn why we don’t hide things. People get fucked up when they aren’t honest.” His eyes went frighteningly ghostly again. “Woman, you stay fucking put.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling his angst.

Jackson came to my defense by diverting Mr. Delacroix. “I’m fucked up, sir, and selfish. I’ve screwed up and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Jack, I know full well what you want to do, so just fucking do it. Go ahead and break the collar. Divorce her. Let that poor woman go,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“That’s just it, sir, where would she go?” Jackson asked.

Silence commenced, as there was not an answer. The room was dense with indecision as if the marsh fog had rolled in through the French doors. Mr. Delacroix firmly smacked the back of Jackson’s head.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said and rested his head on Mr. Delacroix’s thigh.

“My lord, if I may?”

“Yes, you may, Nez,” he said. His lurid eyes locked on mine.

I knew my next words were important, but as Ty taught me, sometimes it is best to say things as they come even though you might get a whipping. “My lord, let me spend some time with Marie tomorrow and see where she is with all this. No one is asking her what she wants and I have a feeling she knows. Let’s see what she writes down and what comes of my conversation with her. I think she may speak more freely without the two of you around. I promise I won’t keep a single thing from you.”

I was sure he would take my comments negatively and I awaited my punishment. Instead, there was more vexing silence. A strange birdcall came from the distance, loud and forlorn, but there was no answering call, so the bird called again.

He moved swift and silent as a wild cat. Inches in front of my face, he shouted, “Fuckin’ hell, Nez, just who is on top here?” Gunmetal eyes bore into my brain. The sofa vibrated with his agitation. Jackson stood and squared off.

I was shaking like a leaf, but I had to stand my ground. I dropped my eyes and my voice shook as I said, “You are, my lord. As always, I’m your servant. But I think in that role I can help. I mean, I don’t have answers, but it’s worth trying to find one. It’s a start for you, for me, for us, for Jackson, and especially for Marie-Louise.”

The violence never came, so I raised my eyes. Mr. Delacroix stood, looking Jackson up and down.

“My lord,” I said, “we all make mistakes, especially when we’re hurting. Look how I was when you found me. Each of us is guilty of messing up when we’re in pain, sir.”

Mr. Delacroix got up and shoved Jackson out of his way with his shoulder. “Get back on the floor, Jackson. I’m all right.”

Jackson slowly sat, keeping his eyes on Mr. Delacroix as he paced the room like a caged panther. He came at me and pointed his finger in my face. “I don’t want you to get any ideas, Nezzie, like you can call the shots. I’m fucking on top, bitch.”

“Yes, sir, you are. I am asking your permission before I talk to her. I’d never do it otherwise. You, my dear lord, are on top. This is your castle, my love.”

He paced a few more times and went to the kitchenette. I looked at Jackson and he nodded in approval, but did not say a word. He looked at the floor when Mr. Delacroix came back and I followed his lead.

“I’ll give you two hours alone with her tomorrow after breakfast. Ya know, Nez, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, it’s that I don’t trust her.” He handed me a glass of water, but stayed standing. “Get on the floor, Nez.” I obeyed as he towered above me. “Jackson, we need pillows for ya’ll to sit on. I want ya’ll at my feet where ya belong.” His stress made his Southern drawl more obvious.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

“What’s the worst that can happen, sir?” I asked. “She isn’t violent, is she? I thought you said she was harmless.”

“She’s quite harmless, but she’ll be especially hot for you after tonight’s punishment. It’ll take some effort to say no to her, but like I said, I trust you.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. I mean, as much as I was looking forward to playing with her this evening, you needn’t worry about . . .”

Mr. Delacroix interrupted. “You were looking forward to having sex with her tonight?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, “but don’t forget that you and I agreed that we’d never fuck anyone by ourselves. You have my word, sir. It absolutely will not happen unless you’re there to enjoy it.”

“I never forget what we say to one another, Nez.”

“Then it’s settled, sir?”

He looked down at me with those ballistic eyes. “I’m on top, Nez.”

Jackson sat in lonely silence. I wanted to hold his hand to let him know things would be all right and for my own comfort, but I did not dare for fear of Mr. Delacroix.

Mr. Delacroix declared, “Cocktails in about an hour. I think it’s time to go get cleaned up for dinner. Jack, you know what you need to do. Come, Nez.”

We walked into the black room on our way to our rooms. Jackson had turned the light off, so it was pitch-dark. No one had moved the light, so when Mr. Delacroix turned it on, it was low and blinding, aimed directly at Marie-Louise’s very exposed private parts. Jackson was at our heels murmuring to Marie-Louise as if she were a child. She looked away from us. I felt horrible and quickly walked into our sitting room. The lights were low, but the sunlight and southern breeze that came through the windows was welcome compared to the darkness of the master suite.

“It’s okay, now she knows you mean business. She’ll respect you more tomorrow for it. She’ll be fine. Don’t let her drama ruin our dinner. If anyone’s night should be ruined, it should be Jackson’s. This whole thing just pisses me off to no end. If you can find a solution, more power to you.”

“So you’re not angry with me, my lord?”

“Absolutely not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

I could not believe he would ask such a question. “You yelled at me, my lord. You startled me back there.” I bent to smell my roses in an attempt to seem nonchalant.

“You didn’t seem startled; you were being the sexiest submissive alive.” He took my hand. “Don’t confuse my candid expression, my emotional honesty, as anything but. When I feel something, I show it. I’m an open book, Nez. Why can’t people just show how they feel? Look at you now, still trying to hide your feelings. Just be honest, babe. Be honest with yourself about your feelings and then let them out.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” I turned to him.

“Sorry for what? You didn’t do a damned thing,” he said incredulously.

“Just sorry for the situation, sir. I can’t believe how heartbroken I am over Marie-Louise. I suppose my sympathy for her situation outweighed my fear. I had to stand up for what I thought was right by her. She needs a chance to have a say and I thought you’d punish me for pointing that out.”

“Does it scare you when I yell?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What else do I do that scares you?” His eyes were relaxed now and getting more electric by the second.

“Cry, my lord. When you cry I get terribly scared,” I said, “and just now I thought you’d hit me or Jackson out of anger.”

“I don’t lose control anymore. I told you that,” he said, and gently kissed my forehead. “I don’t punish out of anger. I’m not gonna hurt you and I certainly didn’t mean to scare you in that way. I want the fear I give you to be provocative, not oppressive. I want it to turn you on. And from where I sat, you were provoked, empowered, turned on. I knew what I was doing.” His hand went to my crotch. “I bet your cunt is dripping right now.”

This was all very confusing to me. Mr. Delacroix sensed my need for clarity and threw me onto the soft sofa cushions, face down.

“Let’s see that ass of yours.”

I obliged immediately, seeking that clear vision of pleasure, that lucid moment of fusion with him. My face jammed into the corner of the sofa cushion as he lifted my hips high. He was so hard when he dove into me that I thought he had a dildo made of stone, but soon enough I felt that familiar angle, length, width that pushed me open. My craving was finally fulfilled, my essential hunger alleviated.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said between breaths.

“My pleasure, lady, you are my pleasure.” He fucked me slowly and deeply with meaning, lifting my hips slowly, grinding and reaching excruciatingly deep. He was lost in rapture and whispered things that I was unsure I was supposed to hear.

“You’re everything to me, my Nezzie, my goddess, my angel, my life.” He pulled my hips to his and crooned, “
Neige pure, lumiere blanche, vous etes mienne. Vous remplissez obscurite. Je ne peux pas vous perdre. Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Neige!
” He went painfully deep and pushed harder. We came together in a torrent of sensual synergy.

Mr. Delacroix was very handsome in a black suit and gray paisley tie. He wore a white shirt and black patent leather shoes. I pulled my hair up and wore a simple champagne-colored cocktail gown that reached the floor. Mr. Delacroix accessorized the plunging neckline with jewels of emerald and ruby. My stiletto sandals matched the dress. All the colors were a perfect contrast and sparkled under the low light of the crystal chandelier. I felt like Madame de Pompadour, indulged, capable, and sublime.

Thomas entered the library carrying a tray of four champagne glasses filled with cool effervescence.

“Thomas, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said, “Mrs. Scott won’t be joining us. She’s a bit under the weather this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “Will Mr. Scott be joining you?”

“Yes. He’ll be here shortly.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I send a tray up for Mrs. Scott?”

“Nezzie, shall we feed Marie-Louise this evening?”

“Yes, sir. Please do send a tray to her a little later.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Thomas said and turned on his heels.

“Sir,” I asked Mr. Delacroix, “will Thomas bring the tray into the black room?” I was feeling ashamed for Marie-Louise.

“No. He’ll just bring it to the kitchenette and Jackson will heat it up and feed her later. Thomas knows not to go behind closed doors. Nez, don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Hell, you’re feeding her. That’s more than I would do. You’re a pushover.”

“Well, my lord, it’s no good to have people go hungry.”

“I suppose not, but I find when I am hungry, the sex is better. Even Marie says she likes her ‘meditation’ better on an empty stomach.”

“Oral sex works better for me on an empty stomach, my lord.”

“Well, then, you see? It is good to have you go hungry once in a while,” he smiled.

I wandered around looking at the oddities on the shelves. In a glass case I found old feather quill pens and flintlock handguns with engraved handles that looked like they were made of bone or ivory. Of course, there were thousands of old books, but there was also a gorgeous silver teapot and an old iron keychain with ten or so keys on it, pillboxes of all kinds, crystal bowls, and old framed photographs, lithographs, and drawings, mostly of the local flowers and birds.

“Nez, why did it take me so long to find you?” he asked with a tone of melancholy.

“My lord, we weren’t ready for each other yet.”

“There’s that brain of yours again. You’re so insightful, my dear, and it turns me on. Now I’ll have a hard-on all through dinner.” He smiled and feigned a sulk.

“Just say the word, my lord, and I’ll gladly relieve you of your hardness.”

I continued to examine the items on the shelves. A bronze statue, almost as tall as me, of a great blue heron stood in the corner, the lighting making it look real.

“Sir, are there any portraits of Monique?”

“Hundreds, my love, but they’re in albums. They’re here somewhere,” he said as he put his champagne down and pushed the library ladder on its tiny wheels. “We keep them high just in case the place ever floods.”