The next day was a little cooler, a thin layer of hazy cloud softening the sun's harsh glare. Amber's mind wandered as she sorted through another batch of the old photos. Ben had sent her another photo earlier, a selfie taken on the coast path. He looked tanned and healthy as he grinned into his phone's camera lens, the morning sun shining on his flushed face, a fine sheen on his smooth skin, the coast path winding away behind him between the grey granite cliffs and azure sea.
She missed Ben, and was looking forward to him coming home tomorrow. She didn't really feel comfortable around his brother, the way he looked at her with those dark, hungry eyes as if he could see inside her head, see all her dark thoughts. There was something wolfish and intense about him, that was unsettling and quite a contrast to boyish Ben. She didn't like to admit it, but in her quieter moments, she had to confess she found it intriguing, and wondered if she wanted Ben back simply because she didn't trust herself to resist his advances for too much longer.
She spent longer than was really necessary composing a picture to send back, fussing over her hair, holding her mobile at arm's length, angling it down as she arched her back, emphasizing her cleavage, her perky boobs bulging against her baggy grey t-shirt and revealing a hint of her lacy black bra. Flirty without being slutty, or so she hoped. She wondered if he'd share it with his friends, boasting about his hot new girlfriend. She'd added the message "Thinking of you, hurry back babe! x", and felt a pang of guilt as she'd hit the Send button.
Although she hadn't actually done anything to encourage his brother, she couldn't help feeling she'd somehow cheated, if only in her head. She felt a little ashamed when she thought about how she'd spied on Callum and fantasized about him later in bed. But just because you fantasized about something, it didn't mean you wanted it to happen in real life, she reasoned. She fantasized about a lot of wild things in the heat of the moment, things that she sometimes found shocking in the cold light of day. Surely everyone did that, didn't they?
Anyway, there was plenty of time for self-analysis later; she had work to get on with. Only this morning, she'd found something interesting at the bottom of one of the chests, some vintage magazines, part of a series called "Gentleman's Relish".
She picked up a copy and examined it in the sunlight streaming in from the window behind her. The pages were in surprisingly good condition; a little dry and faded but the pictures and accompanying text still reasonably clear. It resembled an Edwardian pornographic magazine, each page featuring an erotic illustration with a caption beneath.
She opened it at random to find a colourful illustration of a voluptuous middle-aged lady draped over a chaise longue in a well-appointed boudoir, her body angled towards the viewer, her cheeks flushed, a look of contentment etched on her face. Her tasteful sapphire blue silk dress gaped open at the front revealing plump, pale breasts, her voluminous skirts hitched up over her thighs, bare above her white silk stockings. Behind her, a young well-dressed man lay pressed against her back, kissing her neck and looping an arm beneath her knee, spreading her thighs wide as he penetrated her from behind, his sizeable cock protruding from his dark grey breeches. Underneath, a caption read: "Whatever her ailment, Lady H. always felt better after a visit from her young doctor".
Amber flipped the page over, being careful not to damage the fragile paper. A smartly dressed, middle-aged man with a bushy black moustache reclined in a wing back chair as he puffed at a cigar. He stared at a young maid standing before him, an anxious expression clouding her pretty face as she held her black skirts up over her stomach. Her white drawers had been pulled down to the tops of her black silk stockings, revealing a lush triangle of silky chestnut-coloured hair, dark against her milky skin. The caption read: "Lord H. always liked to personally vet any new female members of the household staff."
She'd never seen anything like this before, so she got out her camera and started taking pictures of each page. All of the scenes seemed to be set in the same household, and with the same characters: here was the lady of the house spanking the young maid, her smooth, alabaster buttocks contrasting with her dark skirts. And on the next page the butler watched from the shadows as the lady of the house undressed in front of an old-fashioned bath.
It all seemed pretty tame by today's standards but she imagined in its day, it was quite scandalous. She pictured it discretely being passed from hand-to-hand in gentlemen's clubs, with a sly nudge and wink.
A knock on the door made her look up, and without waiting for her to say "Come in", Callum entered the room.
"Oh, hi," she said, brightly. "What are you doing up here?"
"I just came to see what all the fuss was about," he said, glancing around the black-and-white pictures scattered around the floor.
"Well, as you can see, I've got my work cut out," Amber said, her arm sweeping around the dozens of pictures.
"So this is what you do all day, eh? Up here on your own, looking at dirty pictures," he said, with a crooked, knowing grin.
"Well, that's my job, I guess."
There was something about him that really rubbed her up the wrong way; unlike Ben, he just seemed so cocky and conceited.
"So do you think they're worth anything?" he asked, as he strolled around the room, looking at the pictures.
"Well, it's not really my area of expertise, but I think the museum will be interested in the ones that are in good condition. I haven't seen anything like these magazines before, so they could also be of interest," she replied, watching as he stepped closer to her.
"Oh yes, he looks like he's having a good time, eh?" he said, leaning over to examine the copy of Gentleman's Relish. Glancing down, she saw that the image she'd been about to photograph was of the young maid on her knees, looking up at the butler, her pale hands extracting his lengthy cock from his dark pin-striped trousers.
She felt herself blush, as she quickly flipped the page over.
"Yes, well, anyway, I'm just here to document the pictures, the decision to buy or not is above my pay-grade," she said, looking up. He'd edged closer to her, and she shifted uncomfortably as she looked up at his face, trying to avoid glancing at his navy and grey shorts that were level with her face. The same shorts she'd last seen around his ankles as he energetically fucked Tilly in the study.
"Anyway, as you're here, there's something I wanted to ask you," Amber said, eager to change the subject as she sprung to her feet. "I found some old photos in a shoebox in the wardrobe in my room. I think they're pictures of your parent's wedding."
She'd found the shoebox the evening before and had spent some time looking through them. She was pretty sure she recognised Carl, the man that she'd seen in Carmen's bedroom the week before. He looked a lot younger, of course, and didn't have the goatee but she was sure he was one of the guests. And there was another thing: he looked just like Callum. She'd been planning to ask Carmen about them, but it would be interesting to see what Callum knew as well.
"Oh yes?" he said, following her over to the window.
"These are your parents, right?" she said, handing him the top photo in the box, its colours looking faded and washed out. It didn't look like an official photo, it looked like it had been taken by one of the guests, perhaps a keen amateur. A young, obviously pregnant Carmen in an elaborate white wedding dress sipped from a glass of water, and grinned at the photographer over her shoulder. Beside her, her new husband, handsome in a smart dark navy suit, smiled as he held a champagne flute and someone shook his hand. Behind Carmen, and off to one side was a man that looked familiar to her. He was younger (of course) and clean-shaven, but she was sure it was "Carl", the man she'd seen the first night in Carmen's room.
"Oh yes, that's them alright, they must have been about our age," he said. "That must have been shortly before I was born."
"Carmen looks beautiful, and that's your father of course. And these are your family I guess," she prompted, trying to be subtle.
"Yes, everyone looks a lot younger but this is my Uncle Pete, and Auntie Jackie..." he said, running a finger over the glossy surface as he picked out faces he recognised.
"And, um, who's this?" Amber asked, casually tapping the familiar face.
"Oh, that's Uncle Carl. Why do you ask about him?"
"Oh nothing, I just thought I saw someone who looked like him. In the village, I mean," Amber said.
"Really? I heard he lives around here somewhere but I haven't seen him in years."
