- - - - - - - - - -
Daley's
was full. Everyone there seemed to have been outfitted at the same place with pinstriped suits, white shirts and wingtip shoes. The few ladies present wore dark jackets and skirts. It was a warm evening despite the fact that it was still early spring, but nevertheless the tables outside were mainly left empty except for one gentleman seated there. Anne put two and two together.
"Excuse me. Mr. Hart?"
"That's me," he answered, and stood. "Walter Hart, at your service."
Walter Hart was a tall, distinguished man of about fifty, with iron-grey hair at the temples shading to black as coal elsewhere. He looked really sharp, his suit was obviously expensive and hand tailored to fit his lean body. He indicated to Stan and the girls to sit, and as they did Stan noticed that the table was set with four glasses. The barrister picked up the bottle from the table and poured a small glass for each, after giving each in turn a chance to refuse.
Introductions were made, and everyone settled down. He put the bottle down and spoke in a precise, rich, quintessentially
English
voice, "Ken McKuan gave me a rough idea of what you were looking for, earlier. It seems simple enough, but all three of you need to be aware of what you're doing. This is not a carefree, simple step, this will be a legally binding commitment you'll be making. You each will have a share of the property to pay for, by one means or another. Have you considered how you will divide the responsibilities?"
"Each of us will take a third," Stan said. Anne and Denise both nodded their agreement.
"Fine." Walter Hart then proceeded to give the three lovers a short but simple class in buying property together. He used simple language, rather than trying to impress them with lawyerspeak -- and this impressed Anne a great deal. He didn't just lecture, he asked questions -- pointed ones - particularly about the financing, and made sure that each of the three knew what the other two would be putting in to the deal, and
how
. He finished up by saying, "Well. You all seem to have done your homework. You have realistic goals and have got your finance sorted. I wish you luck in your venture."
"Thanks," said Stan. "Thanks you for the useful advice, and for taking the time out to speak to us at all."
Walter waved a hand, dismissively. "No matter. You've a good friend in Mr. McKuan, I know because he's a good friend of mine. We've known each other for years." He stood, and all three followed him. "It's been good to talk to you. You have my number if you need any further assistance, but now I must bid you good night."
With that, he was quickly gone. Stan sat back down, followed by Anne and Denise.
"Notice something?" Anne asked. "Not once did he say or ask anything about our domestic arrangements."
"Well, for one, he's discreet by profession and also he may not
know
we share Stan between us," replied Denise.
Stan jumped in. "I'd think he must know. Didn't you notice how he kept banging on about being sure of the other two partners?"
"I think that was just him being professional, Stan," Anne replied. "He'd give that advice to anyone. I mean, even banks sometimes advise against joint accounts. That sort of thing."
"True. I remember being told that by my bank once, actually. I gave them a flea in their ear."
"Nobody got cold feet?" asked Denise, with a grin.
"No!" came a pair of answers.
- - - - - - - - - -
In the event Denise sold her small house first, and Anne received an offer for hers next. It was a couple of weeks before Stan heard anything for his house, and just over a month before he had an offer made. It was Sid's wife Maggie who provided the vital contact. One of her friends wanted to move away from London into a quieter area, and so, seven weeks after putting their houses on the market, they had all accepted offers for them.
Needless to say, the original property that Anne had found had been sold by then. But she'd found another, similar one, and now it was time for the three of them to pay a visit to look at it.
On Sunday, the third of June, Stan drove the three of them around to see the place.
As they approached the house, Anne looked up from the printout in her hand and said, "That fourth bedroom's really quite small, but it'll do for an office. The other rooms are all right, though."
"Given where it is, it's good value for the money. I hope it's as good as described," Denise answered.
"We'll find out now, I think. It's here," Stan commented as he turned right into the driveway.
They faced a white-painted house, with an integral garage set to the left as they saw it. The front door was in the middle, and a large picture window was in the right side on the ground floor. Above, there appeared to be rooms on each side, and a small window that was probably in a corridor. There was space for at least three cars on the hardstanding in front of the garage, and also a well-kept front garden.
Stan got out and opened the doors for Denise and Anne. They stood for a moment, savouring the quiet. "I think I like it already," he told the others.
The oak coloured front door opened, and a well-dressed middle aged woman appeared. "Mr Hinch?" she asked.
"That's me," he answered, "You'd be Mrs Brookman?"
Mrs Brookman showed them all around the house. It was well, if conservatively decorated, and the rooms were generally of a good size. Anne was amused to see that the fourth bedroom was, indeed, being used as an office. She was delighted by the relatively large garden in the rear of the property, while Denise pointed out the privacy it offered.
The redhead was also delighted by the kitchen, which was large, had all the appliances she could think of, and was clean and bright. After a short while and a short question-and-answer session with Mrs Brookman, they departed to find the nearby village centre and a cup of coffee.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Stan of his two partners.
"I loved it. Let's do it," replied Anne in a decisive tone.
Denise nodded enthusiastically. "The kitchen's lovely, it's got plenty of room, the garden's nice and large and not overlooked."
"I liked the garden too, plus the house is in a good state -- we wouldn't have to spend anything on it, bar some redecorating," Anne finished.
"Let's not be too hasty. How about the local facilities? Shops, parks, that kind've thing?" cautioned Stan.
"Schools, nurseries, libraries, restaurants, pubs… yes, there are a lot of things to look for," agreed Anne, "I've checked up on most of that. We'll have to actually look at them in person, of course, but this area seems to have most of the facilities we'll need."
"Schools, nurseries?" queried Stan, raising an eyebrow.
"It pays to look ahead, Stan," answered Anne. Denise
looked
at her, but Anne merely said, "Well, my clock's ticking, you know. Never say never!"
After very little more discussion, they agreed to go ahead and make an offer.
- - - - - - - - - -
One Saturday afternoon in the latter half of May, Stan heard a ring at his door. He wondered who it was likely to be, and hurried to look.
There, standing at his door, was Anne. She was wearing a short, plain white shift-style dress, high heels and… her choker.
Her eyes downcast, she told Stan, "I'm ready to play, if you'll have me, sir."
Stan gaped for a moment, then collected himself and ordered, "Step in!"
Anne walked into Stan's house, her demeanour quiet, subservient. Stan led the way to his front room. His mind was doing at least a thousand miles an hour, trying to process what was happening. Oh, he'd fantasised about having Anne as a little slave girl before, that's why he'd given her the collar. That, and what he'd thought had been a need in her. But now, the time was
here
, and he wasn't sure what to do.
What Stan was
certain
of was that he mustn't show hesitation to Anne. It would ruin the scene for her, and completely negate what she was offering him. But first, he had to be sure what exactly she
was
offering.
"Sit down, Anne," he commanded. Anne did as she was bid, still looking down.
"Anne, you may look at me and talk freely for the moment. You say you're ready to play. I need some idea of your limits and a safeword from you."
"No pain, or not much, sir. I'll do as you command, but I don't want to be exhibited, please, not yet anyway, perhaps another time. Just between us. And safeword: How about 'Mustard'? Is that all right, sir?"
