Little Sister Pt 06

Author's note --

Minimal sex, and nothing graphic. Work. Work. Work. It's what you do when your fiancé is halfway around the world.

Chapter 26 -- Hiding in Clouds

One nice thing about wealth is the ability to throw money at a problem, til it sinks. From my first meeting in the Nashua Alderman's Board, I had been going slowly crackers. Through long experience with my moods, I held things together for a few weeks. It was long enough to get some spadework done, such as creating a de facto board of directors. Then I had to get away from everyone.

In the past I had taken Shadow for long drives in the hills of Appalachia, but that would not be enough this time. I wanted to get off the grid for a while. Given time to plan, I acquired a pile of stuff for wilderness use. Not being a former scout, Cloudrest was close enough to wilderness for my purposes. Mostly it was camping gear, food, lanterns and fuel, a solar power battery charger, wifi booster, water filter and things of that nature.

It started the previous fall. At my urging, two Boy Scout troops had a weekend camp out on Cloudrest's clearing. I personally gave them a tour of the various buildings. As a project, the boys hauled a ton or so of small rocks to the river bank. It was a troop vs. troop contest, with weight limits on the rocks, for safety reasons. A pair of wire mesh cylinders were set in the mud about six feet off shore. Most of the stones filled the cages, forming columns. The remaining rocks made a shelf on the bank. Some beams and planking completed a temporary small boat pier.

The boys were very proud of it. The Nashua paper ran an article with a group photo. Sheila made them all a nice folder of images and would not even consider accepting payment for her time. The scout troops more or less adopted me. Oddly, while I was considered unattractive by most standards, I made a great maternal image. Go figure.

In any event, I was invited to the ceremony where the (many) merit badges were distributed. Sean said Sheila watched the whole video, with tears running down her face. I did better, but I had more experience putting on a good front. The images made great discussion topics at Christmas.

After my FDC summit, I drove to the Residence. In addition to dropping off video and still images, I picked up one of the Amish girls, Sarah Beiler. Mother Lapp was loaning her for a week. Sarah was the most tomboy of Sean's staff and I needed company, for safety if nothing else. I also figured an Amish girl would be better at coping if the situation went sideways. Cooking over a wood fire was a bonus skill.

Among my other purchases was an old Ford Explorer, trailer and boat with motor. Before loading up, I took the empty boat across to check out the pier. The winter had taken a toll, but not too bad. There was a noticeable tilt, from one rock column settling, but the structure seemed sturdy enough. Without further ado, we set off for a week in the woods. I was glad the house was not far from the pier. All that gear was heavy.

Generally, I did not know what to expect. I grew up near wooded areas, but never spent time in them. Some camp gear, like sleeping bags and foam pads are pretty self explanatory. Have you ever tried to start a Coleman lantern from directions, while the light is failing? We had campfire light the first night. In the morning I decided to set up the tent, inside the building. It was fucking cold, even indoors.

This is where bringing an Amish girl proved brilliant. At first light Sarah was up, building the fire and preparing breakfast. All my attempts at help were met with disapproval, except pouring water into the filter. That she found interesting. During the campout, an Eagle Scout candidate collected water samples and had them analyzed. The spring water was safe for drinking in a pinch, but not for long term. I told Sarah the water might make us sick, unless we filtered it or boiled it. This was good sense as far as she was concerned.

After breakfast I set up my computer apparatus. The solar collectors were spread on a sunny rock. They would recharge my spare battery when it was drained. The antennae clamped as high on the main house as I could manage. George promised the battery on the modem would be good for twice what I needed. There was a sunny parlor. I set my laptop on a table the scouts made. If I did not need to write, it was good enough. I turned everything on and checked it, then powered down.

That done, I went to find Sarah. She was making a broom from a fallen branch and some evergreen boughs. That was one thing I forgot. A clipboard was another. I hoped I would never find out if something was missing from the first aid kit. I also brought a digital camera, but no charging cable. At my apartment I always used the docking cradle.

Packed with the computer material, I found a three-in-one book of New England plants, animals and birds. I bought it as a reference for the trip, but I decided to give it to Sarah. Since I also brought binoculars, she could do some bird watching. She was delighted. In her gear was a pad of paper and a box of pencils. Sarah drew. It was news to me.

We set out to explore my hilltop meadow. The main house I knew well by this point. There was another largish building of uncertain purpose. Firewood storage? Maple rendering? Workshop? Whiskey still? It was a single large room with a massive fireplace. There were two spring houses (why two?) and what was likely a root storage. A fallen building might have been a smokehouse. Two buildings were nothing but charred stumps and foundation stones, probably the hay barn and stable.

Further out was the apple grove run wild. Sarah was very excited about that. We spent an hour scavenging small, wizened apples. Nearby was an impassable brier thicket. Sarah said they were berries. Every few minutes she would stop and open her drawing pad. She would draw the leaf or plant, then try to find it in the book. I told her to collect the leaves. She could spend her evenings doing drawings. Sarah sighed and agreed.

By the time we returned, it was late afternoon. I was tired and my feet were soaked from snow melt. No waterproof shoes. I had my leather raincoat, but nothing truly waterproof. Sarah made dinner, including a salad of greens she had collected, tossed with apple bits. The greens were strong and bitter, which contrasted well with the sweetness of the apple. I loved it. The beef jerky stew, not so much.

That evening, I dug into the stack of accumulated email. After less than 48 hours, I had over 200 business related messages. It was not hard to spot which of my people had significant corporate experience. They were less chatty, more likely to include relevant prior messages and much more likely to copy other people. Headings were very useful, but easily lost or changed.

I sent Elspeth a note, telling her to find some email training materials. One particularly clean string I sent to everyone, asking them to note how things hung together well. I commended the senders and asked everyone to emulate their work. It was much like passing back the first paper of a new term, with grades and comments. As I worked, familiar rhythms started to take over.

This was what I was good at doing. I could step back and sort out the tensions and dynamics. It was not a section of a large city, or generations of people returning to the city, but it was a problem of a sort I recognized. Basically it was about allocation of resources, specifically my time. There were things only I could do. We needed to focus on making those possible, even if I was unable to do some other things.

The list was not difficult:

・ I was an elected official. I needed to attend scheduled meetings.

・ I was founder and managing director. That meant I dealt with higher powers, such as the Governor or the IRS.

・ I handled the tough decisions. Like it or not, I asked for it.

・ I was the Big Bad Wolf, when necessary.

・ I was our only lip reader. This one would be tricky. There are times when information is life, but I could not spend all my time gathering it.

Everything else was a distraction.

Put in those terms, some things were obvious. Driving myself had been a waste of time. Using Johnson, I could work in the car, but I needed a bigger car. I needed to be firmer in my delegations, but lighter in my supervision. Elspeth was worth her weight in gold, but she could not be my only contact. I needed to plan further growth.

I was less than two years out of college and I employed almost thirty people full or part time. It was past time for a formal plan. To that end, and some of the ones above, an MBA or CPA was becoming necessary. I knew just the place to find one—my little old lady circle. Something to do next week.

I powered down, changed the battery, hooked the old battery to the charger and went to find Sarah. We spent the rest of the evening discussing her drawings. They were good, but not professional. Suggesting lessons would not give good results. Sarah's Amish heritage would consider it excessive. However, I thought she and Sheila could do something together. As far as I knew, Sheila had no drawing skills, but no one had a better eye. For the moment, I showed Sarah what little I knew of using perspective in drawings.

That night I slept like a rock, perhaps because I had already made my decision. The company would learn to service itself. It was a simple idea, but one that would influence everything. For one thing, I was not the only one who would have responsibility, so I would need to delegate authority. On the other hand, I could let the company serve me, as well as me serving it. That alone was a weight off my shoulders.

My experience was that projects could become all-consuming. To some extent, that was acceptable—in a project. Witness, for example, my first dissertation. Such maniacal devotion was less suitable as a lifestyle. During her decade long pursuit of stability, Sheila had almost forgotten to live. For that matter, she was missing her true objective. What she really wanted was a safe place to raise children.

I had charged full speed into my adult life. What had I forgotten to do along the way? To mark a mental reference point, ten years before I had been a high school junior. My proudest achievement, then, was finally gaining some freedom from my tormentors.

That was what really let me sleep. In another year I could attend my tenth year reunion, with something to show. There was an article about me in a national magazine. I could wear a power suit like no one else. I had letters after my name. I had a company that called me boss. I held elected office. I had a standing invitation to visit the most sacred address, in the most honored city in the country, and call the hostess by her first name. What the fuck did I have left to prove?

Instead, I had time to spend with Sarah. She was, by the standards of most high school students, dreadfully naive. That said, she knew all about the physical realities of sex, even though she learned by watching farm animals. She knew about flock rams and herd bulls. She also knew that cats and bitches submitting to any male. She know that geese were monogamous. Humans fit in all the above, and none.

I think I could have seduced her. After all, Sarah was a horny teenager. Instead, I taught her about erogenous zones. Christine once forced me to cum, touching only my hand and ear. I did not take things that far. Instead, I taught her about sensuality, with a bit of fantasy thrown in. The

Song of songs

did not hurt.

Victorian Christianity gives many people the wrong idea about Biblical Hebrews. Desert garb covers everything, yet under it is naked flesh. Underwear is a western thing. In Genesis, Jacob saw two sisters, Leah and Rebecca. Leah had muddy colored eyes, while Rebecca's eyes were beautiful dark brown. That was the standard of beauty because that was all you could see. Yet, getting naked involved only one layer of clothing.

In King David's old age he could not sleep at night, because he became cold. His courtiers brought a young girl to sleep with him, for warmth. It says expressly that they never had sex. However, she was technically his wife. After David's death, the girl was the prize that brought the kingdom. The tradition was that the new King needed to marry and bed the old King's wife, any wife.

Solomon did exactly that, to cement his claim to the throne. As it happened, they were both young and horny. Their marriage of State was not a burden to either of them; far from it. Solomon was clearly infatuated. He wrote her a book of poems,

The Song of songs

. You will find it in the Bible, right after

Ecclesiastes

, which Solomon also wrote.

Modern scholars teach that the

Song

is about Christ's marriage to the Church. I can allow that. However, it is also a fairly graphic depiction of a man and a woman's love for each other. That was the point I made to Sarah. Marriage was of two parties, side by side, both benefiting. She completely understood the idea of bulls or mules yoked together, side by side, pulling as a unit. She also understood that pairing mattered. The irony was how well I understood the traditional role of wife submitting to the husband, from the role of the husband.

I also showed her a bit of that. The Biblical roles of Christ and the Church are similar to the roles of Dom and sub. In both cases, trust is the most important element. Take away trust and D/s play becomes torture. Compare being subject to Church discipline if the Church did not have your best interests at heart. Movies have been made on this theme. Sarah knew Sheila and Christine, so she paid close attention. Of such examples, traditions are born.

Christine was the most biddable person I knew, yet I would pity the fool that tried to force her. She also knew that Christine would then ask Sheila to do to her the same thing the attacker tried. Sarah knew Christine's pranks and how subtle they could be. Christine could humiliate anyone. If a higher power was needed, Sheila could utterly destroy someone, and that she would on Christine's say so. Yet, she was the sub.

Christine could be like a glove on my hand, and that paled beside how close she was to Sheila. Christine got off on Sheila taking hours to tie her into an elaborate knot, using a dozen colors of rope, all on video. Lord Almighty, Sheila was good with rope. Christine also got off on playing the video for me, giving tongue service as it played, followed by a lashing and more tongue service.

I did not shock Sarah. She knew everyone too well. However, no one had spelled things out so clearly, so Sarah was moved. As I said, I could have seduced her. Instead I taught her about masturbation.

I love the word. It will quiet an entire room. In the English language, no word is more loaded with sexual content. There is only one meaning, yet the number of euphemisms is astounding—jacking, jilling, stroking, pumping, amusing, abusing, spanking, etc. Whole sentences are devoted to not using the word aloud.

I took Sarah's hands in mine. I stroked her palms with my thumbs, while I told her to be aware of her body, to focus on the sensations of her cunt (though I did not use that word). I told her that there were connections to what she felt on her breasts, the nape of her neck, her lips, her ear, even the back of her elbows and knees. This was normal. When a man and a woman made love, it was not like animals rutting. The whole body was involved.

By this point Sarah was red and sweaty. Her hands continually jerked as she sought to touch herself. I prevented her, giving her a different sort of stimulus. When I released her hands, Sarah sat back, wide eyed and panting. I told her that the Bible did not prohibit touching oneself in those places. Sarah stumbled to her feet and ran from the room.

Mother Lapp allowed Sarah to come with me because there would be no men. Sucker. Sheila could have warned her. I did not know where Sarah went, but I could hear her release—three times. I was already in my bag when Sarah came in for the night. In my mind's eye, her expression was reproachful. In the morning, she was up before dawn, with the breakfast over the fire.

That day I kept my distance. At first, Sarah was also distant. As the day wore on, the spacing dropped, til we were closer than normal. I pulled back. Sarah looked irritated, but did not seem to know why. Instead of spending time talking, we explored a great deal more of Cloudrest's hill.

Our spring ran down the slope for some distance, almost disappearing at one point. When it grew, it was soon joined by other streams. Before long the stream grew wide and the going difficult. I guessed that we were close to the river. A short climb to a rock knob, proved me right. We were just above a river inlet, almost a cove. I could see at least two other streams running to the inlet.

The rock knob on which I stood was worth remembering. I took several pictures and asked Sarah to draw Knob Point. It would take a bit of work, but the inlet would make a good permanent place for boats. I resolved to return in the morning by water, but that was for later. Sarah and I skirted around the cove. At each stream we recorded landmarks above the stream heads, I with camera, she with drawing pad. I was fairly sure it was all my land, but it would have to be checked.

Noon had come and gone, so we stopped for lunch on the knob. Clear a few tree branches and it would be an ideal picnic spot, with a beautiful view of the river. I resolved to return when the trees turned autumn colors. After lunch we moved sideways to the next stream. We followed up its course til it was a mere trickle. Above us was a saddle, so we continued that far. As views go, it was disappointing—all trees.

Since we had come to the stream from the right, we circled to the left, trying to maintain elevation. In short order, we were stuck. The slope continued up, but the level path was heavy trees. Compared to Cloudrest's hill, this was impenetrable. Even after two hundred years, there was a noticeable difference between virgin forest and trimmed land. I had contour maps, but they told me what I already knew—home was through the trees.

Feeling like Sam and Frodo on the Emym Muir, we forced our way through the thicket. It was nasty. Branches clawed at us. Roots tripped us. I will never know how far we could have gone, because we suddenly broke through into tall trees. Heavy shade kept the low branches and undergrowth to a minimum, though roots still jutted up. We circled left to a dry bed, then around another hill, to another dry bed.

Afternoon turned to evening and home was nowhere in sight. As we skirted the hill, the undergrowth was getting thick again. I was thinking we would have to force our way through another thicket of brush, when Sarah cried out. Before I could speak, she was dashing down the slope. I brought a country girl so that she could find her way in the woods, so I followed. Not five minutes later, we were standing by one of the spring houses on Cloudrest's slope.

Never had running water looked so good, but we didn't drink. Instead, I dropped my canteen cup in the cold flow and we splashed the water on our faces. It's funny. On the hillside, I was hot and thirsty, but I never thought to drink from the canteen. After the cold water cooled us a bit, we both drank from the canteen. It was warmish, but it tasted great. Sarah stepped back, so she could draw me sitting by the water's edge. I still have that one.

Hours later, after dark, Sarah and I retraced our path on the map. It was barely as long as my pinkie was wide. The dry beds were tiny bumps in the contour line. The distance was under ten miles, counting the hike to the knob. It had been a difficult and frightening afternoon, yet we had done nothing wrong. Almost nothing. We overestimated how fast we could move and underestimated how far we needed to go. Of such things, people have died.