The Brass Statuettes Ch 11

© Copyright 2007

Chapter 11 Fall from Grace

"Buenos dias, Señora Warner," Juana chanted, "Chu are a-wake airlee dees morning." She placed a coffee cup and saucer on the table where Gloria always sat and poured it full of the magic black elixir. She resumed humming her song and hurried to the refrigerator to get the cream; the sugar was already on the table. "What can I make for chu dees morning, Señora?"

"Don't go to any trouble for me," Gloria answered.

"Eet would be a plai-sure, Señora."

Gloria stole a glance and Juana saw it. It was certainly true that the recent peace between them was a welcome change from what had been before the new Gloria came into being. Juana halted her singing. She expected Gloria's acceptance of the proffered service as confirmation of the new order. Gloria reconsidered. "Alright; just a half-grapefruit, please. I have my workout in a little while. I don't like too a full stomach for that."

"Una toronga para la Señora," Juana lilted as she made a song out of the breakfast order. She cut a grapefruit in half and carefully incised the wedges of fruit and set the bowl in front of Gloria.

"Take the other half for yourself," Gloria offered.

"Muchas gracias, Señora. I weel save eet for later. Maybe for José, I teenk—eef dat's okay."

Gloria nodded but didn't answer. Juana could see she was occupied by her own thoughts. Her mistress was already dressed in her exercise leotard. Juana realized Gloria didn't really want the grapefruit as she watched her poke at it with her spoon. It confirmed that Gloria agreed to it because she knew Juana wanted to do it for her, and that satisfied the maid all the more.

Juana finished straightening up the kitchen and then shuffled off to the dining room to polish the furniture. The dining room furniture had to be the most polished of all those in the State of Texas. Juana gave herself a task in the dining room whenever she wanted the best vantage of the driveway. At that moment, it was as lookout for Raul.

Despite Juana's contempt for the man—or perhaps because of it—she kept herself informed of his every moment on the premises. Her vigilance was born of instinctive wariness. "Algo peligro y pulido." She couldn't explain her feelings, so she told no one, except José, who reminded her that it was none of her business. She ignored the advice.

Had Raul been a gringo, she would have let the matter drop. Her failure to comprehend would not have alarmed her, because she had seen so much throughout the years that she and José were charged with care of the house. But, he was not an Anglo. He treasured money, like most of them. It was the way that he went about acquiring it that was most offensive to Juana. He didn't toil, as did her José and even the peones who came to the estate to help him. His white linen pants and skin-tight polo shirt gave him an effeminate quality—at least in Juana's eyes. "Como una mujere." What sort of man takes his money from women, who pay him to soothe away their fears—of growing old, or fat, or unloved?

"Yo soy vieja y gorda." What were these gringas afraid of? She thought more. "But, I am not unloved," She thought of José; it had to be the difference. She resumed singing her happy song. But, as she sang she continued her vigilance, for her new understanding did not make her reconsider her opinion of Raul.

Juana was happy for Señora Gloria and Señor Alvin; and because of what they found, it was a happy house, so she was happy for herself, too. She knew, however, that her mistress had many fears and was not strong.

************

Gloria finished her grapefruit and then her coffee and rose from the table. "Tell Raul to come right out to the mini-gym," Gloria called to Juana as she left by the back door and over the veranda. After she closed the door to the gym she took a clean towel from the closet and began her stretching.

Gloria bent carefully from the waist, slowly loosening her hamstrings and groin muscles. She felt them grudgingly give in. She glanced up at a mirror that was mounted on the wall. It was full length, designed to help her to perfect her symmetry as she slaved to stave off the effects of age.

She beheld herself in the skin-tight leotard. An evil premise passed through her mind. "Am I finally losing it?" She straightened up and looked closer Everything seemed to be in place, but she sighed anyway and searched even more carefully. Perfection was a most difficult property to capture and couldn't be discerned by a passing glance. She pinched the flesh just above her hips, searching for love handles. There seemed to be a little. In truth it was no more than had been present for at least several years. Still, it was never possible to be sure. She did the same to her belly. There might have been a margarita or two loitering there. She grimaced. She'd have to cut down even more, or perhaps, revert to unsweetened iced tea with vodka, flavored with mint leaves.

Finally, she cupped her hands upward and cradled her large breasts. She felt their weight and in the mirror she judged their shape. It enabled her to shed the grimace and smile. "Still pretty good!" The nipples began hardening and pressed through the material of her bra and the thin fabric of the leotard. They had always been her best feature, and their size made her waist appear smaller. "Brenda's are probably better," she admitted in a secret thought. "That's for me to know." She thought on it more and came to realize that by the time Brenda figured it out some other pretender would have surpassed her and thus, Brenda would never hold the title. "For me to know," she repeated to herself.

She continued cradling them. Her hold was firm, but gentle—as it would have been for the babies that might have suckled there if some things had been different. Subconsciously her thumbs rubbed across the stiff nipples. She closed her eyes and remembered the pleasure of the night ended short hours ago when Alvin had lavished so much attention on them before entering her. It excited him, so she was sure that he loved her, at least in that moment. It had given her pleasure, too. The feeling had been absent so long. It was that elusive connection between nipple and clitoris which was so hard to find and even more difficult to command. It had, at long-last, returned and she let herself go—allowed the feelings to surround her. Alvin had, as well, and it had been beautiful. After that, they drifted off in each others' arm like honeymooners.

She opened her eyes, aware that Raul would arrive at any moment. She thought that she detected a faint scent of her musk. She hurried to the closet and took out a plastic bottle of scented talcum powder. She lowered her leotard, sprinkled the powder liberally in her panties and then hoisted the leotard back into place.

There was a time—not long ago—when she would have let the beckoning scent leak out as a signal to Raul. "No need for that today." The shape of her life was molding into a form that pleased her more than the old one. She thought back to her past pleasure-seeking with Raul. It brought neither sting of guilt, nor remorse at its being in the past. He had been what had been provided to her at that time. She had always been determined to sate herself. It mattered little if it was with pleasure, food, drink or love. She was determined to always be sated. Things had changed; Raul would understand.

She started stretching again. There was a knock at the windowless door. "Señora Warner, I am here." It was Raul. She straightened up, checked herself in the mirror. Her nipples were still hard. She draped the towel over her neck to hide them. She lifted her leg to check the space between her legs for telltale signs of her daydreaming. Finding none, she fluffed her hair.

"Just a second, Raul. I'll be right there."

***********

"Are chu ready for a good workout today, Señora?" He set his gym bag down on the floor. It was the same one that he always carried and Gloria was sure that he was prepared with the usual accessories. He set it next to the full-length mirror. Gloria eyed it, thinking about what the bag contained and what the mirror had told her moments ago. "Señora Warner," Raul called in a louder voice than usual, as if to gain her attention. He must have been repeating himself. Gloria spun her head in his direction. The volume of his voice returned to normal. "Señora Warner, 'ave chu finished dee stretching?" Gloria thought she detected a faint smile—a sly one that said that he had seen her staring at his gym bag and thinking of the condoms inside that he brought for later.

Gloria shook her head. "Not quite," she answered a halting voice.

"Very well, den. Finish up and then on to dee scales, and then dee bi-ceecle." Gloria obeyed and was soon barely daring to look as Raul slid the merciless weights on the scale arms. He hesitated and then took a notebook from his bag and studied it. He shook his head slowly. "Four pounds of increase, I am afraid," he announced.

"You know it was my time of month," she pleaded.

"Maybe, too much dee lunch," he countered. Gloria thought he gave his Mexican accent a little too much embellishment. He did that when he wanted to be blunt but retain the option of passing it off as a joke if any umbrage arose.

"Yes, maybe a little," Gloria admitted. She could admit it to Raul without fear. He was her priest; the mini-gym the confessional.

"Ees okay," he assured her. "I weel help you. Today we weel 'ave a very good workout." He paused as Gloria hopped onto the exercise bike without being told. "A very thorough workout," he repeated, and Gloria knew at that moment what he planned.

She had four unwanted pounds. It was her fault. She had sinned and Raul would send her to purgatory. Soon she was laboring for breath on her bike ride to nowhere. "Dee bike ees good for dee heeps and upper legs, Señora," he called out to encourage her. "Teenk about wearing dee bikini. Eet weel make you pedal faster."

He was right, of course. It did make Gloria put out harder during the final minute. There was something about the way he mentioned 'bikini' that reminded her of the accessories in his bag. The rowing machine was next, and then the treadmill. Faithful to his promise he worked her harder than he ever had.

"How much longer, Raul?" she pleaded, gasping for breath.

"Only dee rolling pin," he answered. "We're almost done."

She looked at him, trying to read his expression, but saw nothing behind the thin moustache and dark eyes. She laid herself prone on the massage table. Raul stroked the flesh with the dowel. He pressed down hard; it felt good. "Ees not bad, actually," he said to her from behind. "Ees still quite smooth and firm." She felt even better. He continued that way for a few minutes. It relaxed her—first one leg, and then the other. He shifted his attention to the cheeks pointing skyward from her hips. He stroked from the bottom, where they joined her thighs all the way to her lower back. It made her cellulite and tension disappear.

Without warning, he placed his hand on her inner thigh. She gasped slightly, not expecting it, but the touch was not altogether unwanted. She let his hand linger for a few seconds. "Open them up," he commanded, "so I can do dee eenside." She obeyed again, as she had the whole morning. Raul had a smaller rolling pin for that area. His teasing attention made Gloria think thoughts.

"Well, I can think them can't I?" she demanded silently. After all, the new Gloria was a complete woman, and she would save the peculiar tension for Alvin to release from her later that night. She relaxed as Raul found a rhythm and soon it wasn't possible to tell if her pleasure came from her dreamy fantasies or from his practiced touch.

"Roll over, please, Señora; ees time for dee front." Gloria promptly obeyed, and this time she was sure that she could discern that familiar, evil smile that he wore at certain times.

She had enjoyed the rolling of her flesh as she lay on her stomach and he had ventured so close to that special place that he and she knew so well. She could have enjoyed it for hours, wondering how close to the target he would dare touch her. She flipped over on her back without hesitation, however, because it was in this position that the delicious, dangerous game became especially interesting.

He started dutifully on the fronts of her thighs. Gloria grew impatient, waiting for the upward strokes that would approach her sex. She waited for his hand to press between her thighs to bid her open them. She considered opening them on her own, but did not because that would negate a crucial part of the game. She closed her eyes and let him do it all, of course. She enjoyed the slow approach, the anticipation, and the recall of times it had happened before. There was a droplet of sweat on her forehead and it ran down her temple; her breathing was rapid. His stroking with the rolling pin was getting higher—near that precious triangle that made everything happen. She was excited—she could smell her excitement; Raul could certainly smell it, too, but she didn't care. He touched her, tentatively; she let it spur her expectation of touches that increased in their boldness with each repeated motion. She dared not open her eyes.

Then it happened; his hand stroked at her upper thighs. "Open here, please," he whispered in her ear. She shuddered as she felt his breath on her earlobe and more as she spread her thighs and he slowly stroked upwards from between her legs toward her Mound of Venus. The pleasure tapped out the distant drumbeat of a forming climax, agonizingly slow and delicious. Soon he would tenderly move the rolling pin over her clitoris and ask her if she wanted the Deluxe Workout. She would have to say 'yes' after allowing him to proceed so far. It would be perfect; she would climax immediately and many more times before he finished her.

"I don't think I want the Deluxe Workout today, Raul," she forced the words from her mouth as she panted.

He stopped immediately. The emptiness of sensation nearly made her plead with him to let her change her mind. She opened her eyes. In his eyes there was something—she knew not what. It could have been rage or disappointment. Whatever it was, the eyes were dark. Raul drew a deep breath and stepped back from the table.

"Of course, Señora," he said in a low, expressionless voice. "I only thought..."

"It's my fault, dear Raul," Gloria whined. "Please don't be angry. It's just that..." she hesitated, searching for an excuse.

"Ees okay," Raul mumbled, excusing her from her duty to explain. "I teenk we are done for today."

Gloria swung herself off the massage table. "He mustn't be angry! He has to return!" She ran to her wallet and extracted a wad of cash. She was thinking hard—for something to console him.

"You know my friend, Brenda needs a personal trainer," she gushed as she handed him the money. "Would you like me to ask her to join us next time?"

Raul stuck out his lower lip, mulling the possibilities. He said nothing, but shrugged in a 'whatever you want' expression. He turned for the door. "See you next week, Señora Warner." He walked through the door of the mini-gym, not bothering to close it behind him.

Gloria sat on the edge of the massage table thinking about what happened. Her heart was beating fast. She was thankful that she had saved the virtue of the new Gloria—if in the nick of time. A double-edged blade of pride and disappointment clawed at the back of her mind as she thought about the satiation she had just foregone. "Alvin better be up to it tonight."

She was drenched with sweat; could smell the aroma of her arousal. If she could smell it, certainly Juana would, too and she dreaded facing her disapproval. The pool was nearby. She walked over, opened the gate and jumped in, leotard and all. The sensation of the cold water excited her again, but it would be okay. All discernible traces were washed away and she would finish herself in the shower in a few minutes. She lingered in the water for a few minutes.

In the house Juana saw Raul leave and her Señora in the pool. Raul bore a strange manner as he shuffled through the house to the driveway and his waiting car. Juana had never seen the Señora swim after the workout, especially in her exercise clothes. She tried to sort through the possibilities but there were too many to fathom. They were less complicated in earlier days. She chose to decide nothing and keep watching.

**************

Gloria stepped out of the shower feeling better. She'd been oh-so-close to giving in to Raul, but in the end she hadn't and that's what counted. She's let him go further than was proper, but it was not far enough and she was certainly excited, even after the shower. Alvin would be the benefactor, so why should he complain that she'd received her prompting from another. He'd never know, anyway. It was fun to be the new Gloria and just a little naughty, too.

It was time to start preparing for the secretaries' pool party later that day. She toweled off her breasts, and then her mons. She looked out the bathroom window. It had been cloudy. The forecast said sunny later. She hoped it would come true, because if it rained she would have to move the party inside and that would be a poor second-best. The secretaries were women like her, after all. She was sure that if she could get them scantily clad by the pool, ply them with drinks and fancy seafood canapés and break their hearts with little children's stories and artwork they would have to go along with her plan. What woman wouldn't under those circumstances—whether it had to do with donating hours doing office work or giving in to anything else? Gloria had seen it work more than once.

It looked like the sun was starting to burn through the clouds, which meant that her plan was beginning to work perfectly. Raul's admonition about the four extra pounds made her reconsider her bathing suit choice. She had a number of bikinis. She wondered if a mere four extra pounds would show all that much. She finally decided on a prudent one-piece. It strategically held her tummy in check, but showed plenty of breast to remind all who had the best tits in the place. Over that she put on her loose cropped-pants and a billowy blouse.

Besides, she knew that most of the secretaries sported more than four extra pounds and would certainly wear tank suits. Gloria could be a buffer between her guests and the trio of body-honed co-hosts: Brenda, Ashley and Darlene. They would surely be wearing bikinis. Trudy would be on hand, too—still the X-factor. She might show up in anything.

"Juana, when the guests come show them where they can change into their swimsuits." She had set aside the four guest bedrooms for that purpose.

"Si, Señora Warner. Do chu want me to serve dee food?"

"No, Juana," Gloria answered. "That won't be necessary. The caterers will do all that. Just be ready to help them find anything they might need like water and electricity. Your job will be to make sure that our guests are comfortable and find everything they need. After that, help yourself to a nice lunch."

Gloria's next task was to arrange the display of the children's artwork and the photos of the school. She needed a place that was in clear view and easy access, but out of the line of traffic at the same time. She set about her task humming a tune. She was finding that she was enjoying her hostess role for this party more than she had in quite a long time.

The caterers were arriving. Gloria had worked with them before and she stepped aside as they went about their business. She looked at her watch, though, wondering why Maddy wasn't yet on the scene with all the things from the school. She reminded herself that it was a long drive and traffic in the middle of the city could be unpredictable. At the same time, she pondered a little about Maddy. She was a sweet thing, of course, but more at ease with a room full of children than a pool full of secretaries.