The semi-tractor that had kicked up all the dust was nowhere to be seen; presumably it had taken the delivery route to the house. Calling this place a house would be like calling a AA battery the Hoover Dam, Baxter corrected himself. It vaguely resembled the strangest resort hotels he'd seen in the far east, Dubai and Singapore; all leaping and elongated heights stretched to bizzarre proportions and vaguely resembling something organic. With its numerous outbuildings, walks, and gardens it looked more like a campus than a house in the woods. It certainly dominated the valley it slightly overlooked.
The three dozen nude men and women hurried into one of the smaller outbuildings with excited hoots, as the first wet wind bore down the hills. Soon anyone left outside would be wet and frozen. Baxter was puzzled but intrigued by Shari's recent acquisition. He figured they may as well introduce themselves to the caretakers, or managers, or whoever looked after the place for Vayle. A quick introduction and they'd be back downtown in his hotel room before midnight. Plenty of time to catch the 4 AM flight to Paris.
Thick rain began spattering noisily against the windows as they pulled up to the main building. Baxter pulled his high collar up against the driving rain. As they started up a wide stair toward what he thought must be the main entrance, he heard the steady beeps of a vehicle backing. "Just a moment," he called to Shari, who continued up and waited in what little shelter from the rain a bit of protruding roof by the door provided.
He hurried around the nearest corner of the structure, until he had a view of the backing truck. As he suspected, it was the semi-tractor backing into position by a loading dock. When it was stopped a crane swung out over the strange looking trailer/cage on the flatbed. As the crane's hook swung into position, the driver exited his cab and began attaching lengths of chain to the cage.
The woman's face was still indistinct at this distance, but it seemed to Baxter as though she raised her head in his direction. "Please ... " he heard, distinctly enough that he thought Shari had joined him. He turned his head, but was alone in the rain. "Please ... " the woman's voice came again into his head. "Please ... "
Puzzled and disquieted he headed back up the stair to join Shari. She had her hands over her head in a charming but utterly useless attempt to ward off the downpour. Her long black hair hung plastered to her face. She was even more beautiful than usual like that, Baxter thought. Maybe if they got back to his place early enough tonight he'd be able to put thoughts of the dead love of his life out of his head for a few moments and go for some real intimacy with Shari.
Goodness knew she deserved it, approaching him repeatedly with such compassion and tenderness. He knew Shari could be an intensely sexual being. If only she had seen his cock jump when she pretended it was too hot in the hotel room that one night ... her black bra and g-string coordinated very well with her black hair while the paleness of her skin was there to offset it. His suspicions that she had a tight, fit body were confirmed that night, and he so wanted to take her in his arms and move onward ... but.
But then there was the guilt of betraying the memory of his dead wife again. Ah well.
He gave Shari a quick kiss and said, "They're loading that woman in the cage into the back of this place."
"Let's get it over with, then," Shari said.
There was no knocker or chime that they could find, so they simply tried the door itself. It was unlocked; they entered.
They shook the water off their heads and coats in a large, modern lobby. A vaulted glass ceiling far overhead provided a constant pattering from the downpour, but it seemed to Baxter that he could hear soft music lilting quietly beneath. A unfamiliar scent caught in his nostrils, but quickly faded. They were alone.
"Hello?" he called. A falsetto cackling laughter could be heard maybe a room or two away. When they called again it stopped. The sound of hurrying footsteps followed.
They faced a tall, thin man who took them in with the saddest eyes imaginable. The wrinkles in his face suggested he was perhaps sixty, although his hair was still a rich brown. "Yes?" he greeted them non-committally. "Can I help you?" The falsetto voice they had heard was his.
"Yes, probably," said Shari. "Are you the manager?"
"Manager?" the man wondered, his forehead wrinkling. "Manager of what?"
"This resort," said Shari. "I'm very sorry, but I need to inform whoever's running the place that I'm the new owner. And then we'll be on our way. We've got a long way back."
His eyes suddenly brightened as his hand reached out to shake theirs. "You're Shari Vayle," he said excitedly. After shaking her hand he embraced her in a warm hug that Shari was clearly uncomfortable in. "Cousin!"
"Cousin?" Shari wondered. "I didn't know Ernest had a son."
"I was adopted, it's a long story," the man with the sad eyes said happily. "I'm Julius. I've heard so much about you over the years."
They shook hands, and Baxter offered his name. "Mr. Bennington," said Julius apologetically. "We may have to put you up for the weekend; the gate's already down, you see."