Wolf Cree

Ada was laughing and tipping a champagne flute to her lips as James Shaffer massaged her nipples with soap bubbles. They were reclining in George Vaughn's huge bathtub in the master suite of his Michigan lakeside house. It had only been three hours since Ada and George had stood on the train platform in Chicago and seen their nineteen-year-old son, Daniel, off to his first year at the prestigious Wharton School of Business in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Ada fortuitously was in Chicago attending an opening of her first one-woman art show, an opening that had gone fantastically well.

George had been busting with pride the previous evening when the four of them—Vaughn and Ada and their good friend, the Detroit automobile manufacturer James Shaffer, and the youthful Daniel Raven were sharing a last dinner at George's mansion—Dan still being completely unaware still that Vaughn was his biological father. Dan's training through the Vaughn department store system had been a great success, and George was effusive in bragging to Ada and James what a good head for business Dan had. His faith in Dan's instincts had actually now overshadowed the counseling James Shaffer gave him in finance.

"The business prospects in this country couldn't be brighter," Shaffer had boomed enthusiastically in describing the national investment environment in the country late in 1924. "I say it's time for you to scrape together all of the capital you can find, George, and get it into the stock market. You'll make millions."

"I've already made millions," Vaughn said dryly, "and young Daniel here tells me he thinks we should actually concentrate more on our bread and butter. And that would be literal," Vaughn said with a chuckle. "He says we should diversify our department store holdings and even get some of them into the European and South American markets and that we should concentrate in enlarging the supply chain of basic consumer goods and get them to our customers faster and cheaper—that we shouldn't be putting our money into stock market paper at all."

"Well, I know your Daniel has done wonders in learning your trade, but . . ."

"Oh, let's not get into that further on Dan's last night here, James," Vaughn had cut his friend off good-naturedly. "In fact, let's celebrate that Dan's mother, Ada, can be here in Chicago for an opening of her art just when she can also have the privilege of seeing her son off to business school. I've promised both her and Dan that he'll become manager of one of our biggest stores when he's finished at Wharton. Let's drink to that."

And they did drink to that, and both Vaughn and Shaffer were good enough to keep their hands off of their shared lover, Ada, that night in respect for Dan's presence.

But as soon as Dan was on the train, the three long-time lovers returned to Vaughn's mansion posthaste and in high spirits. Shaffer had been the first one to sink into the warm, bubbled bath water, and Ada had then come in and settled in their long-established positions, Ada nestled into Shaffer's lap with his hard cock spearing her ass passage. Vaughn stood, naked, by the tub for several minutes, watching his two favorite people writhing around in the tub and sending waves of soap-iced water sloshing up the sides. Then, he took Ada's champagne flute from her hands and put it down along with his on the marble top of the sink counter and entered the tub, facing the reclined Ada and Shaffer. He spread Ada's slender legs wide and lifted them to rest on the lip of the tub and then, his knees encasing the hips of both of his lovers, he moved into her and slowly penetrated her vagina with his hard cock.

Ada was once more being taken together, fully, by the two millionaire industrialists, and she was thoroughly enjoying the taking—as always. Shaffer and Vaughn made love to her and to each other until all were exhausted and then they left Ada to soak comfortably in the tub and withdrew to Vaughn's room, as always, to play out their passion for each other.

Ada stayed for a glorious two weeks in Chicago, reveling in the success of her art show, reacquainting herself with the "greater world" that had always beckoned to her, shopping her heart out, and being introduced by Vaughn and Shaffer to a whole new world of art patrons to buy her paintings and giants of the art and literary scene to stroke her ego and sweep her into their circle. Ada loved her adopted Colorado valley, but she wanted it all. She wanted this new-found art and literary scene as well.

She had been living with Frank Wolf at the Wolf Creek Ranch for three years now. He had divorced his wife for desertion and, completely understanding Ada's fear of his two wild sons, had settled their inheritances already—each with a ranch spread as far away from the core of the ranch as possible—and had banished them from his remaining holdings. There was only Jessie to worry about now anyway. Festus had stopped at the Brook House after they had left what they thought was a dying father and had stolen Ada's Golden Eagle and turned it over in a snow bank. They hadn't found his body among the wreckage until the spring thaw months later. Through the stipulation of the land division, ownership of his ranch reverted to his father.

In the time she'd been at the Wolf Creek Ranch, Ada had transformed the main compound into a place of beauty, watered by the new well Frank had drilled to replace the one with the contaminated water. She also had at least partially transformed Frank into something less than an mean-spirited land baron. From the moment his divorce decree had been signed, Frank had pestered Ada to marry him, but thus far she had not done so. She did not hold back from him in bed, but she wasn't ready for another marriage yet. She still dreamed of the greater world. And to Frank's credit, he did nothing to try to crush or control those dreams. He had been his idea that she go on tour with her paintings and hadn't batted an eye at the arrangements for her to go to Chicago and to George Vaughn.

Ada had been honest with Frank from the start. She had told him of her former lovers—he hardly could have neglected to notice how well versed she was in the art of lovemaking, so he had to have known she had had more lovers than just her first husband. The only thing she held back about George Vaughn and James Shaffer was that they were lovers to each other as well as to her separately.

On this trip Frank had welcomed Ada's absence, as her nine-year-old son, Hugh Raven, was showing both a talent and an interest in ranching, and Frank, having been disappointed in how uncontrolled his own sons had turned out, was grateful for another chance to focus solely on training someone he hoped to make kin to pass his ranch on to.

Thanks to the connections of her friends in Chicago and Detroit, Ada was immediately propelled into the inner circles of a significant, sophisticated Midwest circle of artists and writers. She was mesmerized, as everyone was, by the best-selling writer, J. Harvey Kincaid, the rough outdoorsman writer of novels of man against the elements, and he, in turn, introduced Ada to Estelle Hopewell, the writer of deep-thought "spirit of the environment" books, who accompanied her gentleman adventurer husband, Quinten on various record-breaking treks, and then wrote broadly read articles and books about them. Kincaid and Estelle were obviously lovers, but as soon as Estelle met Ada, she latched onto the artist from Colorado like glue on paper and went on to insert Ada into the Chicago artist community.

Kincaid and Estelle Hopewell pumped Ada for verbal descriptions of the subjects of her paintings of Wolf Creek's valley, and they, as well as many others, expressed the desire to see this pristine and remote valley for themselves. Estelle was so adamant about visiting Colorado that, when Ada finally was on a train bound for home from Chicago, Estelle was there beside her in their private compartment, fairly trembling at the prospect of a new adventure she could wax spiritual about.

And Estelle was definitely the trembly kind. To see her would be to assume there was no way this woman could have crossed the Atlantic with her husband, Quinten, on a small sail boat or accompanied him in his successful search for a lost tribe in New Guinea. She was small and delicate looking—she seemed and moved like fine crystal, ready to break at a moment's notice. She was dark haired and trim figured and tiny boned. And she was frenetic—a chain smoker and her eyes were always darting about. Those who didn't know her, though, would not have appreciated that little was lost to those eyes or that she had considerable talent in conveying the essence of everything her eyes saw to an adoring fan base of readers.

She also was a coquette. While they were sitting in the rail station's café, waiting to board, she had given a handsome young businessman the eye, and he had practically melted on the spot. She had him with no more than a welcoming glance. Ada was amazed at this ability her new friend had, but what she didn't seem to realize was that she had that natural ability too and that it was highly questionable just who the young businessman was reacting to.

The train hadn't even chugged out of Illinois before Estelle showed Ada that it wasn't only an adventure in Colorado that had prompted her to seek to accompany Ada there. She asked Ada to read to her and then handed her a racy English translation of a French novel of lesbian love. And while Ada read, Estelle started, slowly and unobtrusively at first but ultimately quite brazenly, a scene of seduction as an accompaniment to what Ada was reading from the novel.

Ada probably could have stopped the seduction when Estelle was just running her fingers along the fine down on Ada's forearms or when Estelle gripped Ada's thigh through the material of her traveling suit, but Ada was attracted to Estelle and was attracted to what she was reading as well—and had been mellowed by her repeated lovemaking with Vaughn and Shaffer during her brief visit to Chicago.

When Ada got into a love scene of one woman suckling on the other's exposed breasts and having a hand up under the woman's skirts and finding and caressing her at her very core, Estelle was already making such love to Ada.

Ada was trembling as freely now as Estelle was and her breathing was becoming heavy and she was fairly panting from lust and desire and being made love to, when the door to the corridor almost unobtrusively opened, and the young businessman from the station café slid into the compartment, closed and latched the door and hung his travel coat over the window in the door, and sat across from the two women, who hardly noticed him in their consuming passion for each other.

Estelle had the skirt to Ada's travel suit off now and had rolled her underskirt up to her waist and was pulling her panties off. Ada's legs felt like jelly and they spread out, giving Estelle's delicate little fingers full access to her mound and her clitoris and her passage.

The young businessman had himself unbuttoned now and he had brought out a very presentable cock and was stroking himself to hard as he watched the smaller, dark-haired woman make love to the more voluptuous raven-haired beauty on the seat across from him. Ada had her head thrown back on the seat and was moaning and groaning in a soft, fully-satisfied purr.

Not being able to remain a voyeur any longer, the young businessman rose and lifted Ada off the seat and out of Estelle's arms and turned her as he turned to the seat she had vacated and sank down into it. He pulled Ada down into his lap, turned from him. His hardened cock was rising between her legs and the upper side of it was rubbing up along her slit. Estelle knelt before them and between their legs, Ada's legs now draped over the young businessman's heavily-muscled thighs, and she alternated between sucking the young man's cock and tonguing and kissing Ada's clitoris. While Estelle was thus engaged, Ada was arched back into the young man's fully clothed chest, and he was cupping and squeezing her breasts. Ada turned her face to that of the handsome young man and then were kissing deeply when Estelle had taken the man's cock and curved it upward to Ada's entrance and helped him guide himself inside Ada. Estelle's fingers went in Ada alongside the man's cock, and she guided him in his stroking. With the fingers of her other hands, and her tongue, Estelle continued to work Ada's clit. Ada was moaning and writhing and completely in her own world of being fully possessed and taking her pleasure as she liked it.

Ada saw nothing of her former state of Iowa as the train sped along it, because she was being taken long and deeply by her new, very attentive friend and by the handsome stranger on the train.