Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium

"Yes," I replied. "What's his name?"

"Antares."

"That's the name of a star, isn't it?"

"A giant, red star in the constellation of Scorpio," she said. "You should know. It's

your

sign!"

I hated it when Angelique got the upper hand with me, but I ignored her outburst.

"Are you going to ride him?"

"Right now. Want to watch me?"

"Sure."

Angelique placed a blanket on the horse's back and then secured the saddle. I followed her as she led Antares out into the coral.

"I'm just going to ride him around here today so you can see him in action," she said, as she mounted the horse. "Would you open the gate please?"

I did as she requested and watched as the horse and his rider broke into a full gallop. I was amazed at how skilled a horsewoman Angelique was, as she rode Antares in a wide circuit around the estate, leaping hurdles and other obstacles with the greatest of ease. Ten minutes later she and Antares were back in the coral, her face flushed and happy.

"Every time I ride this horse it happens," she laughed as she dismounted.

"What?"

"What do you think?"

"I can't read your mind, Angelique."

"Look at my face," she said.

"You're out of breath."

"No, you twit. I had an orgasm!"

I laughed out loud. "Are you kidding?"

"No," she replied. "Look! He's excited too!"

She pointed to the underside of the horse, where I discovered a long, black tube of flesh protruding from its underbelly. I stood there with a grin on my face.

"That happens sometimes when I brush him or when I ride him for a while," she informed me as she led the horse into the stable.

"It's so long!" I remarked as I watched the erect penis snake back and forth. "I guess you must turn him on."

She laughed. "Sometimes I wonder what's going on in that little brain of his. You're a naughty boy, Antares!"

The horse whinnied loudly in response to her rebuke, but she petted him gently on his forehead and he quickly calmed down. After she had put him back in his stall and fed him, we took a walk in my aunt's garden. I had never seen so many different varieties of flowers in bloom at one time, and the air was sweet with their fragrant aroma. There was a lovely gazebo in the garden, which was made out of white wicker and contained several tables and chairs of the same design. Angelique indicated that we should stop there and rest for a while.

"Don't say it," she began even before I had a chance to sit down. "I know what you're going to ask me."

"Well, I'm going to ask anyway," I replied. "What the hell is going on?"

She sat down in a chair a few feet away from me and thought a moment, as if trying to decide how much of her secret she should reveal.

"You remember Lenore, don't you?"

At the mention of the woman's name I felt a twinge of nervousness come over me.

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, she's coming here tomorrow night for dinner and she wants to see you."

My heart sank. Despite my silence this past year, I could not get out of my head that the Sisterhood might have somehow discovered that I had infiltrated their secret meeting and witnessed their peculiar rituals. And now I would have to pay the price of my transgression.

"Why does she want to see me?" I asked, the words catching in my throat.

"Because she likes you," Angelique said, smiling. "And she wants you to become a member of our Society."

My eyes widened. "

Our

Society?"

"Yes, our Society. Mom and I already belong to it."

"What's the name of this Society?" I asked, feeling my anxiety increase.

"'The Philanthropic Society of Paris,'" she answered. "It's a very big charitable organization that holds these huge meetings several times a year in different parts of the world. All kinds of rich and famous people go to these things. The last meeting was held in Stockholm, Sweden about three months ago. We had a fantastic time."

I relaxed a little at this news, but not completely; not where the Sisterhood was concerned.

"Why does she want to invite me? I'm not rich or famous."

"I told you, she likes you," Angelique said, sensing my unease. "Of course mom pulled a few strings too. Is there something wrong with that? You don't look happy."

It seemed to me that membership in this mysterious Society was a big deal to Angelique, and I didn't want to diffuse her enthusiasm by appearing too suspicious of it, which would put me in the uncomfortable position of having to explain my anxiety—and that, of course, was impossible to do.

"I guess I'm still tired from my trip," I lied.

"Well, all I know is that it's a great honor to be invited, and you should be glad Lenore thinks so highly of you."

That Lenore had desired to bestow upon me her lavish attentions the last time we met was no secret to anyone. My aunt had intimated as much. But the thought that she somehow knew about my deception made me wary.

"So, that's this big business project you and your mother are involved in? Raising money for poor people?"

"It goes far beyond that, Holly," she replied coolly.

"How far?"

"I can't tell you. But my mom and Lenore will explain a lot more about it tomorrow night. Just act surprised. My mother will kill me if she finds out I told you anything."

"But why all the secrecy?" I asked. "Don't you think it's kind of strange?"

My cousin looked at me with an expression almost bordering upon sympathy.

"Look, I went through the same thing, okay? It's like a test. She wants to see if you're...I don't know...

worthy

.

"Worthy? Of what?"

"Please, Holly. I can't tell you anything else."

With that she rose from her chair and told me we should get ready for dinner. On the way back I asked her several more questions, but all I received were a few cryptic responses or dead silence. The famous Angelique stubbornness was in full force.

Neither my aunt or Angelique made any mention of their unique enterprise at the dinner table that evening, and I felt no desire to broach the subject. For one thing, I was exhausted; the effects of my long trip finally beginning to take their toll upon me. For another, I felt it impolite to raise the issue since neither of them seemed inclined to discuss it. I would simply have to wait for tomorrow and hope that my tiredness would send me into blissful oblivion, where Lenore, and all thoughts of the Sisterhood, would be mercifully expunged.

I finally got to bed around 9:00 PM and enjoyed a sound and dreamless sleep. I awoke twelve hours later feeling rejuvenated, luxuriating in the scent of honeysuckle that wafted in through the window from the garden below. I slowly got out of bed and walked toward the source of the delicious aroma, sticking my head out to look down upon the oasis of flowers below and lustily drinking in their fragrance. It was a glorious day, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky.

After spending a few minutes gazing at the scenery from my window, I decided to take a shower and get dressed. I put on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt, and walked into the hallway where I found a door in the northern wall that led out onto the castle's parapet. I walked along the narrow causeway until I reached the northern wall, and was greeted with a most spectacular view of the entire Anjou estate.

My hair had grown very long over the past year, reaching halfway down my back. The wind, much more powerful on the castle rooftop, now blew it in all directions as I fought to keep it under control. As I stood there admiring the breathtaking view, I saw my aunt Phoebe and Angelique exit the main entrance of the castle. My aunt was dressed in a lovely lavender suit and carried a small valise in her hands. A moment later a black limousine pulled up and stopped in front of the entrance. I saw Jake get out of the car and open the rear door of the vehicle for my aunt, who said something to Angelique before getting in. The car then drove off, leaving my cousin looking somewhat annoyed. She went back into the house and I decided to get some breakfast and find out what was going on.

I found Angelique in the foyer as I came downstairs. She was dressed in a pair of white shorts and matching top, and her sneakers were full of mud. She was removing them as I approached her.

"Where's your mother off to?" I asked.

"Oh!" she said, startled. "So you're finally up. You slept a long time."

"I think it's because the air is so clean here. No smog, like in LA."

She took both soiled shoes and placed them neatly to one side.

"I was going to pick some roses but it must have rained last night and I stepped right in a pile of mud."

"So, where did she go?" I asked again.

"I don't know. She doesn't tell me everything. Are you hungry?"

"Starved."

"Ask the cook to make you some breakfast. I'm going to ride Antares for a while. See you in an hour."

She ran down the hall toward her bedroom without another word.

I had the cook prepare a sumptuous breakfast of poached eggs, croissants, strawberries, and juice, after which I decided to take a walk in the vineyard. I said hello to the locals who had been employed to harvest the delicious fruit, but as my French was somewhat limited, I really couldn't hold much of a conversation with anyone. Sampling some of the delectable-looking grapes for myself, I spent another half hour just walking around enjoying the beautiful scenery, hoping to stave off the trepidation I was feeling at meeting Lenore once again.

It was not that I feared Lenore per se, but rather the magnitude of her power over so many other seemingly powerful women, all of whom had shown—at least from what I had seen at my aunt's initiation the previous year—the most absolute loyalty to her. As a wielder of such power, she really didn't have to lift a finger in order to have her directives obeyed. All she had to do was speak the word and her whim would be served. And if that meant finding a way of silencing me, it could easily be accomplished without getting her own hands dirty.

As I walked down the narrow, muddied lanes separating the rows of ripening fruit, some of which still bore traces of rain from the previous evening's storm, I began to think that maybe the entire idea of inviting me to become a member of her "philanthropic" society was nothing more than an elaborate scheme to lull me into a false sense of security so that she could get rid of me via some clandestine means manufactured to look like an accident. And the idea that my aunt might possibly be involved in this scheme made me shudder. Of course, all my feelings were based upon the presumption that my secret had somehow been found out, and was only waiting for the proper time and place for its disclosure and my subsequent dissolution. Of course, there was also the possibility that my secret was safe and that the invitation was genuine. But it was the uncertainty of the situation that was causing me the most anguish, and I knew that if my worst fears were realized, I would have to face them alone, far away from the sheltering influence of home and family.

Yet, the image of Lenore as an evil, heartless ringleader of an international gang of women cutthroats was not consistent with the persona she presented to the outside world. She had always been warm and engaging to anyone she met, and she had always treated me with the utmost consideration. Even during Andre Wilkins's "performance," when he had dared to question another Sisterhood member's authority, she did not show any sign of cruelty or malice toward him. Although she did deliver a harsh reprimand condemning his boldness, she employed no verbal or physical abuse in his chastisement, nor did she allow anyone else to do so. This thought offered me some temporary comfort as I made my way toward the main building where all the wine was stored.

There were several men working just outside the entrance to the storehouse, hauling heavy crates filled with wine bottles onto a truck. They smiled at me as they went about their work, and one man, who appeared to be a foreman of sorts, walked over to me carrying a bottle of wine in his hands.

"Bon jour, mademoiselle," he said, smiling as he offered me the bottle. "This is from our most recent harvest. I think you will enjoy it."

"Thank you," I replied, accepting the gift. "I didn't think anyone here spoke English."

"Most of them don't, but I do."

I was immediately taken by his rugged good looks and the gentle, brown eyes that seemed both friendly and mysterious at the same time. I don't think he was much older than I was. He was dressed simply, as most of the other workers were, in a pair of jeans and a plain, white t-shirt. His long, brown hair, thick and unruly, fell into his eyes as he spoke.

"I saw you coming from a mile away," he said, looking in the direction from which I had come. "You looked sad, so I thought maybe this would cheer you up." He tapped on the bottle. "It's a little sweet, but I think it will suit you."

"That was very thoughtful of you," I said, looking up at him.

For a few moments we stood there smiling dumbly at each other saying nothing. And then, realizing we had not introduced ourselves, he extended his hand to me.

"My name is Jacques LaSalle. I am the overseer of the Anjou vineyards. You are madame Anjou's niece?"

"Yes," I said, accepting his hand. "My name is Holly McKenzie."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Holly," he said, holding onto my hand a little longer than might be considered customary. But, for some reason, his presumption did not seem to bother me. Maybe it was because I sensed a genuineness about him that made me feel comfortable in his presence, and which also made him reluctant to break the physical connection between us.

"You speak English very well," I noted.

"Your aunt was the one responsible for my education...and this job."

"Really?" I asked with surprise. "She put you through school?"

"Yes. She has helped many people in this country to obtain an education through her scholarship programs. She is a most remarkable woman."

He turned away just then to bark some orders to his men and then resumed.

"After I graduated from the University, she offered me a job running her winery business. I've been working here for three years now and I am very happy."

It was now very plain to see why my aunt had been so busy this past year, and explained, in part, her sporadic communication with my family during that time. Her marital problems, the acquisition and maintenance of the Anjou estate, and her involvement with her philanthropic enterprises must have made incredible demands upon her time, not to mention her mental and physical energies. To now learn that Jacques had been a direct recipient of her benefaction made me proud of her.

"I'm happy for you, Jacques," I said. "It's a beautiful place to work."

"Speaking of which," he said. "I must get back to it. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Thanks for the wine. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"I'm sure we will," he said warmly.

He went back to issuing commands to the men on the truck as I made my way back toward the castle. At about midpoint in my journey, just as I was clearing the last row of vineyards, a middle-aged man, who was kneeling and picking grapes, called to me.

"Mademoiselle," he said, as he continued to gather bunches of grapes into a large wicker basket. "Parler vous français?"

"No, monsieur," I replied, stopping to watch him at his task.

He seemed to me to be around 50 years old, and was dressed in a pair of gray slacks and white, short-sleeve shirt. On his head he wore a large sombrero for protection from the sun. He was an attractive man, with finely chiseled features and a full, black beard. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and smiled at me.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "No kiss for me today?"

To hear him suddenly speak perfectly good English startled me.

"My aunt is expecting me," I said, backing away in response to his rather forward comment.

As I turned to go, he burst out laughing, and rose to his feet with his arms outstretched.

"Holly, wait! It's me! It's your uncle Pierre!"

I turned to look at him, still not recognizing the face, but his voice was familiar enough.

"Is that really you, uncle?" I said.

"Yes, of course it's me!" he chuckled. "You've never seen me with a beard that's all. It covers half my face!"

As I continued to stare at him I realized that it was indeed my uncle.

"Oh, my God! It is you!" I cried, running into his arms. "I'm sorry uncle. I didn't recognize you!"

He held me close to him for a long time and kissed both my cheeks.

"You have become a young lady!" he said, holding my face in the palms of his hands. "It's been two years since I've seen you last, is it not?"

"I think so," I replied. "But what are you doing here?"

"Your aunt told me you were coming to visit, and I come here a few times a month anyway to check on the grapes, so I thought I would say hello to my beautiful niece."

"But doesn't this vineyard belong to aunt Phoebe now?"

"Of course. But my name still goes on the label. She knows I stop by here on my way to my other vineyards."

"You have other vineyards?"

"Oh, yes. This is only one of several that I own. The castle too—it is only one of many."

I had never realized the extent of my uncle's wealth or power. I mistakenly believed that the castle and vineyards were his sole possessions. To learn that these properties were only part of a much more vast collection impressed me greatly.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then he gathered his things together and we headed back in the direction I had come, where he told me he had left his car.

"I'll drive you to the house," he said, as he put the basket of fruit in the back seat of his Porsche. "I was on my way there to see you before I decided to pick a few grapes. Is your aunt at home?"

"No, but Angelique is."

"Good. I want to talk to her."

As we pulled up to the front entrance of the castle, we found Angelique bestride Antares, having just returned from her morning ride. Father and daughter exchanged greetings and she dismounted, leading the horse to the stable with her father in tow. It appeared to me that he wanted to speak to her in private, so I went into the house and, as it was close to noon, had the cook prepare a light lunch and sat out in the courtyard to enjoy it.

About 15 minutes later I heard the sound of raised voices coming from the opposite side of the courtyard. It was Angelique and her father, and they were arguing about something. There were too many trees and statuary in the way for either of us to see the other, but the acoustics were such that I could hear every word.

"What your mother is doing is a disgrace," my uncle said. "It's shameful."

"What you did to her was shameful, papa," Angelique replied. "And please keep your voice down. She might hear us."

"Let her hear. What do I care? The girl should be told the truth anyway."

"She'll be told when my mother decides to tell her. You gave her your word."

There was a pause, and then I heard a loud bang, like that of a fist making contact with a resonant surface.

"It's disgraceful I say!" my uncle said angrily. "Why did she have to...this ridiculous thing in my face?"

He broke off speaking in English in mid-sentence, making loud exclamations in French, which I could not understand.

"It's not ridiculous and it's not your property anymore, papa. Let it go."

"I could understand when these...these events took place in the city. But this is degrading!"

"That all depends on your point of view," Angelique said impassively. "I think they're lots of fun."

"Sacré mère!" my uncle exclaimed. "She thinks they are lots of fun! It doesn't bother you that you use people in this way?"

"You use people, too, papa—in your business, your...affairs. You even used mom to shelter some of your shady business deals, so please don't preach morals to me."