The Mystery At Faldor Hotel Ch 08

Walking the lighthouse footpath with Bess, George's mind was awash with thoughts of sexuality that were becoming more perverse by the minute. Most prominently, and also most disturbing amongst these thoughts, was her cousin's shapely posterior, the way her schoolgirl's skirt rode up in back to show off those see-through, blue lace panties. The sight teased her until she had to force herself to stop looking, but she'd already seen it, her imagination already allowed enough fodder to fantasize about what it would be like to pull the back of that skirt up for a peek at the rest of her cousin's behind, maybe place her hand there and softly caress her cheeks, squeezing at their bottoms before slipping her fingers between her legs...

She would force these fantasies from her mind, admonishing herself for them while reminding herself that it was bad enough that it was Nancy who she really wanted. Did she really have to let her mind be a total slut, betraying her feelings for her dark blonde friend with lust for Bess, her own cousin at that?

This guilt would bring on thoughts of Elora and how she'd already, in a sense, cheated on Nancy with her. Of course, she and Nancy weren't together so George understood that it wasn't, in a strict sense, cheating, yet Nancy's encounter with Ned felt that way. While this fact did rationalize her own illicit encounter in Suite 305, it somehow didn't help to alleviate any guilt from the closet lesbian's mind.

And, while thinking of her encounter with Elora Sasser, the darkly beautiful, well-endowed Dining Room Hostess, it was impossible not to again start thinking of her tongue.

Was

that real?

Did

that really happen? George was mostly convinced, despite her loss of virginity, that it must have been some alcoholic hallucination. Apart from communion wine, she'd never had so much as a drink before, but she'd seen drunk people and how erratically they could act, how their judgement and perceptions were obviously compromised. How did she really know the effects it could have on her? Wasn't it possible that she'd mistaken what she'd seen that night, that she'd hallucinated the writhing tongue, even that the whole thing was no more than a dream she'd had after she'd passed out? And, considering the drinks she'd had at the boutique, wasn't this also a good explanation for her current thoughts of Bess and her sexually inviting body?

Returning to Elora, more upsetting was the memory of how good that imaginary tongue felt, both at the back of her neck, and then snaking around inside her. Her mind lingered on how it had rammed through her virginity and brought on the sudden, intense explosion of physical sensation that started between her legs, and then whipped through her entire body as though she were having a seizure. A sudden mental image, a fantasy of the unnatural thing slipping from Elora's mouth to explore under the back of her own hiked schoolgirl's skirt, inside her pink panties and then up inside her sex brought on a flush of excitement and shame as she walked beside Bess.

She had to force the image from her mind, only to be then left with the sudden shame of walking around in public the way she was and how that very shame only added to the excitement of it. She wondered what had even gotten into her head that would make her think such public indecency would be acceptable before remembering hers and Nancy's curiosity about doing such a thing, their brief conversation regarding this topic the night before and how she now had the answer. It was exciting and shamefully fun. Anyway, there was also Anna's observation of how overdressed she would have felt beside Bess had she not left the boutique dressed like her. While recognizing the absurdity of such reasoning, it nevertheless held, perhaps only propped up by her intense sexual arousal of the moment.

In the face of all her inner debate, the one sure thing in George's mind was that it might be a good idea for her to stay away from alcohol.

As did George, Bess walked in deliberation. She also pondered how she could see her present wardrobe choice as acceptable, but more out of curiosity than concern. She loved how it made her feel, how good she knew she looked in it and, though she was filled with apprehension about it, the possibility of meeting someone, a man, or men in particular, excited her. All morning, she'd been thinking off and on of Ray and Brent's molestation of her body in the boutique, the brazen way they'd touched her, hiked her top and dress and put their hands where they'd wished. She thought of their big, slick, hard penises and how inviting they'd looked, how she'd had the almost overwhelming desire to grab them, wrapping her fingers around them and squeezing while shamelessly allowing them to fondle her beautiful young body. Walking along with these thoughts, she couldn't help the sudden and vague notion that her body was meant to be fondled and played with, that she herself was no more than a plaything for anybody who wanted to entertain themselves with her. This notion excited and pleased her.

Bess was also becoming quite excited by the attention George was giving her body. She'd thought she'd noticed her cousin looking at her in that way before, most notably when she'd removed her bra for Manny, but she'd chalked that up to a naturally expected reaction to seeing Bess so inappropriately dressed in front of the horny bellhop. After all, Nancy had also stared at her chest, but it was different with George in a subtle way that her mind had easily rationalized away at the time. Now, however, after events in

Annabelle's

Boutique

and the very strong suspicions about George that those events had planted in her mind, Bess was sure those looks were about a lot more than shock at her inappropriate behaviour. George, Bess was now quite sure, was a lesbian, thus explaining her sometimes tomboyish behaviour and lack of interest in boys. Furthermore, the gift she'd picked out for Nancy in the boutique spoke of feelings for their friend that amounted to more than just friendship. She'd often noticed the way George would dote on Nancy, complimenting her, praising her and even sometimes practically hanging off her, but disregarded this behaviour in the belief that George simply admired Nancy as a person and therefore valued her as a close friend to the point of being a bit of a suck-up. Of course, Nancy responded to this as anybody would, understandably taking George's almost sycophantic friendship as nothing more than loyalty, which anybody would naturally appreciate and value.

But now George's eyes were on her. All over her. And it felt as good as it did when men looked at her, but for different reasons. One reason was that, other than Anna's inexplicably tempting invitation to play with her and the large, black, double dildo, she'd never before considered women as sexual interests. The new idea of such a thing carried such forbidden excitement that Bess couldn't ignore it, but there was another, pettier reason for this excitement where George was concerned. It felt good that one of the two girls that had so often made her the butt of jokes regarding her weight and appetite now had a sexual attraction to her. In Bess's mind, it was a sort of rare, perverse justice of life and the thought of seducing George, of taking her from Nancy in some respect, held a fascination that her ego couldn't resist.

At the end of the walk, the lighthouse now in front of them, Bess asked, "Okay, so where did you two find it?"

"Huh?" George asked, snapped from some very unwholesome thoughts about her cousin's body, only to notice that Bess's nipples were pressing at her top even through her bra.

"Susan's Bikini," Bess explained. "Where did you find it?"

"Oh, uhh, around the back of the lighthouse, but we should really check out the whole area."

"You're right," Bess agreed, adding, "Not that there's a lot to check out here."

Nevertheless, they closely inspected the clearing in front of the lighthouse, and even the tall grass and weeds between the edges of the clearing and the steep, bouldered embankment that fell away to the water for any clues. Finding nothing, they agreed to split up, round the lighthouse and meet at the back. At the last moment before the old building cut off their line of sight of each other, Bess turned and caught George looking her over. George's hungry expression turned to one of surprise and then guilt, but Bess only smiled.

Searching the pathway to the left, Bess continued to smile at the situation. The usually unflappable George was suddenly so nervous now, so unhinged at her attraction to her own cousin and the way her sexuality, previously a non-issue, was suddenly such a factor. For the first time since she'd known her, George was on her heels and this was something else that Bess found quite satisfying.

Meeting at the back of the lighthouse, neither girl had found anything. They both, however, continued their close study of the ground where the bikini had been found.

Gesturing towards the rocky embankment that led down to the water's edge, George said, "Well, I guess you were right."

Looking herself, Bess saw how the large rocks here had been arranged in such a way as to form a rough stair set leading six feet down to the water. From where they stood looking down, the stairs seemed to continue on beneath the surface.

"About what?" Bess asked, both of them peering through the water.

"She was probably skinny-dipping," George clarified.

"Hmmm..." Bess commented, looking up and in the direction of the Faldor. "Well, it would seem to be the perfect spot, but anybody could see from the Hotel."

George looked too, seeing a handful of people on the rear veranda that Nancy had told them about, one of them standing out in what looked like a red dress, one like Nancy owned.

"Not very well."

"Well enough that they could have seen she was naked."

"Maybe she didn't care," George theorized while kicking off her new heels.

"Maybe," Bess agreed, theorizing further with, "Maybe she came here at night when nobody would see anything from the hotel."

"I don't know," George replied doubtfully as she began descending the natural stair set, "It was pretty dark back here last night, and that was with a clear sky and starlight. These stairs would be pretty dangerous at night..."

She paused and looked around at Bess, both girls wondering if they hadn't just found a possible explanation for Susan Quinn's seeming disappearance. As though the possibility of a fall that resulted in Susan's drowning, the tide then carrying her body out to sea was too horrible to contemplate, George turned and continued downward, neither girl postulating further on this gruesome and tragic theory. Coming to the end of the stairs that were above the water's surface, she tentatively stuck her foot into the water, finding the next one and resting her weight on it.

"George, be careful," Bess warned while eying the portion of her cousin's derriere that hung out from under the back of her skirt. Her white garter straps and stockings with those pink panties looked so sexy and she wondered if George was aware of how invitingly the wide gap between her thighs exposed her crotch.

Without answering, the more adventurous of the two cousins continued on her way down the stone stair set until the water had passed the tops of her stockings and was almost to the hem of her sexy little skirt before she stopped.

"There seems to be some kind of landing here," she reported. "Flat stone..."

George carefully struck out in a straight line from the stairs in an effort to find out how large the underwater surface was. At approximately eight feet from the foot of the stair set, her foot found an edge and, after further exploration, George determined the surface to be roughly square. With a questioning expression, she looked up at Bess, momentarily distracted by the fact that she could see up the front of her cousin's skirt from that angle and, while she could see no real detail at that distance, she did see that Bess's panties were also see-through in front.

"Maybe a dock of some sort?" Bess offered, not missing George's lingering gaze up the front of her skirt.

"Un- (ahem) - under the water, though?" George answered.

Stepping to the very edge of the top stair, Bess replied, "Is the tide in? If it is, maybe it's above the water when the tide is out."

"I don't know," George admitted, not able to help another glance up Bess's skirt, even though the blonde was looking right at her. With a flush, she added, "It's possible, but a person would have to be pretty careful approaching a submerged dock like this. It could tear the bottom of a boat right open."

With a shrug and a pointed look down George's blue sweater, Bess said, "This is a pretty old lighthouse. Maybe the platform was a lot higher when it was built and it's settled since then. It would certainly be heavy enough and, given enough time..."

George allowed her gaze to travel up the tall structure that loomed above her in an attempt to cover another blush at Bess's attempt to see down her top while informing, "The Colonel implied that he knew some history of the Hotel. I wonder if he might know about this."

"Possibly," Bess replied. "Regardless, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet that Susan was skinny-dipping here. It really would be the perfect place and, since she didn't mind the Colonel and Billybob watching her swim at the hotel in that skimpy little suit, it's quite possible that she wouldn't have had any problem with anyone watching her skinny dip from the hotel. The only real question is why she'd just leave her suit here after she was done. For that matter, why would she even wear the suit if she was only going to go skinny-dipping anyway? She could have just worn some clothes, taken them off, and then put them back on to leave after she was done."

" ... Maybe she wasn't skinny-dipping after all," George said, still looking up at the lighthouse.

Seeing where she was looking, Bess turned and looked up. At the top of the old structure was a railing, denoting an outer walkway of some sort up there. Her eyes then travelled down the peeling structure to the weeds at the edge of the footpath where George and Nancy had found Susan's bikini the night before.

Minutes later, the two girls were standing on the other side of the lighthouse, in front of the door that protruded from the side of the cylindrical building. Taking the knob in hand, Bess found the door to be unlocked. Entering first, George followed, closing the door behind them.

They discovered the ground level interior to be a long abandoned living quarters. In the center, illuminated by indirect sunlight from above, was a large, old desk. Its top was covered in dust and a backless, wooden chair was pulled up to it. Opposite the door and against the wall was an old fashioned metal bed, its spring frame bare of mattress and also covered in dust. Beside it was an old chest of drawers, three of its four drawers missing, the pieces of which littered the floor along with an old pot with no handle, half a pair of scissors, a bent spoon and other assorted debris.

In her wet stockings, George approached the foot of a circular staircase that led up the inner wall, spiralling high up to the top of the structure. Realizing what type of up-skirt view that climbing these steep stairs would provide, she paused, looking back at Bess. Her mouth opened to ask which of them should go first but, as though thinking better of the question, she shut it and continued to look at Bess.

"Would you like me to go first?" Bess asked. "It's okay if you want to look up my skirt."

Poor George was flabbergasted. Her face reddened again, deeper than ever at her cousin's implication that she'd want such a view but, before she could gather herself well enough to deny this, Bess pushed past her, their breasts rubbing as she admitted with a rather naughty smile, "You can look at me like that all you want. I like it."

George stared after her, her jaw sagging as the well-endowed blonde started up the narrow stairs. There seemed little to say in return, so she simply started after her, staring in mild, paranoid shock at Bess's bottom as she mounted each step with a pronounced wiggle.

She kept staring as they circled the inner wall, higher and higher, mesmerized by the sight of Bess's heavy, pouting vaginal lips as they filled the crotch of her see-through, lace panties. Even her little anus was visible, the puckered orifice as much a turn on for George as her cousin's inviting sex was. As mortified as she was at having been given permission to look all she wanted without having denied any wish to do so, she couldn't look away and her own arousal was approaching the point where it might drive her mad if it wasn't satisfied in some way.

After winding tighter and tighter in on itself, passing three round windows that let in the sunlight, the staircase levelled off at a small landing that allowed for a door in the outer wall. Beyond the landing, the stairs led only a little further up before ending at a trap door, but Bess stopped at the landing. This door, like the one that gained them entry to the tower, was unlocked and led outside to a gallery that ringed the outside of the lighthouse just below the lamp room.

The Gallery offered a good view of the town from its height and, other than that of the Faldor, they could look down on all the buildings in town from there.

"Look," George said, pointing inland.

Her finger led to a somewhat large, single story building within the trees. Its roof was covered with weathered gray, cedar shingles and was full of holes, one section actually caved in. What looked as though it was once a large outer yard was half grown in with shrubbery and young trees. The remains of a roadway, now more a walking trail as it had also grown in, led towards the town, coming out of the trees a short distance beyond the last building along the chip sealed secondary highway.

Bess nodded, saying, "It looks like some kind of old factory. Look, there's another one to the right."

"I see it," George reported, momentarily distracted from Bess's body by the view from the gallery.

This site was larger, but consisted of several buildings, some of which had collapsed. The overgrowth there was more marked than at the first site except for the trail that connected the two abandoned facilities.

After a detailed survey of the rest of Cinder Bay that this perspective offered, George focused on the Faldor. The figure she'd earlier seen on the veranda, the one who looked like a woman wearing a red dress such as the one Nancy owned, was now standing in the water. Whoever it was, she appeared to be wading, perhaps knee deep while somebody watched from the veranda. George wondered if it was Nancy with the Colonel watching, but that didn't seem like the type of thing her long-time friend would do. Then again, hadn't she just been doing the same behind the lighthouse?

"Let's move around back," Bess suggested, "and see what we can see from there."

Without verbal answer, George followed her, vaguely wondering at her suddenly overactive hormones while almost helplessly looking at her cousin's bottom again. Well, Bess did tell her she could, had even told her that she liked it, so why shouldn't she look?

"Oh!" Bess exclaimed, bending at the waist and picking something up.

The thrill this maneuver gave George was interrupted by what Bess had retrieved from the gallery decking. It was a clear plastic package with blue and yellow cardboard liner inside of it. The package, about two and a half feet long and approximately three inches wide and deep, was empty, but Bess's face displayed a knowing smile as she held it. Looking closer, George read from the labeling,

'King Shlong'.