The house was the last one on the road. I remember the address so clearly in my head. 214 Cleaver drive. I think it was more of a reassurance that I would follow through than a way to not get lost.
She owned an estate, as large as three houses put together. Large plated glass windows, towering mahogany doors and shining silver doorknobs decorated all five floors of the mansion.
No one knew how she got the money either. They didn't ask, she didn't tell. Of course she did have the right "merchandise" to sell. All that was known were the rumors of aristocrats she fucked and councilmen she manipulated. If they were to be believed, her whore ways got her far in life.
But it was no surprise that it was the first choice to get money. She was tall, with cascading Blond hair that came in curls right below her breasts. Not to mention that her breasts were large and round. Like luscious cantaloupes, ripe for picking. Her stomach was small, and well kept to lead to her hips. She had wide, woman hips that were easy to hold on to when being intimate. Her long legs would drape over your shoulders so that you could squeeze into her tight pussy. Everything about her was set for intimacy. So you couldn't really be surprised I'd want to make love to her myself.
I pulled up into her long gravel path, ornated with a fountain made of limestone. It sported a dancing woman coming from the spout. Naked and holding a cornucopia. The water spouted from the cornucopia and shone with the lights that set at the bottom of the pooling bowl.
Quietly creeping up to her door I checked for any hint of an alarm system. There were no wires or fuses, and no set up box. I assumed the house was not armed. Taking a moment, I was perplexed at how someone who had so much to guard would go to such little extent to guard it. But that was not my main focus.
I slipped an ordinary Visa card between the door and it's frame so that opening the door would not cause any noise. It seemed to be unlocked so I put a gloved hand on the large silver knob and turned, being careful not to leave hairs or fibers.
The door opened into the foyer, which was dimly lit by oil lamps. It seemed the victim had a regal air to her living. There was only a cherry wood table with an urn that most likely contained a deceased family member's ashes, a false fig tree by the stair mouth.
Stepping into the house I brought the door back, not shutting it all the way to avoid noise. There was a welcome mat in the opening to the room which I cleverly stepped over, not to leave an imprint. It seemed that if there was anyone home they were sleeping at this late hour of the night.
I stepped up the stairs carefully to avoid creaking, though it would be masked by the ornate rug that adorned the steps. Still, it was better safe than sorry. It was not a large staircase, per-say and I quickly got up to the bedroom level.
Down the large hallway there were potted roses, dozens of them. It was Ms. Hellen's signature to leave a red rose on the bed of her lover in the morning. The pots were antique and painted with gold swirls cascading from the mouth. I didn't bother stealing them. I would go right for the jewelry. A light, but expensive, load.
While passing each room I quickly looked in to see who was in the beds. Most rooms were empty but there was an occasional cook or house keep. There continued to be vacant rooms or rooms of insignificants for a long while until I came to a larger room where there was no door, but a blood red velvet sheet.
Using my gloves, I moved it aside and stepped into the red room. There were no lights except for red scented votives scattered on tables and stands. From the light they threw I could see Hellen. She lie asleep and bare on her bed, her breasts loose and her nipples perked from the night chill. I could see from her leg-spread that her clit was also moist as she was most likely having an erotic dream. It was beautiful. Tight, rosy pink and shaved except for a thin strip above her lips. I so longed to touch and lick it.
But that was not my mission focus. I head for the obvious jewelry box on the large glass plate table and stare at it intensely. It was honestly beautiful. Custom made, obviously, it was fine cut cherry wood with carved flowers and trees. It was an older type of beauty but a beauty all the same. Opening it slowly I could see the shine of a gem mine. Pearls, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires galore. I could only salivate of the sum I would make.
