This story is copyrighted 2007 by Kaereni, may not be excerpted, reprinted, reproduced, or reposted in any form without the express written consent of the author. Visitors to this web site may read or temporarily download pages but are not permitted to modify or re-distribute them.
The story contains sexual activities and situations that are to be read only by readers above the legal age of consent. All characters are above the legal age of consent. The story is not to be read in locations where such stories are illegal. If you are not of legal age, or live in the wrong place, please do not read.
*
I woke covered in a fine sheen of sweat. If it is this hot at eight in the morning, then this afternoon I will be able to fry eggs out on the sidewalk. Rolling out of bed I padded nude into the kitchen to turn on the coffee while I showered. Standing under the shower, the water cooling and refreshing my body, I pondered the job. I thought about passing on the job but rent was coming due and a girl likes to have a little extra folding money. It seemed that the news rag always sent me out to interview the screwballs. As I sipped my coffee I looked though the competition's rag to see if they had anything interesting. But no, it seemed a slow news day all around and yours truly got stuck with doing a human interest story for the entertainment section. Grabbing my mini-corder I headed out the door and to the address I was given.
Heading uptown, I found myself on the hill. Looking at the mansion that matched the address I thought, 'Oh great... The rich ones are always battier then the rest of us poor slobs.' Mounting the stairs, I rang the doorbell and waited. Off in the distance I could hear Big Ben chiming, "Tacky," I said and shaking my head. It seemed every time someone got some money the first thing they would do is install a doorbell that sounded like Big Ben.
A young woman dressed only in heels answered the door. While she was rather attractive I was not interested in a little friendly frolic with same sex hired help. "I'm Jennifer Jones from the New Times. Would you tell," I said and glancing at the card, "The Countess that I am here." Nodding she ushered me in without speaking. She held up her hand in a stopping motion before turning away. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking her if a cat got her tongue. It would seem as the woman who called herself "The Countess" had made a blunder by sending a nude woman to greet me. No doubt she had expected a male reporter and little ole me had put a crimp in whatever plan she had.
A short time later the woman came back and gestured me to follow her. After what seemed a tour of the house, no doubt to impress me, we ended up out on the back patio by a pool. There sitting at a table was a woman, her long brown hair braded down her back. As we walked up, she stood and turned to greet me. At first impression she struck me as a dominatrix from England. She was dressed in a white silk button down blouse, black leather pants, and knee boots. The only thing she was missing was the riding crop.
Reaching out she shook my hand, her hand and grasp soft and in sharp contrast to her clothes. "Ah, you must be Miss Jones," she said, her voice light and musical, also in contrast to her dress. She turned to the silent woman and said, "Sara, we will have tea out here." Turning away from the woman she gestured, "Please sit down Jen, I can call you Jen right? And you must call me Erin."
I sat down and set the mini-corder down between us, "Well I really prefer Jennifer, but I guess Jen will be fine." By my answer she could tell I was not impressed by her house or her doorbell. Her frown, quickly wiped away showed she understood my jab. I was not going to be on my best behavior for my social betters, but frankly I did not care.
"I see," she replied and then looked out over the back lawn that had the look as if a hundred sheep had been grooming it.
When she did not continue I started the recorder and set it on the table between us, "You called the editor and said you had a story about a woman who was immortal?" When she did not reply, "Perhaps you made a mistake, so I will be going." I reached to pick up the recorder when she placed her hand on mine stopping me.
"Did you miss the class on manners Miss Jones?" she asked looking at me with a frown. "I invite you into my house, offer you drink, and yet all you have done is imply that I am a fraud and liar." At that moment the young woman, Sara, walked back with the tea service and snack cakes, setting it down she stands between us not moving or speaking. Erin looked at me and with a laugh said, "You think I set Sara out as bait to distract you?"
I hate when someone questions my manners and this woman was really getting under my skin, "You invite me into your house, have the hired help flaunt her skin in front of me, drag me on a tour of your house, all to sit out here and not speak of why I am here. And you call me rude?" I turn to the woman, "Sara, were you told or ordered to undress to answer the door?" Sara, to her credit did not look at Erin and only shook her head no. "What's the matter cat got your tongue?" I ask.
Sara's slap in reply was rapid and hard. Rubbing my cheek where she had slapped me I said softly, "I deserved that. I'm sorry Sara." Turning to my hostess I took a breath and apologized, "I am sorry Countess."
Erin looked at Sara hard, "Sara... Please answer anything Jennifer asks you." She turned to me and said "Apology accepted Jennifer. And please do call me Erin."
Sara looked at Erin and nodded before turning to me, "I do not wear clothing because I have vestiphobia." I must have looked confused because she added, "fear of clothing." She looked down at her feet, "The Countess is helping me." She looked at Erin and I could swear I saw blind devotion in her eyes. "Anyways, if you had been here two weeks ago I would not have even been wearing shoes."
I nodded; I had run across people who had fears of all types of things in my time working for the news. "What about not speaking Sara?"
She blushed and said, "I used to be a chatter box and we..." she looked at Erin. "We made a deal. If I could not speak for one week, then I could have a kitten." She looked sad and said, "I guess I lost now."
All of a sudden I felt really bad; I had forced Sara into losing her bet and future kitten. Looking at Erin, "I don't think my forcing Sara to talk should count." She looked at me shaking her head no but before she could say the word I jumped in again, "Please Erin, I would be forever in your debt."