The Chambers House Rm 2 Steph

Disclaimer:

The following story contains explicit content and is intended for mature audiences and open-minded people only. Reader discretion is advised.

This work of fiction includes themes of sexuality, romance, and adult situations and is not meant to be taken seriously. In fact some of my works may require you to suspend belief. It may contain scenes of explicit language, graphic depictions of sexual acts, situations of cheating and polyamory, group minglings, and other content suitable only for those over the legal age of consent in their jurisdiction.

All characters depicted in this story are consenting or willing adults and are works of fiction. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, or both, is purely coincidental.

By continuing to read this story, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to access adult content in your area and that you understand the nature of the content provided and have an open mind for such things. The author assumes no responsibility for any actions taken by readers as a result of the content of this story. Further, the author accepts no responsibility if you are offended by what you have read.

If you are not comfortable with or legally allowed to access explicit adult content, please discontinue reading now.

A Note to my readers: I thank you all for the outpouring of appreciation for this series. I enjoy writing these stories and it makes me even happier when I find that you like them as much as you have been.

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The Chambers House - Room 2 - Stephanie

The contractors were already waiting impatiently at the front of the property when Martin pulled up to the front of the house. He got out of his car, and as the man looked at him, then his watch, Martin raised his hands in mock surrender.

"I know, I am sorry... I got delayed at another appointment."

"You know that you are being billed for the time I have been waiting." said the burly fireplug of a man in a lime green jumpsuit as he approached.

Martin nodded, "I know, I am sorry. I was on the other side of town getting the permits." He shuffled through a folder and pulled out a sheaf of papers, "Here you go."

Taking the papers, the man looked at them, then shuffled through them, and looked at another. He took out one that it appeared he needed more than the others and handed it back to Martin. "OK, this looks good. We'll get started right away." Then he walked away.

Martin encountered a few issues with the house as the project progressed. The biggest was that while the plumbing in the house had been updated in the late '60s, the same could not be said for the plumbing coming to the house from the street. Not only was it in bad shape from the trees tearing up the pipes, but they also found that some of them were still using the lined, lead pipes, and they all needed to be replaced.

Then, they also found that when the house was connected to the sewer, the people who did so did not do the job to code, so now everything had to be redone.

"Maybe this is turning into a 'Money Pit,'" he thought, then aloud said, "Eat your heart out, Tom Hanks."

Walking to the front door, he frowned at the two green porta-potties by the back door with the bold title, "Go-2-Potty with Potty-2-Go, " emblazoned outside. It was his brother's company and always the butt of jokes around town.

Entering the house, Martin walked up the first flight of stairs and into the room where he had made his office. The power had been on for a while, so he had light to work by and the internet. "What more could you ask for?" He muttered silently to himself.

Most of the furniture in the office was original. When he found the room, he was pleased to see that it must have been used for much the same purpose as the one he is using now, as a business office. The only things he had had to find new rooms for were the lamps that had been in here, which were far too feminine for him, and the shades were disintegrating anyway.

He sat at his desk, turned, and jumped when he saw Madam Isabella sitting in the chair in front of him. "Jesus..." he shook his head. "We need to come up with some warning system, Madam, or you are going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

She smiled politely and nodded, "I do apologize."

He returned her smile, "Sorry, it's been a crazy last few days."

She looked toward the window and nodded, "So I see. I appreciate the work you are doing on the house. And I also wanted to talk about our agreement."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, genuinely concerned, "Is there a problem? I think my evening with Amanda went great, and I will meet with Stephanie tomorrow night."

"Yes, everything is fine. I am just concerned with the work you are doing to update the house and you have not completed your end of the agreement yet." She shrugged ever so slightly, then added, "I am worried that you are wasting your time if you do not complete your end of the bargain."

Martin looked down at the papers before him and took a deep breath. "You need to know something about me, Madam." He paused and looked up at her, "May I call you Isabella or Mrs. Crane? Madam seems... unusual for me since it is not a common title these days."

She thought about it momentarily, then finally said, "I think we are familiar enough that you may address me as Isabella. If that is too familiar for you, then Mrs. Crane will do fine."

He continued, "Isabella... I am a man of my word and am proceeding with the work since I know I will honor my agreement with you." He looked around, then leaned back. "I love this house and want it to be mine."

Isabella raised a finger and started to speak, but Martin raised his hand. "Please, let me finish."

She put her hand back down.

"As I was saying, I love this house and, more importantly, the history that you and your girls bring to it. And the fact that you have brought me into this and introduced me to them makes me feel honored." He fixed his gaze on her, hoping to convey his desire, "And I want to make sure that you understand that my agreement with you will stand."

She smiled and stood. "Mr. Simms, then I think we have nothing more to discuss." Then she stopped momentarily and added, "Amanda speaks very highly of you, Martin. I trust her insight, and I do not doubt either of you if she sees the good in you."

"Thank you, Isabella."

She nodded, still smiling, then turned and disappeared as she approached the door.

He sat at his desk for the next few hours, sending emails, returning phone calls, and paying bills; otherwise, he was utterly lost in his work. He had just finished processing a set of invoices when he heard someone speak behind him.

"Are you busy?"

Again, he jumped and, in doing so, sent the pen in his hand across the room. He looked up, getting ready to yell at someone, and saw Amanda sitting in the chair across from him. Her smile disarmed him immediately.

He laughed, "Seriously, we have got to do something about you folks not scaring the every-loving shit out of me every time you appear."

She smiled, "I'm sorry. Maybe I will start wearing a cat bell?"

The image caught Martin's imagination: Amanda wearing a tight little choker with a catbell and a name tag. He even conjured a picture of her sideling up to him and meowing. He shook his head to clear the image.

"No, you're fine; I just need to get my head straight."

She smiled at him and was about to say something when her eyes shot wide open and disappeared.

Just then, the door opened, and Tamara walked in. "Hey Mart, how's it going?" she asked, looking around the office intently.

He pushed some of the papers to the side and smiled, "Not bad, just trying to get some things taken care of." He motioned to the window, "You see they are working on the water?"

She looked back at him, obviously distracted, "Yeah, I saw that. Who were you talking to?"

He put on his best poker face and smiled, "No one. I've been in here all morning, and my only chance to talk to anyone has been on the phone."

She nodded, "Ah..." But then looked around a bit more. "Anyway, I wanted to bring you these." She set some papers on the desk. "They are some ideas I had for redoing the ground floor."

He watched her as he reached for them, then set them aside without looking at them. "Tam... I told you that we will leave the house as is and just clean it up, not making any changes." He looked at the notes dismissively, then back at her, "The only major upgrades are going to be in the superstructure or infrastructure... power, water, phone lines, etc."

She nodded, "Yeah, I know you talked about that, but I have been thinking about it more and thought I would run some of these ideas past you. I was thinking that maybe we should update the entire house over the next couple of years but keep the outside looking original."

He shook his head, "No."

The response caught her off guard, and she blinked a couple of times before she replied, "Well, let's think about it. Maybe some time will help you change your mind?"

Again, he shook his head, "My mind is made up, Tam. The house will be updated, but the interior and exterior look and appearance will remain period-authentic."

She looked at him with distaste and said quietly, "I think we need to discuss it."

He was becoming more annoyed, and he shot her a stern glance. "We?" he asked, then added, "Who's name is on the deed?"

She looked as though she had been slapped for a moment, stepped back, turned, and walked out of the room. A moment later, Martin heard the front door slam and, moments after that, the sound of a car peeling out in the driveway.

A moment later, Amanda reappeared in the same place she had been before Tamara entered. There was a look of disbelief on her face.

"I do not think that went well, " she smiled shyly. " I'm Sorry; I could not help but overhear."

Martin shook his head, stood, and stepped toward her, "No, it's fine. She has a history of taking things over, but I am not letting it happen with this."

Amanda stood and closed the gap between them, placing her hand on his chest, "Treat her well if she loves you, but I think you will know what you need to do."

Then she stood on her toes, kissed him lightly, and faded away.

He stood there for a few moments, flattered by her little kiss and wishing she had made it last a little longer. Then he smiled and turned back to his work.

About two hours later, there was a knock at the door to his office. When he looked up, he saw it was the fireplug-looking guy, his clothes dirty but brushed off enough so as not to get the house messy.

"I think we got you partially squared away, Mr. Simms."

Martin smiled, "Really? I thought this was going to take a few days." He stood and walked toward the man, "What was the problem."

He shrugged and pulled a long piece of something unidentifiable to Martin out of his pocket. "Mostly roots, but it was all confined to a small area near that willow out on the side of the property." He motioned in a random direction that may or may not have been where he was talking about.

Stepping near the window, he continued, "There are a couple of options for you. If you leave the tree in, this might happen again someday. I would recommend tearing it out."

Martin thought about this momentarily, then heard a sharp voice in his mind say, "Please, no." He spun, expecting to see Amanda or Isabella standing behind him, but there was no one.

He turned back to the man, "What are my other options?" He asked.

The contractor inhaled deeply, putting his hands behind his back, "It'll cost ya. But we can build a retaining wall around the pipe, which should protect it, at least for your lifetime."

Nodding, Martin smiled, "When can you start on that wall? The tree is too old and too important to take down."

The man smiled, turned, and left, "We'll get started on that in a few days when the stuff I need comes in."

"Thank you."

He waved over his shoulder at Martin as he left, "Hey, it's your money, Man."

He walked over to the window and watched as the workers eventually left the house, got to their vehicle, looked back at the house, and drove off. He did not doubt that they were thinking of how else they could make some money off of him. Then he looked up at the sky.

"It looked like some weather was coming in, " he said to himself as he looked at the large clouds building up in the east.

Standing at the window, Martin did not realize how late it had become. He was trying to decide whether to head to the house or hang out here for a while, but the question was answered when the phone chimed.

He looked at it, and it was a text from Tamara: " I'm Heading to my Mom's house for a couple of days. Dad's sick. I will call you later."

He nodded and looked around the room, "I guess tonight I will see what is behind door number two."

Because he knew what lay ahead for him with the rooms and the girls, he had gotten in the habit of leaving a few changes of clothes here. He would not tell Tam about this, at least not until later.

He chuckled and then said to himself, "How will I even explain all this to her?" Then he turned and stood there, looking out the window as the sun slowly descended. He also watched as the last of the contractors left for the day, so he knew the house was empty.

Heading downstairs, he ensured that the front and back doors were locked and the side entrance they had been using to move construction supplies in and out of the house was closed. Then he went to the kitchen.

He had ordered pizza for the crews earlier and found several pieces were still left, so he ate a couple of them and washed them down with some rootbeer. Then he checked the bathroom on the ground floor, and it was working true to the plumber's word.

Walking down the hall to the main living area, he passed the parlor and was about to turn the corner when something he saw clicked in his mind. He took three steps back and looked into the parlor.

A tall woman sat on the lounger, smiling at him with an amused look. She stood as he entered the room and held out her hand, "I'm Stephanie, and you must be Martin."

He took her hand, and she guided him over to the lounger. As they walked, he could see that with her heels, she had about an inch and a half on him, so without them, she was about the same height. She had long, straight, black hair that reached down to the curve of her ass. She was wearing a cream-colored robe that looked to be satin or silk.

They sat at about the same time, and then she turned to face him. In the process, her robe fell open, exposing her legs. They were toned and very muscular while still being feminine.

Following his gaze, she looked at her legs and smiled as she pulled the robe open further, exposing her right leg to the hip.

"I was a gymnast before I started working with Madam Isabella." She answered the question before it was asked, "I am also a bit of a contortionist and did some dance."

He nodded, turning his gaze to her face. He realized that her eyes were blue, and her eye shadow made them seem to jump out at him. He realized that he could get lost in those eyes if he was not careful.

Stephanie smiled broadly, showing perfect teeth, "Do you talk, Martin?"

He realized he had not said a single word to her yet and was still staring. He shook his head a little, "Yes, I'm sorry. I was not trying to be ru..."

She cut him off, "I know you were not, but I needed some sign of life." She paused momentarily and frowned, "Maybe not the best turn of phrase, being things as they are."

Martin let out a little laugh, then apologized, "Sorry, I was not laughing at the circumstance, just the irony of the comment."

She grinned at him, "I know. I was not even thinking about it when I said it." She laid back, brought her legs up, and rested them across his lap, then kicked off her shoes. "Do you like older women, Martin?"

He looked at her critically for a moment, "You do not look that much older than me."

She cocked her head to the side, stretched her right leg out, and tapped Martin on the forehead with her big toe, "I was thirty-six when I died, so now I am about..." She made a show of putting one of her long, elegant fingers to her lip as she did the math, then smiled and said, "One-hundred and fifty-eight years old to you, my dear."

Grinning, he reached up, took her foot in his hand, and gently massaged the ball. "I had not thought about that."

She closed her eyes and groaned, "Damn, I am supposed to be making you feel good, not the other way around."

Martin massaged her foot and then moved to her toes. The nails were done with scarlet nail polish that almost matched her lipstick. As he gently massaged her big toe, he pulled it lightly, and it popped.

"Oh dear Christ, I am not sure what Madam needs me to say about you, but you've already won me over."

The sound of someone clearing their throats brought them both to attention. Stephanie spun around and sat up, and both of them faced the chair in the corner where Madam Isabella sat.

"I understand that at one time this was a house, as some called it, of 'ill-repute,' but that said, I will not have you fraternizing in the parlor, and further, I will not allow blasphemy here either." She considered them both with stern looks, then focused on Stephanie. "Stephanie, I have no say how you talk in your room, but out here are my rules. Do you understand?"

Stephanie rose and gave a quick curtsy, "Yes, Madam, I meant no disrespect to the house or to M'Lady." Then she turned and looked down at Martin, making a quick gesture with her head to follow her.

Martin stood and glanced at the Madam. He could swear that he could see a slight smile on her face, and right before he turned around, she winked at him.

They hurried down the hallway, passed Amanda's room, and arrived at Stephanie's room. The door had a faded and peeling sunflower painted on it. She stopped and looked at it and sighed, "Oh... I painted that when I was given this room. I touched it up each year."

Stepping forward, Martin touched the flower, and another bit of the paint flicked off, fluttering to the floor. "I will make sure that it is touched up and made pretty again."

This seemed to touch her genuinely, so she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then she opened the door, and they walked in.

As the door closed, he realized that this room perfectly matched his impression of her personality. It was dark, deep mahogany wood tones with a couple of dark grey sashes along the bed posts. The bed sheets were maroon with black and cream lacework, and the pillow coverings matched.

"May I have some help, please?"

Martin looked at her and saw her standing with her back to him, looking over her shoulder at him. When she saw that he was looking, she wiggled her shoulders. Then he understood.

He stepped forward and helped her remove the robe, then watched as she slowly stepped forward, allowing herself to walk out of the robe.

Stephanie was much more confident and in control than his night with Amanda. As she walked away, she was putting on a show for him, and it was working. He could feel himself getting aroused immediately and desperately wanted to adjust himself.

Never breaking eye contact, she stepped forward, took the robe from his hands, and then stepped back as she hung it on a rack next to the vanity. He never thought a woman could look sexy just by putting away her robe, but Stephanie had it down to a science.

He took this chance to really look her over, and there was nothing timid or modest about the little bit she still had on. A delicate black bra that did little to hide her breasts but merely lifted them. They allowed her large, puffy areolas and nipples to peek over the edge. For some reason, this reminded him a little of the "Killroy" character.