The Chambers House Rm10 Angeline

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.

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Martin had to leave town for a couple of weeks to attend a shareholder meeting on the West Coast. He left Tiffany in charge of the house and the work being done in his absence, and things were going great. They had even been going better than she had expected.

She was also pleased that one of the other 'ghosts.' No, she did not like calling them ghosts. She was unsure what to call them, but she would not call them ghosts.

Tiffany was pleased one afternoon when she suddenly noticed someone standing in front of her desk.

"Hello? Are you Tiffany?" Said an unfamiliar voice.

"Yes, how can I..." Tiffany stopped when she looked up and noticed that the woman before her wore a long dress with a high collar covering most of her throat. She was wearing what looked like an antiquated style of dress.

She smiled, "I have not had the pleasure of meeting you yet. Whats your name?"

The woman smiled warmly and said, "I am Carmen. Martin told me I could talk to you if I had questions about some of what I was reading in this." She held up a copy of Wired magazine.

"You have been reading that?" Tiffany asked.

She nodded. "Well, I have been trying to, and while I understand the words, maybe I don't understand the context in which they are written."

Tiffany put her stylus down and leaned back in the chair. Her door was closed, so she was not really worried about people poking their heads in. She looked at Carmen and said, "Give me an example."

Carmen looked through the pages and found something she was looking for, then said, "I understand what a cell is, but what is a 'cell phone'? Is that like the telephone Madam had placed in our house? And what is a 'Smart Phone'?"

Tiffany nodded, "In a way, yes. Your phone was on the wall and had a crank on it, right?"

Carmen nodded, "Yes, we would turn the handle and there would be a person on the other end that would ask who we wanted to be connected with."

"So this," Tiffany said, pulling a small device out of her pocket and holding it up, "is a cell phone or smartphone. With it, I can call anyone anywhere in the world, as long as I know their number."

Carmen leaned forward and looked at it. " It's so small." Then she looked at Tiffany and asked, "Anywhere in the world?"

Nodding, Tiffany said, "Yes. You can even look up info about anything."

"Oh, is that similar to the little thing, I think it's called a pad, that Amanda was showing us?"

"Yes, exactly like that." Tiffany said, smiling.

"May I?" Asked Carmen as she reached for the phone.

"Certainly, here. Let me do this for you. Hold the phone to your ear." She went into her contacts, selected Martin, whom she knew was on a break, and pressed it. Then, she handed the phone over to Carmen.

"Hello?" Came the voice from the phone. "Tiffany?"

Tiffany nodded to the phone and said, "Say something, he can hear you."

"Um... Hello? Martin?"

"This is he, who is this?"

Tiffany giggled like a little schoolgirl. "This is amazing. Hi, Martin. This is Carmen. Tiffany is letting me see how her cell phone works."

Martin laughed, "She is starting you off on a bad habit, Carmen. Before you know it, you'll be watching cat videos and porn!"

Carmen's face got serious. She looked at Tiffany and said, "Oh, OK." Then, she handed the phone back to Tiffany.

"He is joking, Carmen." Then she turned to the phone and said, "Thanks for traumatizing her, Mart. Goodbye." Then she hung up.

"Porn? Would that be like pornography?"

Tiffany sighed, "Yeah, it's a shorter version of the same, used nowadays a little too much for anything that has to do with the human body, for some people."

Carmen sat back and thought momentarily, "So there is a lot of that now?"

"Probably no more than one might expect; it's just easier to find now than it ever was before."

Carmen then opened the magazine and pointed to a little article about rockets being launched in California, "And what is this?"

After seeing the article, Tiffany smiled and said, "Oh, my uncle is helping on that project. He is an engineer at Vandenburg in California. They are launching little satellites that will help people communicate more easily."

"Into the stars?" She asked Tiffany timidly.

"No, just into orbit so they stay around the earth."

Carmen nodded and looked back at the magazine. "Your world is so complicated, Tiffany. How do you keep up with it all?"

Tiffany thought about it momentarily and realized that that was a question she had never thought about. "To be honest with you, Carmen. I do not know. I guess I am so used to it now that I don't think about it anymore."

Carmen nodded, "Complacency."

Tiffany looked at her momentarily, then nodded in agreement, "I suppose so."

"Do you think that Martin has anymore of those pads that he could let us use to learn from?"

"I suppose he might, but as I understand it, he will want to clear it through Isabella first." Tiffany answered, "I think she wants to avoid you all being thrust into information overload."

Carmen considered this for a few moments and then nodded, "I think I can understand that. Your world seems so different from what I lived in." She stood and nodded, "I will leave you to your business now, Tiffany. Thank you for your help." Then she vanished.

She watched the space where Carmen had stood for a few moments and smiled. It was her first encounter with one of the house's ladies that Martin had not initiated, and it made her feel good.

In addition to managing the work on the house, Tiffany had been playing a bit of a sleuth. She had started going through the journals and other documents left behind after Duncan Sutter's trial and execution.

According to the papers at the time, Duncan Sutter and Luanna Penstock had been accused of causing the deaths of all the members of the house on that night. But during the brief trial, they could find nothing to hold Luanne accountable for the incident.

But Tiffany, through her digging, found that about a month after the incident, Duncan had bought a large house on a large piece of land in Hinesburg in cash for twenty-eight hundred dollars--a fortune for that time.

However, in her search of the financial records of the time, she could not find any evidence of where that money came from. No bank records showed money deposited or paid out from the houses' coffers or deposited into his accounts. The money had to be under the table however it was that he got it.

She thought about it a moment and then decided, based on what the Madam was paying him, even though it was a substantial amount for the time, it would not have been enough to pay for the house in one shot like that.

After making that discovery, Tiffany turned to the journals she had gotten and started reading through them. She only made it through most of the first before she had to quit. Duncan's writing was so bad that it hurt her brain to read it.

About the time she closed her laptop, her phone rang, it was Martin again.

"Hey Mart, what's up?"

"So what was up with that call from Carmen?"

She laughed, "She came to me with an old copy of Wired that she has, apparently, been reading and had questions. One of them was asking what a cell phone was so I showed her mine and then how it worked."

He joined her in the laugh and said, "So, I'm on my way back. It's been two weeks, and I am kind of missing the place."

"I'm glad you are, I am certainly ready for a vacation. Next time you stay here and I will go to the meeting as your proxy, OK?"

Martin sighed, "Deal. How is the house?"

"The final work on the first floor is done, it was just minor things, you know... touch-ups. And the second floor is complete, signed off. The team is working fully on the third floor now, but they are finding a lot of dry-rot in the wood and it will take longer."

There was a pause, then Martin said, "Shit, Tiff... I need to leave you in charge more often."

"Well, I did leave a letter on your desk stating that I deserve a raise."

He laughed, "Conditionally, I might grant it." Pausing again, he asked, "Anything on Amanda?"

"Nope, I have not heard from her at all since the last time we all spoke. I have seen the Madam, but she has offered no updates and I have not wanted to push the matter."

"Fair enough. I should be in late tomorrow and I will talk to her. You can sit in if you like."

She shook her head as she responded, even though she knew he could not see the gesture: "Hell no. Once you get here, I will take two days off and will not answer my phone."

"No problem, Tiff. Okay, they are boarding for my flight, see you tomorrow." Then he hung up.

She put her phone down and returned to the journals she had been reading.

The house had come a long way while Martin was gone. That is not to say that Martin was holding anything back; it was mostly a matter of management style.

Tiffany was very organized and did not like waste. She ensured that the work schedules for the teams were efficient and well-timed. If she saw people dawdling, she made them get back to work unless they were on their breaks.

Further, she did not like clutter, so she had the foreman in charge of the work organize the supplies to make them easier to access.

She had gone to the basement and seen several piles of tools and construction supplies in various stages of disorder. Upon seeing this, she told him he had five days to remove everything from the basement and into the extra sea train she ordered, or there would be hell to pay. So, he had part of his team start on that after the weekend.

True to his word, Martin got out of his Uber in front of the house at about three in the afternoon. He had almost accidentally given the app the address for the apartment he had been sharing with Tamara, but he corrected it at the last minute.

The first thing he noticed as he grabbed his suitcase and walked to the house was the new 42-foot sea train sitting in the back, next to the 30-foot one he had placed there. This new one appeared to be climate-controlled, with a small air conditioning unit on top.

A couple of workmen were loading furniture into it from what he assumed was the third floor. They were cautious, and he could see that everything was wrapped.

He was amazed when he entered the house and saw the first floor. It looked fantastic, and with the exception of updated lighting, switches, and a few other minor details, it looked completely period-correct. The kitchen still had old appliances like the stove and oven but also newer ones, like a microwave, air fryer, and a small, apartment-sized gas range and oven.

He walked up the stairs to the second floor and along the hall. All the rooms looked perfect, and the paintings on the doors were exactly as he had envisioned them.

Opening the door to room one, Amanda's room, he saw that it had been renovated to look like it must have looked when she was alive and living here.

Martin felt a little sadness wash over him and quietly called out, "Mandy?" But there was no response, even in the back of his mind with that little voice she would sometimes talk to him in.

"Sorry, Boss." A voice came behind him, "Still nothing from her, but Isabella told me that she would talk to you tonight when you got home and everyone left."

He had heard Tiffany walking up behind him before she spoke, so this time he was not startled out of his skin by her.

"Thanks, Tiff." He said quietly. "You've done a hell of a job on he place, thank you." He turned to face her. "Have any of the other residents reached out to you?"

She laughed, "There is a red-head on the third floor with a twangy mid-west accent that stopped me in the hall the other day to ask about one of the cars she saw and where all the horses went."

Martin nodded, "I think that might be Trisha. I have not met her yet, but I have heard about her."

"Do you have any 'visits' planned for tonight?" She asked and winked at him.

He shook his head, "Heck no. I am tired and jet-lagged. I am going to relax and get some sleep."

She held up her purse, "There are about two hours of work left for some of these people, you can handle that... I am going home before my cat forgets who I am and takes over the place."

He smiled. "I can handle it for a couple of hours. Go home. And thanks again."

As she walked out, she turned and added, "Oh... I put all the journals on the shared drive and created a folder with my notes."

He gave her a thumbs-up as she walked out.

Martin toured the third floor and saw what Tiffany had discussed with the rotting wood. To his untrained eye, it looked like a great deal of water had been working its way through the bad parts of the roof before the previous owners had replaced it. He could see whole sections of wood subfloor around the edges, near the outside walls, that looked like they were about to dissolve or flake apart.

Then he saw an area where they had already repaired the damage they found and saw that they had replaced everything damaged with new, mold and moisture-resistant materials. Two of the rooms had their walls completely removed, and one was room twelve, which he would visit in a couple of days.

A cute redhead popped around the corner of the missing wall, almost as if sensing the attention.

"Ha there." She said with a midwestern twang. "Yer Martin, ain't you?" She came around the corner wearing what looked like a linen sundress and slippers.

"Hello." Martin glanced at her momentarily and said, "I think you are not Angeline."

"Nope, certainly aint. The name's Trisha, but you can call me 'T', if you like."

Something about her demeanor made Martin smile as he turned and faced her, "Your accent, I am guessing... Iowa?"

She laughed and stepped toward him, "Nope, but close." Then she puffed out her ample chest and said, "Indiana. Little farm just outside Jefferson."

As he watched her, he noticed that she could not stand still long and seemed to have way too much energy for one person to contain. Her sundress barely contained her breasts, the nipples of which looked like they were going to tear through the fabric at any point, and her thighs and hips looked like she had spent time on a horse.

Seeing that Martin was eyeing her, she raised her arms out to her sides and did a little spin, "Likin' what you see? 100% American girl right here, and I will ride you hard and put you away wetter'n a bag of crawdads."

He laughed at this and stepped toward her, now only inches away. She smelled like soap and some other scent that vaguely reminded him of hay, something earthy.

"Now I know you have an appointment tonight with Angeline, but I wanted to say hi to you myself."

Without thinking about it, Martin found himself reaching up and caressing one of her ample breasts, his hand tracing along the curves that were visible through the fabric, then letting his finger trace the outline of the enormous nipple. He watched it pucker tighter and into an even more prominent point as he did so.

"Hmmm... the men always go for the mellons first when they look at the fruit stand." She took his hand and pressed it harder into her breast.

He looked up and met her green eyes as she did this and saw her smile as he felt the hard, thimble-sized flesh poking into the palm of his hand.

"You think that feels good; you wait 'till you get it in your mouth!" She giggled as she let go of his hand, turned, and walked away, disappearing right before she reached the door.

"God damn." Was all Martin could say as he now found himself finishing his little walk-through with a raging hard-on.

He returned to examining the sections that needed to be repaired or replaced and the ones they were already working on. There was even a section where he could see outside through a hole in the wall. They had to replace a section of flooring, subflooring, and some of the outside walls.

Shaking his head, he turned toward where the temporary stairs were.

He stopped and looked around. "Or should be, " he thought, realizing they were no longer there.

As he scanned the room, he saw something around a corner at the end of the hall. That was where he found the stairs. They were well made and, for the most part, matched the existing stairs at the other end of the hall.

Martin walked into the attic and was greeted by a solid wood floor that spanned the entire attic. It was simple but stable, and no gaps allowed someone to fall through into the lower floor.

When he reached the wall where the Madam's rooms were, the doors were still sealed, and there was no sign that anyone had tried to open them or go through the wall.

Satisfied that everything was going well, he went back down the stairs to the third floor, then to the little tea room on that floor, where he took a seat. He laughed a little when he saw the heavily worn copy of Wired still sitting there, dog-eared and smudged from Carmen reading through it all.

"Good evening, Martin."

He did not jump this time, as he had been expecting the Madam to show up. He looked at her and smiled, "Good evening, Madam." Then he stood for her as she walked past and sat again when she took a seat.

He watched her as she adjusted her dress after she sat. He caught a brief glimpse of her legs and had not realized how muscular they were until now.

"How are you, this evening?" He asked.

"I am fine, and you? I assume your meeting went well?"

Martin nodded, "It did and a couple of my investments have borne fruit, so I am happier than when I left for it."

"Very good." She said, then looked at the floor. "Amanda sends her love."

Martin smiled, "I miss her. Any idea when I can see her again?"

The Madam shook her head, "I do not know, Martin. I do not understand how this all works, just that I seem to have a little more control over it than the other girls do." She paused as she thought about things for a moment, then added, "Amanda said that she would try again when you had completed your obligation to the house."

He nodded, "I understand, but I wish I could hold her again. Even a kiss." His voice trailed off as he thought about her. He had not realized how close he had gotten to her and how much he missed her.

"I am not sure you do understand, Martin." Isabella continued, "She has decided that she is willing to make the effort even if she can no longer come back to our side."

He looked at her, "But what would that mean? Would she be alive then?"