It had been two weeks since I had made the deal with Darcy and Rhonda concerning the Estate of their recently deceased Mother/Sister, respectively. It turned out Mom had been a secret pornographer, the artsy kind of pornography that flourished in the sixties and seventies and now was considered highly collectible. Rhonda wanted to sell it all, Darcy wanted to hide it all. Rhonda was the ne'er do well sister of the deceased, Darcy was the daughter of the deceased who was about to go into politics so she wanted the whole thing quashed.
Me? They call me Harry. Because it's my name. And I was the guy in charge of their estate sale who found their Mom's hidden cache of photos, negatives and on old camera with a roll of film in it.
You can read the previous chapters ( Estate Sale Fun, Ch 1 Darcy's Turn, Ch 2 Rhonda's Turn) for the details, suffice it to say I made a deal that they would take 18 pictures each, and the best overall photographer would win the prize. And, so, yeah, as part of the deal we fucked. And fucked well.
I got the pictures developed by a friend of mine who has the only dark room left in the city who could develop old Black and white film like this. I got several sets made and some slides. And just to be sure, I had her make copies and records of the photographs of the Estate. There was some beautiful work there, it deserved to be remembered, no matter what these two women felt about it. I sometimes felt a connection the owners of these Estates. When you go through all the things a person owns, a life emerges. A life painted to exquisite detail by the cataloging of every material possession you had when you kicked the bucket. I've only done thirty-two of them so far, but I've attended hundreds of them. You get to know the dead pretty well in my line of business, and that knowledge also helps with the living. It also makes you never sweat the little shit, and the accumulation of material objects becomes something to avoid.
I called the ladies over to my apartment for a viewing. To my surprise, they arrived together, each carrying a bottle of something brown. Rhonda, a 47 year old biker enthusiast, looked more sluttier than usual in a tight pair of faded jeans and a white t-shirt with a black leather vest, and no bra to restrain her luscious 38 D Cups. Her niece Darcy, however, could have been peeled off the cover of Good Housekeeping, with her neat shoulder length haircut. She was wearing sweat pants and a casual top, hiding her slender body rather well.
We greeted each other warmly and chatted, just like we weren't just about to decide a porn contest that we were also the subjects of. We sat down and shared a drink or two. They obviously had started to spent time with each other and had resolved their differences. Ain't nothing a few orgasms can't accomplish! After a few minutes, Darcy started talking about the photographs.
"You know Harry, Rhonda and I have been talking, and we've agreed to donate the pictures to the National Photography Archive. It's the right thing to do." Darcy had a solemn tone in her voice, low and serious with the huge sacrifice to herself she was offering.
"Totally." Rhonda agreed, pouring on the same heartfelt feeling. "Even if we didn't get along, her stuff is art it should be protected." The two women shared a congratulatory moment between themselves, savoring their own goodness. I rose and poured myself a bourbon, and tried not to to exult in the little James Bond moment I was about to have.
"That is very interesting Miss Darcy and Miss Rhonda. Your . . . altruism is to be commended. I'm sure the One Hundred Thousand Dollars honorarium offered for the collection was of a . . . minor inducement." I turned slowly on the last words, and rejoiced to see both their faces flush red. I had been in touch with a number of museums and archives upon the finding of the collection, as was proper procedure with all estate pricing guidelines.
"You knew about that?" Rhonda asked, her mouth hanging open in shock.
"Shit. We should have known he would. It is his business after all.", said Darcy with a growing smile. "And Harry is very good at his business."
"Guess so." Rhonda agreed, though she still looked confused.
"But, it really doesn't matter what you know, because the film is still ours." Darcy stood up with a eager disposition. "So, we'll just take the collection now, please."
"Oh, it's not yours to take. Yet."
"Excuse me?" Darcy said in her best pissy suburban housewife voice. A domestic tone that turned me on, actually.
"We had a deal. I will reward the collection to the best photographer. Then whoever wins them may do what they wish for them. Unless you want to pay the 20,000 dollars to me right now?"
"What the fuck you mean 20,000 dollars?!" Rhonda stood up in anger while Darcy just yelped in protest.
"The collection is part of this estate." I said in my best Dad voice, which was a damn good one. "My company receives 20%. Remember?" Both the women stopped mid righteous outburst, and then fell to a stale silence.
Darcy then asked me, "But wait, if you reward the collection to us . . ."
"Oh, then there is no fee. It is a reward to you personally and not part of the Estate. A pity, but that was the deal." The stale silence freshened over the next few seconds.
Then Rhonda started to giggle.
"That's kinda bitchin'. I can dig it. So, Harry . . " Her tone got sexy, ". . . is there a ceremony for this reward, some kind of. .. presentation you have in mind?" Despite Rhonda's sexy levity, Darcy still looked serious. "I want to see some documentation on this.", she laid it out flatly right me, looking me in the eyes. I handed her a folded paper from my jacket pocket. It was a contract stating what I had just asserted. As Darcy read, Rhonda sashayed over to my and poured herself another drink, while casually rubbing up next to me. Drink in hand she turned to me and looked up into my eyes. "The truth is Harry, I's like to fuck you again, I had a real good time before." She pressed closer, and put her hand on my chest. "Whatever that paper says, I'm getting a fuck outta you, that's why I'm here tonight." Her green eyes actually smoldered, like you read about it those pulp novels.
"It's true, she really liked fucking you, wouldn't stop talking about." Darcy said under breath while reading the contract.
Rhonda kissed me, and I kissed her back. Damn, she was a great kisser, and she took her time with it, trading soft little pecks on the lips and light licks in between. To have this Biker Chick stereotype lapping away at my face, and grinding her soft curves into me was such a fucking turn on I almost forgot about Darcy, until she finished reading the contract.
"Okay, it's legal. How do we do it then?" She asked, neither hassled or turned on by Rhonda's mashing her hot tits all over me and licking my face.
"Right this way, please." I led them down to my movie room, which is my one luxury in my life. One entire wall of the room is a movie screen for which I have a modern projector system attached to the ceiling. The other three walls are lined with home movie projectors and slide projectors. I have bought hundreds of them over the years. I still lack a few models, but not many. When the girls came into the room, and saw the walls covered floor to ceiling with shelves full of projectors of every type, they stopped in astonishment.
"Holy shit, John." Darcy said first. "Do you own every single projector in the world?"
"No. Well, maybe just for the United States and Canada. But when I find them, I buy them."