Robert Desmond - House of Evil

Finally, she returned her gaze to the torn white brassiere that dangled from her fingertips, her eyes locking on the now useless piece of underclothing as though it held some kind of strange attraction.

"Don't worry about that silly thing, dear, because from now on you'll be wearing underwear that's more becoming to you and not trash like that," Dolores said in a husky voice ripe with suggestion as she took the ripped bra from the girl's hand. "All right, dammit, let's go find that extra uniform before it gets any later."

Nadalee padded obediently across the carpet behind the voluptuous blonde as they went off in search of the reserve outfit. The beautiful young redhead suddenly froze dead in her tracks as they approached the doorway, uttering a little cry of panic as out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed a slight movement a few feet away on the floor. Pivoting her head, she saw with alarm that it was Buck, the enormous German Shepherd she had seen earlier. The ferocious-looking dog gave a deep-throated growl and rose threateningly to his feet as though he were about to leap on her.

"Great, he likes you!" George said in loud approval. "We'd planned to introduce you two anyway. It'll make everything easier if he likes you…"

A thin secret smile of sadistic triumph played across the diabolical millionaire's lips as he watched Nadalee's soft sensuous buttocks sway from side to side as she disappeared through the doorway after his wife. It amused him to think of the luscious girl trying to puzzle together the meaning of his remark as she walked back toward the cottage later, her sweet little cunt still dripping from the load of sticky cum Braun had shot up into the depths of her flat silky belly.

"We'll see you tomorrow, baby," George called out after the young wife, chuckling softly to himself as he turned then to search around the bedroom for his clothes.

Newton paused for a moment beside the powerful black Chrysler, listening to the cooling engine snap and tick as he gazed around him. It was the next day at Quail Lake and a typically beautiful one. The grey haze of that morning had dissolved and now, just after noon, the sun was blazing down brilliantly as a light breeze from the north stirred and swept away the last layer of cloud. He could hear the tops of the pines swishing and murmuring like hushed voices that reminded him where he was.

A couple of minutes later, Newton heaved a huge sigh of relief as he poked his head just inside the kitchen door at the rear of the palatial Blackwell home and saw John, the skinny grey-haired chef of about sixty, working in deep concentration over the large electric range at the far end of the room.

"Hi, John! I'm sure glad to see you," Newton said as he stepped inside. "I've been looking for Braun and can't seem to find him anywhere." Newton felt a sudden flash of irritation when the thin-bodied older man failed to answer him or even notice his presence. The handsome young chauffeur and maintenance man had just returned from a drive at breakneck speeds into the nearest town to buy a dozen packages of the expensive special smoking tobacco that Mr. Blackwell always used. His wealthy employer had told him late that morning that the tobacco was urgently needed and that Newton should deliver it in person by no later than twelve-thirty.

"John?"

"Yeah, boy, what do you want?" John finally answered, not even bothering to look up from his task at the stove.

"Uh, I was just wondering… what's for dinner today?" the young brown-haired husband asked tentatively, momentarily intimidated by John's grouchiness. He knew that the chef had a tendency to be cranky at times but realized that the older man might be able to help him find Mr. Blackwell sooner than he could on his own. A bit of interest in another man's work always warmed him up faster than anything, Newton's father had always said.

"Don't know, boy, because I haven't decided yet… This here's for the dog," John said abruptly, still not turning around from whatever it was he was cooking. "Why, you hungry?"

"No, I was only interested in what sort of things the Blackwells like," Newton smiled politely.

"I guess Nadalee can tell you about that a lot better than I can," the skinny chef said mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" Newton inquired, his brow furrowing as he tried to imagine why his ignorant young wife would know anything about the fancy dinners John whipped up every evening. "Nadalee doesn't know a darned thing about cooking – except what I taught her myself after we got married."

"Well, boy, she seems to know enough to keep the boss pretty well satisfied," John chuckled, a hidden smile of amusement on his lips. "But when you look like her, you don't have to know very much about anything."

"What do you mean by that?" Newton snapped suddenly, an angry flustered expression on his face as he pondered the sinister suggestiveness in the other man's voice. "Nadalee's a good God-fearing girl and she wouldn't think…"

"Oh, is that so? Well, it looks like you've got a few things to learn, young fella," the cook interrupted with a knowing grin on his gaunt face as he turned to look at Newton. "Now, what do you want? It's almost twelve-thirty and I've got to get Buck's dinner ready. I've got a feeling he's going to be pretty damned hungry in a little while."

"I-I'm looking for Mr. Blackwell," the young man answered. He was stymied by the unexplained remarks but knew that there was not enough time now to probe into them further. He had been instructed to deliver the packages of tobacco right away and did not want to keep the wealthy man waiting… especially not after what his employer had told him yesterday morning about the savings account for the farm.

"That's what I figured. You'll find Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell upstairs in the study about now," John advised him in a tone of sarcastic formality, adding, "and you'll probably find your hot young wife up there too. Go on up, boy, and see how rich people have fun in their spare time…"

The spindly chef's words dissolved into a long flood of laughter as he stood watching the door from the kitchen to the hallway swing to a standstill after Newton's hasty departure. By God, that hick kid was going to see something upstairs that would rattle him down to earth for a change, John mused as his laughter subsided. It never failed to tickle him when the Blackwells arranged the clever sex games that always left some poor young girl or newly-married couple shaken for life. But this boy from Oklahoma and his sexy redheaded wife looked like extra choice morsels – even if they were two of the most ignorant kids he had ever met. Well, they had to find out for themselves what makes the world go round sooner or later anyway and now was probably as good a time as any.

John grinned licentiously as he reached one hand over to the electric console next to the stove and, finding the right button, pressed it with his index finger to warn his employers that the boy was on the way up to deliver the tobacco. He checked his watch once again and saw that the timing was perfect.

Newton strode quickly along the thickly carpeted upstairs hallway, still angry at John and yet just as much curious about the real meaning behind the normally grouchy chef's outburst of laughter and the remarks about Nadalee. The young man sensed intuitively that the older man had been trying to imply something terrible and untrue about his wife's dealings with the Blackwells, the generous people who now held the key to his dream of having a farm to work with Nadalee at his side. Besides, what would she be doing alone with the middle-aged couple up here – during working hours – that could be thought of as fun?

Eight, nine, ten, he counted silently, satisfying himself that the half-open door ahead of him was the entrance to the study. It was open, he saw with relief, noting happily that a faint path of sunlight poured out from the interior of the room to the dark corridor. He walked up with an innocent smile on his mouth and was just about to lower his raised right fist to knock when suddenly he froze, his handsome young face paling as he blinked his eyes and swayed slightly as though he were about to lose consciousness.