Carl Van Marcus - The watching husband

"Say… I didn't pass out in the library last night, did I?" Tim asked, handing his wife the tall goblet that Dot had given him.

"Uh… no… You were just a little groggy, that's all," Kate answered, preoccupied with her own problems. She took a sip of the drink. "Ugh…! It's awful… what is it…?"

"Something Sam sent up… I told you. He's gone out of town until tomorrow, but he sent it up before he left."

Tim was looking in the mirror adjusting a new turtleneck sweater that he had bought especially for the country life. "He says we should just get familiar with the place today… what a guy! I gotta hand it to you honey… this is really a far out deal!"

Kate took another sip of the foul-tasting drink. Her head did seem to be clearing some. At least Sam was away… she wouldn't have to face him that day anyway.

"Honey, I'm going downstairs and start looking around… You take your time… I guess you just let Pierre know when you want something to eat. I'll see you later!" He pecked Kate on the cheek and hurried out the door, scarcely waiting for a reply.

Kate sat up in the big double bed with its soft down pillows and burst out crying. She was so ashamed she didn't know what to do and Tim's enthusiasm made everything still worse! Huge sobs wracked her body as the tears kept coming.

As new images of the depravity she had indulged in came popping into her mind, her tears renewed themselves, multiplying and cascading down to the pale pillow case.

Tim had had a very agreeable discussion with Crockett who had shown him the inner workings of Dagon Manor from the huge furnace to the enormous attic. He had taken him down by the stable to introduce him to the stable hands who lived in bunkers and to the more than thirty beautiful horses there. The ruddy cheeked old man enjoyed telling him stories of the way the place had been in the "old days" but he agreed that young Sam Dagon wasn't doing a bad job of keeping up the old traditions. Crockett also showed Tim the area that he might wish to use as office space, just below the suite he and Kate had and looking directly out into the pool. There he found all the pertinent data concerning employees who came in daily or on a weekly basis; when the floors were waxed; the linen sent out, etc. Some of this he realized would come under Kate's domain and these things he put aside.

He had lunch in the office by himself after discovering that Kate planned to remain in her room upstairs most of the day. Women! He would never understand them. Here they were in the best set-up that anyone could imagine and she was moping about upstairs! He hoped she would straighten out by the time Sam got back the next day!

When he had rearranged some of the priceless furniture that filled his new office, Tim looked at his watch and saw that it was almost three o'clock. He didn't want to pass up his appointment with Dot! He opened the leaded glass windows and stepped onto the terrace of the swimming pool, walked around it and down a grassy sloping hill to the greenhouse.

The fresh California air filled Tim's lungs and he felt good… better than he had felt in ages… This is the life, he thought… this is really the life…! Tomorrow he would get out his typewriter and start working… it was going to be a beautiful summer… just beautiful!

As he neared the greenhouse, he let out his characteristic low whistle. "Speaking of beautiful!" he said out loud.

Dot was sitting on the grass by the door of the greenhouse waiting for him. She wore a different outfit from the one she had had on that morning… but it was every bit as brief, if not more so. A tight red sweater with matching skirt that barely came to the tops of her thighs. As Tim approached, he could see that she was wearing matching red panties underneath the skirt.

Pity, he thought.

"Bonjour!" Dot smiled up at him, her eyes squinted from the sun shining directly over Tim's shoulder.

"I'm afraid I don't speak any French…" Tim began, sitting down beside her.

"Good!" she answered… "I will teach you then… we will start out with bonjour… O.K.?" Her laughter swelled pleasantly and resounded over the surrounding meadows.

Tim looked at the girl carefully. Her dark hair was clipped closely to her head so that she looked like an elf, with her little uptilted nose and big wide black eyes.

"I think you're making fun of me!"

"Of course! Why not? That is why we are here… Is is not?"

Taken aback Tim answered good-naturedly, "I guess so… Yes, I guess so!" He wondered if she was Sam Dagon's girl… probably so, he figured.

"You are wondering if I belong to Monsieur Sam, are you not?"

Tim jumped… what was she, a damned mind-reader? "Well, I was thinking…"

"You don't have to think. I will tell you what you want to know… just say what you have in your head. You are very handsome… I like your hair!" Her hand went up to ruffle lightly through Tim's hair. Her eyes glinted devilishly, and Tim knew she was enjoying playing with him. She reminded him of a young kitten.

"Say… why are you called Dot? That's not French."

"Monsieur Sam… he thought it fit me… My real name is Marie-Claire. Would you like to take a walk?" she asked suddenly. "And I can show you the gardens… a beautiful day like this… you will want to see all the flowers!" She jumped up and began walking slowly in front of him, her pert hips swaying saucily as she bounced jauntily along. Tim got to his feet and followed her toward the high hedges of the English garden. By the time they entered the garden Tim had gotten a wonderful enlightening vision of Dot's full, voluptuous young buttocks.

His mind was full of vague questions about her. He wondered if she was really as provocative as she seemed, or if she was just playing a game. Also, if she was Sam's girl…? But they were in the midst of a fabulous garden of high thick hedges now, and Tim looked about him curiously. He had seen pictures of gardens like this, but never the real thing. It was overpowering. They passed through the rose garden's sweet smelling profusion and went on to the beginnings of another high-hedged area.

Dot turned to him, smiling broadly… "It is a maze! Pretty, n'est-ce-pas? Come on!" She grabbed his hand and led him deep into the maze of hedges until Tim was no longer sure which way was the way out. Then after a few minutes of walking, she suddenly stopped short.

"Ooooh!" she cried, beginning to hop on one foot.

"What's the matter?" Tim asked, catching up with her out of breath from their breakneck pace through the hedges.

Dot leaned heavily against him. "Oh, it is my foot… I must have twisted my ankle the wrong way!"

"Well… uh… don't put any weight on it… here… let's sit down. I'll have a look at it!"

They sat in a nook beside one of the many gravel paths and Tim took Dot's foot in his hand and tried to see if he could see anything wrong… But before he could begin to examine the small fragile ankle, Dot threw her arms around his neck and drew him toward her, toppling him over onto her on the ground.

In his surprise, Tim hardly had time to protest, even if he had wanted to. He did have a few brief moments of guilt, thinking about Kate back at the house, upstairs in her room, but once Dot had inserted her sharp little tongue between his lips, all he could think about was the writhing young flesh that urged his own stirring body to respond.

His hands flew quickly to the two tempting breasts that he had had his eyes on before. God she felt good. He had never had a French girl before, and he could tell by the way his cock was standing at attention that he was more than just curious to see what it would be like. They were lying so that his thigh was pressed between her squirming legs, and she bumped her pelvis up to him so that he could feel the unbearable friction against his steadily hardening cock.