Sue Ellen Carter A Southern Lady
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Sue-Ellen Carter, My Life In Atlanta free porn video
SUE-ELLEN CARTER
CONTINUING THE STORY OF MY LIFE IN ATLANTA
BY BETTY NOONE
Dear readers: Thank you for your many nice reviews on my story, "Sue-
Ellen Carter, A Southern lady." I want you all to know that I read
them all and am pleased that you liked this story. The following is a
continuation of Sue-Ellen's life in Atlanta. I hope that you will find
this interesting as well. For those of you who haven't read the
previous story this one won't make much sense unless you do. In any
case, enjoy! Love, Betty.
...............................
I knew I had to return to the South to spend my free time. My
enterprise is in New York and most of the business transacted there.
While I love the social scene and excitement of New York City, and have
developed many friends both social and business there, I find that the
pace is just too hectic for me. I long for the easy living that those
of us raised in the South are accustomed to having. So I contacted a
broker and told her what I was looking for a residence for me to
relocate. Except that I did not want to reside in my home State of
Alabama. I thought that I could adjust to any deep Southern state. I
cannot tell you how many locations and sites that I have visited in my
quest for a home. I saw condos, single family residences and
apartments and none of them pushed any buttons for me. And then the
broker called about Grand Oaks. It is an antebellum home on ten acres
of land, just fifteen miles outside of Atlanta, Georgia. It was built
in the year 1850, just a few years before the start of the Civil War.
Up until ten years ago it fell into dis-repair, and then a dot-com
billionaire bought it, and completely renovated and up-dated it. I
have no idea of how much he had to spend to finish it, but even for me,
it was a lot.
I was about to give up on my quest but the broker insisted that I come
to see this last showing that she had for me. Reluctantly I flew into
Atlanta where I was met and driven out to the home site. The house is
located towards the rear of the property and the car has to drive
almost a quarter mile to get to the front entrance. When I first saw
it, I fell in love. I don't know why these houses all have names. But
they do. Mine was called Grand Oaks, and it was a suitable name, even
today. It has brick exterior painted a gleaming white. The portico
was supported by six stately fluted columns. I don't know if this
house was part of a cotton plantation rife with slaves, but the broker
didn't mention it, and I didn't want to ask. The reason for the sale
was a divorce between the owners. A nasty divorce. Each one wanted to
get rid of the property as it was a memento of their scars in court.
He was nowhere to be found. Long gone. The broker thought he was now
living with his mistress, which was the cause of the divorce in the
first place. The ex- wife, who was not a Southern girl, could not
wait to get out of Georgia and be among her own people. the house was
offered fully furnished and with the staff intact.
When I first saw it, I knew that I had to have it. Being escorted
through the house by the remaining spouse, each room was exactly as I
would have expected it to be if I were taken back in time over 150
years ago. But it was also completely renovated. New, thermal
windows, updated electrical service, air conditioning, modern kitchen,
modern baths, and on and on. The first floor foyer was very large with
twin staircases going up to the second floor. There was then one stair
case going up to the third floor which was the ballroom. The first
floor contained a huge living room. A dining room that seats 24
comfortably. The kitchen was at the rear and six bedrooms were also
at the rear for the help.
The second floor had a Master suite. A large bedroom. I just loved
the King sized canopy bed. Next to it was an office. A private bath,
sunken tub and all. On the same level were five additional bedrooms
with appropriate bathrooms for family and guests. There was an
elevator installed that one could use to get from floor to floor. Up
until this time my broker never mentioned the asking price. She was
smart enough to want me to fall in love with it before I heard what it
was. And fall in love with it I did. I just had to have it. Before I
go on about the negotiations to purchase the property I want to tell
you about the staff.
Did I mention Staff? That is Staff with a capital "S". On duty was
the following: The butler. I have to tell you about the butler. He
does more than just butler. He runs the entire household. He not only
answers the door and all incoming telephone calls, but he supervises
the rest of the help, is responsible for all purchases pertaining to
running the household. Without him the place would be chaos. There
were two maids, two gardeners, a husband and wife chef and baker team,
and a driver. With the exception of the gardeners, all lived on the
premises at the rear of the house except for the butler who had his
quarters on the second floor. I was told that I could keep or not keep
any, all or none of the staff as I desired. At the moment since I
haven't even made an offer on the property it was a decision I did not
yet have to face.
As you all know I have a lot of money. I guess, within reason, I could
afford anything I want, if I want it bad enough. When I was told the
asking price it staggered me a bit. My mind jogged back to just a few
years ago when I was struggling to make a living and here I am talking
about not only a lot of money to buy the place, but the cost of the
upkeep and staff to run it had to be taken into consideration. It had
been on the market for over nine months and the broker whispered that
in that time they had yet to receive an offer. This was during the
meltdown starting in 2008 and even those people who did not get hurt in
the market, (and most of them with that kind of money were in the
market) became conservative. They were trying to sell the property at
the wrong time. I knew that there would probably be no competition by
another interested buyer. I flew back to New York City and talked about
this property with my partners, Mary Lou and Greg, as well as my
financial advisor. Without exception they all advised me not to make
an offer. It was just too much to take on. And how does one compute
as to what to offer? It is a one of a kind property and there are no
comps with which to compare. Did I listen to their advice? Yes. I
listened, but I didn't mind them. I knew that I had to have it. I
won't tell you how much I finally paid for it. It was a lot more than
I had hoped to pay, on the other hand, the sellers took a lot less than
they hoped to get. And it was mine. My financial advisor was quite
upset with me as I had to sell some investments to get the necessary
amount of cash needed for the closing, and it was at the bottom of a
down market. I didn't care. He wasn't in love with the place and I
was. And the day came when the deed passed to me, and it was mine.
And everything inside it. Later on, what I found out was a bonus, was
that the four vehicles were also mine. A Lincoln stretch sedan; (four
years old, but showroom new); a two seater Astin Martin sports car,
just one year old; an old Chevy pickup truck for the gardeners; and a
new Buick used by the staff whenever one of them had to go to town.
My first interview was with Rupert Griswald, the butler. I found out
that he was born in England but lived long enough in the United States
so that his British accent was hardly noticeable. His entire career
was doing this and he told me (to my surprise) that he was a graduate
of a school in England that prepared butlers for their job. One of the
first things we had trouble with was what he was to call me. I am not
married, so I cannot be called Mrs. I hate the term Ms.(miz), so that
is out. He started out by calling me 'madame' which I found stuffy,
and besides, I don't like being a 'madame'. We settled on ma-am. I
don't like it much but it seems to be the best of the options
available. I did like him and since I never had a butler before,
certainly needed someone to run the household. And so I hired him. He
then suggested that I retain the rest of the staff and he pulled out a
computer printout showing the costs necessary to run the place. I had
already overspent, and if I made a mistake in my purchase this place
would not be that easy to unload, at least not now, but it still was a
shock, even to me at how much it cost each month to keep it going. I
tried to maintain my composure so as not to show my concern to my new
major domo, and thought. "What the hell. In for a penny, in for a
pound. Let me enjoy it while I can. There is plenty of money. I just
have to get used to spending it, that's all. And so, at his
recommendation they were all hired on. He brought me downstairs where
the staff was anxiously waiting and I could tell by their faces of
their relief when Rupert indicated with his head that all was well for
them.
The gardeners had their caps in their hand, and looked at the floor
when introduced to me. I excused them and said it was OK for them to
return to their work. The husband and wife team were originally from
Austria and they were most polite and told me that between them they
can prepare and bake anything that I would like. The two maids, both
local girls, gave me a quick curtsy which I didn't like, but today was
not the time to correct them. Rupert made it clear to me that any
problems I would have with the staff, I was to tell him and he would
take care of it. The driver was a tall male Hispanic, in full livery,
and told me that he would be prepared to be on call 24/7. Oh, yes.
There is a full time handyman and he doesn't live on the premises
either. But he is needed. A house this old always has something going
broke and he has a tool shed in the back of the property where he can
fix or make most anything.
Shortly thereafter the movers came and all of my personal belongings
were brought to the house and Rupert saw to it that they were properly
put away. By the time I arrived there was nothing left for me to do.
That evening at about six PM I went downstairs and went to the kitchen
area. There was a very large room set aside for the help. It was
furnished with a buffet table, lounge chairs, large TV set, a bookshelf
with novels in it and a ping pong table. I found out that the staff is
fed three times a day, buffet style and they come to this room to eat
and chat. This room is also used as a lounge as the bedrooms for the
help are small and this is where they congregate in their off hours. I
took a plate and was quite hungry. The food that was available was of
good quality and properly prepared. I took a plate full and sat down
at the table to eat. Most of the staff were already seated and eating,
but when I entered the room, the conversation between them stopped,
however they kept on eating. I tried making conversation with some of
them, but received monosyllable answers, "Yes, ma-am, or no ma-am".
When I finished I got up and took my plate to return it to the used
dishes bin, one of the maids jumped up and took it from me, saying,
"I'll take care of this ma-am," and gave me a quick curtsy. I really
have to talk to Rupert about this curtsy business. I don't like it. I
was back in my quarters brushing my hair when Rupert knocked gently at
my bedroom door. I bade him enter and he, as gently as he could,
advised me not to eat with the help. It made them uncomfortable. That
got me a little angry. It made THEM uncomfortable? What about me? I
own the place. He patiently waited until I calmed down and we agreed
that I would take my meals in the main dining room, served by my staff.
This means I have to eat alone, but I realized that it would not be fun
eating with the staff, either. We discussed the curtsy business and he
said he would try, but they were in awe of me as a national celebrity,
as well as my age, and he thought it would be difficult for them to
break the habit. Just because I own the place doesn't mean that I get
everything I want.
I then talked to Rupert about my needing to hire a new PA. It has been
years since Mary Lou gave up that position, and my PA work was handled
by someone at company headquarters in New York. But here in Atlanta I
needed to hire a new PA. He said he would find applicants as soon as
he could and pre-interview them and would send those he thought would
be acceptable to me for a final interview. I began to realize that I
am going to have to learn that people will be doing things on my
behalf. I better learn to relax and enjoy it.
I must have interviewed a dozen applicants and found them wanting for
one reason or another. All of them were female. Many had obligations
at home, like marriage which would preclude them from travelling as I
have to do from time to time. Others did not have the experience, and
still others I simply just could not relate to. Rupert then asked me
if I would object to a male PA. At this time I was getting desperate
and said I would consider it. He said that there was one male
applicant who he tried to brush off but who wouldn't take 'no' for an
answer. That he was very young, in his middle twenties, but he was a
college graduate and had some limited experience as a PA in several
other positions.
When he entered the room, I could not believe my eyes. Except for his
physical build, he could have been me twenty years ago, had I had the
nerve to show people the real me. He wore his long hair in a pony
tail, and from the luster of his hair, I could tell he gave it a good
brushing each night. In his ears are two gold studs... just like I
used to wear. He was of slight build and had a pretty, oval face.
When he was seated in front of my desk in my office he sat straight in
the chair with his knees together. He was wearing light woolen slacks,
pressed to a knife pleat. A light blue, long sleeved shirt with white
collar and cuffs and a blue polka dot bow tie. A dark blue blazer that
he kept buttoned.
Forcing myself to not stare at him I interviewed him and he answered
my questions carefully and fully. He was very respectful to me and
looked me in the eyes when he spoke. Unlike me at his age, he didn't
seem to care what society thought of him. Of course, one has to admit
that society in general has become a lot looser about these things than
when I was his age. I liked him. We discussed his duties. He had
family, but not locally, so technically he was alone. He would have no
problem living at Grand Oaks and seeing to it that I was where I was
supposed to be. I told him that there would be no days off except when
I had a day off and that was sporadic. I just took a day off when it
happened that there was nothing for me to do that day. He agreed and
said it not only would be exciting to be the PA for a national
celebrity, but an honor. He must be a Southern boy. I told him that I
would start him out at 30 thousand a year and after a three month
trial, if he worked out, he would get a raise to 40. I could see by
his face that this was probably twice what he had ever made in any of
his previous jobs. And so I hired him. He moved into the bedroom next
to my suite the following day. Rupert was not pleased with the
arrangement but was wise enough not to mention it to me.
It didn't take but three weeks when I realized that Arthur had mastered
his job. He waited in his room until I called him on his cell to tell
him I was ready for him. He then came to my office door, knocked
softly, and entered, holding my schedule binder close to his chest. We
discussed the activities that were scheduled for that day and also the
requests that came in for my attendance at other functions. I made
those decisions as to what I wanted to do, and he saw to it that my
driver (and him) transported me to the proper place at the proper time.
He always waited with the driver in the car until I paged him and he
saw to it that the car was waiting for me at the front entrance. I no
longer carry a phone with me, so to page him I have a little button,
like a garage door opener, that will alert him.
I don't like to eat alone. I don't know anybody who does. So it soon
became my habit to invite Arthur to dine with me. At these time we
talked about things other than business. I found that he had
interesting stories to tell and was good at gossip. I began to enjoy
his company. It soon became time for me to travel to New York to tape
my show and conduct business with my partners as well as socialize and
shop. I asked Arthur to see that I was packed for the trip. Our
company maintains an apartment for me in NY and I can travel light as I
have a full wardrobe in New York. Still, one must take toiletries,
nightgowns, change of underwear, just in case there was a flight delay.
I no longer go through the airport as I fly private jet. But even then
there could be a delay due to weather or mechanical problems, so one
still has to take an overnight bag. I had expected that Arthur would
ask one of the maids to do the packing and was surprised when I entered
my room the night before our first trip together that he was doing it
himself. It did not surprise me to see that he folded my things the
proper way. He has done it before. I thought it best not to comment my
surprise to him. It was the first time he was on a private jet, and
maybe it was the first time he flew, and I was amused watching him.
Almost like watching a five year old at the circus.
He was always dressed the same but with different outfits. He was
always perfectly groomed. His shoes were buffed to a mirror finish. I
liked that because he could accompany me anywhere dressed as he was.
After discussing my day with Arthur, if Rupert had any problems or
wanted to discuss any matters with me, it was his turn to come to my
office. By then the maid returned to pick up my breakfast tray. I
soon began to depend upon Arthur in helping me select what outfits to
wear for the day's activities.
In New York, there was always something to do. In addition to
conducting business I had so many friends that involved lunches,
shopping and dinners. They were always trying to fix me up with an
eligible bachelor, and I didn't mind having a male arm to hang on to,
even to flirt a bit. It was so fun. Sometimes it was even more than
that, but I was resolved not to get emotionally involved in anything
that would include marriage. I was quite happy with the way my life
was going. Arthur was with me at all times. He took all incoming
calls, and only if I cared to talk to the caller, did I take the phone
from him. Otherwise he artfully took messages and promised them all I
would call back. I found that there were a few days that I was
prepared to go shopping by myself (with Arthur by my side of course)
and before I knew it he was offering suggestions as to my selections.
Strangely enough he was correct most of the time and later on I began
to depend upon him in the selection of my wardrobe as well.
Back in Atlanta I became a patron(ess) of the Arts. I contributed
nicely to the Symphony, The Breast Cancer organization and to several
others. I believe my contributions alone would have been enough to
have me invited to join their Boards of Directors, but being a
celebrity status accelerated that status. Soon I made friends with
many of the other women, who like me, were wealthy in their own right,
although not many of them wanted the trouble and expense to run a
household like mine. And Arthur became an invaluable assistant. I
appreciated him even more at home as he was the only one that I could
converse with when I was at home, alone. After hours we found
ourselves in my den watching TV or just chatting.
I couldn't help it. I knew that I would have to ask him one day, and
was afraid to. But after dinner and probably too much champagne, I
blurted out to him as we were sitting watching a re-run of one of my
shows,
"Have you ever worn women's clothes, Arthur?"
He was quiet. I repeated.
"Have you ever worn women's clothes, Arthur?" Softly, he replied.
"Yes, I have."
"Would you like to, if you found that I would not object to it?" I
persisted.
"Yes."
"Do you have any clothes with you?"
"Yes, ma-am, I have a trunk stored in the basement that I brought with
me when I first started to work here." I ignored the 'ma-am'. I
thought I broke him of the habit but I guess he was under stress at the
moment.
"I don't believe we have anything planned for tomorrow. Would you
dress for me?"
"What about the others?" he asked, referring to the staff and
especially to Rupert.
"If I don't mind, do you really care what the others think?"
"No, ma-am. I guess I don't."
"Damn it. Stop calling me ma-am. I know you are not comfortable
calling me Sue-Ellen but I don't like ma-am. If you continue with it I
will bop you one!"
I don't know why I said that, but it broke the tension and we both
began to laugh.
The next morning after I buzzed him to let him know that I was in my
office for the morning meeting, the door tapped and I bade him enter.
In walked this young college girl. Hair in a pony tail as always, but
this time wrapped in a powder blue velvet bow. He wore a powder blue
pencil skirt with a slit in the rear, The hem came two inches above
his knees. Beautiful legs. He wore smoky hose and navy blue pumps
with a three inch heel. A black mock turtle shell with short sleeves.
For breasts there were two small mounds. Maybe an A cup. Around his
neck was a single strand of faux pearls and pearl drop earrings were in
his lobes. I loved it. He walked proudly, smiling and extending his
hand to me, he said, "How do you do? My name is Jennifer." He looked
fresh and pert, like a recent college grad. A pretty one at that.
I had him turn around for me. And then turn around again. I signaled
for him to sit in his chair as he always does. When he did, the hem of
his skirt rose to mid-thigh and I felt that he must be wearing panty
hose as there were no tops visible. Instead of keeping his knees
together as he usually does, he crossed his legs, and opened my
scheduling book, waiting for me to start. I thought to myself, "Oh, if
only I looked that good when I was his age," When we were completed
with my scheduling I asked him to return to his room and to wait for me
to call him. In the meantime I rang for Rupert and when he appeared
asked him to gather the staff in the main dining room. He looked at me
questioningly but when I didn't respond, merely said, "Yes, madame."
Rupert was a gem at running the household, but his training did not
permit him to get close to his employer. He always knew his place and
made sure to keep that distance.
When Jennifer returned to my office, I told him that I was going to
introduce him to the staff. That it wasn't a requirement, but that if
he liked, when we were at home, but not when we were out, he may dress
anyway he pleases, with my express permission. We went downstairs
using the elevator. He hasn't worn heels in a few months and I didn't
want him to have an accident going down the stairs. Everyone except
the gardeners and the fix-it guy were present when we walked into the
room. If they were surprised they made sure that they didn't show it
with me being present. I told them that the person they knew as
Arthur, might, on some days, be Jennifer, and that it was my wish that
they accept him as such. Jennifer was standing by my side, and as I
made my little speech, I took his hand in mine to not only give him
some courage but to show the others how I felt about it. I also told
the staff, that if this ever got out to the public, that it was good-by
job. If they liked working for me, they are to keep quiet about it.
Privately I told Jennifer that I really liked him that way, and that if
he wouldn't mind, I would refer to him as 'her' when she is so dressed.
But that when we went out in public I expected him to be Arthur as
before.
I would have so liked to tell him my personal story of transition. But
that is a secret that must remain so, as it could jeopardize my
financial empire, and no doubt socially as well. So that is a secret
that he will never hear. Rupert, in his one attempt to drive a wedge
between Arthur/Jennifer and me, one day mentioned that the rumor was
that Jennifer and the driver were a twosome. I told Rupert that I
didn't care to hear rumors and what Arthur/Jennifer did on his/her own
time was his/her's own business. I suppose being in the car with the
driver all those hours, waiting for me to return, that they began to
warm up to each other. If I had any lesbian tendencies, I could warm
up to her myself. But I won't.
So that is how my days go. Not everyone wants to be responsible for
such an endeavor. I have become famous for my Holiday Parties.
Thanksgiving Mary Lou and her new husband fly in as well as Greg and
his wife. Christmas Day I have a gala. The third floor ballroom is
completely decorated and a band with backup singers are hired for the
event. A car parker service is engaged to handle the cars both coming
and leaving. My parties are fabulous, and I do so love getting dressed
up for them. Jennifer has become my friend, even thought she is a very
young friend. And confidante. I feel I can tell her anything. Well,
almost anything. When guests come to the house, he must revert to
being Arthur, and I suspect one day he will approach me about his
taking time off for going all the way. Maybe not, but so far my
hunches have been on the money. In the three years that I have been
the owner of Grand Oaks not one employee left. I make sure that they
are all treated well and while their working hours are erratic, they
have plenty of time off when I am away on business or vacation. Unlike
Las Vegas where there are winners and losers, mostly losers, I am happy
to report, that in my sphere, there are only winners.
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