Beware Caesar
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Beware The Roasburies!Chapter 16 free porn video
Monday 21st and Tuesday December 22nd 1970
Monday morning I was up early and went out for my run in the dark: it was the shortest day of the year. When I returned she had made tea and was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. She had the radio playing radio 2 and she was reading one of my books.
“Just a quick shower, and I’ll be with you,” I said passing the door of the kitchen.
“Want your back scrubbed?” she asked with a salacious grin.
“You’d get your clothes wet,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be wearing any.”
“Then I’m absolutely sure the shower would take too long and I’d be late for work.”
She laughed cheerfully and went back to her book. She had no intention of joining me in the shower, though I wondered as I lathered my semi rampant penis what she’d have done if I’d called her bluff.
After breakfast I collected my stuff from my room.Then I saw the blue pot I used to hold pens and pencils on my desk, emptied it and then emptied my wallet into it. I found the lid and took it into the kitchen.
“This is for household money,” I said. “See you tonight.”
She came to me, gave me a lips kiss and sent me on my way with a “Have a good day!”
We, the bridge four, had a confab. in Zena’s office at lunch time about Sandra. It was a practical meeting. Walsh passed Zena’s door, saw me with three women, and scowled. The girls giggled.
“Zena and I are taking a day off tomorrow to do our Christmas shopping,” said Harriet, “and we think we’ll take Sandy with us and get her a wardrobe.”
“I’ll get some money out,” I said.
“I’ll pay,” said Zena, “You can write me a cheque after. Any limit?”
“I’ve got savings, get her what she needs and some luxury stuff as well.”
“And I’ll get you a Christmas present for her,” said Harriet. “Oh, you are bringing her to the office ‘do’ on Wednesday, aren’t you?”
There was only one answer to that, and I duly gave it and earned a smile. I promptly forgot about it, there was so much else happening.
Christmas I hadn’t forgotten; I had bought presents already for the family, but what had Sandra got in mind for the holiday?
That triggered another thought. Zena’s questions about the Roasburies and Chester, then her insistence that Sandra was the image of Penny, though I couldn’t see it, these ideas came together in my lawyer’s mind. Then there was her disappointment when I told her they lived in Rowton. Was Zena hinting at some possibility?
I got my Road atlas out of the car and found the page on which Chester resided. I found Rowton. O Hell! There, a few miles north of Rowton, the village of Christleton! No, no, no, I thought in panic mode, this could not be! With a sinking feeling, I knew that now I had to find out.
I finished work early, went to the County Record Office and searched the National Birth Indices. She said she was twenty one.
I searched under Christleton in 1949. There were plenty but no girls born with the name Sandra. Then I had an idea. I searched again, but for a different name. It did not take long.
Constance Alexandra Roasburie, September Quarter 1948, Chester, Mother’s Surname: Walsh. Connie!
Bells were ringing all through my head. Chester. Alexandra – Xandra or Sandra for short.
But she was Sandra Christleton. Hang about! If this was Connie, she did not want to be found, so she would change her name. Penny had mentioned that she had been born in Christleton and they moved to Rowton when she was seven. People who change their names tend to use aliases that they can easily remember.
Zena had remarked on her resemblance to Penny. Had I denied it because I did not want to see it?
I felt real fear. Had I taken in Penny’s sister? What were the chances of that? I laughed out loud and got some funny looks in the Record Office.
Then I calmed down. I was a fool. Even their characters were different. Penny the virgin reluctant about sex, Sandra who was clearly no virgin at all. Penny was very pretty, but Sandra was in a different class altogether, especially now she was emerging from her deprived life. I could not remember any member of Penny’s family being blonde, but I had already suspected she had dyed her hair.
Sandra had come from London, Connie was thought to have gone to London. Sandra had run away from home? Connie had been expelled by her mother. Finally her age was right, a July birth was in the September quarter of the year.
There was only one way to settle it for sure, so I thought of a simple plan. I dreaded the outcome: could I never escape from the Roasburies? I checked the date, it wasn’t the 13th! It was enough to make the most cynical sceptic superstitious!
As I entered the flat my nostrils were assailed by the smell of beef stew, Sandra came to the kitchen door, kissed and hugged me, and looked proud of herself.
“Smells delicious,” I said. “You’ve been busy!”
She preened. “Dinner in five minutes,” she said.
I took my case to my room and changed out of my suit into tee shirt and slacks.
“Zena and Harriet are going to take you shopping tomorrow,” I said, as we ate. “This is wonderful, the meat is so tender.”
“I’ve no money for shopping tomorrow,” she said in clipped tones.
“I know,” I said. “We’re paying. You need to be kitted out with some new clothes and shoes, and those two will do it.”
“I can’t do this,” she said, “I can’t keep taking from you all the time.”
“Look,” I said firmly, “if I know you, you’ll be looking for a job after Christmas, You need to be well dressed for interviews. The women have decided to take you in hand, and there’s nothing you can do about it. We are all paid really well at work, we work in a lawyers’ practice for heaven’s sake! So don’t worry. Call it our Christmas present to you from us all.”
I could see her eyes watering.
“That reminds me,” I said to get her mind off it. “Do you have any plans for Christmas?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll be fine here.”
“I don’t think you will,” I said. “Christmas is family time–”
“But I don’t–”
“You will come home with me,” I asserted. “No argument. They’ll love you; you’ll feel at home, I promise.”
“Graham you can’t keep doing this,” she said. “I feel terrible. I’ve got nothing to give you in return.”
“What am I doing at the moment?”
“You’re ... you’re having your dinner.”
“Who shopped for it, who cooked it? Who’s a superb cook?”
“Well...” she stopped and a reluctant smile crept in.
“Who brought me tea in bed yesterday, and who had tea ready for me when I got in from my run this morning?”
“OK,” she said, “but that’s not much.”
“It’s enough.”
She was not convinced, but let the matter drop.
We cleared the table, and she shooed me out of the kitchen while she did the washing up. It was time for my simple plan. I left the room and waited until she had finished. When I returned to the kitchen she was partially turned away from me, wiping the table.
“Connie?” I said.
“Yes?” she said, looking round at me.
Then she jumped, her face clouded and she spun round and faced me. She looked worried, afraid.
“You are Constance Alexandra Roasburie, aren’t you? Penny’s sister?”
“How did you know?” she asked, ashen faced.
“It will go no further, I assure you,” I said. “Trust me. It was your secret, now it’s just between you and me. It’s up to you who you tell, not me. You do trust me? I’ve no intention of getting in touch with your family. They’ve done me no favours. Far from it.”
She looked relieved, “Yes, of course I trust you. I’ve no option, and you’ve been nothing but good for me. I don’t understand how you found out; I’ve told no one.”
“Zena noticed first. She’d seen a photo of Penny when I was in the throes of being dumped, and said you were the image of her. I couldn’t see it, and dismissed the idea. Then the other girls agreed with her. Then Zena asked where the family live, and I told her Rowton and I looked up the atlas and saw how close Rowton is to Christleton. Then I remembered Penny said she lived in Christleton until she was seven.
“I went to the Record Office on the way home. There was no entry under Christleton, so I looked under Roasburie and found Constance Alexandra in the Birth indices at the right date. Alexandra – Sandra. Christleton – Roasburie, and you would change your name if you didn’t want to be found. Did you know most people change their name to something they can easily remember? So it got me wondering.
“I didn’t know, but I thought if I called you Connie in an unguarded moment, you’d give yourself away. You did. Connie, believe me, this will make no difference to us. None at all.”
“Do you know anything about Penny?” she asked.
“Well, she’s teaching in this area, but it’s weeks since she found out I didn’t cheat on her, and she’s not been in touch. Derek came with Ingrid to clear the ground for her, but she didn’t come, and I’ve not spoken to her for months, so I don’t think it’s likely she’ll come back now. In any case, I don’t want her to. She was engaged to someone; she probably still is. Our relationship is history. So, what do I call you? Connie, or Sandra?”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Connie,” I said, “but will that be a giveaway?”
“I changed it in case Daddy looked for me–”
“He did,” I interrupted. “As far as I know he’s still looking, but in London. He was quite broken by your disappearance according to Derek. Derek searched as well.”
She started at this, as if hit, and she looked guilty. Then she said, “Are you gong to urge me to contact my family?”
“No,” I said. “That’s your concern. You must do what you think is right there. I will not interfere.”
She looked relieved, then thoughtful, but said nothing further.
We passed the evening reading and listening to the radio. I noted that Connie was deeply into her novel, and wondered if she would ever go back to university and finish her degree. What was her degree in? I would not ask her until she told me her story, and I was not going to push her on that.
Once again on the way to bed via the bathroom we passed in our underwear. I was wearing briefs, and she looked deliberately at my package, then she met my eyes and smiled a knowing smile.
“What?” I asked.
“You enjoy me. I enjoy you. Good ain’t it?”
“Yes, Connie, it is. You are very beautiful.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you are very handsome!” she shot back. “Like the knickers!” and she laughed a guttural laugh. This girl was not at all like Penny! Except in looks of course. I suppose. Nah! I still couldn’t see it.
Tuesday morning followed Monday’s routine. I was treated to my breakfast mug of tea.
“Connie you don’t have to get up for me, you know. You could have a lie in.”
“Not today, I’m going shopping apparently, or have you forgotten? Anyway I want to get up for you. I like doing these little things for you, you do far more for me. I’d like to come running with you sometime – don’t worry, you won’t have to wait for me.”
“That would be nice,” I said.
She smiled happily. “What would you like for dinner?”
“You mean tea?” I asked.
“What else? You have tea with dinner anyway.”
“No, we usually call dinner ‘tea’ round here. What I think you call lunch, we call dinner at home.”
“Oh. I suppose you call breakfast something else as well?”
“No, that’s breakfast.”
“Oh.” Silence.
“It doesn’t really matter, Connie. Just Lancashire usage, that’s all.”
“Not in our part of Chester,” she said thoughtfully, “So any ideas for your tea?” she grinned.
“Surprise me!” I said, “It needs to be a movable feast since you won’t be here all day.”
“OK.”
There was no Zena to give a lift to, and I wondered all day at work how Connie was getting on with her new friends.
I reached home to find the flat empty and dark. Interesting. I wondered what they had done with her, and opened the fridge to see what I could get to eat. There was a pan with a piece of paper trapped in the lid.
Dearest Graham, This is for ‘TEA’. Put on stove with gentle heat. Much love, Connie.
Hmm. Dearest. Much Love. Was there a message here? You’re damn right there was, and I liked it. I felt warm, the woman was addictive.
Inside the pan was a chilli con carne, I could smell it, and the red kidney beans were a giveaway. I did as instructed, and went to shower. Emerging, I found she was still not home. I got some brown rice and measured enough for two, and put the kettle to boil, then went to my room to look over a long contract, and tweak a few of the clauses.
It was going on for seven thirty, when the door crashed open and three merry women fell in giggling. I had never seen so many bags in all my life.
“Hi, darling!” Connie greeted me. “Look what I got! Bags!” and she giggled happily and somewhat drunkenly. She was different! The blond hair was gone and in its place was a rich dark brown with a tinge of red about it. Her sparkling green eyes suited the colour a lot better.
Then it struck me. Now she was dark haired I could see the resemblance to her older sister. Again it was unsettling, bringing up emotions I did not like too much. Was I falling for her because she was a Penny clone? Another obstacle to get over. I couldn’t give myself to someone just because she was like someone else!
Zena and Connie took the bags to her room and there was a lot of muffled conversation and laughter.
Harriet was smiling. She was sober, and had obviously been the driver.
“Sandy has had a wonderful time,” Harriet told me. “The bill is horribly big, but you only owe us a third of it.” She handed me a scrap of paper with £234 12s 6d. written on it.
“You spent £600?” I asked aghast. £600 was a sizeable chunk of a month’s salary, and was a great deal of money in those days.
“£700. Graham, she needed a whole wardrobe. We went through her stuff this morning while she was cooking your tea, when we picked her up. She’s got nothing. Have you noticed her shoes? She couldn’t even afford to get them repaired. Two pairs have holes in the sole. Her white underwear is grey!”
“I’m not grumbling, it was a shock that’s all. I’m glad. But it wasn’t all shopping? She’s had her hair done.”
“We convinced her to go to our salon and she said she thought you’d like her natural colour more. This is as near as she could get, and it can grow out without anyone noticing. You like it?”
“She’s right. The dark colour goes better with her eyes, and I think it makes her face prettier; the blond was a bit brash.”
“She said her last boyfriend pressured her to go blond, he liked blondes, it seemed.”
“You called in for a drink or two on the way home?”
“Yeah, we called at the pub before coming home. She’s great fun. You’re bringing her to the office dinner party tomorrow?”
“Oh, damn! I forgot all about it. Yes, if she wants to go.”
“Oh, she will!” Harriet laughed. “She’s got things to wear now.”
She went and collected Zena, and they left, with Connie seeing them to the door, once again in tears, thanking them all the way. There was much hugging before the pair left.
“Love the hair,” I said as the door closed. “It suits you far better; your face looks prettier and more delicate.”
She said nothing but smiled and disappeared into the bathroom. I put the rice on to boil. The chilli was warmed through and ready. I put together a green salad.
I expected her to gush about her wonderful day, but she said nothing, but ate her meal with a certain concentration.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what your day was like?”
“Aren’t you?” she smiled devilishly.
“I went to work. I worked. I came home. I found a sweet note. I heated this meal you beautifully prepared. I did a bit of work. Three women crashed into the flat. Two were the worse for drink. There was a lot of luggage. We are eating. That’s it.
“Oh,” I added. “There’s the firm’s Christmas dinner party tomorrow night. I’d forgotten with all the excitement of you arriving.”
“It was exciting?”
“Of course, you are a very exciting woman,” I said with arched eyebrows.
“Go on!” she laughed.
“Well, you have lovely brown hair, and a very pretty face.”
“Thank you, but I meant about the dinner party.”
“Oh, yes. I’d be honoured if you would to go with me?”
“I thought you would never ask. Yes, please. I would love to go with you.”
She gave another delicious smile. She was getting more assertive, less humble and submissive.
She said she was sweaty after all that shopping and went for a shower. I heard the shower running and eventually shut off. A pause. Then there was a shout from the bathroom.
“Graham!”
“Yes?” I answered, approaching the door. It opened. The room was steamy and she stood before me completely nude, holding her bath towel like a scarf behind her.
I had seen her in her underwear twice, but this was different. My gaze swept over her to hold her eyes, taking in her close trimmed pussy, rounded belly, and perky solid breasts with upturned nipples.
“Have you a dressing gown I could use?” she asked, ignoring her state, or was she deliberately showing me?
“Yes, of course,” I said, turning away to go and get it. When I returned she was still standing proudly naked, legs a little apart, one knee bent and the leg forward. It was a pose. It was clear now that she was not a natural blonde, and that the new temporary hair colour was pretty accurate!
“Yes, Connie, I get the message, and yes you are stunningly beautiful. All over! Is that what you wanted to hear?” I was stern as I handed her the garment.
She took it but looked puzzled. “Pardon?” she said.
“You called me to get you a dressing gown. You could have asked from behind the door, but you opened it wide and stood there naked. You struck a pose when I returned. I assumed you wanted reassurance that you have a beautiful body. Which you have. Or did you mean another message?”
I turned and walked away, into my room and shut the door. I sat on the bed and waited.
A knock.
“Come in.” I said.
She came in wearing the dressing gown done up tight, looking worried.
“I don’t understand,” she said, “Have I upset you? I didn’t mean to. You did say you didn’t mind me being naked.”
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