Oil of Roses Behind the Wall of ThornsChapter 18
- 3 years ago
- 14
- 0
Oil Of Roses - Behind The Wall Of ThornsChapter 15 free porn video
Jason
“I can’t believe your family didn’t send security with us.”
“Neither can I,” Donna replied. “It’s odd ... totally not what I expected.”
“I wish we could have all sat together,” Jason said, finishing his Coke.
“Holidays,” Donna said. “I’m surprised we’re all on the same flight ... well, except for Mistress Wolfling.”
“She’s interesting,” Jason said, motioning at the flight attendant as she came down the aisle.
“Interesting ... I’ve noticed your interest in her.”
“Another Coke, please ma’am, when you have the time,” Jason said.
He waited until the attendant had moved away.
“Donna,” he whispered, “I’m a teenage male. I think I’m interested in ninety per cent of the women in the world.”
“What about Dayna?”
“Oh, no ... I mean, yeah, but she’s my teacher!”
“You’ve never been ‘hot for teacher’?”
“Yeah, but it isn’t going to happen. That’s not the way our relationship is. She’s amused by me.”
“Pity ... I’d love to get her in bed,” Donna said, sipping her Dr. Pepper.
Jason didn’t admit to anyone how much he’d like that as well – certainly not to Donna. If he did, she’d work to make it happen, and that was ... well, he could fantasize about it, but he couldn’t imagine it really happening.
“United Flight 320 from Waterloo to San Francisco is on schedule, we should be landing 2 PM, Pacific time. We have reports the weather in the City by the Bay is sunny, should reach a high of about 60 today.”
“2 PM? We left Waterloo around noon...” Jason murmured.
“Time zones,” Donna said. “Remember, California’s two hours behind us.”
“Oh, yeah ... first time traveling ... anywhere, really.”
“It’s okay,” Donna said. “Wait ‘til we go overseas.”
“We’re going overseas?”
“Yes, my husband. You and I, and Abby, we’re going everywhere.”
Harry
“The question isn’t whether I should get a drink – I should.”
“Agreed, Harry,” Margo said.
“The question is how many drinks I should have.”
“At least one,” Carol said, from behind them.
“Probably two,” Margo replied.
“I’d go for at least four,” Dommi said, sitting next to Carol.
“Never knew you didn’t like flying,” Carol said.
“Never asked.”
“So, fear of flying,” Margo said.
“Fear of falling out of the sky and dying in a pile of burning wreckage.”
Carol was catching the flight attendant’s eye as she came up the aisle.
After his second bourbon, Harry was able to relax. Good bourbon had that effect on him. He wished he’d felt crazy enough to smoke a massive bowl before they left the house – hell, even in the car on the way to the airport.
“This is the cockpit – we’ve reached our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet. After the take-off delay, we expect to be five to ten minutes late in touching down at Chicago O’Hare. We don’t expect that will cause any missed connections. We should be landing about 3 PM, Central Standard Time. Currently, the weather in Chicago is blustery winds, twenty to twenty-five miles per hour, and the temperature’s 28 degrees. Stay warm, folks.”
“I could have done without how fucking high we are...” Harry muttered.
“It’s okay, honey,” Margo said. “We’re all here with you. We’ll be fine.”
“I fucking hate flying.”
“Got that, Harry. Real firm grip on it.”
Donna
After getting their luggage, with the help of a couple of skycaps, Donna led their procession toward the exits...
To see what she’d expected, but dreaded telling Jason might be the case.
Two Karghold guards, looking very fierce, and very competent in their black coats, black boots, and black BDUs, already there and waiting for them.
“Oh look, honey,” she said. “My family’s security found us!”
“You’re kid ... no, you’re not kidding.”
“All right, boys, where’s the car?” she asked.
“Hello, Ms. Donna, Jason. It’s the stretch over there,” one of them, blonde and bearded, said. “Size of your party, it was either a stretch, or two cars.”
“Please tell me arrangements have been made for Mistress Wolfling tomorrow...”
“Yes, Ms. Donna,” the other one, bald with a Thunderbird tribal tattoo on his head, said. “A car will be sent by the St. Regis to pick her up.”
“If you’ll follow us...”
As they walked toward the waiting limo, Jason whispered, “You told me. I just didn’t believe you.”
“I don’t know that you didn’t believe me so much as you hoped I’d be wrong.”
“Maybe that was it. Is the St. Regis a fancy hotel?”
Donna looked at her husband and smirked.
“Do you think your family would spare any expense for this honeymoon?”
“Valid point. You’re going to have access to events I’d need my suit for, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Already scheduled tea for us tomorrow afternoon.”
“I didn’t pack my suit.”
“Don’t worry, it’s in with my things. Now, cheer up – you’re going to get laid a lot – I mean a whole lot.”
Jason smiled, and nodded.
Jason
He was trying so hard not to act like a hick, looking out the limo’s windows, ‘ooh’ing and ‘ah’ing over the city as they rode to the hotel.
Jason was failing at that, but no one made a thing of it.
‘Blondie’, Jason’s nickname for the blonde guard, pointed out the right side.
“There’s the St. Regis.”
A towering white high-rise ... Jason thought it looked like a lot of other tall buildings he’d seen. Nothing about it struck him as all that special.
“I was expecting something...”
“Grander?” ‘Tattoo’ said. “Wait until you see the interior, Jason.”
“Okay...”
“Also, I’m to tell you, Ms. Donna,” Blondie said, “Madam Gao has invited you to dinner. No need for formal dress, she’ll meet the three of you in the Grill this evening, 6 PM.”
“Thank you ... what is your name?” Donna replied.
“Tod, Ms. Donna.”
“Can the ‘Ms.’ business, both of you. I assume at least one of you will be our discrete escort?”
“Of course,” Tattoo replied.
“And you are?”
“Parker.”
“Fine, do try not to be too obvious. Nothing personal, but all of us wish you weren’t necessary.”
“They’re necessary?” Jason whispered.
“We are,” Tod said. “Your House has enemies. Almost certainly there are moles in the House itself, there at Chorale South. Therefore your House’s enemies know where you are.”
“I really wish you were being paranoid,” Jason said, remembering the fire, Melvin scooping Dayna and him up, the mad rush up the stairs, crashing through the window, the too-long-to-be-real fall to the pool.
Melvin dead in the pool.
Donna squeezed his hand.
“We’re a part of your day-to-day now, Jason,” Parker said. “It’s going to stay that way for the rest of your life, in all probability. We’ll try not to get in your way or on your nerves. Do us a favor – don’t try to stop us from doing our job. Not much we can do about it if you do ... except not try so hard to be unobtrusive. I don’t want to follow you around, three steps behind, everywhere you go, and I do mean everywhere, day in and day out. Makes both our lives far more difficult than they need to be.”
“Okay, I can see that,” Jason said. “Fine, we won’t try to lose you, you try not to look like ‘Crushem’ and “Killem”, the ‘Slaughter Twins’.”
“Except when you need to look that way to keep us out of trouble,” Donna said.
Jason thought on that for a moment.
“Yeah, except then,” he said.
The Slaughter Twins grinned at him.
Jason was pretty sure they were going to do whatever they were going to do, and there wasn’t anything anyone could say about it.
He’d hoped he could walk into the St. Regis, and not act like he was overwhelmed, and for the most part, he’d succeeded.
“This is pretty, but it’s not...”
“I believe they’d say ‘the luxury is understated’,” Donna replied.
Jason had willed himself to forget he had three women on leashes. They hadn’t wanted to raise any eyebrows in the airports, or on the flight, but once they were in the limo, he’d leashed Abby, Donna, and Kelly.
In the beautiful lobby of the St. Regis ... some of the guests acted surprised, or shocked, but the staff didn’t bat an eyelash. Dayna handled check-in, while he and the others waited. Jason looked around, saw where the Grill was.
They’d had breakfast about 8:30 ... two time zones away. Jason had thought about eating on the plane, but Donna had told him even First Class meals on domestic flights were inedible. He thought for a moment. It was 3 here, which was 5 as far as his stomach was concerned. Jason imagined everyone else, except the Slaughter Twins maybe, were as hungry as he was ... and it was three hours until supper.
“Come on, kids, follow me,” Dayna said. She led them, and the bellhops with the luggage carts, to the elevator.
The suite was unlike any hotel room Jason had ever stayed in – not all that hard to imagine, since the previous high point of his travel experience had been a couple of trips to Six Flags, between Dallas and Fort Worth, and for those he and his mom always stayed at the same Red Roof Inn.
Everywhere were fresh flowers, fighting for space with four different ... well, they all had fruit in them, so fruit baskets, he guessed. They all had other things, too, like cheese, and sausages, and nuts. There were baked goods – breads and cookies, rolls and doughnuts, and a large pink cake on the coffee table of the living room area.
Jason walked over to look, there was something written on it.
“Have a glorious honeymoon, Jason, Donna, & Abby!” It smelled of strawberry.
“This isn’t the hotel’s doing,” Donna said. “Anyone see a card or anything?’
While Dayna sorted luggage – her’s going to the room with two queen-size beds, everyone else’s to the master bedroom – the three newlyweds looked for a card.
“Found it!” Abby said. “The mini-fridge is stocked as well. This was on the counter in the kitchenette.”
Donna opened it.
“Much love from your Aunt, Nancy Velacourt”
“Our aunt?” Jason said.
“She apparently has decided she is,” Donna said. “Marvelous – I wouldn’t touch the crap they were serving as lunch on the flight if I was starving. Abby, make up a fruit and cheese tray to tide the three of us over until supper. Everyone else,” Donna continued, “eat some of this, order from room service, whatever.”
Jason turned to Tod and Parker.
“Where are you staying?”
“We’ll be moving into the other bedroom with Mistress Dayna and Mistress Wolfling,” Parker said, looking around. “God knows we’ve hot-bunked in worse places.”
Jason smiled, imagining the joy of having security just on the other side of their suite.
“All right, kids,” Dayna said. “Bellmen have been tipped, and sent on their way.” She grabbed a pear from one of the baskets, and bit in. “Mmmm, good. Pardon me, I’m grabbing some food, and then taking a bath.”
Kelly
Once in the master bedroom, Donna had ordered her to strip, except for her collar, and her knee and hand pads.
“You be a good little slut,” Donna said, “and we’ll let you eat people food. You piss me off and it’ll be dog food. I’ve already checked, and as this place does make accommodation for pets, they can provide dog food. You can stand up to eat – otherwise, you’re on your hands and knees, or lying on the floor. You’ll sleep on that couch,” Donna continued, pointing to a long, comfortable-looking sofa in the bedroom. “Only time I want you on the bed is when Jason’s making a sperm deposit. Feel up to that, love, after we eat?”
“Sure do, but she doesn’t get on that bed even then,” Jason replied. “I’ll fuck the slut on the couch.”
Kelly wasn’t sure how she was going to endure the next two weeks. She looked down at the ring on her finger, Harry’s Christmas present. ‘We endure, we conquer, we thrive.’ It felt like a joke to her. She deserved her punishment, she did, but her spouses were being feted in the home of the Mistress of Chicago, and she had been going with them.
Now, she was a fuckslut for her step-son and his family for at least the next two weeks.
Kelly held out hope that some kind of negotiation would shorten her servitude – not that she expected to be treated all that much better by her own spouses.
She felt very lonely, and abandoned by her family. She knew that wasn’t the case, but it felt that way.
And it was all her fault. Twilla had tried to warn her, and she’d blown her body servant off without a second thought. She’d wanted to fuck Jason, Abby, and Donna, so she had.
At least the couch looked like a more comfortable option than the floor. Kelly figured the only reason she’d gotten told to sleep there was so Jason could have easier access to her, and still have her off their bed.
Their newlywed, honeymoon bed.
Dominique had gone on the honeymoon trip with her family. That puzzled Kelly. Surely, if anyone was going with them, it would be Camille, or Radhika, or Candy ... even Esther! Why did they invite Dominique?
Margo
“Oh my,” Dominique said as their driver pointed out the building Mistress Abigail resided in.
Seventy-seven stories, a central core with three wings extending out equidistant from each other.
“What’s all that land around the tower?” Margo asked their driver.
“Park land, pool – for summer use of course, and playground.”
“So,” Harry said, “Mistress Abigail has an apartment, a condo...”
“Sir,” the driver said, “she owns the building, and resides on the entirety of the seventy-seventh floor.”
“So, not worrying about crowding her then,” Harry replied.
“Her staff is extensive,” the driver said, “but yes, there is plenty of room for guests.”
As they walked through the lobby, the driver and another of the staff handling their luggage, Margo noticed a grocery, doctor’s office, a dentist, and several restaurants.
“So,” she said to Harry, “weather like this, they don’t need to go anywhere.”
Getting inside the Lakeview Tower had been most welcome, as even the new, warmer clothing they’d bought wasn’t enough to handle Chicago-in-late-December cold and wind.
In the elevator, she noticed the 77th floor required a key to access. Not that surprising really. Wouldn’t do to have other residents just popping on to your floor.
Once they reached the top, the doors opened, and a woman in a floor-length crimson PVC dress threw open her arms.
“You must be Madam Grimes!” she said, stepping forward to hug Margo.
Margo returned the hug, gladly. Mistress Abigail’s hair was jet black, a dye-job Margo was sure, and hung to about a foot beneath her butt. She looked to be in her late-forties, early-fifties, lovely, with light hazel eyes, and a figure Margo would die for. Curvy, the woman’s body seemed perfectly rounded, and in perfect proportion, everywhere.
After a tight hug, Margo stepped back, and said, “Mistress Abigail, please call me Margo. This is our husband, Harry, our wife, Carol, our wife, Lori, our wife, Magda, and our soon-to-be-wife, Dominique. The very quiet one in the back is Alice, our security.”
“You have a lovely family,” Mistress Abigail replied. “Call me Abigail, by all means. Please, let me show you to your suite.”
She linked her arm with Margo’s, and the group proceeded down one of the halls leading into a wing of the tower.
“I understand one of your spouses isn’t joining you this trip?” Abigail said.
“No, she ... transgressed, rather severely, and is being disciplined.”
“Unfortunate. I look forward to meeting Kelly on another trip.”
“I see you’ve been talking with Nancy,” Margo said.
“Oh, yes ... regularly. I’ve done a lot of business with her over the years, and I’m happy to be able to call her my friend. Magda, you’re looking lovely. I haven’t seen you since your last trip here – you were...”
“Twelve, Aunt Abigail.”
“Yes ... God, has it been that long? Time flies when you’re flogging submissives.”
To general laughter, she stopped at a double door at the end of the hall. She handed Margo a handful of keys.
“Please, think of the suite as yours for as long as you care to stay. More than enough bed space ... well, not all at one time, perhaps, but life is about making choices. I’m at the end of the first wing on your right as you exit your suite. Take some time, rest, refresh, and I hope to see you at dinner at seven, if I don’t see you before.”
“We’ll be there,” Margo said. “You might get tired of hearing this, but thank you so much, again, for your help, your hospitality...”
“Nonsense – a daughter-in-law of Nancy’s is a cousin of mine!”
The suite itself, with four bedrooms, full kitchen, two-and-a-half baths, was beautifully decorated in Art Deco style. And almost every flat service was covered in flowers, fruit baskets, and baked goods.
“Margo,” Carol said as they stood in the entryway, “I’m looking at over a million dollars of antique furniture, and decorations.”
“She does own this entire building,” Dommi said. “Please tell me you’re getting decorating ideas for your new home?”
“No,” Carol said. “I love the style, but I’d be far more likely to go Art Nouveau, if I had my way. Only problem with that is the style is too delicate to survive the whirlwind of us living there. We’d be afraid to let loose, in our own home. Not acceptable. Same with some of this. Not that it’s fragile, it’s just ... lots of sharp edges.”
“And if I broke anything, I’d feel like it was a crime,” Harry said. “So, out of not-so-idle curiosity, you still thinking Moorish?”
“Yep,” Carol replied. “Working on your hideaway really inspired me. Plus, so much can be done with pattern on the walls ... it’s going to be stunning.”
“I can’t wait to see it when it’s all finished,” Margo said.
“Thank you, Madam. And was it just me, or is Mistress Abigail interested in you?”
“No, you’re imagining things,” Margo replied.
“Uh, no she’s not, and besides, it’s Carol. She isn’t wrong about such things,” Dommi said.
They walked in to find a cake on the table, smelling of pure chocolate decadence, with “Happy Honeymoon to my Beloved In-Laws”, and a card.
“In-laws?” Harry asked, opening the card. “This is from Nancy. I swear, I’m spanking that ass next time I see her. She signed it “Your Loving Mother-in-law”.”
“Good thing this is here,” Carol said. “I’m feeling rather peckish.”
“Don’t spoil your dinner,” Dommi said.
Margo shook her head at Nancy’s largess, and said, “Let’s get into a bedroom. I want to call the kids.”
Abby
The phone in the bedroom rang, and as Donna was in the bath, and Jason was in Kelly, Abby answered.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Abby, hey honey, it’s Margo.”
“Madam Grimes...”
“Margo, Mama, Mother Margo, Abby, any of those – not Madam Grimes, not in private.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“We’ve gotten in to Chicago, and are at Mistress Vandyke’s place. Figured I’d give a call, see how your group is doing.”
Kelly was grunting and squealing in the background.
“We’re in our rooms ... obviously we are, my apologies. Mistress Velacourt has decided she’s our aunt, and stocked the room with food – so much food – and beverages and flowers.”
“Same here, except it’s from Mother-in-law Nancy. Hope you enjoy them.”
“We are. Madam Gau has invited the three of us – and only the three of us – to supper tonight in the hotel’s restaurant.”
“Interesting. She doesn’t want to talk with anyone we sent to advise you, she’s only interested in the three of you for the moment.”
“I think Milady Donna is hoping it’s not political, purely social ... but ... Mama, one of the two heads of San Francisco Society doesn’t make plans for a private dinner to discuss recipes and knitting.”
“No, she doesn’t. Tell Donna to cue Jason with her best instincts – she’s a natural-born schemer and politician. As long as she’s on the ball, I won’t worry about anything that might happen during dinner.”
“I will, Mama. Any news on your end?”
“Harry really hates flying. Didn’t bother to warn any of us until we were in the plane, waiting to take off. I should have brought tranquilizers ... animal tranquilizers ... elephant tranquilizers.”
Abby laughed as she heard Harry protesting.
“Luckily, no such problems for us.”
“Be thankful, be very thankful. I so wanted to beat that man, swear to God, if I could have bound and gagged him, I would have gladly helped carry him off the plane.”
“Fuckin’ sucky bedside manner, wife!”
“I’ll let you go, Abby. Kiss the children for me. I’m going to beat my husband.”
“Goodbye, Mama, will do.”
After hanging up, she stood for a moment, watching Kelly climax, shortly to be followed by Jason’s orgasm.
Then she went to knock on the bathroom door.
“Donna, it’s me.”
“Come in.”
Kelly came again, at least twice. I’m not sure she’s really trying not to come.”
“Fine, Jason’s next piss break is down her fucking throat. Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“Yes, Mother Margo called, checking in. She said you should be on the ball during supper tonight, and to guide Jason, avoid making any mistakes. She has complete faith in your abilities in that regard.”
“Wow, no pressure. All right, about what I was planning to do anyway. Anything else?”
“Yes, apparently Harry doesn’t fly well, and was quite vexing during their trip.”
“Oh, I’m seeing punishment in Daddy’s future.”
“Yes, I imagine so.”
“All right, go tell Jason our slut is his urinal for a while. I’m going to run some more hot water in here. It’s big enough, tell him to join us when he’s done. Then you get your sexy ass back in here, into this tub.”
“Yes, love.”
Dominique
After unpacking, everyone was feeling a little tired, so a nap seemed in order. She found herself with Harry on one side, Margo on the other, Lori curled up around Harry, Magda spooning with Margo, and Carol between her legs, cushioning her head on one of Dommi’s thighs.
It might not have been the most comfortable position in the world, but since they’d proposed to her, for the first time in so very long, Dommi felt like she was home. Her old friend, sleeping between her legs, well, that just made if feel even more like home.
She awoke, not sure why. Everyone was still sleeping around her. Dommi turned to her left, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lake Michigan was whipped into a froth by the wind, and the grayness of the day had deepened. Dommi raised her head slightly to see a clock.
6:10.
“Up and at them, sex machines,” she said. “Fifty minutes until supper.”
“Do we have to, Dommi?” Carol asked sleepily, already getting up.
“Yep, meeting with our hostess to make. Get the shower going, and let’s pray for lots of hot water.”
Other than Carol padding toward the bathroom, no one else was moving.
“Everybody out of bed ... Now! Into the showers, then it’s time to Dress. For. Dinner!“
Years of running her club had left her with a great command voice.
Within three minutes, everyone was up, and heading toward the bathroom.
“Carol, bathe Harry,” she barked. “Lori, Margo. Magda, me. After that, you bathe.”
By the time the three Dominants were through the shower, the hot water was gone.
“It’s cold...” Magda cried.
“Too bad, little submissive,” Dommi said. “You three get it in gear. You still have our clothes to lay out, it will take time to dress us, and then you have to dress yourselves. I’ll be doing pit and pussy checks, you better shower good.”
“Ahem,” Margo said, and Dommi realized she could be stepping on some sensitive toes.
“Margo, I am so sorry...”
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Margo replied. “I want to say, well done!”
“Yeah,” Carol said, from the shower, “Margo will be happy to have someone else to do the Drill Sergeant routine.”
“Oh, yeah,” Margo sighed. “Let me focus on little issues like politics – both Societal, and sexual, if what you say about Abigail is correct.”
“It is,” Carol said, coming out of the bathroom, quickly toweling herself off. She hung the towel over her arm, and stood with arms raised, and legs spread.
Dommi took deep inhalations under Carol’s arms, and between her thighs.
“Good job, sweetheart,” she said. “Now start setting out our outfits.”
“Yes, Dommi darling,” Carol said, kissing one of Dommi’s nipples.
Magda came out next, passed inspection, and started helping Carol.
Dommi went to stand next to where Harry and Margo were sitting on a couch, on their towels.
“If you let them, subs in a hurry cut corners.”
Lori came out of the shower, and Dommi went to check her.
“Girl,” she said, after sniffing, “get your ass back in that shower. You come out smelling like this again, you won’t be able to sit down at supper!”
“We don’t have time for punishment,” Harry said, looking at the clock.
“Husband, there is always time for punishment,” Dommi said. “Possibly the only socially acceptable reason to be late this evening.”
“Oh, god, you have no idea how good it feels to be able to not be the Drill Sergeant,” Margo sighed. “Dommi, I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Dommi said. “You have many fine Dominant qualities, Margo love, but these are some of the slackest subs I’ve ever seen.”
She walked over behind Carol.
“At your present speed, sweetie, we’re not going to be dressed until 8. You might not mind showing up naked to supper, but I’m pretty sure we will.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Lori came back out of the bathroom, and Dommi checked her again.
“Much better. Finish drying, help your spouses.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She moved to the couch, put her towels down, and joined Harry and Margo.
“I hope Abigail isn’t offended by wet hair,” Dommi said, “we really don’t have time to deal with that.”
By 6:40, their clothes had been laid out.
“Acceptable,” Dommi said. “Dress us, quickly, or you will be going to supper naked.”
At 7, they were at the door to Abigail’s suite, knocking.
And Lori, Magda, and Carol, were naked.
Jason
Dressed casually, but still better than he’d dressed for most of his life, the three of them entered the Grill at 5:57. He gave his name, and they were shown to a private room in the back, walking through the door – a large, obvious guard on either side of it - almost precisely at 6.
Madam Gao looked like a stock character from a film – the ancient Chinese grandmother he’d been warned she most decidedly wasn’t.
He’d rarely been so happy than when she stood up, and offered her hand. That he knew how to respond to, Donna had taught him. He bowed, took her hand, turned it slightly, brushed his lips across her knuckles, and came out of the bow, releasing her hand.
The amused twinkle in her eye puzzled him, until she shook first Donna’s hand, then Abby’s.
“Don’t worry, Jason – you acted properly,” Madam Gao said, “if the situation were more formal. And some in my position would count it their due even in such an informal situation as this.”
She sat down, and the three of them did so as well.
“I’m not so formal or pompous as that ... though I might have been in the past, when I had more time to waste on such things. Now, I save it for show, and there’s no need for that, here, tonight.
“But, if you let me, I’ll keep talking until the four of us starve. I am Ms. Gao, for the time being, and you are Jason,” she looked over to Donna, “Donna,” and to Abby, “and Abby. It’s my pleasure to welcome you to San Francisco.”
As if by magic, a waiter appeared by their table. Jason hadn’t heard the door, and the waiter hadn’t been in the room earlier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a faint movement on the wall – another door. Jason was still impressed.
“Four Fabiola’s,” Ms. Gao said. “Trust me, if you haven’t had one before, you’ll love them.”
Jason had no illusions about the fact he and Donna looked their ages, but the waiter didn’t bat an eyelash. In a few moments, Ms. Gao had ordered a range of appetizers, and sent the waiter on his way.
“Now, kids, tell me about yourselves...”
By the time their drinks and appetizers arrived, they’d given her the sanitized version their step-parents had agreed upon. Ms. Gao smiled, and nodded.
In the middle of sampling everything, and enjoying the Fabiola – Ms. Gao was right, it was marvelous, Jason heard Ms. Gao clear her throat.
“That was a lovely tale, and so well told. Pity it’s not even a tenth of the truth. Would you care to try again, or shall we leave things as they are?”
Jason’s eyes slid to look at Donna. At her slight nod, he looked back to Ms. Gao.
“All right, the whole truth then...”
They’d ordered their dinners, and finished their dinners, had dessert, and coffee, before they finished telling Ms. Gao everything.
Brandy
- 19.02.2020
- 12
- 0
Oil of RosesChapter 27
- 2 years ago
- 13
- 0
Oil of Roses Behind the Wall of ThornsChapter 8 Andrew
- 3 years ago
- 8
- 0
