General Fiction posted November 25, 2014 | Chapters: | ...15 16 -17- 18... |
Calin & Jess surprise the guest of honour
A chapter in the book Framed
The Chalet
by bob cullen
Background Calin Roberts is an operative with Homeland Security. While his name appears on no official documentation, his reputation is known and feared in every hallway in Washington |
The river weaved a path towards the summit. Within the hour he knew darkness would descend. The higher they climbed the icier the water became. As they cleared the tree line, an iced layer had settled atop the river flow. Snow covered everything in sight and a wind gusted at a sub-freezing temperature.
In the distance he saw what he had hoped to see, residential life. Two of the three houses visible had smoke billowing from chimneys. The third and the most distant, flaunted the excessiveness of extreme wealth. Designed in the style of a Swiss chalet, its three levels dwarfed the other homes. Prior to retreating back into the tree line to escape the worst of the wind, Calin intently studied the smokeless house. Porch lights were aglow as were lights above the barn doors. His eyes swept towards the large warehouse-like structure behind the house. What vehicles were garaged inside? Did it also house the power generator?
Several things stood out, the house was new and maintained. Access to both the Chalet's front door and to the barn had been cleared of snow, as was the roadway linking the three homes. Did that suggest live-in staff, or maybe a contractor service? A larger than normal television dish stared at the stars.
"Ready, Jess?" asked Calin on completing his surveillance.
"Want me to lead?"
"Not this time."
"House or barn?" questioned Jess.
"Don't know yet, depends on whether the alarm's powered by battery or generator."
"How will you establish that?"
"Good question."
"What happens if someone's inside?"
"Another good question," said Calin. "Guess we'll face that when and if it happens. Back to your previous question, the disarming of the alarm has to be first. So it's the front door."
"Let's go then," said Jess as she dashed out from the tree line. Four steps later she had, like a car bogged in swampy terrain found her momentum stopped as she sank to her knees in powdery snow.
With the forty yard trudge from the shelter of the trees to the road accomplished, Calin broke into a three-quarter pace gallop. The crispness of the air bit into his lungs while the pangs of hunger along with the effects of his head injury reduced his energy levels. Determination and fear combined to drive him onward.
"You going to knock first?" asked Jess as they approached the front door.
"You are. I'm going to take a look around." On that note, he disappeared down the side of the house. The first sound Calin heard was the muted humming of the generator. It came from the large outbuilding.
Jess tried the doorbell three times. She heard it echo through the house. There was no response; the house remained in total silence. Where was Calin? She was about to go in search of him when she heard footsteps approaching the door. Fear took hold, how could she explain her presence?
"No one here," said Calin as he swung the door open. "And amazingly there's no alarm. So why don't you come on in, young lady. It's so much warmer in here.
I intend to take a quick look around."
"I'm coming with you." They walked through the most amazing bar Calin had ever seen. It led to the kitchen and provided the first bonus, a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry. Upstairs offered an even greater surprise, a massive bedroom with ensuite, a supersized spa and a walk-in robe filled with racks of designer winter clothing. Jess turned the taps on full. With the delight of a three-year-old at her first party, Jess watched as steam vapour engulfed the room.
"I'll get you a coffee and something to eat," said Calin as he left her to luxuriate in her new-found heaven. He headed back downstairs; he sensed he'd missed some detail. He saw it immediately, a scrawled note positioned on a tray beneath a half-filled brandy decanter:
'The place is all yours, Senator.
The bar's stocked, the fridge is filled
Every bed is available
And the girls arrive at five
ENJOY
Now you owe me'
A
Calin looked at the clock mounted on the wall, 19.00 hours. That suggested twenty two hours before the arrival of the 'girls.' Was the Senator alone, or accompanied by guests? And when would he arrive? Should he tell Jess of the note? He decided against it. On return to the bedroom, with a tray of the Senator's seafood, he found Jess asleep in the spa. He lifted her from the tub, wrapped a towel around her and placed her beneath the blankets of the bed intended for the elected representative. Rather than wasting the energising effect of the bath, Calin stripped and eased himself into the water. He placed the coffee and seafood within reach.
Sleep overwhelmed him.
His inbuilt radar woke him. Someone else was in the bathroom. His eyes opened to see Jess, still wrapped in her towel leaning over him.
"Where's my coffee?" she asked as she reached across for the half empty cup beside the untouched basket of seafood. Instead of answering he dragged her into the now cold tub.
"Bast..." His lips silenced her abuse.
For the second time in eight hours he carried her to the bed, on this occasion without the towel. Minutes turned into hours and sleep overpowered them.
"Jess, wake up, we've got to get out of here." A glance at the bedside clock indicated they had slept ten hours. For the first time in days, Calin felt energised. In the distance he heard the familiar thumping of a helicopter. It had to be the Senator.
"What's wrong?"
"We're about to have visitors." He then told her of the message he'd found.
"What's the plan?"
"You distract him, I'll disable him."
"How?" she asked. She listened to Calin's suggestion. There was no time to argue.
"Tell him, you're the appetiser," suggested Calin. "Maybe you could suggest a massage first. Get him naked and lying face down on the bed and then I'll take over."
"What if he's not alone?"
"We're in trouble."
They heard the aircraft land, disembark its passenger and quickly take off. Calin recorded the chopper's ID.
The Senator was alone. Jess stood in the archway to the bar. Ready to greet him she carried a tray with a half filled champagne flute and an almost filled bottle of Dom Perignon. The evening dress she wore left little to the imagination, sheer and see through, she wore nothing beneath.
"I've been instructed to entertain you until the others arrive." The Senator's eyes feasted on her breasts. "It was suggested you might need a massage to relax you after the flight. Perhaps we could adjourn to the maid's quarters. I'm assured there are some rather erotic pleasures to be enjoyed there. But drink up first." He gulped down the glass she offered. It required no skill to read his mind; he was salivating on what he believed lay ahead.
"Might I suggest a game," Jess continued as she poured him a second glass. "The other girls tell me play acting really boosts the pleasure. You're going to be a fifteen year old virgin and I'll be the crusty old seductress headmistress. Does that sound like fun?" His eyes provided the answer, lust now raging out of control.
"Have another glass, Senator. You need to relax. Let's get started then. Follow me." Jess walked the way she'd seen models strut on the fashion catwalks.
The Senator obeyed her every instruction. He stripped naked, lay face down on the bed and waited. Her next words thrilled him. "I'm about to climb on your back. Are you ready?" Calin noted the change in the Senator's posture. His muscles had drawn tense, he was preparing to roll his body the instant he felt her weight. Time to up the ante, thought Calin.
"Move and you're dead." Calin recognised the prisoner's symptoms: fear had paralysed him. The masculine voice had stunned him, as had the additional weight. He was powerless to respond. "I'm not what you expected," said Calin.
"Give me your hand," Jess demanded. She slipped a noose around his wrist then stretched the rope to its maximum extent and tied the rope's other end to the bedpost. She repeated this three times, the other hand and both feet until all movement was restricted. The man was a prisoner, a prisoner to his own lust.
"Don't leave me like this." The man widely regarded as one of the four most powerful men in the entire country, was reduced to begging.
"Who do you want me to call?" said Calin. "You've got one lifeline. Maybe your wife?"
"You won't get away with this."
"I'm afraid we already have."
Calin emptied the Senator's wallet and took his phone. He had one more call to make. He recalled the reporter's name he'd seen delivering the story accusing him of the death and rape of the two Dalton women, Rachel Costello. The young reporter was about to score her second scoop within a week.
He and Jess walked out of the maid's quarters with one of their three problems solved. The contents of the Senator's wallet, forty two hundred dollars eased their monetary problem. They headed upstairs to change into more appropriate dress.
Calin next turned his attention to escape. He hoped whatever was parked in the garage would satisfy their transport needs. It did, fifteen minutes later they headed south in a near new BMW four wheel drive. Prior to vacating the garage, Calin swapped the BMW's plates with those of a two door Lexus.
In the distance he saw what he had hoped to see, residential life. Two of the three houses visible had smoke billowing from chimneys. The third and the most distant, flaunted the excessiveness of extreme wealth. Designed in the style of a Swiss chalet, its three levels dwarfed the other homes. Prior to retreating back into the tree line to escape the worst of the wind, Calin intently studied the smokeless house. Porch lights were aglow as were lights above the barn doors. His eyes swept towards the large warehouse-like structure behind the house. What vehicles were garaged inside? Did it also house the power generator?
Several things stood out, the house was new and maintained. Access to both the Chalet's front door and to the barn had been cleared of snow, as was the roadway linking the three homes. Did that suggest live-in staff, or maybe a contractor service? A larger than normal television dish stared at the stars.
"Ready, Jess?" asked Calin on completing his surveillance.
"Want me to lead?"
"Not this time."
"House or barn?" questioned Jess.
"Don't know yet, depends on whether the alarm's powered by battery or generator."
"How will you establish that?"
"Good question."
"What happens if someone's inside?"
"Another good question," said Calin. "Guess we'll face that when and if it happens. Back to your previous question, the disarming of the alarm has to be first. So it's the front door."
"Let's go then," said Jess as she dashed out from the tree line. Four steps later she had, like a car bogged in swampy terrain found her momentum stopped as she sank to her knees in powdery snow.
With the forty yard trudge from the shelter of the trees to the road accomplished, Calin broke into a three-quarter pace gallop. The crispness of the air bit into his lungs while the pangs of hunger along with the effects of his head injury reduced his energy levels. Determination and fear combined to drive him onward.
"You going to knock first?" asked Jess as they approached the front door.
"You are. I'm going to take a look around." On that note, he disappeared down the side of the house. The first sound Calin heard was the muted humming of the generator. It came from the large outbuilding.
Jess tried the doorbell three times. She heard it echo through the house. There was no response; the house remained in total silence. Where was Calin? She was about to go in search of him when she heard footsteps approaching the door. Fear took hold, how could she explain her presence?
"No one here," said Calin as he swung the door open. "And amazingly there's no alarm. So why don't you come on in, young lady. It's so much warmer in here.
I intend to take a quick look around."
"I'm coming with you." They walked through the most amazing bar Calin had ever seen. It led to the kitchen and provided the first bonus, a fully stocked refrigerator and pantry. Upstairs offered an even greater surprise, a massive bedroom with ensuite, a supersized spa and a walk-in robe filled with racks of designer winter clothing. Jess turned the taps on full. With the delight of a three-year-old at her first party, Jess watched as steam vapour engulfed the room.
"I'll get you a coffee and something to eat," said Calin as he left her to luxuriate in her new-found heaven. He headed back downstairs; he sensed he'd missed some detail. He saw it immediately, a scrawled note positioned on a tray beneath a half-filled brandy decanter:
'The place is all yours, Senator.
The bar's stocked, the fridge is filled
Every bed is available
And the girls arrive at five
ENJOY
Now you owe me'
A
Calin looked at the clock mounted on the wall, 19.00 hours. That suggested twenty two hours before the arrival of the 'girls.' Was the Senator alone, or accompanied by guests? And when would he arrive? Should he tell Jess of the note? He decided against it. On return to the bedroom, with a tray of the Senator's seafood, he found Jess asleep in the spa. He lifted her from the tub, wrapped a towel around her and placed her beneath the blankets of the bed intended for the elected representative. Rather than wasting the energising effect of the bath, Calin stripped and eased himself into the water. He placed the coffee and seafood within reach.
Sleep overwhelmed him.
His inbuilt radar woke him. Someone else was in the bathroom. His eyes opened to see Jess, still wrapped in her towel leaning over him.
"Where's my coffee?" she asked as she reached across for the half empty cup beside the untouched basket of seafood. Instead of answering he dragged her into the now cold tub.
"Bast..." His lips silenced her abuse.
For the second time in eight hours he carried her to the bed, on this occasion without the towel. Minutes turned into hours and sleep overpowered them.
"Jess, wake up, we've got to get out of here." A glance at the bedside clock indicated they had slept ten hours. For the first time in days, Calin felt energised. In the distance he heard the familiar thumping of a helicopter. It had to be the Senator.
"What's wrong?"
"We're about to have visitors." He then told her of the message he'd found.
"What's the plan?"
"You distract him, I'll disable him."
"How?" she asked. She listened to Calin's suggestion. There was no time to argue.
"Tell him, you're the appetiser," suggested Calin. "Maybe you could suggest a massage first. Get him naked and lying face down on the bed and then I'll take over."
"What if he's not alone?"
"We're in trouble."
They heard the aircraft land, disembark its passenger and quickly take off. Calin recorded the chopper's ID.
The Senator was alone. Jess stood in the archway to the bar. Ready to greet him she carried a tray with a half filled champagne flute and an almost filled bottle of Dom Perignon. The evening dress she wore left little to the imagination, sheer and see through, she wore nothing beneath.
"I've been instructed to entertain you until the others arrive." The Senator's eyes feasted on her breasts. "It was suggested you might need a massage to relax you after the flight. Perhaps we could adjourn to the maid's quarters. I'm assured there are some rather erotic pleasures to be enjoyed there. But drink up first." He gulped down the glass she offered. It required no skill to read his mind; he was salivating on what he believed lay ahead.
"Might I suggest a game," Jess continued as she poured him a second glass. "The other girls tell me play acting really boosts the pleasure. You're going to be a fifteen year old virgin and I'll be the crusty old seductress headmistress. Does that sound like fun?" His eyes provided the answer, lust now raging out of control.
"Have another glass, Senator. You need to relax. Let's get started then. Follow me." Jess walked the way she'd seen models strut on the fashion catwalks.
The Senator obeyed her every instruction. He stripped naked, lay face down on the bed and waited. Her next words thrilled him. "I'm about to climb on your back. Are you ready?" Calin noted the change in the Senator's posture. His muscles had drawn tense, he was preparing to roll his body the instant he felt her weight. Time to up the ante, thought Calin.
"Move and you're dead." Calin recognised the prisoner's symptoms: fear had paralysed him. The masculine voice had stunned him, as had the additional weight. He was powerless to respond. "I'm not what you expected," said Calin.
"Give me your hand," Jess demanded. She slipped a noose around his wrist then stretched the rope to its maximum extent and tied the rope's other end to the bedpost. She repeated this three times, the other hand and both feet until all movement was restricted. The man was a prisoner, a prisoner to his own lust.
"Don't leave me like this." The man widely regarded as one of the four most powerful men in the entire country, was reduced to begging.
"Who do you want me to call?" said Calin. "You've got one lifeline. Maybe your wife?"
"You won't get away with this."
"I'm afraid we already have."
Calin emptied the Senator's wallet and took his phone. He had one more call to make. He recalled the reporter's name he'd seen delivering the story accusing him of the death and rape of the two Dalton women, Rachel Costello. The young reporter was about to score her second scoop within a week.
He and Jess walked out of the maid's quarters with one of their three problems solved. The contents of the Senator's wallet, forty two hundred dollars eased their monetary problem. They headed upstairs to change into more appropriate dress.
Calin next turned his attention to escape. He hoped whatever was parked in the garage would satisfy their transport needs. It did, fifteen minutes later they headed south in a near new BMW four wheel drive. Prior to vacating the garage, Calin swapped the BMW's plates with those of a two door Lexus.
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