Chapter 5
Someone did disappear that night, but it wasn't Susan. She slept late the next morning, and when she came out of her room carrying her suitcase, Charles and Jesus were pacing nervously on one side of the living room. On the other side, Simmons sat tensely in an overstuffed chair. He had a pistol in his hand.
"What's going on here?" Susan gasped. "That's what we'd like to know," Jesus grunted. "Krista's gone," Charles muttered. "She vanished just like Bitch Robards. Now this old fool," he said, motioning toward the gun-wielding butler, "is threatening to shoot us!"
"I'll shoot either or both of you if you should so much as make an off-color remark to the Mistress again," Simmons said, and his tight, twitching lips and glowering eyes told them he was capable of doing it. "Miss Polk is a lady, and I will not allow the likes of you scum to treat her otherwise. Henceforth I am Mistress Polk's bodyguard in addition to being her chief servant. There is no reason for you to leave now, Miss Susan. Believe me. Please stay. I'll protect you, with my life if necessary."
This unexpected turn of events cast a different light on things. Susan did an hour's worth of thinking in a minute. The chauffeur and gardener both looked subdued and worried, so she reasoned that her butler could actually protect her from any further degradation at their hands.
Perhaps Simmons does love me, after all, she thought. He said he did. And he's certainly acting like it. It won't do him any good, of course, but he doesn't know that. I don't think he'll try to force himself on me again. I saw part of what Miss Olson did to him last night, and he knows I did. If worse comes to worse, I can slap him around, too. I've read all about masochists, and now that I know Simmons is one I'm sure I can handle him. Why shouldn't I stay and let him be my bodyguard? Grandmother's estate is worth a lot of money, and I'm the sole heir! And I want my inheritance!
"All right," Susan said, pulling herself up regally because the role she had to play demanded it. She was so grateful to the butler that she felt like calling him by his first name, but that would never do now. "I'll stay, Simmons, with you as my bodyguard. I'll pay you extra for it, too, and well. But what are you going to do about Miss Olson? The police will have to be informed of her disappearance. Have you called them yet?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, rising with the gun in his hand. "I haven't notified them, and there is no need to do so. Though I haven't the foggiest notion as to why. Miss Olson left Robards Manor of her own free will and under her own power. I saw her walking away with her valise at dawn this morning. I say good riddance. Let her go to hell or wherever."
"Why didn't you tell us that?" Charles barked.
"I'll tell you whatever I choose to tell you and not a whit more!" Simmons snapped. "Now get out of here and attend to your duties, the both of you. Don't enter the house again unless the Mistress or I should summon you."
The gardener and chauffeur stood there for a moment, undecided, glancing at Susan and Simmons suspiciously. Then they turned and stamped from the room and out of the house.
"I'd like to have my breakfast now, Simmons," Susan said with a sigh of relief. "Suddenly I'm famished. I'll have orange juice, eggs and pork chops well-done, buttered grits and black coffee."
"Very good, ma'am," Simmons said. He put the pistol in his belt and bowed slightly. Then he turned away and an enigmatic smile crept over his face.
"And, Simmons," Susan called.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, pausing.
"I'd like some sliced tomatoes, too. Have Reyes bring in a couple of nice ripe ones from the garden. Don't bother with chilling, just wash and slice them."
"Very good, Mistress Susan. I'm glad you're feeling better," he said before he shuffled off to prepare her food.
Susan was feeling better, considerably so. She spent the bigger part of the day alone in the library, browsing through the books she'd read and loved as a child. Being brought up in Robards Manor had not been a happy experience, so Susan had escaped into the more appealing world of fiction as frequently as possible. But she wasn't reading the books now. Her thoughts were of the present-still fraught with danger-and of the future, which could be extremely bright if she was fortunate enough to live until she received her sizable inheritance.
One of the possible murderers was gone, but three still remained; and though she accepted Simmons' explanation of Miss Olson's absence, her intuition told her to keep her guard up, that he might have been lying.
Simmons seemed only too happy to rush into the library and attend her when she rang the bell, and this time was no different. The door opened within seconds and he stepped in from the hallway.
"You rang, Mistress Susan?"
She nodded thoughtfully.
"More coffee? Perhaps you'd like some crumpets with it this time?"
Susan shook her head. "Sit down, Simmons."
He took the chair beside hers and reached for her hand. "Call me Rob, darling. We're quite alone."
She frowned and pulled her hand away.
"You're not in the proper mood, I take it."
"I haven't decided anything definite yet," she said, playing him along because she needed him. "Give me time, Rob. I'm very confused."
"Of course, my sweet," he gushed. "I understand perfectly."
"Good. Then perhaps you'll also understand that it would help me if we didn't, uh, show our affection for one another until things are more settled."
He smiled complacently. "As you wish, Mistress Susan. I have waited eight years for you. I can wait longer. Patience is one of my virtues."
"Let's not talk this way any more for the time being, either."
"If it upsets you, then certainly we shan't. But you did ring."
"Yes, I want us to have a talk." She met his gaze and affected a helpless, trusting expression. "Why do you think Miss Olson left the way she did?"
"I'm afraid only she knows the answer to that," he said smugly.
"Did she leave, Simmons? I mean, did you actually see her walk away?"
He shifted uneasily.
"After what she did to you last night, I wouldn't blame you for killing her," Susan added.
Simmons cleared his throat. His cheeks flushed and he lowered his gaze.
"Did you kill her, Rob? You can tell me. I won't give you away. Miss Olson needed killing. So did my grandmother. I wouldn't hold it against you if you confessed to killing them both. In fact, I'd admire you, in a way. It would be our secret, darling. I promise never to betray you."
"Miss Polk!" he wheezed. "I do not like the tone of this! Why, you would have me confess to crimes which are totally beyond my capabilities is unfathomable to me ... but I can assure you that your suspicions are without the slightest foundation! I most certainly did not kill Mrs. Robards, and I swear by all that's holy that I saw Miss Olson depart depart the premises this dawn with valise in hand!"
"And I believe you, Simmons. Honest, I do." Her manner concealed the doubts and fears which logical thought had raised. "Forgive me, but I had to ask. Do you think Miss Olson found the case of coins?"
Simmons thought about that one before he answered. "I didn't tell you the whole truth that first night. Although I didn't find any myself, I did know about the coins. I denied it because ... well, because you had enough to worry about already, and because I'm relatively sure the coins had nothing to do with your grandmother's disappearance. I didn't want you to worry unnecessarily. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Susan murmured.
The butler brightened visibly. "Well, then, now that we've got that behind us, yes, I do indeed believe Miss Olson found the case of rare coins. She was struggling with her valise, as if it contained something much heavier than clothing. It must have been the coins. Why else would a greedy slut like her leave of her own volition?"
Now it was Susan's turn to think. She had no way of knowing whether or not he was telling her the truth, but even if he was lying she might turn his statement to her advantage. There was still the possibility that she was living with a murderer, and it could be any of the three men, only one of which she felt that she could manage and keep in line. Leaning forward intently, she asked, "Why don't you tell Charles and Reyes that? If they knew Miss Olson found the case of coins and took it with her, wouldn't they go away and leave us alone?"
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "That's a smashing good idea! I'm not positive she did abscond with the treasure, but what's to keep me from telling those wretched fellows she did?"
"Go tell them, Rob," she urged. "Do it now. I won't draw an easy breath as long as those animals are here. Get rid of them, darling. It'll help me get myself under control much faster. I can't promise you that I'll ... I'm so confused with them here. They frighten me, Rob! I'll be able to think more clearly when they're gone and you and I are alone in the house, and maybe then we can ... I don't want to make any promises I might not be able to keep, darling, but I am very fond of you. You know that, don't you?"
"I'll go tell the scoundrels right now," he said, rising. "I'll make them believe there's no reason for them to stay on!"
She thought for a moment Simmons was going to want to kiss her, and she would've let him because of the stakes involved, but he left after he'd given her nothing more than a fatherly peck on the forehead. Susan heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. Go on, Simmons, she said to herself, crossing her fingers. Get rid of Charles and Reyes for me! Then I can start thinking about how to get rid of you, too!
Susan allowed her hopes to soar unrealistically high for the rest of the day. After supper, she locked her doors, took a hot bath and retired early. She hadn't talked to Simmons again, but just before she drifted off to sleep she heard Charles blast off on his motorcycle. "One down," she sighed, snuggling her head into her pillow and falling asleep with a smile on her lovely face.
Simmons sat in his room sipping brandy and mulling things over in his scheming mind until eleven that night. He felt Susan was ready for him to take her over, perhaps as ready as she would ever be. All she needed was a gentle push to persuade her to marry him, then her fortune would be his when it became hers legally. He decided he had to give her that push now, while she was upset and confused, because if he waited until things were settled he knew she might change her mind. Taking courage from the alcohol he'd consumed, he went down the stairs and to her room. He'd expected her door to be locked. When the knob turned but the door wouldn't open, he reached into the pocket of his robe and brought out his master key which fit all the doors in the house. He unlocked the door, slipped into her darkened room, relocked the door, then stripped naked and crawled into bed with the sleeping young lady.
Until the butler got into bed with her, Susan had been sleeping dreamlessly. That changed when he began caressing her with feather-light touches. Her slumbering mind perceived the physical stimulation and started building a story around it. She was married and on her honeymoon, lying in a deck chair beside her husband on a ship bound for Europe. Susan kept telling him that he shouldn't be fondling her in public, but he wouldn't stop because he loved her so much he couldn't keep his hands off her. It was embarrassing but sort of nice. The most troubling part of her dream was that she couldn't remember who she'd married, and the sun was glaring in her eyes so she couldn't see his face. But it didn't really matter who she'd married after a while, because she liked being fondled and had realized that she was only dreaming. Since dreams are harmless, and she was enjoying hers, Susan was in no hurry to wake up. She allowed him to pull up her dress and put his hand on her cunny. As he stroked her down there, she spread her legs and pretended that nothing was happening. People were walking by on the deck. They all stopped to stare. Some were smiling and some frowned with disapproval. She shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at them. But when her husband, whose identity was still unknown to her, stuck his finger into her vagina, she decided he was going too far. It felt marvelous though, and she didn't want him to stop, so she opened her eyes with the intention of explaining to the onlookers that it was all right since he was her husband and they were on their honeymoon.
There were no onlookers when Susan opened her eyes. She discovered she was in the huge brass bed in her grandmother's room, and that she was actually being fingered-by Simmons. "My stars!" she gasped, pushing him away. She was startled but not truly shocked, and she felt guilty for not reacting with horror. "How did you get in my room, Simmons? And what are you doing in bed with me? And naked?"
"I used my key, darling," he said, inserting his finger all the way into the moist heat of her body and massaging the secretion-beaded walls of her satiny sheath. "I can't wait. I love you too much. I'm going to make love to you."
"No!" she protested, but not as strongly as she thought she should, when he swung between her legs and brought the head of his erect penis into thrilling contact with the sensitive outer folds of her hair-rimmed slit. "Not yet! Give me time!"
"There's no reason to wait," he insisted, pressing forward and giving her an inch of taut-skinned glans.
"The others are gone?" she gulped. "Charles and Reyes?"
"No," he admitted, sinking the rest of his organ into her surprisingly well-lubricated pussy. "They didn't believe me about the coins, I'm afraid. And they ... aaah, that's quite lovely, isn't it, my sweet?"
"Wait till they leave, Simmons!" she gasped, squirming with sensual discomfort as she felt his balls snuggling into the crack of her ass, the rectal area of which was still somewhat sore from being buggered by the chauffeur. "We agreed ... mmm ... to wait!"
"I will not wait," Simmons said, and he started screwing her. "Those greedy devils may well stick around for the full seven years, and by then I should be quite mad with longing for you. You're the only woman I've ever loved. No, my dear," he said, his ass arcing as he pistoned his stiff rod within her responding cunt, "I will not be put off. We'll apply for a license to marry on the morrow, but tonight we shall sleep together and enjoy a bit of sweet fucking."
"But I'm not ready to get married!" she wailed, licking her lips and making her small hands into fists. It was delightful to have his peter working in her erogenous orifice, but she knew she shouldn't permit this sinful act to continue. "Stop, damn you! Stop screwing me at once! That's an order!"
"I won't take no for an answer," he replied gruntingly as he humped blissfully away. "I'm going to have you for my wife, even if I must force you to marry me!"
"No, Simmons ... ohhh ... no!" she panted, forcing her arms to remain at her sides even as her hips started working with him.
"Yes, darling," he sighed, slipping his hands under her and cupping the soft pillows of her buttocks as he increased the speed of his fucking motions. "I love you ... with all my heart! Charles and Reyes wanted me to help them kill you ... but I told them where to get off ... and ... you need me, Susan ... and I'm going to marry you ... aaah ... and protect you!"
Susan had no way of knowing if he was telling her the truth. If he was, she certainly needed his protection. If not, then he was desperate. The whole situation was insane. She was afraid of all three of the men, Simmons included. But her life was at stake, and Simmons, though he could've been the one who murdered her grandmother, was the only hope she had for the present. And he was fucking her so good that she couldn't think straight.
I'll have to pretend to agree to his proposal, she thought, heaving a sigh as she put her arms around him and opened her legs wider. I don't have any choice! Oh, why did he have to put his thing in me? And why does it have to feel so good?
"Oh, Susan ... my sweet Susan!" he cooed, when she slid her hands down his back and clasped the contracting cheeks of his thrusting butt. "We'll get married straightway!"
"Yes," she breathed, humping her hungry snatch up to meet his inrushing dong. "Whatever you say, Rob!"
His lips covered hers, and he stuck his tongue into her mouth. A soft sob of pleasured surrender escaped her nostrils. She accepted his tongue, licked it timidly, then moaned and began sucking it hungrily as she locked her legs over his and started throwing her juicy cunt up to him.
I can't help it! she thought fuzzily. He's not cruel like the others! And he says he loves me! Maybe I love him, too! Ohhh ... it's awful of me, and I know it, but I do like what he's doing to me! He's fucking me ... and it's so nice!
"I love the way you're fucking me, Rob!" she cried aloud without thinking, and once she'd said it she didn't want to take it back. It thrilled her to admit such a lustful thing. She dug her fingernails into his buttocks and pulled his sturdy dick all the way into her dribbling twat.
"Aagghhh!" he groaned, shuddering with a burst of masochistic bliss at the sudden pain she'd caused him. "You darling!" he croaked, and the first jet of his semen raced up the twitching shaft of his peter and squirted out the eye at the tip of his expanded cockhead.
"Not yet!" Susan wailed, shaking him with her fingernails buried in the layer of fatty tissue covering his tensed buttocks, only adding to his ecstasy. "Don't come yet, Rob! I like it now! I want you to fuck me for a long, long time!"
"Ung, ung, ung!" he grunted, oblivious of her need as he pumped the rest of his load deep into her straining belly.
His organ went limp almost immediately, and he apologized as he withdrew, which only frustrated the sexually aroused young woman all the more. She lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, while Simmons got up and went into the bathroom. It required all her self-control not to yield to the nasty urge to put her hand between her legs and use her fingers to achieve the orgasm her feverish body yearned for.
Simmons came back and climbed into bed with her. He removed her nightgown and held her naked in his arms, stroking her lovingly as he talked of marriage and the trip they would take to England as soon as things were settled.
Krista's dog began howling out by the edge of the woods. It wouldn't shut up. The sound seemed to upset Simmons, but Susan had other things on her mind. Her body was still aching for orgasmic release, and while Rob talked of their future together, stopping to curse the dog frequently, she fondled his penis. Doing such a wanton thing made her ashamed of herself, but she did it anyway, because of her physical need. He'd already screwed her, she reasoned, so what could it hurt if he did it again.
But his prick wouldn't respond to her manual stimulation. He was getting angry. "If that mutt doesn't quit yapping, I'm going to go out there and shoot it!" he hissed.
"No, Rob!" Susan protested, jerking her hand away from his genitals and forgetting her sexual desire. "That's cruel! Miss Olson should have taken her dog with her. It misses her, is all. It'll quit howling after a while. Besides, what can a little barking hurt?"
"It hurts my ears," he grumbled. "I have no use for dogs ... especially that dreadful beast!"
The barking came closer and closer to the house, and Simmons became almost frantic. When the animal came up onto the veranda and began scratching at the French doors, Miss Olson's first and then Susan's, whining between bursts of barking, Simmons leaped out of bed and turned on the light.
"What are you going to do?" Susan asked fearfully.
"Kill that goddamned mutt!" he snapped, and he put on his slippers and robe, from the pocket of which he produced his pistol.
"No, Rob!" Susan cried, jumping out of bed and darting between him and the French doors. "You can't! I won't let you shoot the poor animal!"
She begged him not to kill the dog, saying that she could never love a man who would do such a cruel thing. Finally he relented, grudgingly, when she promised to keep the animal in her room and see that it stayed quiet.
"I'm going to have it taken to the humane shelter first thing in the morning, though," he insisted.
"All right," she said. "Bring some food from the kitchen. The poor thing is probably starving. I'll let it in while you're going for the food. Is there any leftover meat?"
He nodded stiffly. "I'll bring it. I'll set it outside the door. But I'll not sleep in the same room with that creature! Keep it quiet, Susan. I warn you, if I hear any more howling, I'll come down and shoot it!"