Chapter 6
Rebecca never had to look for men or women to fuck. They were simply there. And so available. The men fell all over themselves in their eagerness to accommodate her, to let her ride their cocks as long as she wished, in any way she wished. And the women couldn't get their heads between her shapely thighs quickly enough.
Derek knew he would never forget the first time he saw Rebecca. She cruised up in front of his real estate office in her big powder blue Bronco, with orange striping, and his life took an abrupt turn for the better.
He stood on the porch of the chalet he used as an office and watched her stroll across the parking lot to the building, noting her high, firm breasts, her fine legs, narrow waist and well-rounded hips. He liked women who looked like women, not those skinny creatures with flat chests and no hips or ass, whose gender you couldn't tell without undressing them. Her rich chestnut hair fell below her shoulders and framed a kittenish face with full red lips that seemed on the verge of a smile.
"You must be a Denver Broncos fan," he said as she approached.
"Dyed-in-the-wool," Rebecca replied with a soft laugh. "My husband wouldn't stand for the idea of an orange vehicle with blue striping, so I had to settle for that one."
Her low, lively voice made his heart turn over in his chest. He instantly sensed a magical combination of femininity and strong sexuality. He noted the rings on her dainty left hand and sighed with regret.
He held out his hand and said, "I'm Derek Randall. What can I do for you today?"
"I'm Rebecca Johnston." She took his hand in a firm grip. "I stopped at the only restaurant in the village for lunch and the waitress said you might help me find a cabin in the woods. She gave you a big build-up. Either you pay her handsomely for steering customers your way, or she's your girlfriend."
Derek held onto her hand, reluctant to let go, afraid she might simply evaporate before his eyes like an apparition. He guessed her age about forty, but she certainly didn't look it. Her bright, vivacious eyes said she had plenty of life left in her. He became aware of her warm, fruity perfume. A vision of a harvest time woman who inspired thoughts of ripened fruit and grape festivals and long cool nights with an earth goddess filled his mind.
Rebecca let him hold her hand while she did her own evaluation. She saw a tall, slender, good-looking young man with eyes so blue they looked as if someone had painted them to match the clear blue Colorado skies. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a warm, charming smile. She felt an immediate erotic attraction between them.
After a moment, she looked directly into his eyes and said softly, "Hello. Anyone there?"
He shook himself mentally and released her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
She smiled slyly. "The waitress."
"Oh, yes. Well, Cathy is a friend, and she's a girl, but she's isn't my girlfriend. Not in the sense you mean it. Well, not exactly, anyway. Come inside." He held the door open and motioned her inside. "Do you want to rent or buy?"
"Buy, if the price is right." She followed him inside and deliberately brushed his arm with her breast as she passed him. "Something secluded, suitable for year-round living."
"Are you going to move up here?" he asked hopefully. "You sure would brighten up the area."
"No. We just want a little hideaway for occasional visits."
He opened his listing book and showed her a picture. "This might be just what you're looking for. Rustic. Cozy. Isolated. About a quarter-mile off the county road, which is kept open in the winter. But you need a four-wheel to make it up to the cabin. Not one of those foreign rinky-dink things that get hung up on a pine cone, but a real one, like your Bronco. A great room with a huge fireplace, kitchen, one large bedroom, a large bath and a spa and hot tub on the deck. The owner died recently, and the executor of his estate said sell immediately. It just went on the market yesterday."
"Sounds good. Let's take a look at it."
They drove up the mountain in Derek's nearly-new Subaru and he continued his sales pitch on the way. "The owner was a rich recluse. He came up a couple of times a month, always accompanied by two or three very robust young ladies."
Rebecca laughed softly, sexily. "By robust, you mean well-endowed. Now I know why your eyes lit up when you looked at me."
"You would make any man's eyes light up, lady. The cabin comes completely furnished. If you don't want the furniture, I'll move it out and the executor can easily sell it at auction."
"Tell me, Derek, why do so many men fantasize about having two women at the same time? I'm no whiz at math, but it seems to me that two will go into one a lot more often than one will go into two. With three or four, the situation is a lot more lopsided. "
He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I guess we all dream of having a harem."
"Supposedly, Solomon had a thousand wives and concubines in his harem. Even a virile young man such as yourself can't expect to successfully spread himself that thin. You didn't say how old the owner was, but since he was a rich recluse, I assume he was getting on in years. What do you suppose he did with two or three robust young women at a time? Do you suppose they had to fly solo or keep each other entertained after they wore him out?"
He blushed deeply. "Here we are," he said, happy to change the subject.
The cabin was nestled deep in the pine forest surrounded by a small field of bright, multicolored flowers. Red geraniums filled the window boxes and assorted potted plants hung from hooks on the front porch. Rebecca fell in love with the cabin before she even saw the inside.
"Well, I guess his ladies didn't spend all their time on their back," she remarked drolly.
He helped her out and unlocked the front door. "The utilities are still on. Everything is electric. Gas trucks can't make it in here in the winter."
She wandered into the kitchen and looked around. "More expensive to heat water for the spa and hot tub. How big is the water heater?"
"A hundred gallons. He always turned it off when he left. Takes about four hours to fully heat the water after you turn it back on."
Rebecca nodded and went into the bedroom. Derek followed her, watching her foxy ass swing and sway under her summer frock. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra. He wondered if she wore panties. Then dismissed the thought of making time with her. Her old man had to be loaded to afford that rock on her left hand, and he had no wish to commit suicide.
She looked at the four-poster bed, smiling. "Wonderful," she said softly. "A real antique. And big enough for a crowd. But it had to be, didn't it?"
"Do you collect antiques?"
He ignored her very pointed remark about the size of the bed. He couldn't figure her out. She seemed very interested in the previous owner's sexual proclivities. Was she sending him a message?
"I'm an interior decorator," she replied. "My husband is a graphic design artist."
Why did she throw that in? Only a blind man could not see that she had a husband. Did she like to tease a man, thinking her rings kept her safe? Maybe she liked to fool around, but couldn't bring herself to make the first move. Did she want him to make a pass at her? Was she one of those women who said no while taking off her clothes and spreading her legs? God, he would love to get between those gorgeous legs! Her pussy probably tasted like the sweetest, juiciest peach imaginable. "Well, what do you think?" he asked. "How much?"
"Forty thousand, if you take the furniture."
That's a steal! The place is loaded with antiques, and they're worth at least that much. "Thirty, cash, as is," she said. "No sense in having new stuff trucked all the way up here. Don't try to dicker. I won't go a penny higher. There must be plenty of other places around that will do just as well."
"You're a tough lady." He held out his hand. "Done. Shall we go back to the office and do the paperwork? Joint tenancy, with you and your husband?"
"Yes," she replied immediately. "I'll give you the necessary information, and you get the papers ready." She let him escort her outside and help her into his vehicle. "I'll give you a deposit now, and come back tomorrow. I assume you need a certified check?"
"Take a few days to clear escrow. If you like, I can send everything to Denver and you can do the closing there."
"Okay. That way, Clay won't have to take a day off from work to come up here and sign everything. Where's the closest motel? I didn't see one in the village."
"Thirty miles. Down by the Interstate. If you don't want to drive that far, I'll turn on the water heater and you can stay in the cabin. The nights get pretty cold up here, even in the summer."
"Oh, that would be nice! Is there a store in the village where I can buy some groceries?"
Derek decided to take a chance. "Why don't I take you to dinner? We can stop by my place for a nightcap, and I'll lend you some eggs or whatever to make your breakfast."
Rebecca held out her hand. "Done. I bring my buggy back up here, and you can come up and get me when it's time for dinner. I want to get the feel of the place. Sort of try it on for size, if you know what I mean." She licked her lips seductively. "When you get something new that you really like, don't you like to try it out right away?"
"Where are we going for dinner?" she asked him as they drove down the mountain.
"I know a quaint little place in Breckenridge."
"That's almost to the Interstate. I could have driven down and spent the night in a motel."
"Oh, but then you wouldn't get to try on your new cabin or have dinner with me. This place serves the most scrumptious Chateaubriand you ever tasted. They cook it to perfection and serve it with little red potatoes and fresh asparagus smothered in Hollandaise sauce. Add a good burgundy, top it with off with Cherries Jubilee, and you have a meal fit for a king."
"And about three inches on my hips," she groaned.
"I'll chase you around the living room later," he quipped, half in jest.
She cut her eyes at him and chuckled sexily. "I don't run very fast when a handsome man chases me. I have other, more pleasant, ways of working off excess calories."
Over dinner, Derek said, "I like you, Rebecca Johnston. I feel comfortable with you."
"like a pair of old shoes or a pair of baggy pants, huh?" she quipped, then grinned. "Or like your mother, maybe."
"If my mother looked like you, I would still be living at home."
"Oh, my, how Freudian! I love it! Are you telling me you're a little kinky, Derek?"
"Perhaps. You'll have to find out for yourself. I'm telling you that I like being with you. I date girls my own age, and spend half the night trying to understand their gibberish. Or listening to horror stories about broken fingernails and bad hairdressers. Most of them are so self-centered, it's unbelievable."
"And you don't think I'm self-centered?"
"Anything but! You have a lot of self-confidence, which isn't the same. You have a sense of humor, you're intelligent, and you can carry on a conversation in words of more than one syllable. Can you imagine how hard it is to figure out where a girl is coming from when she answers you with grunts and shrugs?"
"I think you have a silver tongue. I'll find out later. I have a girlfriend about your age who doesn't answer with grunts and shrugs. A self-assertive little minx who knows what she wants and goes after it. A real looker, too. Maybe I'll introduce you one of these days." She smiled coyly. "If you don't mind an older woman fixing you up with a young chick."
"Make sure you have my phone number before you leave," he laughed.
"What about a woman turns you on, Derek? Legs? Breasts? A pretty face? A particular color hair?"
"Yes!" he said, laughing again. "I'd have to say personality more than anything else. You, for example, really turn me on."
Rebecca pushed the remains of her Cherries Jubilee aside and said, "Thank you for a delicious dinner, Derek. I haven't had a meal like that in weeks. And I won't have another like it for several more weeks! Too much of a good thing not only spoils a girl, it makes her fat and sassy. Oh, by the way, the water heats faster than you said. I had enough for a nice bath."
He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know how else to say it. I can't imagine you smelling any way but wonderful."
"That was nicely said," she smiled. "I get all gooey and sticky quite often."
They drove home leisurely, in a sated, dreamy state of mind. Neither spoke, unwilling to spoil the cozy mood.