SUGAR HILL PLANTATION
by Rick Dalton
CHAPTER ONE
"There she is, just ahead - the Great House. Needs a little work, but what a magnificent estate," explained Mr. Mandeville as we rolled along the country lane.
I could see the house straight ahead of us. It did look pretty impressive.
The old Bentley pulled up close to a low stone wall and stopped.
"I'm afraid we'll have to walk from here," Mr. Mandeville went on, "the caretaker will show us around. I haven't been out here myself in many years."
A young black man strolled out slowly toward us.
"Jeremie, this is the gentleman from the States to see the property, if you'd be so good as to lead us into the house."
"Yessuh, Mr. Mandeville, we best enter from the front."
He led us along an uneven brick path that circled around the building,
"You can see Mr....ah..."
"Please, sir, just call me Rick."
"...very well, Rick, that the Great House was actually built to face out to the sea - the best view of course. We have come in from the rear, so to speak."
We rounded the corner revealing a great expanse of clipped lawn sloping gently down toward the sparkling blue Caribbean.
"Jeremie, here, keeps this part of the property carefully tended. The cane fields, however, have long since returned to nature."
"If you gentlemens will follow me," Jeremie said as his gaze lingered on me, perhaps a little longer than necessary.
My eyes couldn't help but notice the firm round butt as he led us up the stairway to the main level. What a sexy devil, this Jeremie.
We completed our tour of the vast empty house in short order.
"I must be getting back to town for another appointment," Mr. Mandeville began, "but perhaps I can arrange a rental. You could motor out tomorrow and Jeremie will show you the out buildings and the rest of the property."
"Yessuh, Mistuh Mandeville, I take good care of this gentleman," Jeremie smiled shyly.
"Very well, it's settled." He ushered me back to the Bentley for the long ride back into Montego Bay.
Once settled back in my hotel room, I placed a call to Key West.
"Jorge, it's Rick. You were right on target. This place is magnificent, or could be. The fields are overgrown, but the house is like a great English manor. I'm going back out tomorrow to view the other buildings on the property. Could be just what we're looking for. Even comes with a hot sexy caretaker."
"Uh-oh! Better be careful. Legend has it the slaves murdered one of the owners back in the 1800's. Lots of voodoo and witchcraft in the tales."
"I'm sure I can handle Jeremie. I think he likes me already. I'll call you tomorrow if we need to make an offer."
"Okay, Ricky boy, be glad to fly down if you decide to go for it."
Getting an early start the next morning, I found my rental car waiting for me outside the hotel. It was a convertible, how thoughtful of Mr. Mandeville. I got maps from the front desk and proceded east out of town toward the plantation by way of the Shore Road, the scenic route. Just outside of town, I pulled off the road to put the top down. Examining the map more closely, I could see that following the shore line was twice the distance of the cross country route of yesterday.
An hour later I arrived at the low stone wall surrounding the Great House. I glanced around as I got out of the car. No sign of Jeremie. The waters of the Caribbean sparkled in the morning sun, beckoning to me to walk down the sloping lawn toward the shore. Approaching the waters edge, I could see that there was very little beach sand - mostly rocks. It was seemingly deserted. Slowly turning back toward the house, I spotted a sunbather tucked into a sandy spot along the grassy border. I walked over toward him. It was Jeremie in a tight little red speedo, slumbering in the morning sun, his smooth brown skin lightly speckled with glistening drops of water. Sensing my presence, he opened his eyes.
"Sorry, suh, didn't 'spect you so early," he stammered as he struggled to his feet.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," I returned. "Perhaps I could walk around the property for a bit."
"Yessuh, Mistuh Rick, I'm s'posed to show you the rest o' the propity." He quickly slipped into shorts and sandals.
"Don't have to get dressed on my account," I smiled. "You looked great just the way you were."
He brightened and turned suddenly toward the house. "We need to walk the farm road to get back to the old sugar mill. You want to see it?"
"Sure, Jeremie, I want to see everything."
By noon our tour had included the mill, or the ruins thereof - no roof, only four stone walls, the old slave quarters - most were roofless, and the overseer's house. This last building had been updated as a caretakers cottage and was quite solid looking. Raised up one level from the ground in the tropical style, it had a beautiful stairway leading up to the front porch.
"Is this where you stay, Jeremie?"
"Yessuh, I need to keep watch on the Great House. Got to report to Mistuh Mandeville everything."
"Well can I look inside?"
"Yessuh, Mistuh Rick, I be pleased to show ya."
Jeremie led the way up the steps. I couldn't keep my eyes off his tight rounded butt.
"You've made this place quite comfortable," I commented, glancing around the little living room. "Did you do all this work yourself?"
"No, suh, Nathaniel, my friend from over to Rose Hall, he help me." Jeremie walked across the room and opened another door. "This is the kitchen and where I eat."
"And you have a bedroom and bath?"
"Yessuh, just in here." He led the way over to the other end of the living room where another door opened into a spacious bedroom, very light and airy with an antique four poster bed of mahogany.
"You have very good taste, Jeremie," I commented. "That bed looks very old and valuable."
"Nathaniel and me, we carried it over from the Great House. But we put it back if you buy this place." Jeremie looked worried for a moment.
"I haven't decided to buy it yet. If I did, would you be willing to stay on here and help me with the renovation?"
"Oh, yessuh, I needs to work." Jeremie smiled broadly.
"There's just one other thing you need to know. If I buy Sugar Hill, the Great House will be a guest house, sort of like a private hotel for people from the U.S. These people would be mostly men, older men and some younger men like yourself. Would that be a problem with you, Jeremie?"
"No suh. You mean gay men?"
"Exactly, Jeremie," I grinned. "I didn't know you knew about gay men."
"Yessuh, Mistuh Rick, I know all about gay men." Jeremie looked selfconsciously down at his shorts. I did too. Jeremie looked up and caught me staring at his growing bulge.
"Maybe I can help you with that little problem, Jeremie," I offered as I walked over to him. Slowly pushing his shorts down to the floor, I knelt down between his smooth muscular legs. His cock grew ever harder, straining through the thin speedo. I pulled this down too. Jeremie stepped quickly out of them.
"You want to suck my dick, mon?" he said slyly.
"I want to worship that dick." I took the growing cockhead into my mouth. Jeremie leaned back against the brick shelf behind him, thrusting his manhood further into my mouth. As I tried taking him deep into my throat I grasped his legs and could feel them trembling with excitement.
I stood up, taking Jeremie by the hand. "Let's go over to the bed." I pushed him back gently into the middle of the deep down filled bed covering. Taking a position between his legs again, I worked my mouth up and down his thick black cock. He trembled and strained, close to orgasm. "Perhaps I better get comfortable," I said taking a break and stripping off my own clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor. I gently turned Jeremie over on his stomach. The twin brown globes of his smooth firm bubble butt looked too good to pass up. I gently thrust my spit coated finger into his tight rosy ass. It seemed to loosen up slightly as he squirmed and thrust back against me.
"You want to fuck me, Mistuh Rick?" Jeremie mumbled, his face buried into the pillow.
"Is that okay with you , Jeremie?"
"Yessuh, Nathaniel fucks me all the time."
I quickly lubed my rigid cock with my own saliva. Gently probing, then pushing a little harder, I slowly entered his delicious asshole. Thrusting in and out, harder and harder, I could feel him tighten as he neared his own climax.
"Oh, God, Jeremie, I'm cumming."
"Me too."
I let loose a stream deep inside as Jeremie shuddered with his own spasm. He turned slightly and shot out on to the bed covering.
"Next time you got to hold it longer Jeremie, I want to swallow all that rich cream," I sighed as I held his warm brown body close to mine.
Suddenly the bedroom door swung inward. We both sat up with surprise.
"I guess I missed the party," said the huge black dreadlocked man in the doorway.
"Who is this? " I stammered nervously.
"Mistuh, Rick, meet my boyfriend, Nathaniel!"
CHAPTER TWO
"Geez, Nathaniel, you scared me to death. I thought you'd be mad as hell."
"No, man, I just look fierce, with these dreads and all. I'm really a pussy cat inside. Just ask Jeremie here."
"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean - Jeremie!"
"No, we're just fuck buddies. Isn't that right Jeremie?"
"Whatever you say, Nathaniel," Jeremie called from the kitchen.
"You see, Jeremie and I kind of grew up together. He was raised here. I was raised at Rose Hall, just next door practically."
"But you don't even sound alike," I said.
"That's the difference in education. The Prescotts, who owned Rose Hall sent me to school in the States. I studied engineering at FIU, in Miami. Jeremie never left Jamaica.
Actually, he's never been out of this parish."
"If you gentlemens is done discussin' my lack a' schoolin', lunch is served in the main dinin' room," came the comment from the kitchen door.
Jeremie had whipped up an island treat, Jamaican patties and conch fritters. A crisp green salad and glasses of iced tea completed the meal.
"I'd better get back to work," Nathaniel said, pushing his chair back from the table.
"Why don't you stop over at Rose Hall later, Rick, and meet Tommie Prescott. I think you two will have a lot in common." Nathaniel winked as he crossed over to the door. "Jeremie will show you the way."
"Sure, I'd like that. Thanks, Nathaniel."
All that I'd imagined Sugar Hill could become, Rose Hall was. An elegant Georgian-style manor house set into well manicured lawns and surrounded by beautifully restored out buildings, it was reached from the Shore Road by a straight gravel road lined on both sides with stately old trees. A simple stone fountain redirected the drive way to circle around in front of the main entrance. Nathaniel was waiting for us at the bottom of the outside stairway.
"You wait here, Jeremie," he directed. "I'll show Rick upstairs to the main drawing room."
Apparently all the Great Houses had the same configuration. The main living floor was one level up from the ground. Arched openings below led to working rooms and servants areas. Nathaniel led me up the outside stairway to the double front door. Entering the cool hallway, I felt transported back in time to an era of grand elegance. The rich mahogany furnishings and gilt framed portraits lining the walls reminded me of an English country estate from a Merchant-Ivory film. A cute young man with an elfish smile was descending the grand staircase from the upper level.
"Mastuh Thomas, may I present Mistuh Rick of Sugar Hill," Nathaniel announced with a slight bow.
I glanced over at Nathaniel and whispered, "What's with the accent?"
"Shh," he whispered back.
The young man stepped toward me and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you Rick, but call me Tommie. Let's go in here, and I want to hear all about your plans for the old house." He led me into the equally elegant drawing room. "Nathaniel, bring us drinks please. Gin and tonic all right with you Rick?"
"Sure, whatever you're having."
"Here, sit next to me." He patted the cushion of the damask covered Chippendale sofa.
We chatted over an hour about Rose Hall, Sugar Hill and Jamaica in general. Nathaniel kept our iced drinks replenished, then discreetly withdrew from the room. Finally Tommie turned and closed his hand over mine.
"You have a boyfriend, Rick?"
"Aah... well..." The sudden turn in conversation caught me by surprise. "My friend Marco is back in Florida. He's not able to join me right now. Circumstances and all, you know."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Rick. Let me give you our tour of the house. We're known for our warm hospitality here in Jamaica," he smiled mischieviously.
I knew where this little scene was headed - right for the bedroom.
"Last but not least, the master suite." Tommie threw open the door of a luxuriously appointed bedroom. Brocaded draperies and bed hangings framed the rich mahogany fourposter.
Without a word, Tommie walked toward the bed and stripped out of his clothing. Turning to me with that elfish smile I had noticed before, he said, "See anything you like. Rick? Help yourself."
I wasted no time stripping off my own clothes and falling to my knees in front of Tommie's gorgeous cock. Taking it into my mouth, I reached my hands up to pull him closer to me. Tommie pushed my hands away.
"Suck me good," Tommie commanded, pushing his hips forward to enter the back of my throat.
I complied. The liquor we consumed had loosened me up considerably.
"Just as I thought," Tommie stated, "you make a good slave!"
He held my shoulders as he thrust his hips forward and backward, fucking my mouth.
The action was really turning me on. I wrapped my hand around my own engorged member, starting to jerk off.
"No, slave, keep your hands down," Tommie ordered. "You're here to please me - only me." He continued pushing deeper and deeper into my throat. Suddenly he spasmed into my mouth, holding my head tight against his sweet smelling crotch. I swallowed gratefully as he sent his creamy load down my eager throat. Slowly, very slowly, he pulled his still hardened cock out. "Now, slave, lick every drop." As I carefully tongued his beautiful cockhead, lapping every stray droplet, he eased back onto the bed.
Remaining on my knees beside the bed, I kept my eyes on the floor in a subserviant manner.
"Stand up, slave," Tommie suddenly directed. He eyed me from head to toe, stopping momentarily at my pre-cum oozing dick. "I see this excites you, slave, but enough for now. Get dressed." He reclined back on the silken sheets as I dutifully redressed. Pulling the bed covering up over him, he called out, "Nathaniel, come in please."
The door opened immediately and Nathaniel entered the room. "Yes, Mastuh Thomas?"
"Please show our guest out." Then Tommie turned to me, once again smiling warmly.
"It was certainly nice meeting you, Rick. Perhaps tomorrow you could join me sailing. My friend Phillipe will take us out on his boat. Say, elevenish?"
This sudden change in manner was very confusing, and I wasn't sure how to answer. "Why, yes, Tommie, I'd be honored. See you at eleven." I quickly followed Nathaniel out of the room.
As we quietly descended to the first floor, Nathaniel finally broke the silence. "I see you made quite an impression on Tommie. He doesn't play the master-slave game with just anyone."
"You were listening to us?" I asked surprised.
"Listening and watching. I'm duty-bound to protect the young master - from himself as well as from anyone else."
"So he plays this game, as you call it, a lot?"
"Ever since he came home from the university, Oxford, in England. His parents sent me to school in Florida to learn how to operate this plantation. They sent Tommie to England to learn how to be a gentleman."
"So Tommie is lord of the manor, but you're really the one in charge?"
"Yeah, something like that." Nathaniel smiled over at me.
As he walked me out to my car, I looked around for Jeremie. "Is Jeremie gone?"
"I sent him back home, by the farm road. It's just a short hike over that hill. These two plantations are adjoining properties. It just seems farther when you drive by way of the Shore Road. You going back to town?"
"Yes, I think I've had enough excitement for one day. Will I see you tomorrow?"
"I won't be going sailing, but I'll be watching over all three of you. See you later, Rick."
Entering my hotel room, I placed another call to Key West.
"Jorge, it's me, Rick. Go ahead with an offer. I think I'm going to like this place - a lot."
"So you made it with the caretaker, eh, Ricky boy?" Jorge snickered.
"Jorge, it's just this wonderful Jamaican hospitality. They make you feel right at home, like part of them."
"Yeah, right, just as I thought. I'll get on it first thing in the morning. Give you a call at Noon?"
"No, make it after six. I'll be yachting with the next door neighbors," I said archly.
"Well, la ti da, as they say here in Old Town. I'll call you after six then. Be careful, my boy, remember, you're no sailor," he admonished.
"Yes, Mother!" I hung up.
CHAPTER THREE
With anticipation, I drove out Shore Road, eastward again, toward Rose Hall. I bypassed the lane leading to Sugar Hill. It was just after ten in the morning, but I didn't want to be late for my sailing date with Tommie and Phillippe, whoever he was.
Nathaniel was waiting for me at the main entrance of the Great House.
"Morning, Rick. I guess Tommie didn't scare you off yesterday."
"Good morning, Nathaniel. No, I don't scare easily. Don't know what part I'm supposed to play today, but I'm up for it. Yesterday was very stimulating."
"Come on upstairs to the library, I'll tell the Master you're here," he grinned.
Moments later, Tommie appeared at the the library door, resplendant in his yachting whites - crisply starched shirt with little epaulets, white duck trousers and deck shoes.
"Morning, Rick, you ready to see the island from a new viewpoint?"
"Sure, lead on, I'll be your faithful follower."
Tommie gazed at me with a puzzled espression. Perhaps I had overstepped my bounds. "Let's get going then. We'll take my car down to the marina. Just leave your keys with Nathaniel."
He motioned me to follow him out to the corridor and toward the rear of the house. I was overwhelmed by the richly furnished hallway as apparent ancestors looked down at us from their gilt frames. We exited French doors to a rear stairway leading down to the motor court behind the house. Counting doorways, there appeared to be stalls for at least six automobiles. A gleaming Jaguar XKE stood waiting in the court - British Racing Green, of course.
My little gift from Father when I got back from school," Tommie explained. "Climb in, I'll drive us to the marina, but you can drive back. I'll probably be too smashed to drive anyway."
"Are your parents away?" I asked casually as we sped down the driveway.
"No, they're dead!" Tommie answered flatly, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Oh, Tommie, I'm sorry, I didn't know." I felt like a real idiot, foot in mouth time.
Tommie never responded, just kept driving until we approached the turnoff down to the shore. "Well, we're here," he turned to me smiling brightly. "I hope you don't get seasick, looks a little windy out there today." He wheeled into the parking lot and pulled up to the clubhouse. Leaving the car with a valet, we walked directly down to waterfront. Row after row of gleaming white yachts were lined up. One more magnificent than the other.
"Phillippe's parents are members here, so they let him keep his little sailing toy docked with these other monstrosities," Tommie explained.
"Ahoy, there, matey," a voice called down from a sleek hulled vessel just ahead of us.
"Permission to come aboard, sir," Tommie yelled back.
"Pretty expensive toy," I commented.
"Yes, Phillippe has a pretty good allowance," Tommie explained. "His parents are in bauxite."
I must have looked perplexed.
"...as in aluminum ore mining."
"Oh, yeah, right."
Tommie led the way up the stainless steel ladder to the main deck above. "My new neighbor, Rick, from the States," he introduced me to the tall dark haired young man coiling up the lines on deck.
"Hi, I'm Phillippe, welcome aboard the Princess," he said stepping forward and extending a well manicured hand. "If you boys are ready, we'll cast off right away."
Within fifteen minutes we had motored out of the little harbor. Phillippe cut the inboard engines and sprang foward toward the furled sails. "Now the fun begins," he called over his shoulder. "Tommie, give me a hand here, you know the drill." Within minutes the sails caught the brisk breeze and propelled us out toward the sea.
"Okay, clothing off." Phillippe stripped down and took over the wheel. "Mate, go below and fix a drink tray," he ordered.
"Aye, Cap'n," Tommie disappeared below.
I looked around nervously, not sure if I should undress or wait for Tommie's lead.
He soon appeared with our drink tray, fully nude as well. "Come on Rick, don't be shy, it's just us guys," Tommie kidded.
I scrambled out of my own clothes and grabbed the drink Tommie thrust at me.
"It's rum runners all around," he explained, "Jamaican rum, of course. Here, Cap'n, a double for you."
Phillippe took a long swallow of his drink. "Take the wheel, mate, while I show our guest the rest of the ship. Come on, Rick."
"Watch out, I think the captain's horny," Tommie warned goodnaturedly.
"You bet, I am," Phillippe responded, pulling me through the open hatchway.
At the bottom of the stairway, we entered the plushly furnished salon. "Come on, sailor, I'll show you the captain's stateroom." He pulled me along with him toward a cabin in the stern of the ship, closing the door behind us. "Okay, sailor, down on your knees. Your Captain needs a hearty blow job."
This routine was beginning to seem a little familiar. I quickly dropped to the deck and and allowed Phillippe to push his quickly growing cock into my mouth. With no need for futher instruction, I brought him to full erection with my willing tongue.
Suddenly pulling out, Phillippe turned around pushing his smoothly tanned butt into my face.
"Okay, sailor, put that hot wet tongue up my asshole." He reached behind and pulled my head tight aginst his sweet succulent cheeks. I probed deep into his tight rosey anus.
"Oh, yeah, sailor, fuck me good with that beautiful tongue." He wriggled down, rubbing my face between his delicious cheeks. "Yeah, eat me good, sailor." Bending forward again, he crawled up on the bunk. "Okay sailor, wet down that hunk of meat and fuck me, long and hard."
I crawled up behind, tongued his ass until it was soaking wet. My cock easily slipped deep into his willing asshole "Yeah, sailor, that feels real good," he moaned. "Fuck me harder." He thrust up against me, grinding his ass into my groin. I fell foward grabbing his sleekly muscled shoulders while I pumped away. His smooth tanned neck tasted slightly salty as I nibbled passionately. "Fuck me, harder, harder," he squirmed with increased frenzy.
I couldn't hold back any longer, spurting all my stored up cum deep into his welcoming ass. Phillippe wriggled out from under me, pushing me over flat on my back. Grabbing his own throbbing member, he beat off furiously as he brought his hot wet mouth down over my still dripping cock. Sucking and draining me dry with his mouth, his hand brought his own cock to a spurting climax. White creamy globs shot out onto my stomach, clinging to my moistened skin. Phillippe greedily sucked up every drop, licking my stomach and chest.
Spent with the furiousness of his passion, he curled up against me, closing his eyes. I gently encircled him with my arms, drawing him close to me. Feeling guilty about leaving Tommie all alone so long, I eased out of the bed. Phillippe didn't stir so I left him napping and quietly slipped out of the cabin and back up on deck.
Tommie looked over quizzically as I emerged from below. "So Phillippe gave you the complete tour?"
"I think he covered everything," I said, looking down sheepishly, realizing I was still somewhat wet and sticky.
"Is he sleeping ?"
"I left him curled up in the rear cabin."
"Yeah, he get's that way. All hyper and horny, passionate sex, then a wee nappy to recouperate."
"I'm sorry, Tommie, I didn't mean for anything to happen. He was all over me the minute we got below."
"Don't worry, Rick, it's okay. I know how he operates - the seagoing playboy. We've been friends since we were kids. Went to prep school together. Then he went to Harvard, I went to Oxford. We're not lovers or anything - yet. Someday, maybe, if he ever settles down..."
"Yeah, I know how that goes. My Marco's the same way. He's still got a wild streak of independence, but I love him dearly."
"Let's anchor here, take a swim, and when Phillippe gets up we'll have lunch."
Later, as Tommie and I toweled off back on deck after our refreshing swim, Phillippe appeared from below. "Sorry guys, didn't mean to pass out on you. I was up pretty late last night."
"I'll go fix our lunch," Tommie offered, "while you fill in Rick about Sugar Hill."
"What's he mean?" I asked as Tommie disappeared through the hatchway.
"I guess old Mandeville probably didn't want to scare you off, but some people say the Great House is still haunted by the ghost of it's former mistress. She was found murdered in her bed. It was rumored her housemaid was jealous over the mistress's attention to the maid's boyfriend. They had become lovers after the master of the house died under mysterious circumstances. This was back in 1838 during the great slave rebellion. I guess anything could have happened during those times. Anyway, lights have been seen moving slowly through the house at night. Could be ghosts or could be drug runners. Being isolated and near the water does have it's advantages."
I shivered, involuntarily, even though we were both sitting in the hot sun.
"You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Rick?" Phillippe taunted.
"After what I've seen in Havana, I believe anything is possible," I retorted. "Wait until some dark and stormy night and I'll have a tale to tell you."
"Lunch break," Tommie sang out, bringing up a tray from below.
We feasted on cold crab salad, fresh melon, and more rum runners.
Sailing lazily back up the coastline, Phillippe at the wheel, Tommie and I basking in the sun, the afternoon passed quickly. By the time we reached the marina, I knew who would be driving us back to Rose Hall. Tommie was soused. After pulling neatly into the slip and cutting the engines, Phillippe directed me how to tie off the lines.
"I'm sorry you had to see Tommie like this," Phillippe apologized. "Ever since his parents died he's been hitting the booze pretty hard."
"He warned me I'd have to drive him back, that's why I laid off several drinks ago."
"If you'll go up to the clubhouse and bring his car down closer, I'll get him dressed and walk him out. I don't want anyone to see him like this. He just doesn't know how much I really care about him."
"Phillippe, you've got to tell him. He's in love with you." I gave him a quick hug. "Thanks again for a beautiful day." I descended to the wooden pier and headed for the car.
Tommie slept all the way back to Rose Hall. The skies had changed from light blue to gold and then to an orange as the sun slowly slipped down into the sea. As we entered the allee leading up to the Great House, dusk had descended. Nathaniel was waiting for us as I drove around to the rear motor court.
"I see the Master is in his cups again," Nathaniel announced as he opened Tommie's door and gathered him into his thick muscular arms. "Let me carry him upstairs and put him to bed, then I'll be back down and fix you a light snack or a drink, if you wish."
"Yes, I'd like that, Nathaniel. There's something I wanted to ask you about anyway, something about the sightings at Sugar Hill."
"I figured you'd hear about it sooner or later. It's time you knew what's really going on," he sighed.
While he attended to Tommie, I wandered into the drawing room and waited.
Nathaniel soon appeared. "Let's go back to the kitchen and raid the icebox, cook's already gone back into town and there's no one else in the house. We won't be over heard. I've got a lot to tell you."
CHAPTER FOUR
I sat at the kitchen work table, munching on the remants of the roast beef sandwich Nathaniel had fixed for me, and listening to his unfolding tale of the 'goings on' at Sugar Hill. He had been talking for nearly an hour.
"...and I'm convinced this had something to do with the Prescotts' death," he said in closing. "Here, let me fix you a drink, you look like you could use one."
"After what I've just heard, I may need several," I replied.
"What would be your pleasure , Master Rick?" Nathaniel chuckled as he headed into the butler's pantry. (Don't you just love these old houses!) "We've got everything, Master Tommie is quite the connoiseur of fine liquors."
"I'd love a Bombay gin on the rocks with a lemon twist, if you have it."
"Sapphire label or regular proof?"
"Oh, you really do have everything! Sapphire please. ...and as for my pleasure - we can get to that later," I grinned.
Nathaniel poured a generous amount of the gin over cracked ice, served it up in an antique Waterford crystal tumbler. "Sorry, we're out of fresh lemon," he apologized as he served the drink to me on a silver tray.
"You promise to fix me another of these, later and I won't mention the missing lemon."
"I think you'd best spend the night here, Rick. Shouldn't be driving alone with two of these in your system. I'm sure Tommie won't mind. We have plenty of guest rooms."
I took a deep drink of the aromatic gin. "I was hoping I could see your room, Nathaniel," I looked up at him coyly.
"The Prescotts, including Tommie, are very traditional people, Rick. They don't approve of the races mixing socially...or any other way." He looked a bit embarrassed.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I'd be delighted to stay in one of the guest rooms." I gulped down the rest of my drink. "Please lead the way, Nathaniel."
"Let me fix that backup drink for you, I'll carry it upstairs."
Nathaniel led the way out to the main hall and up the grand stairway. "This room was always used for visiting dignitaries," he explained, throwing open the door of an elegant bedroom, much like Tommie's across the hall. "You'll find everything you need in the bathroom, and robes and towels are in the closet." He placed my drink tray on the marble topped dresser and turned to leave.
"Where can I find you, if anything should come up during the night?" I asked suggestively.
"Back of the hallway, a service stairway leads up to my room on the third floor. It also goes directly down to the kitchen, if you should need anything else to eat or drink." He quietly closed the door as he left the room.
I guess I was being too pushy. I didn't want to get Nathaniel in trouble with Tommie.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I finished off the second drink. Undressing in the adjoining bath, I picked out a light blue silk dressing gown from the closet. Returning to the bedroom, I heard a light tapping at the door.
"Sorry, Rick, I didn't mean to seem so cold," Nathaniel apologized as he opened the door. "Just don't want any trouble with Master Tommie."
"I'm not asking to marry you, Nathaniel, I just wanted to see your room."
"Sure, if you want, come with me."
The little servant's room on the third floor had been simply furnished in a more comtemporary style. "The influence of Miami, I guess," he explained. "I like things plain and simple."
"Very nice, may I sit on the bed?" Not waiting for an answer, I plopped down on the edge of the mattress,the silk gown falling open at the waist. Of course I had nothing on underneath.
Nathaniel looked at me guardedly. "Rick, may I have sex with you?"
"Gee, you're the only one that's ever asked first! Take your clothes off and let me see what you've got." I ordered.
Nathaniel slowly undressed down to a jock strap. He was already getting hard. Standing there looking down at me with his massive chest and muscular arms crossed, he looked very powerful and a bit intimidating. "How's this, sir?"
"No, no...none of that master-slave game, Nathaniel. I'll make you a deal. If you can give me a hard on, we'll have sex man to man, as equals." I knew I couldn't lose this game.
Nathaniel stepped out of his jock strap and leaned over the edge of the bed, his massive tool growing even bigger. He looked at my face expectantly, awaiting my reaction.
I threw the dressing gown over a chair and lay back in the middle of the bed. My erection was full and very hard.
"I guess you win, Nathaniel, I'm all yours."
He slid into the bed beside me, pulling me eagerly into his arms. He entered me slowly and carefully and made love gently. As his rhythm quickened, signalling his nearing climax, he thoughtfully brought me along to the same state of excitement with his caressing hand. We exploded in passion together. He, deep inside me, and I, spilling out over him. Bringing my handful of cream to his mouth, he licked it clean. Then kissing me gently, he shared it with me.
I sighed with contentment, and asked quietly, "May I sleep here with you tonight?"
"Of course," he assured me. Hugging me closer to him, I drifted off to sleep, safe in his arms.
The next morning I awoke to sunshine streaming through the windows. I was back in the guest room, feeling very rested and refreshed. Had I imagined last night? How did I get back here? Spotting the blue dressing gown carefully folded at the foot of the bed. I stood up and put it on. A light knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," I called out uncertainly.
Nathaniel's face appeared around the edge of the door. "Breakfast will be served in the dining room in thirty minutes. May I bring you coffee or tea, sir?"
"Nathaniel, get in here," I commanded. "What happened last night, how did I get back in this room?"
"Whatever do you mean, sir?"
"Was it all a dream, did I imagine spending the night with you, making love?"
"Yes sir, perhaps it was just a dream." He smiled gently, closing the door softly.
I lingered in the shower, trying to remember all the details of the previous evening. Nothing made sense. I quickly shaved, dressed in yesterdays clothes, and descended to the main floor. Following the smell of freshly brewed coffee, I easily found my way to the dining room. Tommie was already seated at one end of the massive mahogany dining table.
"Good morning, Rick," he welcomed, smiling brightly. "I hope you slept well?"
"Yes, thank you," I replied, "it was a very...ah, interesting evening."
"Help yourself to breakfast," he pointed at the ornately carved sideboard laden with silver serving dishes. "Cook sometimes goes overboard in the morning. Figures I may miss lunch."
Just then Nathaniel entered the room. "May I serve your plate, sir?"
"Sure, thanks, Nathaniel," I tried to catch his eye, but he turned without meeting my glance.
Tommie motioned me to the chair to his right. As I sat down he took my arm and leaned in close and whispered, "Thanks for driving me home last night, I couldn't have made it without you."
"Of course, what are friends for? And now that we may be neighbors..."
"So you decided to go ahead with Sugar Hill, even after Phillippe's ghost stories?" Tommie asked excitedly.
"Even after everybody's stories," I asserted firmly, glancing up as Nathaniel placed my breakfast plate before me.
He met my gaze calmly, silently.
"We'll help any way we can, won't we, Nathaniel?" Tommie offered.
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