SECRET AT SUGAR HILL

by Rick Dalton

CHAPTER ONE

"Ricky, I'm home!"

"You walk in without knocking, Jorge?"
"Did I catch you at a bad time? Been jerkin' off in the bathroom?"
"No, asshole! I'm going to practice celibacy while Marco's in rehab."
"You'll need to practice , a lot! Can't see you without a hot fuck for the next six months. Oh, I brought in your mail. Who do you know in London?"
"No one. You been reading my mail again?"
"Just the postmark, and it's got a 'queen' on the corner, so it must be for you," Jorge giggled.
"As long as you're here, make yourself useful and fix my martini while I peruse the mail in privacy."
Jorge retreated to the living room bar. The letter was postmarked from the U.K., and it was addressed to me. How curious. I quickly ripped it open and read:

Dear Sir;
I have enclosed a photo and resume' at the suggestion of my
Uncle Robin whom you met in New York. I understand you might
have an opening at your Jamaican guest house complex. If you would
consider granting me an interview, I could arrange to fly to Key West. I
must attend to family business in Jamaica next week and could stop
by on the return. Please contact me at your earliest covenience.
Your Humble Servant,
Barrone Carlysle

I strode out to the living room with the letter and photo in my hand.
"Jorge, where's my drink? I think I'm going to need it, this guy is 'hot'!"
"So am I," he called from the terrace. "Your drink's out here."
"Jorge! Don't do this to me," I begged, walking out through the French doors. "Where's your clothes?"
"Martini or me?"
"I told you I was celibate until Marco gets home."
"Technically you can still give me a blow job and it won't count as sex - according to Mr. Clinton," he leered.
"But then you'd have to do something nasty to me with a big fat Cuban cigar," I grinned back.
"How 'bout your hot mouth on my cock and my finger up your ass?"
I picked up my chilled martini and drank it down. Quickly stripping, I dropped my clothes on the terrace deck
"How 'bout your big fat Cuban cock up my ass instead," I said quietly as I joined him on the lounge.
"Yeah, I knew you were a sex addict," he said, as I brought my lips down over his hard cock.

In the morning, I placed a call to London. Mr. Carlysle was delighted I had called so quickly and promised to be in Key West within a fortnight, whatever that was.
Then Jorge telephoned. "Ricky, as much as I'd like to have a few days with you in Montego Bay, I can't get time off this week. Big corporate client coming in town this week. Your closing is routine, I've checked the paperwork. Just sign a few documents, pass over the bank draft for the balance, and you get immediate possession."
"Thanks, Jorge. I'll be okay...and about last night, it didn't happen!"
"I was hoping for an encore tonight...oh well."
"By the way, do you know how long a 'fortnight' is?"
"Two weeks. It's a contraction of fourteen nights. Why?"
"Oh dear, I'll be in Jamaica by then."
"So?"
"Nothing, Jorge, tell you tonight."
"Tonight? But I thought you said..."
"Your drink'll be ready when you get here. I want you!"

I was in bed waiting when Jorge arrived. As he passed through the living room he caught sight of the photo.
"Hey, Ricky, who's the stud?"
"Could be my new chef."
"That's the photo he sent with his resume?"
"Yeah, I think his Uncle Robin put him up to it."
"Who?"
"The guest house owner in Greenwich Village where Marco and I stayed the last night before we left New York."
"I'd say he wants the job pretty bad, sending a 'come on' like that."
"I think it worked - he's got it!"
"So this's what turned you on last night," Jorge laughed, "I thought it was me."
"You always make me hard. Just thinking about licking your chisled chest, sucking your manly tits, choking on your big cock, having my ass pumped full of your cream, groveling at your feet, worshipping you, that fulfills my fantasies."
"Are we ever going to be a couple? You know I'm in love with you, Rick," he said seriously.
"Please don't say that, you know I can't leave Marco. You love sex, so do I. Let's just leave it that way."
"I'll never give up, Ricky, someday you'll come to me, I know it."
"Jorge, please, I want you now - in me!"
He knew just how to turn me on. Slowly unbuttoning his jeans, letting his cock hang out, he pulled his tanktop up over his head. He kicked out of his topsiders, walking slowly over to the side of the bed. Hands on hips, his well muscled arms and rippled chest towered over me. His lengthening man muscle at eye level.
"Is this what you want, baby?"
I leaned up from my pillow and tried to take him in my mouth. He stepped back, just out of reach.
"Not yet, baby, you gotta work for it. Come over here," he ordered.
I slipped out of bed and knelt at his feet, reaching up to his cock.
"Now take my jeans down slowly." He then kicked them aside on the floor. "Now wet my dick with your hot juicy mouth, yeah, take it all the way in. Deeper!"
He pushed my face away from his crotch and ordered, "Lay across the edge of the bed. Yeah, stick that ass up in the air."
Pulling one of the bed pillows down, he tucked it under me, raising my ass higher.
"That's just about right, baby."
He stepped over behind me and slowly rubbed his hot throbbing cock between my ass cheeks. Pushing down on my shoulders, he slowly entered me, still standing behind. Easy at first, then increasing his rhythm, he pounded harder and harder.
"You like it rough, don't you baby?" he breathed.
I moaned with passion as I pushed my ass up to meet each thrust. Jorge reached under me and massaged my dick with his spit covered hand, sending me into spasms of pleasure.
"Fuck me, Jorge, harder, I'm gonna cum!"
"Yeah, me too, baby," he gasped as he shuddered and pushed in hard with his last thrust.
He collapsed in exhaustion on to my back as the last of my hot cream spurted out into his hand.
"Oh baby, I'm gonna leave it in you all night," he promised as he rolled over on his side and pulled me with him.
He spread my cream across my lips and then leaned over and licked every last drop, finally kissing me deeply with his tongue, returning some of it to me. I sighed with contentment as he drew me in tightly against him with his muscular arms.
"Sleep, baby, I'm never gonna let you go," he promised.

Jorge dropped me off at Key West's airport next morning to catch a commuter flight to Montego Bay. He promised to look after my apartment and antique car while I was gone. The plane soared out over the deep blue Caribbean filling me with a great sense of relief to be getting away. Jorge was becoming far too serious. I adored our sex together because he allowed me to explore my most erotic fantasies, but I wasn't in love with him.

CHAPTER TWO

It was 'closing day' and I remained in my hotel room enjoying a breakfast tray. I had checked in the previous afternoon and alerted Mr. Mandeville's office of my arrival. Remaining in seclusion seemed the wisest course as I wanted time to plan and dream, best done in solitude. I hadn't even called Rose Hall to speak to Tommie or Nathaniel. My dreams included young master Barrone Carlysle. Before leaving Key West I had managed to reach him in London. We arranged to hook up at my hotel in Montego Bay, day after the closing.

My appointment with Mr. Mandeville was set for two o'clock. I had a couple of hours free to look into a car rental. A Land Rover seemed more practical this time, with the isolation of Sugar Hill and the remodeling work ahead. A quick side trip to a discount clothier allowed me to stock up on some work wear - jeans, heavy cotton shirts, and boots. I rushed back to the hotel to get properly dressed for the solemnity of the occasion. Dressed in my Ralph Lauren blue wool blazer, cream colored linen slacks, and burgundy Weejins, I felt very preppy indeed.
Precisely at two, I entered the dark panelled waiting room of Mr. Mandeville's law office. The silver haired secretary greeted me warmly and escorted me to the adjoining conference room. I took a seat where she indicated at the side chair nearest the far end of the long polished table. A sheaf of papers lay at the end, with pads and pens at the places on either side. Looked very businesslike and a bit intimidating.
"Mr. Mandeville and his lordship will be with you shortly," she smiled and closed the door.
His lordship! What the hell was going on here, I wondered.
The door soon opened and Mr. Mandeville stepped in. "Would you care for a cup of tea - or coffee, while we get the preliminaries out of the way?"
"Yes, that would be fine," I answered automatically, my thoughts still on 'his lordship'.
"Well, which one?" he asked sharply.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose tea would be in order. Thank you."
"Pot of tea, Ms. Gilbert," he called out, "and show his lordship in when he arrives."
"Are we expecting someone else?" I queried.
"Why, yes, I explained to your agent in Key West. A representative of the family has come over from London to sign the documents on behalf of the estate. Just arrived this morning, should be here in a bit. Shall we get started?"
Mr. Mandeville seemed a little brisk and out of sorts, not his usual charming self. Perhaps something about the drug runners had been connected to him in my absence. I really should have checked in with Nathaniel to get an update.
He droned on, in legalese, about the lease papers I was signing. Ninety-nine years, renewable by mutual agreement, transferable by mutual agreement, easements, exclusion of mineral rights (my ears perked up on that one), limited usage of adjoining grounds. I was falling into a stupor.
"Tea is served," Ms. Gilbert announced as she carried in a tray and placed it at the opposite end of the table. "May I serve you gentleman now?"
"Of course, go ahead Ms. Gilbert," Mr. Mandeville instructed.
Just then an angelic face peered in from the open door. "Sorry to be so late," he called out cheerfully as he stepped into the room.
"Rick, may I present Barrone, Lord Carlysle, of the United Kingdom!"
I nearly broke my teacup as I struggled to my feet. It was him. My dreamy stud from the photograph.
"Please, just call me Barry."

The closing having gone smoothly, we were done by three. I stood awkwardly in the conference room, wondering what to say to his lordship. Mr Mandeville had retreated to his private office leaving us alone.
"Well, I guess you won't be needing a job with my hundred thousand in your account," I commented lamely.
"May I buy you a late lunch...or early supper, old chap?" he offered. "I really need to speak with you about a private matter."
Not wanting to let him out of my sight and a bit curious, I quickly agreed. We both bid goodby to Ms.Gilbert as we walked through the outer office. Casually dressed in tight button fly jeans and black leather jacket, he made me feel a bit overdressed. I couldn't tear my eyes from his firm rounded butt. I removed my blazer and carried it over my arm, just in time to conceal my growing erection, hard to hide in white linen pants.
"Perhaps I should drive, you're probably not used to the left hand lane, being from the States," he joked.
He led me to an alley behind the building. Mr. Mandeville's classic Bentley was parked under a roofed carport. As he opened the passenger door for me, I looked at him with surprise.
"You're using Mr. Mandeville's car? I've got a rental if you prefer."
"Don't worry, it's perfectly all right. The car actually belongs to the estate."
"Oh..." A rather strange turn, this day was taking, What next, I wondered.

We were shown to a quiet booth overlooking the waterfront. Not many diners this time of the day. I suggested Barry order for us, food preparation being his field, supposedly. It gave me ample time to study him. I seemed to be missing something here.
"I guess our interview is unnecessary," I began, "I'm sure your lordship doesn't need a job now."
"Au contraire!" he responded. "I need it now more than ever. But please call me Barry."
"Okay, Barry, why do you need a job?" I was more puzzled than ever.
He leaned slightly over the table, as if imparting a national defense secret. "My family is not wealthy. We've hardly a pot to piss in, as they say, and the window to throw it out of is broken."
"Then you really are a chef looking for a position?" Odd how I sometimes imitate the speech pattern of the person I'm speaking with.
"Yes, please, I need the position. I'm a bit handy in the building trades, too. I could help with the repair and updating of the property."
He looked ready to beg on bended knee. As much as I'd enjoy him on his knees, I couldn't stand to see him beg.
"Okay, you've got the job...if you level with me. Something else is on your agenda. What is it?"
"I guess I have to trust you, if you're going to be my employer," he smiled slightly.
Over dinner, Barry filled me in on the decline and fall of the House of Carlysle. Death duties, decline of British economy, lack of employable skills by most of the family. They depended on their trust to live. Deciding to break the cycle of dependence, he chose his career, the culinary arts. Meanwhile, income from the sugar mill had dried up, the Jamaican property had fallen into disrepair, making it nearly unsalable. Yet, Mr. Mandeville had enough estate money to indulge in an antique Bentley, among other things. The family suspected something was rotten in Denmark!
"So you're the mole?" I chuckled at the thought, a royal mole.
"If you'll keep my secret," he smiled over at me. Then taking my hand across the table, he promised, "I'll be your loyal subject if you'll help me."
A tingle of electricity went through my body at his touch. I was hooked.
"Please tell no one who I am," he pleaded, still holding on to me.
"If we're going to protect your identity, you'll have to start by giving the car back to Mandeville. You can use my rental."
"Of course, I'll be your chauffeur, your constant companion. Excellent cover," he smiled easily now, the cloud lifting. "Should I act as your lover, too?" he suggested.
I nearly choked on my food. "Oh...then you're..."
" 'A friend of Alice' as you Yanks say."

CHAPTER THREE

"Good morning, boss," Barry smiled, as I slipped into the passenger seat of the Land Rover.

"Let's not lay it on too thick," I kidded in return. "You're still the landed gentry and I'm the tenant."
"Where to, Rick?" he pulled out from the hotel parking lot.
"Might as well head for Sugar Hill and see how you want to proceed."
Our supper the previous afternoon had lasted more than two hours as we talked and got to know each other. We had mutually agreed to drop the 'chauffeur' idea and make Barry the project manager of the renovation and restoration. He would hire and supervise the work crews, then resume culinary duties after we were open for business. Jeremie could be his assistant and contact local laborers for the work. We needed to find a spot on the grounds to develope a work office and planning center.
"Have you ever been here before?" I asked casually.
"When I was a young tad, we came out on a bit of a holiday. Mums and Dad stayed at the marina. I got to camp out in the overseer's cottage with my brother."
"You mean there's another one like you at home?" I could just imagine the possibilities.
"My brother and my father both died in a hunting accident on safari," he responded quietly.
"I'm really sorry, Barry, I didn't know."
Seems like I was always blundering into someone's personal tragedies. Must be a little more discreet in the future. We rode on in silence for a while.
We were nearing our destination when the thought struck me that neither of us had mentioned living arrangements. Couldn't see both of us paying hotel bills for the weeks ahead. Perhaps Tommie would put me up, but I'd hate to ask him to accomodate a perfect stranger. We'd worry about that later. We were on the lane leading up to the house, and my thoughts immediately turned to the project at hand.
"There's Jeremie now," I pointed out as we approached the stone wall and drew to a stop.
"Oh, I'd fancy a bit o' that myself," Barry said admiringly.
"He's going to be your new assistant. But be careful, his boyfriend's bigger than you and me put together," I warned.
"Maybe it's the boyfriend I should have at," he said cockily.
"Mistuh, Rick, I been 'spectin' you." Jeremie grinned happily.
"How did you find out I was here?" I asked, surprised.
"Nathaniel tol' me, he been talkin' to Mistuh Mandeville 'bout my job here."
Jeremie, this is Lor..., uh, Mr. Carlysle. He's going to supervise the work on the Great House. If you're still on board, you'll be his new assistant. That okay with you?"
"Yessuh, Mistuh Rick. I do anythin' for you!" he looked down shyly.
"You've charmed the natives, eh, boss?" Barry grinned over at me.
I let the remark pass. Sounded a bit too condescending, if not racial.
"So, Jeremie, you want to give me a tour of the house?" Barry requested.
Jeremie looked over at me questioningly.
"You two go ahead," I suggested. "I'll just take another look at the old mill - in the broad light of day this time," I winced involuntarily, remembering the night I was clobbered with the rifle butt.
Best to give these two some space, see if they get along okay without me around as referee. I strolled on out the farm road toward the ruins.

The sun was beating down hotly, as I turned back toward the overseer's house. Must be nearly noon. As I approached the steps up to the verandah, I could see Jeremie and Barry lounging in the wicker chairs, talking easily. So far, so good.
"Mistuh Rick, Mistuh Barry gonna teach me 'bout French cookin'," Jeremie said jumping up excitedly. "Said maybe I could be his assistant in da kitchen iffen it's alright by you?"
Barry looked slightly amused by Jeremie's reaction.
"I'm sure he has a lot he wants to teach you," I said suggestively, glancing over at Barry's face.
He just smiled slightly, raising his left eyebrow. I caught the meaning. He was after Jeremie.
"Can I fix you gentlemen's lunch?" Jeremie asked, having missed the exchange between us.
"That would be great, thank you," I said, glad we were moving on.
Jeremy showed Barry through the little cottage while I remained comfortably seated on the porch. Barry soon rejoined me.
"It's amazing how this place looks now," Barry said. "I remember it as rather shoddy when we camped here years ago."
"I'm sure Nathaniel helped - Jeremie's boyfriend. I think they're living here together," I emphasized.
"Not to worry, Rick. I'm not going to break up a marriage. I'd just like to have at the little bugger."
"Just be careful about ...," I began, but Jeremie stepped out through the open front door at that moment.
"Mistuh Barry, suh, would you please show me some of them fancy things you was tellin' me about?"
I'll be glad to start your first lesson," Barry grinned smugly as he followed Jeremie back into the house.
I'd best stay outside and cool off. After all, Jeremie was a big boy and not my problem. Could I be a wee bit jealous? After a decent interval, so as not to appear to be spying on them, I casually walked into the house.
"Jeremie, do you have any of that delicious raspberry tea?" I asked cheerfully.
Walking into the kitchen, I found Barry pressed close behind Jeremie, his arms reaching around on both sides. Barry glanced up as I neared.
"Just showing him the proper technique," he explained grinning mischievously, "of chopping vegetables without lifting the knifepoint." He seemed to give Jeremie a little extra squeeze with his arms, then stepped back.
"I get yo' tea right away, Mistuh Rick." Jeremie gave Barry a quick flirting smile.
I was jealous! But of which one? I adored Jeremie, but I was intrigued by Barry, the unknown. I guess I lusted after both of them.
Our lunch conversation centered around the Great House, thankfully. Barry had come up with several good ideas to quickly convert the ground level of the house into offices, working spaces, and material storage facilities. This would later revert back to kitchen, casual dining and bar area, and possible game rooms. I had to admit he seemed to know his way around the construction business. By early afternoon, I thought it best to head over to Rose Hall and see if I was still welcome as a houseguest. Surprisingly, Barry asked to go with me.
"Jeremie, we'll be back out early tomorrow," I promised. "We'll need you to find us some crew."
"Yessuh, I be up very early. I got lots o' people want to work. It be no problem."
Barry and I drove back down the lane toward the main road. My mind was drifting ahead, envisoning the mountain of work ahead. As we reached the main road, I returned to the present with a start.
"Turn to right, please, Rose Hall is on out Shore Road," I instructed.
"Yessuh, Mastuh," Barry mimicked, "I be goin' to da right."
I didn't quite know how to take this odd behavior in Barry. Discretion kept me silent until we reached the gateposts of Rose Hall. Barry turned into the diveway with out my prompting.
"Oh, you know the place?"
Barry just nodded, remaining silent.
As we approached the front of the mansion, I could see Nathaniel descending the steps from the main level.
"That's Jeremie's boyfriend, Nathaniel." I explained.
"He is a big one," Barry grinned, "I'd sure like to serve him."
I let that remark pass, not following his meaning.
"Rick, I'm so glad you're back," Nathaniel said, giving me a warm hug. "And this must be his lordship." Nathaniel bowed his head slightly.
"You know of me?" Barry asked, surprised.
"Yes sir, Tommie showed me your photograph once."
"Tommie?" I broke in, shocked.
"We were at Oxford together," Barry explained, looking over at me.
This was getting too bizarre for my tired brain.
"Tommie is in the library, having tea," Nathaniel explained. "If you gentlemen would follow me."
Instant peace seemed to descend as I entered the familiar cool and elegant hallway. Tommie having heard us, came rushing to the library door.
"Barry!" he called out excitedly and rushed into his arms.
"Hi, Tommie," he responded quietly, holding him closely to his chest.
I stood back in amazement. Barry released him, and Tommie came over to give me an equally warm welcoming hug. Barry seemed to brush a tear away, then turned his head quickly toward the open library door.
"Who do I have to get fucked by, to get a drink around here," Barry quipped heartily, looking around at Nathaniel.
"What would be your pleasure, your Lordship?" Nathaniel asked.
"Shh, I'm working undercover. Just call me Barry, please. As for my pleasure, what have you got?" he asked, openly staring at Nathaniel's crotch.
Tommie led us into the library, talking excitedly, his eyes sparkling, happy to see both of us.
Nathaniel soon returned with our drinks on a tray. I counted four glasses. Things had changed around here, for the better.
"Phillippe's on a bit of a trip, with his parents," Tommie began, "so I'm doubly blessed to have you two here with me. You are staying here of course?"
I looked over at Barry. He smiled in agreement. "Yes, Tommie, we'd be honored to stay. Thank you," I said gratefully.
"Well then, that's settled. We'll have such great fun." He chatted excitedly with Barry about their college days, while Nathaniel and I exchanged thoughts about the mining venture, the remodeling of Sugar Hill, and the drug smugglers.
"I'm preparing a special dinner in honor of our visiting dignitaries," Nathaniel announced. "So if you gentlemen will please excuse me, I must report to the kitchen."
"And I'll show you to your rooms," Tommie offered.
I had my old room at the front of the second floor, opposite Tommie's master suite. Barry was lodged in the room directly next to mine. I took a long cool shower to revive myself for the evening's festivities. Toweling off in the adjoining bath, I heard a quiet tapping at my door. It opened and Barry slipped quickly in to my room.
"I couldn't wait to be alone with you," Barry breathed. He crossed the room, pushed my towel to the floor, and fell to his knees while pressing his face against my growing erection.
"Oh, Barry," I exclaimed in surprise, my heart racing as I caressed the back of his head. My dream had actually come true.
"Master, how may I serve you?" he breathed warmly into my crotch.

CHAPTER FOUR

"You and Tommie have a history?" I asked casually as we drove to Sugar Hill early the next morning.

"Being a bit personal, eh?" Barry glanced at me, his steel blue eyes glinting.
"It was pretty obvious yesterday. He practically jumped in your arms and you gave him the big chill."
"Yes, we were lovers at Oxford, is that what you wanted to hear? You a bit jealous, old chap?" A slight smile took the sting out of his words.
"Of you and Tommie? Of course not, but it might explain a few things."
"Like what?"
"Like what you and I did last night."
"Were you ever in boarding school, Rick?"
"No, but I saw the movie, 'Dead Poets Society', does that count?" I laughed, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Close, but not the same as being there. Imagine being isolated from the world, your family and chums, surrounded by lads older, stronger. It's lights out and you're a little scared. The other lads sense your fear like an animal tracks it's kill. They want somebody to do their bidding - polish their boots, brush their clothes, suck their dicks. You're it. You learn to play a role, like acting on stage. That's how you survive."
"So this master-slave game Tommie plays came from school?"
"It came from me. I worshiped Tommie, we were lovers for two years. Then he met someone else - younger, cuter."
"I think I've found a new master," Barry continued grabbing my hand.
Thankfully we pulled into the drive at Sugar Hill. Barry was making me uneasy.
"Who's that with Jeremie? He could pass for a twin," I noted.
"I'd love to have a go at twins," Barry smirked.
"Not unless I give you permission, slave," I said kiddingly.
"Yes sir," Barry responded.
"Mistuh Rick, my cousin Jaimie here's lookin' for work. Can he be hired on?" Jeremie begged scampering up to the side of the car. Jaime stood back staring at us insolently
"Perhaps we can find something for him to do," I said reluctantly, "but he'll have to please Barry. He's in charge of the work."
I left Barry with the 'twins', while I took the Land Rover and went on into town. I needed to see about telephone service for the cottage and roofers for the Great House. After checking out of the hotel and stowing my gear in the car, I decided to give Jorge a call in Key West.
"Just an update, Jorge, the closing went smoothly enough except for one kink."
"What's that, Ricky baby?"
"My hunk from the photo turns out to be the owner of the estate. I'm leasing Sugar Hill from him, and he's going to be working for me."
"Whoa, that's too much!"
"That's not all. He's a freaking aristocrat from England - 'Lord' Carlysle!"
"Double whoa! You need me down there? You know, for advice, sex, whatever?"
"I think I've got his lordship under control."
"In other words, you're fucking him!"
"Talk to you later, Jorge. Bye."
That should cool his jets for awhile.
My errands took the rest of the day. Nobody moves very fast in Montego Bay. I returned to the property about four o'clock, finding Barry and the boys still hard at work clearing years of debris from the ground floor of the old mansion.
"You guys want to call it a day?" I called out cheerfully, approaching the house.
Barry stuck his head out from an archway on the ground floor. "We didn't even break for tea!" He walked out, covered with grime from head to toe. "I think we all need a good hot bath."
Jeremie and Jaimie soon appeared behind him, equally dirty and disheveled. I motioned Barry to follow me back out to the car.
"What's the verdict on Jaimie?" I inquired.
"They both work like fiends, just what we need." He leaned in closer and whispered, "I think Jaimie's a bit straight though."
"Long as he can work does it matter? Unless you had other ideas, eh?" I grinned. "Remember, we're strictly business during the day."
"Yes sir," he agreed.
"Let's walk up to the old mill," I suggested suddenly. "We need to talk - in private," I said mysteriously.
We strolled casually up the old farm road, leaving Jeremie and Jaimie to finish closing up the house. Rounding a bend, out of sight, I leaned over and kissed him deeply. His full red lips responded with firey passion
"Master, you honor me," he said with surprise, looking impish with his dirt smudged face.
"That's exactly what we need to talk about. I know you get off on this slave game just like Tommie, but I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a master. It makes me uncomfortable." I fell silent, afraid I'd gone too far and hurt his feelings.
Smiling, he took my hand. "Let's go see that old mill."
We walked on, hand in hand.
"Let's go inside." Barry led me through the low stone archway. He reached down and lightly rubbed me to a firm erection. "Kiss me again, Rick, I'll show you who's the man around here."
We fell to the floor clutching each other, our mouths locked in passion. Rolling over on top of me, his stiffened cock pressed into me.
"I want inside you," he breathed. "Give yourself to me."
Quickly struggling out of our clothes, we spread them on the dusty floor, making a pallet. He wet his rigid member with a spit covered hand. Pushing me down, he slowly entered me, moaning with pleasure. He gently pulled back out, then reentered. We worked our bodies in perfect rhythm, gradually increasing our tempo.
"How's it feel," he whispered, "manly enough for you?"
"Yeah," I whispered back, "my hunky boy deep inside me, where he belongs."

We walked hand in hand back toward the cottage. Jeremie and Jaimie, appearing freshly scrubbed, were lounging at the top of the porch steps. As Jaimie gaped at us, I realized we were still holding on to each other.
"So much for being discreet," I said quietly to Barry, dropping my hand from his. "I think our secret is out."
"You said it would be okay after working hours," he grinned, kissing me lightly on the cheek.
I blushed slightly as we climbed the stairs.
"Mistuh Rick, Jaimie knows about gay people," Jeremie assured us as we reached the top. "You want to clean up in the shower, Mistuh Barry? I'll fix us all some sandwiches and iced tea."
"Yes, thank you, Jeremie," Barry responded. "Someone like to show me where the bath things are?" he asked turning to me with a slight grin.
"I'll help Jeremie in the kitchen. Perhaps Jaimie will show you to the shower," I winked at Barry. "Make it a long, hot, slow one."

"Sorry about the set up. I just wanted to mess with your mind," I apologizeded on our way back to Rose Hall. "Did you score?"
"I can still taste his cream on my tongue," Barry grinned. "How about Jeremie? You two have fun in the kitchen?"
"Jeremie's off limits. Nathaniel is my friend, remember?"
Barry dropped his hand casually on my leg. "Guess you're still horny then, eh boss?"
I pulled his hand over my swelling member. "What do you think?"
Barry pulled in to the motor court at Rose Hall, killing the engine. "I'll be in your room as soon as we can slip away," he promised.
I entered the hallway, looking for our host, while Barry skipped on up the back stairway to his room. Tommie was nowhere to be seen, but Nathaniel was coming up from the ground floor office. He reported that Tommie was at a social function at the Marina, representing Phillippe.
"He's not back to his old drinking habits is he?" I asked with concern.
"Nothing like before. You two want to join me for a light supper?"
"We just had a delicious meal, compliments of your boyfriend Jeremie."
"If you get hungry later, come down and help yourself or buzz me up in my room and I'll join you."
"Honeymoon over already? You're not staying at the cottage with your husband?" I teased.
"Been too busy here, working late on our mining project. Jaimie's staying temporarily to keep him company."
"What's up with this Jaimie? Where'd he come from?"
"Lives with his grandmother in town, but came out to get a job at Sugar Hill. Did you hire him?"
"He started today. Barry's quite pleased with him."
"I'd keep a check on him if I were you. I don't quite trust him."
"I'm sure Jeremie would tell us if he's up to no good, wouldn't he?"
"They are cousins remember. Jeremie might overlook a few things for the sake of his family."
"I'm sure Barry will watch him closely, he's quite taken by him."
I excused myself, feigning fatigue, and climbed the main stairway to my room. Passing Barry's closed door, I went directly to mine to prepare for our rendevous.
"What kept you so long, Rick? Your man has been waiting for you," Barry called from my bed.
He was propped up against my bed pillows, legs spread wide, cock at attention.
"Get over here and serve your new master!" he ordered.
I liked the new forceful Barry, all eight glistening inches of him.
"Permission to speak, sir?" I asked meekly.
"Yes, go ahead."
"May I remove my clothes so as to better serve and worship you?"
"In due time. Crawl over here on your belly, like the lowly animal you are!"
I complied willingly. My entrapped cock nearly bursting from the rough texture of the rug as I slowly inched toward the foot of the bed. Barry slid down and perched on the edge of the mattress, his feet spread wide on either side of me, his rigid piece thrust out over my bowed head.
"Lick my scepter, pay homage to your lord with your tongue," he ordered grabbing me roughly by the collar and pulling my face up to his waiting flesh.
My tongue lightly traced its way across the downy orbs nestled in the coarser hair of his pubic symphysis. The heady masculine scent drove me to explore further into the deeper recesses behind. Barry slowly drew his legs up to allow me penetration into his tight pink rosette. As my fingers dared pull his cheeks slightly apart, I thrust my face in tight against him, my tongue working in deeper. Barry cried out in pleasure as I inserted first one, then two fingers on each side of my laving tongue.
"Mount me, slave," he commanded. He pulled himself into the middle of the bed, thrusting his firm round buttocks out toward me. "Don't undress, I want your rough denim slave jeans against my smooth skin as you fill me with your manmeat."
My precum slickened head easily slipped in as I lay over him, taking his shoulders in my hands. He eagerly thrust up against me, welcoming my invasion. As I pumped in and out furiously, bruising his skin with the jeans buttons, he moaned with pleasure. I dug my fingers into the flesh of his shoulders, my mouth greedily sucking the smooth creamy flesh of his neck.
"I command you to cum with me slave, now!" Barry gasped as his hand worked his own cock toward release.
With one final thrust against me, he groaned as his stream gushed out through his fingers and my own filled him. The sudden tightening deep in his muscular ass milked the last drops from me.
I collapsed wearily to his side as Barry turned to face me.
"Clean me with your tongue, slave." He pulled my face down to his cum smeared belly. "Drink the royal emission of your lord and be grateful I have chosen you."
I gratefully lapped up every trace of his viscous sperm.
"Now I command you to hold me and comfort me with your rough slave clad arms until morning. You are not to move or let go of me, is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord. I am your willing servant," I sighed in contentment, thankful to be asked to play this part for my adored one.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Are you an M.P.?" I asked bluntly as we rode over to Sugar Hill one morning, several days later.

"Member of Parliament?" Barry took his eyes from the road briefly to read my expression.
"Multiple personality," I joked, "so deferential during the day, and a tiger at night, ordering me to perform these wild sexual acts upon your body."
"I am a thespian," he said regally.
"You mean a 'drama queen'!" I corrected.
"As you like it! You need a manager for this renovation. You also need a guide to lead you into erotic fantasies. I am whatever you want me to be."
"Hmm, an English lord, a culinary artiste, a construction manager, and now my jaded sexual guide. You Brits have the market cornered on eccentricity!"
"Just wait until you experience what I have in store for you next," he grinned wickedly as he stroked my growing bulge.
By now we had reached the edge of Sugar Hill property, and I reminded Barry to observe a daytime business decorum. The 'twins' were already hard at work on the upper level of the house when we pulled into the parking area.
"That young twink Jaimie is quite the worker," Barry noted. "I have to practically drag him out of the house at the end of the day."
"Don't let him get hurt," I cautioned, "we don't have any accident insurance or work permits on this job."
Barry went in to the new planning offices he'd carved out of the vast vacant area of the ground floor of the Great House, while I sauntered off to the old sugar mill. I had envisioned converting the upper loft levels to living quarters for me and Marco, or an onsite manager. Perhaps later, a handball court and gym area in the barnlike lower portion. Somewhere on the property we'd have to situate a pool, a place to ogle the cute hunks in trunks. No spoiled old queen would come to a resort in the tropics without one. By early afternoon I had an armload of sketches and head full of ideas. Time to trudge back to the offices and have Barry turn them into working plans.
"Mon ami," Barry greeted as I entered the office, "I was wondering when you'd return. Young Jeremie has invited us to stay for supper tonight, he wishes to try some new recipe."
"A new French recipe no doubt!"
"But of course. He's quite the willing student," Barry grinned.
"Yes, I'm sure. We'd better call Nathaniel and tell him not to expect us."
"Already done. I took the liberty of calling a while ago."
"You do take a lot of liberties," I remarked, not unkindly.
By the end of the day, we had turned my sketches into floor plans. The sugar mill would have separate living quarters, at opposite sides of the open central area. Handball courts in the middle, an equipment filled exercise gym tucked under one loft, saunas and dressing rooms under the other loft. The pool would be built into the end of the old formal garden area, away from the house and surrounded with lush tropical foliage, like a secret garden. My head spun with fitting these grandiose plans into my limited budget. Barry called a halt to the work upstairs and sent the guys in for showers and dinner preparation.
"Rick, I've something to show you," Barry beckoned me to follow him out of the office.
"If it's your hard dick, I've seen it, lover boy!" I kidded, catching up to him and kissing him on the back of the neck.
He just grinned as he grabbed my hand pulling me along to the far end of the ground floor. We stopped in front of an iron bound door of heavy planking. Barry switched on a flashlight and tugged at a big metal ring on the side of the door. It creaked open on rusty hinges.
"Behold! The original wine cellar." He swung the light around the room, revealing empty shelves and racks.
"Interesting," I commented, "but no wine?"
"Long since sold or stolen. That's not the point." He walked to the far end and slid out a section of shelving, revealing a small flush panel set into the brick wall.
I let out a low whistle. "The hidden treasure of Sugar Hill!" I exclaimed.
"Not exactly, old chap, more like the hidden staircase of the Great House." He pushed the panel inward, his torch lighting up the limestone of the outside wall of the house. "Look up," he pulled me into the narrow space. His light showed a narrow iron stairway disappearing into darkness above.
"Where's it go?" I asked, mystified.
"All the way to the second floor."
"Let's go!" I said excitedly.
"Hold on, Rick. It's not safe, there's a break about ten feet up. Rusted away."
"Wow, an original fire escape."
"Or an emergency exit if the house were under seige. It probably dates back to the time of the slave rebellions - around 1831."
"Where does it come out upstairs? Did you find another secret panel?"
"The guys don't know about this yet, I wanted to check with you first."
"Sure, have them search in the morning, as long as they're careful and don't tear up the woodwork."
"Okay, boss, let's go see what's cooking in the kitchen. I'm starved."

"May I come in, Master Chef?" The spicy scent of a baking cake had drawn me to the kitchen door.
"I bring yo' drinks out there, Mistuh Rick. This is a sa'prise suppa!"
"Okay, I'll wait out on the porch. Barry's in the shower, so hold up on his."
"Yessuh, be right out."
I gazed out across unkempt gardens toward the back of the Great House. Outlined in the fiery orange glow of a setting sun, the house appeared dark and still, as if peacefully slumbering. The tinkle of ice against glass broke my reverie.
"Thank you, Jaimie," I said reaching for my drink.
He handed it to me wordlessly then disappeared back into the house. I took a deep swallow of the crystal clear liquid.
"Geez!" I gasped as the strong mixture burned down my throat.
"Too strong for you, old chap?" Barry smiled as he stepped out on to the porch.
"I think they forgot the tonic and poured straight gin."
"A man's drink for my man," he grinned, kissing me on the cheek. "Go ahead to the lav while I help the lads set the table. You're the guest of honor tonight," he announced.
I luxuriated in the enveloping warmth of the steamy shower. Combined with my strong drink, it soothed me to a mellow level. Toweling off and redressing, I strolled back into the living room.
"It must be a special meal," I noted, "to be dining in here."
The table had been moved from the kitchen to one end of the living room. A pressed cream linen cloth set off the blue and white chinese plates, crystal wine glasses, and sparkling silver flatware. A simple silver fluted vase held a half dozen brilliant red hibiscus blossoms.
"Please be seated, sir, your waiter will be with you in a moment," Barry announced holding out a chair for me at the far side of the table.
I took my seat while Barry disappeared into the kitchen. Wonder what prompted all this attention, I thought.
"Our wine this evening is a simple red bordeaux," Barry explained as he poured my goblet halfway, "to compliment the main entree."
Just then Jeremie entered bearing an oval platter. Jaimie followed closely behind with a tray of salad plates.
"Medallions of veal with a light sauce de creme, small new potatoes lightly seasoned with chives, and fresh spinach leaves drizzled with raspberry vinagrette," Barry intoned, as if reading from a restaurant menu.
"Very impressive, my compliments to the chef," I looked up at Jeremie as he filled my plate.
"Thank you, Mistuh Rick," he reponded simply as he served the others.
Silver clanked on china as we dug into the sumptuous meal. Conversation was minimal until we were all sated. Jeremie served coffee, Blue Mountain brand of course, as he described the dessert.
"I baked a 'lil spice cake our gramma taught me," Jeremie glanced over at his cousin Jaimie as if for support. "It's not French, so I hopes yo' like it."
Still warm from the oven the cake exuded the rich scent of cinnamon and ginger, and was drizzled with a lemon frosting. The perfect end to a delightful dinner.
I pushed back my chair, signalling Barry of my intention to make an announcement. He nodded in tacit agreement.
"Guys, Barry has discovered a secret staircase in the old house! It starts at the back of the wine cellar and seems to lead up to the bedrooms on the top floor."
Jaimie suddenly dropped his dessert fork as I spoke. It clattered to the floor as he stared at me open mouthed. Quickly recovering, he stooped down to retrieve it.
"I didn't mean to scare anybody. I thought you two might search for the other end tomorrow morning. Seems to be directly under the infamous bedroom where the murder took place. Wouldn't you say, Barry?"
Jaimie silently cleared away the dessert plates and carried them into the kitchen as Barry went in search of the brandy glasses.
"What's up with your cousin, he afraid of ghosts?" I asked Jeremie.
"No suh, he be lookin' for the lost journal of the mistress," he whispered, looking at me from the corner of his eye. He fell silent as the other two returned to the table.
"Drinks all around, gents?" Barry asked heartily, returning with the Courvosier and four snifters.
"I still don't know what we're celebrating," I said.
Barry poured a generous amount in each glass and passed them around. Sniffing deeply of the heady aroma, he raised his glass in salute.
"We are celebrating our coming together, of jobs for us all, and to thank our boss, Rick, for making it possible."
Clank went the glasses as we briefly joined them together. We drank deeply of the strong liqueur.
"Jaimie, will you give me an assist in the kitchen," Barry asked, rising from the table.
"Mistuh Rick, may I fill yo' glass?" Jeremie asked.
"Sure, but let's have our drinks out on the porch. I'd like to hear more about this journal."
Jeremie followed me outside. We took seats at the far end of the porch away from the doorway and out of earshot.
"What's this about...?"
He squirmed slightly in his chair as he began. "Our gramma used to tell us stories about the mistress o' Sugah Hill. She was a widda lady when she took up with one o' the slaves. They had a chile was born befo' the uprisin'. When the house was set afire by the slaves and she got kilt, the chile was stole away and raised by the housemaid. Gramma said that chile was her granpa and he was the one suppose to own the whole plantation."
"Whew, that's quite a tale! But how does this journal figure in?"
"The housemaid tol' the chile as he grew up that the mistress kep' a book where she wrote every day about her life. It would show he was to be the mastuh o' the house, it were his birthright."
Jeremie fell silent, looking off to the darkened house. I pondered his words carefully. If this were true, where did Barry's ancestors fit in. Would their ownership be challenged, their claim to the property diminished?
"So your cousin Jaimie is searching for this diary to prove his rights to share in the estate?" I asked increduously.
"Yessuh, Mistuh Rick, he been lookin' fo' a long long time."
"Then you would be an heir also," I said in disbelief.
"I s'pose so. But I work fo' you, I don' want nothin' messin' that up, suh."
We sat in mutual silence, until Barry appeared at the front door.
"What are you two doing over there in the dark? I can't turn my back for a minute. Jeremie, I thought you had something to show Rick...in the bedroom!"
"Oh, yessuh. Mistuh Rick would yo' please come with me?"
Jeremie took me by the hand and led me into the house. As we entered his bedroom, he closed the door and stripped off his shirt. Then pushing his shorts down ever so slightly, just enough to reveal the dark pubic hair line, he asked seductively, "See anything you like?"
"But Jeremie," I said confused, "I thought you and Nathaniel were a 'couple'."
"Nathaniel been too busy, he don't come here very much. I need to be with you."
"Did Barry put you up to this?" I asked quietly.
Jeremie looked down shyly as if to consider his words. Then smiling, he said, "Barry didn't ask me to do anythin' I didn't already want to do. Come over here, Mistuh Rick, please."
Inspite of my foreboding that this was a setup by his lordship, I crossed the room embracing Jeremie in my arms. We kissed passionately as we struggled out of our confining clothes. Jeremie drew himself up to the head of the bed, pulling me into the warm center between his outstretched legs. Guiding my head down to his growing cock, he thrust into my eager mouth, groaning with pleasure. I failed to hear anyone enter the room, but felt a cool touch on my bare skin.
"You look ready to receive your present," Barry quietly whispered as he pulled himself up over me. Covering my neck with kisses he slowly entered me from behind.

We lay exhausted in each others embrace, Jermemie in the middle and Barry and I on each side of him.
"This was supposed to be a group of four," Barry explained, "but Jaimie's disappeared. He left the kitchen through the back door and never returned."
"So your little plan to seduce him didn't work," I crowed. "Not everybody wants to go to bed with you, Barry, just us horny ones."
"Jaimie's kind o' quiet, likes to be by hisself a lot," Jeremie offered.
Barry cuddled up closer to Jeremie, drifting off to sleep. I motioned to Jeremie to just lie still as I eased out of bed and slipped into my clothes.
"I'll see if I can find him," I whispered back, "I don't want him angry with us."
Jeremie nodded in understanding, caressing the sleeping form beside him.
I slipped out to the front porch and glanced around the yard, toward the sea, and back at the dark outline of the Great House. All seemed peaceful and quiet. No sign of Jaimie. Just as I started down the stairs to the yard, a glimpse of light caught the corner of my eye. It was coming from the darkened window of a bedroom on the upper floor of the Great House - the mistress's bedroom! Was it the ghost or Jaimie?
Rushing back into the house, I motioned frantically from the bedroom door for Jeremie.
"I need your help," I whispered, "someone or something is upstairs in the Great House. Come with me!"
He slipped out of bed gently, so as not to alarm the sleeping Barry. Grabbing his clothes he joined me in the living room.
"As much as I hate to see you get dressed," I said, smiling as I glanced down at Jeremie's smooth naked body, "I'm not going in that house alone, in the dark."
Scrambling into his clothes, he went in search of flashlights.
"There's only two," he exclaimed surprised, "Jaimie must o' took the otha'."
"One for each of us, let's go."
I was out the door, Jeremie close behind me. We sprinted across the lawn toward the dark and foreboding building. We raced up the front stairway to the entrance at the main floor level. Pushing the front door open I beckoned Jeremie to follow me, giving him the signal to keep silent. We crept stealthily up the main staircase to the bedroom level. Somewhat confused by the darkness, I motioned Jeremie to take the lead. He pulled me along with him toward the front corner bedroom. The door was closed.
"Should we go in?" he whispered.
"Yes, but together. You shine your light left, I'll shine toward the right. If anyone is in there but Jaimie, back away and slam the door. Then get down the stairs, quickly."
Placing my hand on the ornate brass knob, I looked at Jeremie and nodded. I threw open the door, our lights beamed into the room, playing from opposite sides back toward the center. It was empty.
"Whew! I'm sure happy to see an empty room," I breathed.
"Yeah, me too, boss."
"That secret stairway most likely comes up to this room," I explained. I shone my light toward the fireplace, then left to the empty built in bookshelves. "Could be a secret panel behind there," I pointed. "Let's leave it for tomorrow, we've got to look for Jaimie."
"Jaimie most likely went lookin' into the wine cella', suh, he was mighty s'prised when you tol' us about it."
"Good thinking, let's check the ground floor."
We clattered down the main staircase noisily joking, as much to keep our spirits up as to keep any other spirits away. I led the way back outside and down the front stairs to the arched opening of the ground floor offices. Funny how often I think about my first visit here, when I followed Jeremie's cute round butt up this same stairway.
We could see the door to the wine cellar was open as we entered the front corner of the cavernous space. I charged ahead, calling out Jaimie's name.
"Mistuh Rick, wait for me," Jeremie called, trying to keep pace.
Our two lights together lit up the room. The panel at the back was open also.
"There it is," I pointed.
We crowded into the small doorway shining our lights into the dank smelling interior. Jaimie lay crumpled in the corner, either unconcious...... or dead!

CHAPTER SIX

"How's our little friend doing?" Nathaniel asked, walking up behind me.

"Slight concussion, couple of broken ribs, sprained ankle, various cuts and abrasions - but he'll live," I replied heartily. Then dropping to a whisper, I added, "He kept muttering about the 'lady in white'. Said she would summon help and...get this...his 'birthright' was safe!"
"In other words, he's slightly delusional?"
"Someone else may have been there. We saw a light on the second floor, like the night of the drug raid, remember?"
"How could I forget!"
Jeremie and Barry joined us in the hospital corridor, cutting short our conversation.
"Jaimie haf' to stay a couple o' days, cause o' his head," Jeremie enlightened us.
"They suggested we get some rest, return tomorrow," Barry added.
"You two go on to Rose Hall," Nathaniel advised, "I'll take Jeremie to the cottage and stay with him tonight."
We agreed to meet for breakfast in the morning and check in on Jaimie's condition.

Breakfast at the cottage next morning was a somber affair. Barry did the honors, presenting us with a quiche florentine, toasted English muffins, and fresh cantaloupe. Over steaming cups of Blue Mountain coffee, Nathaniel finally broke the silence.
"What exactly happened here last night? What was Jaimie doing alone in the old house after dark?"
Barry glanced my way, deferring the question to me.
"I happened to mention over dinner that we, or rather Barry, had found a hidden staircase behind the old wine cellar. Jaimie acted like he'd seen a ghost, dropped his silverware, and disappeared after dinner."
I filled in the rest of the story, minus the details of our bedroom romp.
"He still believe them stories gramma been tellin' him," Jeremie added.
"Nothing's going to change what is," Nathaniel pronouned, "so he better get over it and get on with it."
"Perhaps Rick and I should be looking for the other end of the hidden stairway," Barry offered.
"Good idea. Let's put this matter to rest once and for all. Jeremie and I will go into town and check on Jaimie at the hospital, then we'll pay a visit to his grandmother, let her know what's happened."

For the next hour, Barry and I searched thoroughly for an access panel to the stairs from the bedroom, but to no avail.
"It's got to be behind this bookcase," I insisted. "but I don't want to destroy the beautiful old woodwork looking for it."
"Perhaps there is another way," Barry suggested thoughtfully.
"Yes...?"
"The area of missing stairway is about eight feet, I checked it by flashlight the other day. If we bridge the gap with the ladder, I could go on to the top and figure it out from the back side of the panel. Comprenez-vous?"
"Oui. I like a man with a plan," I grinned.
"You like men...period!" Barry pulled me to him, grinding his bulging crotch into mine.
"Ooh, keep that up and we'll have to take an early lunch break - in bed!"
I fetched an aluminum ladder from the storeroom we had created in the far corner of the ground level. Barry and I carefully walked it up the rusty iron staircase to the gap. Lashed securely to the metal treads, it barely reached up to the next section of solid stairway.
"Now be careful," I warned, "one in hospital is enough."
"Stay below," Barry advised. "If this doesn't work you can scrape up my remains and send them home to England in a box."
Some moments later, after much scrambling of feet on steel, and bobbing of the flashlight, I heard a shout of triumph.
"Voile'! The mystery, she is solved!"
"What is it, Barry? I'm coming up."
"No! No! Too dangerous. Go up and around to the bedroom. I'll need your help on the other side to slide the bookcase."
Mere moments later, I stood in the bedroom looking through the built in bookcase to the seemingly empty darkness beyond.
"Barry, where are you?" I shouted.
His beaming face suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "My master summons?"
"You frightened me, I thought you'd fallen down the shaft."
"I'll be pleased to give you the shaft as soon as you get me out of here," he grinned. "Tug on that bottom shelf while I push from in here, seems to be a bit tight, like your ass," he added.
Ignoring the innuendos, I pulled on the bookcase, he pushed - nothing moved. "Now what?" I asked, frustrated.
"Is there anything on the floor blocking this thing? The whole casework should slide toward you."
I stooped down and felt along the base molding. A piece on the corner seemed loose. It slid sideways. "Got it. Hold on though, let me check the other end." It, too, had a loose piece that slid sideways. "That's it - push!"
With a creak and a groan, the entire six foot tall bookcase rolled forward, giving easy access to walk into the concealed space beyond.
"Just like a Chinese puzzle," I marveled. "All these little bits of wood have to be maneuvered to reveal the secret."
Turning on my torch, as the English say, I joined Barry. We examined the limestone walls, the metal stairs, the back of the access door, and the bookcase. Nothing.
"If there ever was a journal or diary here, it's gone now," I observed.
"Just as well. Don't fancy sharing my estate with some bloody slave child," Barry remarked harshly.
I glanced at him curiously. "Let's break for lunch, we both need to cool off."
Barry slid the panel closed and we both pushed the bookcase back into it's recess, returning the floor pieces to their original position.
"Easy when you know the secret," I remarked.
"And I do," Barry said mysteriously, as he kissed me full on the lips. "Let's go have a matinee before lunch, I think you're ready for the next step."

"I call this total submission," Barry explained as he tied my hands to Jeremie's bed posts, "Now for your feet. I want to open that ass up, fuck it real slow." Tying my feet to the foot posts, I was now spread-eagled, totally nude, and horny. "Oh, baby, you're going to love this," he promised. "You'll be begging me for more."
For what seemed an eternity, Barry tongued, fingered, and fucked while I writhed with the sensual pleasures it brought. When I could no longer hold back the flood of semen, we both came together, Barry deep inside me. He collapsed on my back covering me with his passionate kisses, caressing me with gentle hands.
"I'm going to hit the showers," he whispered as he eased his still erect cock gently out of my body. "Just rest, baby, I'll be right back," he promised.
Sometime later I awoke, the late afternnoon sun slanting through the open bedroom door. My wrists and ankles ached slightly from the pressure of the ropes binding them, not to mention my sore ass!
"Barry," I called out, "please untie me. I need to get dressed before the guys get back here."
"Barry...where are you?"
"Barry, please, this is not fun anymore. Barry!!!

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Well, well, there's a little white boy in your bed, Jeremie, trussed up like a Christmas goose. Bet there's a real story here!"

I just glowered at Nathaniel.
"Get me out of this! Please."

Tommie and Nathaniel were already seated at the dining table when I stumbled down to breakfast the next morning. Two wide grins greeted me as I took a seat, having filled my plate from the chafing dishes at the silver laden sideboard.
"Left high and dry I understand," smirked Tommie.
"More like 'rode hard and put up wet'," observed Nathaniel with his deep chuckle.
"All right, guys, enough of the wisecracks," I responded sheepishly.
"His lordship stopped by early yesterday afternoon and packed his bags. Said he had pressing family business and must return home immediately," Tommie explained. "Oh, your car, he left at the airport."
"How odd, to pull out like that. Wonder if it was something I said?" I joked.
"Not unusual for Barry," Tommie went on. "He did the same thing to me at Oxford. We were together two years. Then he disappeared one day. Left me a note, 'must attend to family business' he wrote. I didn't see him for the rest of the term."
"Just like the a will'o'wisp," I noted quietly.
"I'll take you out to Sanger Airport for your car after breakfast," Nathaniel offered. "We can stop in and see Jaimie on the way."

"I can't figure Barry, leaving me tied up like that. I thought he cared, just a little. What if you and Jeremie hadn't come back 'til morning?"
"You could have gotten loose, easy. The bed posts come apart in sections. They're just dowel pinned together. Just slide your wrists or ankles up and catch the rope in one of the carved grooves and jiggle upward."
"Now you tell me! Sounds like you've been tied there yourself."
"Nothing so exotic," Nathaniel chuckled. "We took that bed apart to move it over from the Great House, then put it back together, piece by piece."
Nathaniel parked in the hospital visitors area and led me through the maze of corridors to Jaimie's room. He was awake and sitting up in bed as we stepped into the room.
"They say I kin get outta here tomorrow. Can I stay with Jeremie?" he looked up at me quizzically.
"That's the most I've ever heard you say at one time, Jaimie," I grinned. "What do you say, Nathaniel?"
"If he stays inside and rests, I don't see why not."
"Mistuh Rick, you find anything in the hidden place?"
"Nothing but cobwebs and rusted iron. No diary, no journal. Sorry, Jaimie."
He cast his eyes downward, defeat written across his face.
"Jeremie and I will be here at noon tomorrow to bring you home, Jaimie. Everything will be all right," I tried to reassure him.
Nathaniel dropped me at the airport. My car was there, keys over the visor, and a note tucked under the center armrest.

Dear Rick,
Sorry to depart so quickly. It was extremely urgent that I return to
England. Your erotic adventures are just beginning. Will return someday to
lead you further,
Barry

What a jerk, I thought. Hot man, sexy and mysterious - but still a jerk! I couldn't help but laugh at myself because it was fun - while it lasted.

"I be up here if yo' need me," Jeremie called down from the open window as he spied me walking in from the parking area.
"Thanks, I'll be in Barry's...in the office!" Got to remember it's only the two of us for a while.
Rifling through the plans on the drawing table, I couldn't find the swimming pool/garden plat. Patience pays, it was in the bottom desk drawer covering a tattered old ledger. It was a journal of cracked leather cover with mottled brown pages. Excitement charged through me as I opened it to see cursive writing of a bygone era. Could this be the missing link to Jaimie's inheritance? The first half of the book was unreadable. Mildew and moisture, beatles and fungus had destroyed the paper. The last half was unlined blank pages. Bummer! Tossing the book back in the drawer, I turned to my work.

Next morning, having slept late, I didn't reach Sugar Hill until eleven. Jeremie was waiting, perched on the low stone wall. I motioned him into the car.
"You up to taking care of Jaimie and keeping up with your work load?"
"Yessuh, we're family."
"Wouldn't he be better off with your grandmother until he can get around on his own?"
"He wants t' be here case we find somethin'."
"Like the diary I found in Barry's desk?"
"Mistuh Rick, you found it!"
"Go get it out of the office, bottom desk drawer. You can look at it on the way to the hospital."
He soon returned to the car, holding the book gingerly in his hands like a holy relic, a look of awe etched on his face.
"Aren't you going to open it?" I asked as he sat motionless beside me.
"No suh! I bes' let Jaimie have the hono'."
Within the hour we had entered the hospital parking lot. Jeremie placed the journal carefully on the back seat, covering it with a car blanket. Carefully threading our way through the maze of corridors we soon found our way to Jaimie's room. As we entered the door his smile lit up the room like a beam of sunshine.
"I been ready to go since early mornin'," he said brightly.
"We're happy to get you out of here so soon," I responded.
"And I got a sa'prise waitin' on yo' back to the car," Jeremie added with enthusiasm.
I let Jeremie lead the hospital aide with the wheelchair bound Jaimie out to the car while I settled up with the business office. My American Express card took a big hit. By the time I reached the parking lot, the 'twins' were in the back seat, heads together, huddled over the journal.
"Find anything?" I asked, climbing into the front seat.
"Can't read nothin', Mistuh Rick. It been mess up real good," Jaimie replied.
I drove back to Sugar Hill in thoughtful silence while my passengers rummaged through the book. The change in Jaimie's demeaner was obvious. His moody insolence seemed to have been replaced with a lightheartedness. Was it the accident or something else I couldn't fathom?
As we drove up close to the cottage gate I instructed Jeremie, "Go open the door for me. I'm going to carry Jaimie up the steps and into the living room. Take the journal with you, we'll look at it together."
"Yessuh Mistuh Rick, I sure am glad to have Jaimie home."
I cradled Jaimie to my chest after instructing him to encircle my neck with his good arm, the other having been placed in a sling to ease the pressure of the sprain. I could detect his resistance to me touching him, his nervousness.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to drop you. Just hold me tight," I reminded him.
We made it into the house and I placed him gently on the sofa. Jeremie disappeared into the kitchen to fix us all some iced tea.
"See, that didn't hurt a bit. Are you afraid of me, Jaimie?"
"No suh, you is a good person. It's Mistuh Barry I be afraid of."
"Why? Did he hurt you or try to force you into something - like sex?"
"That don't bother me. I do what I have to do. It's what I heard him say on the phone. I was inside the bathroom when he came into the house. He didn't know I was listening. He called someone in Kingston. Said the shipments was going to go on just like before as soon as he took care of some people what got in his way."
"What did he mean?" I asked incredulously.
"I think he be talkin' 'bout the drug business."
Just then Jeremie returned with our tray of tea glasses. I motioned Jaimie to silence. No use getting everyone stirred up until I could do a little checking on Jaimie's story.
"Well, let's take a good look at that book under a bright light," I said heartily, carrying it over to the dining table which was still set up in the end of the living room.
A faint brown tracery of fine cursive letters could barely be discerned on the inside of the front cover.
"Looks like it says 'Sugar Hill, 1831'," I read aloud. "Too bad the pages didn't survive like the covers."
I quickly flipped to the back cover. Up near the top inside corner was a very minute sentence written diagonally.
"Don't suppose you have a magnifying glass, eh, Jeremie?"
"Yessuh, Nathaniel have one in the bedroom. He use it to read his accountin' books sometimes."
"You do the honors, Jeremie, since you have the glass," I offered as he returned from the bedroom.
He bent down close holding the big round glass over the book. He rubbed his eyes then peered once again.
"It say, 'You will find what you seek where I rest...'." he read haltingly.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Looks like she took something to her grave," I announced having no other plausible explanation for the words scrawled in the back of the journal.

"She been buried these many years in the church yard up to the edge of town," Jeremie explained. "The whole family, black and white, be buried there."
"Perhaps there's some clue written on her tombstone," I suggested, holding out a glimmer of hope for Jaimie's sake.
"No suh, we done looked at her grave place. It say her name, her birth day, her death day, and somethin' else 'bout ownin' this place. Don't say nothin' 'bout kinfolk." Jaimie stopped to take a breath, then went on. "We can't be diggin' up the dead, can we Mistuh Rick?"
"No, we certainly can not! That is sacreligious unless we had a court order for some legal reason. But I think we can forget about finding anything buried since 1831. Just be bones and dust."
I needed to get back to Rose Hall and consult with Nathaniel about several things. Advising Jeremie to look after his cousin, I promised we'd get back to work tomorrow morning.
Nathaniel was busy entering data into his computer in the ground floor work offices at Rose Hill. I walked up quietly behind him.
"Hey big boy, you want a date?" I slipped my arms around his broad muscular chest as I nuzzled his neck.
"You horny devil, I cut you loose from one bed and you're ready to jump into another."
"Just kidding, Nathaniel, I know you're a married man. Jeremie told me," I grinned.
"Before or after you did him?" Nathaniel laughed.
"In all seriousness, I need your advice about a couple of items. Can you take a break?"
"Of course, let's go up to the kitchen. I'll fix tea and cakes, or would you prefer an early cocktail?" he asked glancing at his watch.
"No drinks, this calls for clear heads. Your famous scones and tea would be great."
Nathaniel lead the way toward the back stairs which brought us up near the kitchen. The long plank table was already set with the casual tea service - old Blue Willow pattern cups and saucers, matching desert plates, and the pewter tea set.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interfere with your plans. Were you expecting company?" I asked apologetically.
"Yes. You!"
"But how did you know...?" I asked, puzzled.
Nathaniel just smiled mysteriously and went about his tea preparations.
"Now what was the first item? The mysterious journal?"
"How...?" I stammered.
"The telephone you installed at the cottage, it works both ways. Jeremie called just after you left."
"He tell you the words written in the back cover?"
Nathaniel nodded.
"Well, what do you make of it? You think something is buried with her in the grave?"
He ignored my questions and served up a plate of fresh scones.
"Earl Grey or Darjeeling?" he asked.
"Since item number two is about his lordship, let's go with the Earl Grey tea," I said cleverly.
Nathaniel sat down opposite me at the kitchen table, letting the tea steep a bit.
"If the mistress wrote the line at the back of the journal, she was still very much alive. Ergo, she didn't mean to look in her grave. She probably meant look in her bedroom or more specifically, in her bed."
"But we've been all over the room and in the secret stairwell, nothing there. You said you disassembled the bed when you moved it. Did you and Jeremie find anything hidden in it?"
"No, but we weren't looking for anything at the time. It's full of hollow spaces in the sections of the bedposts. Could be a will or something tucked into any one of them."
"Nathaniel, you're a genius!" I exclaimed. "Let's get back there and take a look."
"Could we have our tea first while we get on to item two?" he smiled tolerantly.
Nathaniel poured a steaming cup for each of us while I crunched down on a fresh scone.
"Jaimie overheard a strange phone conversation Barry made."
"I know all about that, too."
"Don't miss much, do you big boy?" I grinned. "That's why I depend on your sage advice."
"I've been making a few discreet inquiries about his lordship. Seems Chief McKendrick was already on to him and about to call him in for questioning. The drug smugglers we caught were doing a little naming of names to lighten their own sentences."
"So that's why he left in such a rush, and here I trusted him with my innermost thoughts."
"Not to mention your innermost body parts," Nathaniel added with a hearty laugh.
"What about Mr. Mandeville, was he part of the smuggling scheme?"
"The chief seems to think he was only protecting his client's confidences. After all these years he's been living off the Carlysle family trust, he was obligated to them."
"Who's idea was it to try to buy up Rose Hall property for the aluminum ore deposits in the hillside? Was that Barry or Mandeville?"
"Haven't got that far yet, Rick. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. But I'm sure 'all will be revealed', as he once said."
We sat in mutual silence, musing over these thoughts as we finished our tea.

An hour later we were driving up the lane toward Sugar Hill. Hearing my Land Rover on the gravel parking area, Jeremie came out to greet us.
"Mistuh Rick, you brought Nathaniel to me!"
"Yes and we're all going to bed - together!" I announced evilly as I swung out of the car and slammed the door.
"Don't be alarmed, he means we're going to take the bed apart, piece by piece."
"What eva' for?" Jeremie asked mystified.
"To see if we can find any hidden documents 'where I rest' as the line goes," I added.
We carried Jaimie into the bedroom so he could supervise our 'dismantling' work. Removing the mattress, we slowly took the bed apart, laying all the sections out on the floor as we worked.
"Nothing," I said dejectedly. "If there ever was anything her, it's gone now," I declared.
"I wonder if Barry found something before he left?" Nathaniel pondered aloud.
"If he did, then tying me to the bed was his idea of a big joke - the last laugh," I said ruefully.
Jaimie had remained silent during our search. First looking hopeful, then disappointed, and finally resigned to the inevitable. Jeremie and Nathaniel went out to the kitchen to fix us a light supper. I carried Jaimie back to the living room and settled him back on the sofa.
"Sorry, Jaimie, unless Nathaniel comes up with some more ideas, we've reached a dead end."

Our somber supper was interrupted by the telephone. It was Tommie at Rose Hall.
"Mr. Mandeville called here, Rick, because he didn't have your number there at Sugar Hill. Thought you might want to keep it private, so I didn't give it to him. He wants to meet with Jaimie and Jeremie in his office tomorrow morning, if it's convenient."
"What's it about, Tommie, did he say anything else?"
"No, that was it. He suggested you might want to be present as it concerned you also."
Thanking Tommie, I rejoined the others at the table and related the unheard part of the conversation to them.
"There's a mystery afoot," I misquoted the master of suspense, with my quizzically raised right eyebrow.

The next morning, I motored back to Sugar Hill quite early. The 'twins' were dressed and waiting none the less. We drove in to Montego Bay, directly to Mandeville's office. The Bentley was parked in it's usual covered space as we parked alongside and walked around to the front. Nathaniel had come along with us to help carry Jaimie.
"Good morning, Ms. Gilbert," I greeted the silver haired secretary as we entered the cool dark panelled office.
"Mr. Mandeville will be right with you. You may go right on in to the conference room," she smiled as she led us to the table where we had previously met for the closing.
"Gentlemen, good morning." Mr. Mandeville entered the room from his private office carrying a sheaf of papers.
"Well now, let's see," he mumbled as he shuffled through the stack. "Ah, yes, here it is."
He pushed an old brown edged scrap of paper down the table toward me.
"If you will be so kind as to show this to the young gentlemen," he smiled at Jeremie and Jaimie.
"Why it looks like a birth certificate," I exclaimed.
"And so it is," he went on, "it's been authenticated as to signature and chain of relationship. It appears that these two young gentlemen are legally entitled to share in the estate of the Carlysle family trust, as to the properties in Jamaica, that is."
A gasp went up from Jaimie and Jeremie's mouth dropped open. Nathaniel smiled noncommitally while I exhaled long and slow.
"His lordship dropped this document off to me on his way back to England. Said he discovered it while working out at the Great House. He wanted me to carefully examine it before we raised any false hopes."
With a clearing of throat, Nathaniel broke in. "To what extent will Jeremie and Jaimie be included in this estate?"
"A little research will have to be done to include all living heirs of the original owner, but with the expected financial windfall from the mining operation, I'd say they will be quite well off."
I let out a low whistle as I was won't to do when words failed me. The 'twins' giggled with excitement. Nathaniel grinned broadly.
"We'll need to sign some papers to enable us to continue with a title search," Mr. Mandeville droned on, "in the meantime, a small allowance has been authorized by his lordship until these matters can be fully settled."
Papers and pens flew back and forth across the table as the forms were filled out, documents notarized, and checks presented to the 'twins'. The first installment of their allowance was modest, but represented a good faith effort on the part of the Carlysle family.
"His lordship left this letter for you," Mr. Mandeville announced, as he slid a sealed envelope over to me.
I opened it excitedly and read:

My Dearest Rick,
As you probably know by now, I may not be able to return for some
time. Certain legal situations must be dealt with first. I have made
arrangements for a contractor to take over where I left off and assist
you in completing your project. He comes with my highest
recommendation. I cherish our friendship and will miss you.
Fondly,
Barry

The next morning, it was work as usual for me. Jaimie had decided to share his good news with his grandmother and stay in town with her through his period of recuperation. Nathaniel was busier than ever as the mining operation was now fully underway. They were starting on the Rose Hall side of the hill and would be moving to the Sugar Hill side within months. The rich lode of alumina would be strip-mined from the earth and the surface returned to it's natural state as each phase was completed.
"Mistuh Rick," Jeremie called out excitedly as I pulled into the parking area at Sugar Hill. "He's here!"
A new red pick-up truck was parked by the low stone wall.
"Slow down, who's here?" I asked patiently.
"The new man Mistuh Barry sent to you," he pointed toward the old farm road. "He be down at the ol' sugar mill. Said he need to check out the propity from one end to the otha afore he get started."
"I guess I better go down and see what surprise Barry's got for me now," I muttered more to myself that to Jeremie. "You want to get started in the Great House, I'll be back in a few minutes."
I sauntered on down the rutted farm lane toward the ruins. I rounded the bend and saw a figure, half dressed, leaning against the stonework of the mill. As I walked nearer, I let out a gasp. What a hunk.
"Hello there, I'm Rick. You the contractor Barry told me about?"
"Hey, Rick, good to meet you," he said as he offered his hand. "I see we've got a lot of work to do."
"Did Barry explain what we're trying to accomplish?"
"Oh, yes, he told me all about you. Said I should take over where he left off...if you want me, that is," he smiled seductively as his gaze slowly traveled from my face downward.
"I suppose I should check your references," I said nervously.
He started to strip the rest of his clothes off right in front of me.
"Will this do?" he asked casually as he stood against the wall, totally naked.





"Looks like it's going to be a long, hot summer!"
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