The Stonemason and the Lady (Dear Editor Book 2)

by Emily Sharpe

  Asahi explained nada, he thought but said nothing. He waited until six-thirty to make his way downstairs. Ari and Doris inhabited the north wing, which they kept locked at all times. His room and the other guest rooms were on the third floor of the south wing. The chauffeur and Asahi were housed on the second floor, south, with rooms for others as needed. It had seemed odd to him, at first, to have an elevator in a house, but at the end of a long day of laying stone, he was thankful for it.

  Eric checked his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing his hair long tonight—it was Florida, right? He'd carefully ironed the one Hawaiian shirt he'd packed. He wore khaki shorts and leather flip-flops he'd picked up at the airport. His beard was neatly trimmed. He nodded with appreciation. Hard work, breaks on the beach, and Asahi's cooking had made a difference. His hair was bleached lighter by the sun. His skin was bronzed, his muscles ripped. Donna will approve. She'd commented on his hair and tan, of course, but he was looking forward to showing her the whole package in a few weeks.

  The elevator was in use, so Eric walked down the modern, winding staircase. As he neared the bottom, he heard voices coming toward him. Doris, Ari, and Erika breezed into view carrying cocktails. At the sight of them, Eric froze. They were completely nude.

  "There you are," Erika called up to him. "Just finishing work? Go get changed and join us."

  Without answering her, Eric turned on his heel and bounded up the stairs, stopping at the second floor. He walked down the hallway and called quietly for Asahi. When she opened her door and saw his face, her hands flew to her face to cover her laughter.

  "You brat!" he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Asahi shook her head. "Oh, Eric-san. This will teach you to read instructions. Along with the passwords, was a pamphlet for the local naturists' society, which meets here every month. Tonight, in fact. You just didn't bother to read it."

  "You mean everyone at the party is naked?"

  Asahi nodded. "They aren't swingers if that's what you're thinking. Naturists enjoy being free from clothing. The Steins keep their wing locked for that reason, although when there are no… textile… guests, they wander the whole estate like that. It took a bit of getting used it."

  "Textile?"

  "You're a textile. I'm a textile. We prefer to wear clothes. But maybe not tonight, Eric-san?" Her eyes were bright with amusement.

  Eric sighed. The Steins had gone to great expense to bring him to their home. Doris had been excited when he agreed to join the party. It wasn't their fault he hadn't read the pamphlet. He didn't want to be uncourteous, but he was concerned. What if he got excited? His brain replied with a visual of Doris, Erika, and Ari; perhaps that wouldn't be a problem. But what if all the guys were… bigger? It was a deep-seated fear. What would Donna want me to do?

  In his mind, he saw Donna in dominatrix glory, admonishing him sternly. Eric threw up his hands and said, "'When in Rome!'"

  Asahi gave him a little bow. "In Japan, we say, 'When you enter a village, obey the village.' Goodnight—off to meet Nancy now."

  Eric pivoted as he waved goodbye and headed for his suite, throwing his clothes on the bed. He stood in front of the full-length mirror for almost a minute, shaking his head, grimacing at his tan lines. His white genitals and buttocks would certainly identify him as a textile, unfamiliar with the naturist lifestyle. "I'm younger than most, anyway." With a sigh, he headed back downstairs.

  Erika was the first person he encountered. He instantly congratulated himself on his assumption at the airport—no way a woman her age had natural breasts that perky. She wore a long pendant to draw eyes there and noticed her success with Eric. "They cost a bundle, darling, but everyone says they're worth it." She stepped closer. "Want to see how real they feel?" She laughed at his expression and pulled him by his bicep. "Ooh la la. Come on; let's go."

  As they walked into the living room, Eric blinked at the sea of skin. Nowhere did he spot the least bit of self-consciousness or lust, however. Ari brought him a glass filled with rich amber liquid.

  Eric thanked him and took a sip, coughing a little. The taste of peat was strong, but it was incredibly smooth. Expensive. Of course.

  "Talisker can bring you to your knees," Ari said. "Be aware." He leaned up to whisper in Eric's ear. "Also watch out for Erika. She's a bit wilder than the rest of our little group."

  Eric nodded without comment, taking another, smaller sip.

  Erika pulled at his arm. "I want to introduce you to someone." She pulled him along with her, leaving the living room and stepping outside, where a woman about her age was sipping a drink as she dangled her legs in the pool. "Jillian! I want you to meet someone."

  At her name, the woman turned. Her straight hair was cut very short. Slimmer than Erika, her shape was more like Donna's than Jessica's. Her face was more natural, too, more appealing to Eric than Erika's movie star glamour. No plastic surgery there, Eric surmised.

  Seeing him, Jillian gave her friend a nod. "I'll bet I know what you have in mind for this fine stud."

  Eric frowned. He wasn't used to female attention other than from Donna. Now that he had it in spades, he realized that attention from these two, beautiful as they were, made him uncomfortable.

  "Let's sit, shall we?" Erika cooed.

  Eric sat beside Jillian, appreciating the cool water on his feet. Florida was having an unusually hot autumn and the night air was still warm. Erika took a seat on the other side of Eric and inched over until her hips just barely touched his.

  "I don't want to shock you, Eric," she began quietly, "but Ari and Doris's parties can be a bit dull. I enjoy visiting so I can catch up with Doris—we went to college together, you know—but I always try to find a way to make the trip more… memorable. Capisce?"

  Eric did not capisce. A first-class trip to a Florida estate for a party of naturists seemed entirely memorable just as it was. The cautions Asahi and Ari had offered sprang to mind; his heart began to pound.

  Erika laid a manicured hand on Eric's thigh, making his cock jump a little. "Oh, but absolutely are you going to make this worthwhile, lover." She paused, looking across the pool. If anyone noticed them, they would see three party-goers enjoying light conversation as they kicked at the water. Nothing unseemly.

  Jillian took a sip of her drink. "What Erika means is that this is your lucky night too. We have a proposal for you. We do the party, the small talk, the food, for an acceptable amount of time…"

  Erika continued, "And then we retire to your suite for the real party."

  Eric was appalled. "Both of you?"

  Erika threw her head back with delight. "Of course, both of us." She looked directly at Eric. "A threesome. You, Jillian, me. We do each other. We do you." She gave a little wave of her hand. "Whatever combination comes to mind."

  Eric slipped into the water to face them, trying to hide his distaste. They were attractive, there was no doubt about it, but they could both be his mothers! And he was married! "Ladies," he said gently but firmly, "thanks for the invitation, but no. If you'll excuse me, Ari wanted me to show some folks the fireplace."

  He walked through the water to the steps and got out, grabbing the towel Doris had brought him and drying himself before he headed back inside. As he did, he could hear Erika grousing in bits and pieces. "Damn him… flirted…"

  Jillian's comment made him chuckle: "That one's strung too tightly, Erika. If he's got a sex life, it must be vanilla as all get out."

  Donna was breathless with giggles. "I'm sorry, Eric. I know it's not really funny, but the thought of you walking into a room of geezers with no clothes on. That is hilarious."

  Eric joined her laughter. "It was unique; that's for sure! But you know what? After about a minute, I hardly noticed. Everyone carries a towel, which I, of course, didn't know, but Doris got one for me. You put the towel wherever you sit, for courtesy and hygiene. They don't give it a second thought, so neither did I, after the initial shock. And they were all so nice."

  "Be h
onest—were they all old, or were there some babes there too?"

  "There were… younger people there, yes. A few couples brought their grown children. There were even a few younger children—grandkids."

  Donna was amazed. "Wow. So it really isn't about sex, then."

  "Not at all. Just a lifestyle. The people I talked to said they're naturists at home. Some of them live at a naturist resort about an hour away. They get together socially at least once a month, bowling, pot-lucks, things any group might do, just without clothes. There's a nude beach a bit south of here that they love and maintain, but the Steins also let the group use their beach access here."

  Eric thought it prudent to not mention his embarrassing sofa pillow incident. When the first rather striking young mother had walked across the room holding her toddler by the hand, nature had kicked in unexpectedly. He'd gotten acclimated to the older bodies wandering in and out of the room, but she was the type who turns heads on the sidewalk. Fortunately, a pillow was close enough to grab and place discreetly on his lap.

  "No worries," a man sitting close by had encouraged quietly. "Always a bit of a challenge at first for new guys your age. For us? Not so much." He'd smiled at his friend beside him, pointing to his toupee. "We notice up here, of course."

  He'd noticed something surprisingly comforting, though, that he did mention to Donna. He couldn't help but see the roomfuls of genitals; they were just there. He was actually more interested in that aspect than multitude of breasts showing various degrees of gravity. He'd read that in the flaccid state, penises were fairly uniform in size, but he'd never believed it. He certainly hadn't researched it himself.

  "Not that I studied every man's junk, but I can say with some authority now that all men are created equal in some respects," Eric told Donna. When she giggled, he went on. "In some respects. Penises, about the same regardless of age or race, just hanging there in limbo. Balls? Now that's another story." Dimensions had ranged from ping-pong balls to softballs.

  When he told her about the threesome invite, she was appropriately livid. "The nerve of those biddies!"

  Apparently, the mental picture Donna had conjured differed significantly from reality, but he didn't contradict her. If she drew comfort from thinking a couple of dowdy grandmas had tried to chat him up, that was fine.

  "It was flattering, actually," he said.

  "Hm. Well, I understand—even the jerk at work who annoys me—I mean, he noticed. That's something," Donna agreed.

  "Jerk?"

  "I mentioned the new photographer to you earlier, didn't I?" Donna asked.

  Donna had been upset all out of proportion, in his opinion. "He's harmless, I'm sure," Eric said. "Just a guy being a guy. Hey, any more problems with the Peeping Toms?"

  There had been additional reports scattered throughout the city, and women were on edge. Jessica was working on a column about self-defense training, Donna explained. "Anything to give them more peace of mind."

  Donna and Eric talked the longest they'd talked since he left, getting updates on their respective jobs, what was going on with Layla and the baby, Donna's part-time work at the club, a bit of trouble with that hadn't amounted to anything.

  "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

  "My second night on the job and I thought I'd lost my keys! And then the next day, they were in my purse. Sheesh. I thought I was losing it," Donna chirped. "I mean, I know what they say about blondes, but that's the first time I felt like such a ditz."

  Before saying goodnight, they spoke of Christmas plans. Donna was excited to learn that they'd have the estate practically to themselves. "That says a lot about you, babe. They trust you. I can hardly wait to start packing!"

  Eric laughed. "I'll be working, remember. We'll be stuck there at the house, pretty much. Pack light, I'm saying. Very light. Extremely light. Light, as in an empty bag, light like—"

  "I got the idea, Eric-san," Donna teased. "I wish Asahi was going to be there. She sounds like someone I'd like to meet."

  9

  The Ten-Cent Tour

  Carol Henderson brought a tray into her new stepdaughter-in-law's room. "Ready for lunch, I hope?"

  Layla sighed. "You are so good to me, Carol. Thanks for staying. I trust Pops is managing okay?" She sat up straighter and adjusted the pillows behind her so that she could eat in bed. After her water had broken the day before Thanksgiving, her doctor had put her on complete bed rest.

  Layla settled the tray of soup and sandwich in front of her belly as Carol sat beside the bed in a nearby chair. "Chet's fine. He wants to spend this weekend here, though, if that's okay with you and Keith."

  "Of course! Mm, this smells delicious. Nothing beats homemade chicken soup," Layla said.

  Carol laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's from a can." Carol was still getting used to the various personalities in her new extended family but was determined to do all she could to foster good relationships. Not only was it important to her, it was important to Chet. "I'm glad we can give Chet a good report." A visiting nurse practitioner had checked on Layla that morning.

  Layla nodded as she finished a bite of sandwich. "I feel kind of foolish, though. When we met you in the summer, I thought I was barely pregnant. Good thing I was further along than that."

  "Absolutely. But first babies have a way of surprising us. I'm so thankful your little bunch of broccoli is bigger than you thought, or…" Carol stopped. Layla was in her seventh month, not her fourth as she'd mistakenly thought. A premature rupture of the membranes that early would have been disastrous. As it was, the doctor had put her on bed rest, antibiotics, and a round of steroids to help the baby's lungs develop, in case of a premature delivery. And the baby was about the size of a bunch of broccoli by now.

  Tears welled up in Layla's eyes. "I was so scared I'd lose it. Her. Him." She smiled and patted her belly. "If you hadn't been with me, I might not have gone to the hospital as fast. Thank you so much."

  Carol stood up. "You'll be just fine, dear. I'm going to tidy up. I'll call Chet and let him know he can come over. When Keith comes home from school, maybe I'll order pizza. How does that sound?"

  Layla giggled. "That sounds great. Oh! I completely forgot when the NP came. My little sister called. She's coming during her Christmas break so she can take over nurse duties. You'll be off the hook."

  "Kristina, right?" Carol hadn't met Layla's sister yet but had spoken to her a few times on the phone. Quiet, almost timid, just a year or two younger than Layla, she was a teacher at the school Keith had worked at before they moved. Something in the ESE department, autistic children, she thought. Carol smiled and closed the bedroom door behind herself. This was good news—this weekend, and then a break coming soon. She and Chet had only been married a few months, after all.

  Carol whistled a tune as she walked to the kitchen, speaking to the fat calico cat as she passed it, "You know, we new brides don't like to sleep alone, no matter what our age."

  In response, the cat followed her into the kitchen, hoping for a treat.

  Jessica had to stop eating as she listened to Donna's animated recap of Eric's Thanksgiving experience; she'd almost choked on a bite of taco salad, she was laughing so hard. The fact that Eric had even agreed to a rather public appearance in the nude was proof he had changed drastically since they'd been a couple.

  She'd nodded appreciatively at the photo of "Florida Eric". His hair had always been his one vanity, but it looked even better now, sun-bleached, below his shoulders. He looks like a Greek god. And nude? No wonder those old ladies had fawned all over him. Not that he looks better than Worth, she thought quickly.

  Worth had to travel, but she had opted to stay home in case her mom needed help with Layla. Then Chet called to say he was spending the weekend there. Jessica was in a funk. A wasted weekend without Worth… sometimes she could hardly believe how happy they were, how perfectly matched they were.

  "He'll finish the fireplace while I'm there," Donna was saying, "but I'm sur
e he won't get as much done with me hanging all over him. I mean, we had like three days after the wedding? I really miss him."

  The hunger in her eyes made Jessica chuckle. "Well, it sounds like you're making the most of Face Timing." Donna had shown her some of the outfits she'd bought for the occasion. Eric had been so enthusiastic, apparently, that she'd asked Worth about it. Would he like her to order anything?

  'Nothing doing,' he'd told her. 'When I get tired of seeing you naked, I'll buy you something. Until then, I want skin, skin, and more skin.' Her cheeks colored at the thought. Last night's "goodbye sex" had been quite memorable.

  "Uh oh," Donna suddenly said, staring across the restaurant.

  "What? What's wrong?" Jessica followed Donna's eye, grazing the room until she spotted a familiar face. Lance Glover was in a booth, eating alone. "Oh, did you want to ask him to join us?" she teased. Personally, she had no opinion of the man one way or the other, but she was well aware of Donna's dislike.

  Donna attacked her chimichanga in response. "Like that will ever happen. He's creepy. Sometimes I think he follows me. He sure does pop up frequently."

  Jessica smirked. "The office isn't that big, Donna. And people do eat lunch. He wanted Mexican today, and so did we. That's all."

  "I guess," Donna said with a grimace. "I don't know what it is about him that gets to me—I mean he says things, or did, until I told him off in front of everybody. Now he just looks creepy. Stares." She glanced over at him and caught his eye. "Like now."

  When Jessica glanced over, however, he was eating. "What?"