Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire)

by Simmons, NC

  Do I deserve this gift? Do I truly deserve either Lena or Rory? How can someone so vile and sinful deserve such tender lovers? If they only knew all of my secrets. If they only knew the selfishness of my soul, would either still want me?

  I am so ashamed. Last night, as the three of us made love, I suffered another attack. My illness overwhelmed me and I behaved as a frightened child. Lena and Rory immediately comforted me and helped me calm. But why did they do it? They could have left me. They should have left me. They do not need my burden in their lives, yet they cared for me as if I was the most precious person in the world. What is it that they see in me? Have I seduced them as I have the other lives I have destroyed? Have I blinded them to my true nature, to the ugliness of my duplicitous heart?

  Oh, I do not know what I am saying! I love them both so much! When Rory cradled us I felt as if our dreams were finally coming true. When Rory agreed to love Lena, he lifted my heart. I realize today that even for the beautiful gift fate has given me in Rory, I simply cannot live without Lena in my life. I cannot breathe a single breath unless I begin each day with Lena’s kiss. Lena’s kiss renews my life each morning. Her lips pour the beauty of her selfless soul into my withering sack of bones and I know I can endure another day.

  I know why I love them! I love them because they accept me as I am, in spite of my evil soul. But WHY do they love me? They have been inside me! They know I am ill. They love me in spite of my illness.

  I must stop doubting this gift! I must simply accept it and live in the joy of Rory and Lena’s love for as long as fate allows! I must show them how much I love them with every ounce of my wretched body!

  I love Lena and Rory!

  Please God… Have mercy on my evil heart.

  With all my love,

  Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente

  Twenty Six

  March 19, 1988

  Well hello there, Diary. Have you missed me? Feeling lonely? Oh… I still love you! I really do! It’s just been a little tough to write these past couple of weeks. I hope you’ll forgive me. Things have been a little busy.

  How so, you ask? (You’re such a nosy little Diary, aren’t you?)

  Well, since you asked nicely, I’ll tell you. For starters, I just landed a WHALE for DMJ. It should be $3million-plus by the time we’re done this first round of defense, then another half-mill a year in retainers. I LOVE auto recall cases! (As long as nobody gets killed or horribly disfigured, that is.)

  Old man Dunston thinks I’m Wonder Girl the way I snag ‘em, tag 'em, and bag ‘em. Ahhh… The Wild Child has the Midas touch. The old boys at DMJ look at me and think I’m just a sweet young thing, a rookie in a skirt just waiting to be screwed. HA! It’s all about the KILLER INSTINCT, my fibrous friend!

  Side bar time…

  Dickie Dunston is SUCH a pig! UGH! That man gropes my ass every time he gets a chance! He does it to all the female staff. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a partner or an intern, if you’re cute, Dunston will grope you. The pig tried to slip me a finger in the stacks the other day! UGH! Some day he’s going to get his. Some junior partner is going to have enough someday and she’s going to sue his ass! And I’ll represent her pro bono!

  What about Larry, you ask? I don’t see much of Lawrence Langston Jacoby, J.D. (Go figure. Nice, orthodox Jew with a WASP for a mother.) I know Larry thinks I’m going to drop a load of cash on him to buy him out and buy my way into the Old Boys club.

  (Sorry, Larry. Not gonna happen.)

  Now Charlie McGary, on the other hand… Ahhh… I LOVE Charlie. Charlie is a man’s man. Charlie’s treated me with nothing but respect since I came on board. He doesn’t look at me like a tennis bimbo with an easy skate. He knows I worked my ass off to get where I am. (I got that #3 slot nice and legit, without my dipshit roommate throwing her GPA!) Yes, Charlie opens doors for me, he shakes my hand professionally. And he always looks me in the eye, not the tits. (Not that I’d mind him looking at my ta-tas, of course. I have very nice ta-tas, I think.)

  Yeah… I like Charlie a lot. It’s going to break my heart when I tell my adopted “Daddy” that Lenore and I are going across town to whip DMJ’s ass!

  Oooh… That sounded so mean and nasty. Sorry. Now that I’m off the circuit I guess I need another outlet for all my Psycho 16 rage.

  Yes, the poor schmucks aren’t going to know what hit them when Lenore and I bail out and open our own shop!

  You say we’re a little young to own our own firm? Noooo… Think again, my puny little paperweight. In a little under a year with Sizemore, Lenore snagged $5million in referrals and new clients. Of course, I beat my seductive little Spanish fly trap with $5.2million.

  HEE HEE! I can’t help but rub it in! Lenore smacked me around one night when I teased her about beating her on the revenue line. It’s a great way to set her up for some wicked hot honey time at the apartment! Broke another soji panel when she speared me from the back.

  So I think we’ll be just fine when we pop the champagne cork at Sardi/De La Fuente.

  HEY! Don’t look at me that way, you paper-bound party-pooper! I offered the crazy bitch De La Fuente/Sardi, so don’t you give me grief! Lenore said Sardi/De La Fuente “sounded better on the linguist’s tongue,” so there! (That ain’t all that linguist’s tongue is good for!)

  Anyhoo… We’re on target for launch in about a year, so keep your pages crossed, my cowhide-covered confidant. We’re building up connections, stocking up on cash, and getting our organizational documents in order. This burb won’t know what hit it when they see the publicity stills we have in mind! I’ll stand there in a business suit from the waist up and a tennis skirt, bare legs, and sneakers from the waist down... (Leaning on my signature Wilson, of course. Gotta get the product placements in there, eh?) Lenore will have on a Shalamar original business suit done completely in that silly ochre swirl she loves so much.

  (YES, I tried to talk her out of the ochre! I don’t know what it is with that woman and that insipid ochre swirl.)

  Of course… A certain Mr. “The One” is staking the firm as a silent partner.

  Mr. “Who,” you ask? (HEE HEE!)

  And THAT gets me to my biggest apology of all, Diary. I know you’ve been lonely lately. I really feel for you. It must be very hard not having your soft, supple pages fingered by the world’s second-horniest “pussy hungry hottie.” Feeling my digits drive you wild as I run them across your smooth, creamy white pulpiness…

  Getting wet yet?

  Well, it’s been hard to write for a while. Really hard. And really, really stiff. And super sweaty. And deliciously sticky. And I want you to know that making love just about every day and twice on Sunday with “The One” (as Lenore likes to call him) has been an exhausting challenge. But I think I’ve held up quite nicely under the circumstances.

  YES! With Rory St. Cloud! HA HA! OH MY GOD! You have NO idea how hard it was to keep a straight face while I was writing all that!

  ’Give!’ you say? YES, Lenore found ‘The One!’ Finally! Hallelujah! Thank God! Now someone else will have to wrestle the strumpet into submission when she goes insane.

  No, I’m not kidding. Freaky actually goes insane sometimes. We are NOT going to go there. Let’s stay focused on ‘The One.'

  Oh my God! He’s a demi-god! Eyes. Lips. Abs. Guns. Butt. Oh my God, what a butt! Rrrrowr!

  I’m not kidding when I say that we do it every night! And TWICE on Sundays! Our place, his place, ANY place! It doesn’t matter! Lenore and I get a break if one of us is out of town on business, but Rory's poor peter never gets a pause. I never knew a man could stay so hard, for so long, and recover so quickly. WOW! Helen Gurley Brown needs to chat with this boy and bottle his secret formula!

  I have to say, when Lenore picks ‘em, she really picks ‘em. ( I mean, she picked ME, didn’t she? XOXO) My God, this guy is gorgeous! And seriously loaded! And… weirdly… insanely hard working! You know how early Lenore and I wake up to work out. Well, Rory is always off
to the office by the time we get out of bed! He’s a real work-a-holic. Especially when he makes love. Which is just about every time we’re together.

  Side bar time again…

  I’m not sure what I think about the three of us sleeping together all the time. I mean, it’s great to be in Lenore’s arms, and I really love Rory, and I think Rory really loves me, but I know it has to end someday. I know I can’t be a third wheel forever. That would just get way too complicated. Someday I’m going to need to find my own “The One.” Oh well. I’ll take the loaner orgasms for now.

  Anyhoo… “The One” is finally taking Lenore up to his estate. Talk about mysterious! He won't tell either of us anything about it. Nothing! I even gave that beautiful boy a BJ in the Jacuzzi one night and tried to coax the details. No-go. Nice BJ, though. Got me some in the end, too.

  Lenore thinks he’s going to pop the question on her when he takes her to the estate. Not a chance. Not yet, anyway. Rory won’t tell me what he has in mind, but whatever it is it’s going to be BIG and SPLASHY and it will definitely be front-page news.

  Lenore promised to spill all when she gets back to the apartment. I’ll filter out the boring, clean parts and be sure to load up on the nasty bits just for you, my little paper-cut-in-waiting.

  Oh well… I’m all alone tonight. Rory and Lenore went to Paris for some fashion show so it’s just you, me, a nice glass of Zinfandel, and this nasty vibe I just picked up from mail order. It’s as big as a hair dryer, makes a really loud buzz, and it says, “A toe curling experience” on the package. “Toe curling.” Yeah, right! Baby, after what I’ve been through these past few weeks, this toy will have to do a LOT more than just curl my toes to keep ME happy!

  Ahhh… Come to me, my darling. Make Mommy’s pussy purr…

  Love,

  Sexy and Single in SoHo.

  Part 7

  Playing Dirty

  Twenty Seven

  "Rory, I have had this blindfold on for 2 hours!”

  "Just a little longer, Lenore. I told you this would take a while."

  "A while, Rory, is 15 minutes. An hour at the most. This trip is taking longer than 'The Iliad’.”

  Rory laughed. "Homer sends his thanks for the mention, darling. Relax. It will only be another minute or two."

  Traveling through the rolling hills of the Hudson Valley - Rory called it “the scenic route” – began romantically enough, with the power couple holding hands over the center console of Rory’s Jag. But what should have taken an hour via the Taconic took an excruciating hour and forty-five traveling over winding two-lane country roads.

  The car slowed. Lenore heard a metallic, grinding sound.

  “Rory…?”

  "We are almost there, dear… Almost there…"

  "And 'where,' dear, is 'there'?"

  “Just another minute…”

  Rory navigated the car at a leisurely place down yet another hilly, winding road. He stopped. He jumped from the car and ran to Lenore's door, assisting her exit with the blindfold still covering her eyes. Rory led Lenore a few steps forward and removed the blindfold.

  “Now you may open your eyes, darling. Lenore De La Fuente, I present your future home. Welcome to 'Staffordshire’.”

  Lenore rubbed her eyes, adjusting to the midday sun. Her jaw dropped. The multi-lingual attorney with the Ivy League pedigree was struck speechless.

  “Dios miiiiohhhh…”

  A gleaming white mansion with a half-dozen massive, white marble columns sat at the precipice of a lush, rolling hill covered in Kentucky blue. In the years since hiring Sonia Nichols, Rory had transformed the once-vacant home into a thriving, active manse surrounded by abundant greenery. A rainbow of colors enrobed the home, with a Dogwood-lined driveway, lovingly tended gardens filled with seasonal flora, and endless, manicured lawns.

  Lenore clapped her hands to her mouth. "Rory! Are you joking? This must be a joke! You do not own this home! Do you? Really?”

  "Well, darling, what else would you do with $1.2billion dollars?”

  "Yes, but… This… This is astonishing! This is 'yours,' right? You are not putting me on?”

  Rory laughed. "All mine, my love. Well... All mine, my 14 staff, their spouses, their children, and my future wife and our children.”

  Lenore glanced to her right toward a detached building. "Is that an… An eight-car garage?"

  "I only have two in there at the moment. Would you like to go into the house and explore a little?"

  "YES! Let's explore!"

  Lenore sprinted into the house. She wore yet another custom creation for the special occasion, a rich, red, flowing design with deep “V” crisscross cleavage and streaking, black accents. The dress floated behind as she ran into the house atop 4”, dark gold, calf-wrap sandals. She stopped dead upon entering the foyer, transfixed by the balcony above and… How many bedrooms were there? She counted 2 visible doors directly off the balcony and 2 more peeking in from either side.

  Even Lenore, accustomed to her father’s wealth, never before experienced anything quite like Staffordshire. It was opulent beyond imagination. "Rory, I… I truly cannot begin to process this. It is astonishing! It is like something out of a fairytale!" Lenore swept her gaze around the open foyer, standing in one place but leaning this way and that, her eyes taking in corridors, archways, and rooms. "It seems so huge for just one person, or even just one family. Have you ever considered 'downsizing' to something... A little less 'Castle-like?' There must be other homes that would require less staff and daily maintenance.”

  "I have homes in Napa, Miami, Vail, Vienna, and Nice that are a little less 'castle-like.' This is the main home, the 'family' home. I am obligated by birth to live in this home and keep it in the family. I am also obligated to use it to the good of the community and…"

  Rory paused, choreographing a looping, arcing dance of introduction, breaking the home’s lurid legacy into small, bite-sized chunks for his unsuspecting girlfriend. It was time to hint at the true nature of Lenore’s role on the estate if they consummated their marriage. He did not want a repeat of Alicia’s humiliating meltdown.

  "…I am obligated to share its many pleasures with my future wife."

  "Well I am not quite certain what all of that means, Rory, but it would be my pleasure to share your pleasures!”

  Lenore cocked her head. A word crinkled her brow. “Why ‘obligated, Rory?’ Why are you ‘obligated’ to keep this home?”

  In the years since receiving his bequest, Rory had softened. He had come to appreciate the decadent, confidential pleasures of the enclave. He also loathed the burden it added to the lives of family and servants alike. For the moment, he zigged.

  "Before we tackle that, Lenore, let's take a tour. I think you will understand more as we visit a few of the rooms. I’ll explain some of the stipulations that go alone with the deed of the estate as we take our tour.”

  "Stipulations? I am familiar with legal stipulations, Rory, but not as they relate to the transfer of family homes."

  "Trust me, Lenore. You’ll understand the purpose of the stipulations once you hear them and experience them for yourself."

  Rory stopped abruptly and turned to face Lenore. He grasped her by both hands, startling the girlfriend.

  "Lenore… I want you to know… I love you much more than life itself. In just the few months we’ve known each other, you’ve awakened emotions in me that I never knew existed. You are so much more than just a brilliant, beautiful woman. When I’m with you, Lenore… I feel… I feel as if I disappear into you. You make me come alive every time I’m by your side!

  "But… You have also shown me that you have a more… ‘Exotic’ side. A side to your personality that you save for private moments with those you love and trust. I believe your appetite for intimacy is insatiable. I don’t believe I have begun to satisfy it."

  Lenore stared at Rory, eyes squinting. "Rory, you have me thoroughly confused. You sound like something out of paperback romance nov
el. Are you complimenting me or condemning me? Are you praising me or preparing to release me? I need something concrete, Rory. Please give me concrete."

  Rory shook his head and smiled. "You know… You’re right, Lenore. I went Victorian on you. It's the spirit of the house getting the better of me. Let me see if I can put this more clearly. You see, Staffordshire has been led by powerful women since its creation. For generations, Staffordshire has been dominated by our matriarchs. We men…? Well… We have our role here. But in my family, the St. Cloud women rule things in and around the estate. St. Cloud women love their families, work hard at their careers, and give their all to their charitable causes. But the privacy and safety of these walls permit them to play even harder. Lenore, I sense that you want to play with more abandon than you ever have before. This house will give you that luxury and much more."

  Once again, Lenore could not figure out who or what possessed the Rory she knew, turning him into a poor replica of Mr. Darcy.

  "Still not concrete, Rory."

  "Let's walk, Lenore. If you don't like what you see, hear, and experience, I suspect we will soon know whether Staffordshire is right for you or whether you will want to walk away.”

  Lenore gripped Rory’s forearm in panic. "From you, Rory? Or just this house?"

  "Unfortunately, Lenore… For reasons that will become obvious as we tour… This house and I come as something of a boxed set."

  Lenore wondered if she had just stepped into a hallucinogenic fugue. "Let me be certain I understand you, Rory. Are you suggesting that if I do not like this house, we cannot marry?"

  "If you don't like this house, Lenore, you won't want to marry me. It will all become clear to you as we take the tour. Everything on this tour will take place exactly as it would on any given day at the estate. If you don't like what you experience, I suspect our visit will be over quickly.