by Kimball Lee
“Tremont here,” the smooth Southern voice said.
“This is Charlotte McCall, when do you want to meet?”
*
They met within the hour at Bar 45 at the Dorchester Hotel in Mayfair; Charlotte declined a window table and asked for something more private. Charles Tremont spotted her tucked into a cozy nook in a corner and leaned to kiss her cheek before he sat down. She was sipping a martini and he ordered one, too. They were both nervous, neither one was sure where to begin.
“Charlotte I won’t belittle your intellect by saying I should have looked for your mother and if I’d only known about you and so on. Your mother was never in love with me, we had a brief affair, she was seventeen and I was twenty and I was a married man. How can I justify that? We both wanted it to happen and it lasted for about a month one summer, until I went back to college and then law school in New England. Maybe she was a lonely girl in a city without anyone to confide in, and I was a young man whose college girlfriend got pregnant so I married her, it’s an age old story I suppose.”
“So you didn’t do anything illegal, that wouldn’t be considered statutory rape in Louisiana, but I’d say it was highly immoral. She never told me anything about you, and I always wondered about that because she wasn’t bitter toward my father but it didn’t seem like she’d been in love with him either,” Charlotte said, and sipped the strong martini. She never drank in the middle of the day and she had the hours’ drive back to Surrey to think of, but she needed the liquid courage to face her father.
“Alex says you have a baby, a little boy? Do you have a picture with you?” he asked and of course she couldn’t keep from smiling as she scrolled through the pictures on her phone then handed it to him.
She watched his face as he looked at the pictures; there were so many emotions, sadness, joy, definitely recognition.
He studied a particularly wonderful close up shot of the baby’s precious face, then looked up at her, “he has our eyes,” he said quietly, his voice full of wonder.
“Yes he does,” she said. “Tell me about my mother when you knew her, then I really need to get going. Maybe we’ll talk again, another time.”
“Please don’t say maybe, Charlotte. You are my daughter and I have this beautiful grandson, I want to be part of your life and see him grow up. What did you name him?”
She smiled, “Atticus, it’s my husband’s middle name and it seemed appropriate, Atticus Finch the great Southern lawyer.”
He nodded his head in approval, “It’s a great name, Atticus Finch has always been my hero. The men and women in my family have been lawyers for generations, ever since the first Tremont’s settled in New Orleans in seventeen sixty five. Without realizing it you followed in your ancestors footsteps. I don’t know if I was great, but I was a good Southern lawyer before I was a state senator and let politics become a ladder I was obsessed with climbing. After I lost my son the desire for absolute power seemed inconsequential, so I gave up my senate seat and took this appointment as ambassador. Well, I didn’t mean to go on and on, I love that you named him Atticus and I’m glad that you found his father alive.”
“Thank you for your help with that, in fact I can’t thank you enough. I love my husband more than you can imagine, not everyone finds that soul-connecting kind of love. My mother never had it but before she died she told me I was worth everything to her, she died when I was thirteen and I miss her just as much now as I did back then. Anyway, I don’t always see it but the truth is, having the greatest Mother, even for a short time, and loving Finn and Atticus so much I can hardly contain it, I’m a very lucky girl,” she said, then pushed the rest of the martini away and asked the waiter for a glass of water.
He finished his martini and ordered another; he told her his driver would gladly drive her home if she wanted to have another drink.
“So let me tell you what I know about your mother,” he said and he sat forward in his chair, his forearms resting on the edge of the table and his eyes glowed as he spoke. “Her coming out party was at the New Orleans Country Club, she was seventeen and the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just a physical beauty with Sally; she had ‘joie de vivre’ as the French call it, true joyfulness of being alive. It spilled out of her and made everything around her seem brighter, she charmed everyone, and yes, I was caught up in her spell. She would sneak away from school and I waited for her outside, we always went to the French Quarter and checked in to the Royal Sonesta as Mr. and Mrs. Wild. That was Sally’s idea and it made her laugh every time, the hotel clerk knew it was a fake name but your mother’s laughter was contagious. Our affair was a sweet, short-lived adventure. I went back to Yale and I never heard from her again, I had a wife and baby to think of and it seemed better to let it be a wonderful memory so I didn’t try to contact her. I wish she had told me about you, but she was always independent and she had that horrible crazy mother, I don’t know what she was thinking, I only know she wanted to be free from her parents.”
“That’s a lot to think about. We drove to New Orleans the summer before she died and stayed at the Royal Sonesta, she said it was her favorite hotel. My mother was a force to be reckoned with and she was happy for the most part even though life didn’t treat her well,” Charlotte said, gathering her purse and phone. “You can see your grandson whenever you like, he doesn’t have another grandfather and I want him to have any happiness life can offer. I don’t know what to call you Ambassador…”
He helped her with her coat and put on his own, then they walked outside to the cold November afternoon, “Dad would be nice if you’re comfortable with that or Charles if you’d rather. I’ve been thinking that maybe your mother named you after me; Charles and Charlotte are so similar. Alright then, I have your number and you have mine and I’m anxious to meet Atticus. I can come to Surrey any day or you can bring him to my official residence here in London.”
“Let me think things over for a few days, and what about your wife, what does she think about this twist of fate?” Charlotte asked.
“She and I live together but apart since our son died, if that makes sense. Now I have a living child and she doesn’t and it complicates matters perhaps more than usual, but I’m not going to lose you. It will upset her when she sees how much you look like our son; that will be hard for her. You know, Sally was beautiful, but in a different way, you look so much like my mother, it’s hard to believe I didn’t see it the minute we met. She had black hair and blue eyes and porcelain skin, you get it from her. You’re really quite stunning… and I’m not just saying that as a proud father,” he kissed her cheek and she got in her car and drove home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The way JP saw it he was spending far too much time with Amanda. They’d moved around to her different residences, first Paris and then New York, now they were staying at her brother’s beach house on a tiny island he owned in the Caribbean.
“I have to work dammit, I’m not your cabana boy!” he said and paced the tile floor as she lay content as a cat curled on the king sized bed with her dark red hair fanned out on the pillow. The mosquito netting that fell around the bed made her look mysterious and even more alluring, although he didn’t know how that was possible. She stayed in his head constantly, which was something new to him, and even as he fought it he knew it was no use. She had him, he’d fallen hard.
“We’re on a tropical island and just look at that view,” she said, as she sat up and moved the netting aside, she waved her hand toward the open French doors to the view of turquoise water where sailboats floated just beyond the unspoiled shore.
“How the fuck can I look at the view when I can’t take my eyes off you?” he stood in front of her and lifted her breasts in his hands, they were heavy and perfect and surprising on such a small woman.
He’d always preferred tall willowy women and she looked like a pagan goddess with her silky long hair, classic face and peach colored skin. She was not quite five feet four and she had curves,
firm, smooth, seriously feminine curves. Most women he knew in California embraced the ‘boys with boobs’ body image, but Amanda was comfortable with her voluptuous body and JP was intoxicated with it and with her. He caught himself studying her face when she slept, she was twenty three and flawless. Her face was heart shaped with a small narrow nose lightly sprinkled with pale freckles and her cheeks were like sweet pink apples. Her eyes were wide and the same sea-glass color as her brother’s and her eyebrows were arched and strawberry-blonde.
She loosened the tie to his swim trunks and pushed them down on his hips and before he could utter a word she took his cock in her mouth. She turned her blue-green eyes up to look at him as she licked and sucked and he thought he would cum immediately just looking at her deceivingly innocent little face.
He pushed her back on the bed and thrust into her as she laughed and tugged on his short hair, then her laughter turned to moans of pleasure as she arched her back and hips. She wound her small body around his long lean frame, hungry for every inch of him. They were wild as they touched and kissed, he was lost in the feel of her firm ass and silky thighs, his fingers finding her swollen, wet clit and bringing her to orgasm time and again. She had never known a body like his could really exist; every muscle was defined and rock hard under his tanned skin. She knew men had six pack abs but her hands traced the ridges of so many perfectly defined muscles she couldn’t begin to count them. His mouth captured an erect, pale pink nipple and sucked hard and they both came together, and lay sweaty and satisfied for a while.
“Marry me,” she said as they worked to slow their breathing.
“I’m supposed to say that,” he said, and moved his head to her stomach were he could look at the tiny strip of red pubic hair that was wet and glistening between her legs.
“Then say it,” she said, her hand in his hair, smoothing it as she thought about how she’d fallen in love with him so quickly and completely.
“I’m still thinking about it,” he said, looking up at her with complete adoration.
“Yeah, me too,” she said, smiling down at him.
*
“We need to go to Charlotte and Finn’s Thanksgiving week for the baby’s baptism, you know,” Amanda said as they had dinner in the dining room of Bly’s beach house. The enormous glass doors were pushed back accordion style into the wall and the breeze and sounds from the Caribbean Sea floated in as they ate. The tiny tropical island was part of the Turks and Caicos just south of the Tropic of Cancer, and it sat hidden, pristine and uninhabited except for the house staff and their families.
“I know, man I’m a God father, how crazy is that? Finn and Charlotte, if you had any idea how blown away I was when I first knew they were together. I mean we lived practically on top of one another for four years and I’m an expert at finding unknowable information and there they were fucking like bunnies all along.”
“Practically on top of each other, huh? I really like Charlotte and I want to get closer to her as a friend, but I can’t say I like the idea of you practically on top of her!” Amanda said, giving him a dimpled smile.
“Right, let me tell you, Charlotte had no use for men after she divorced that football player, but now that I think about it, I guess it was because Finn was taking damn good care of her.”
“So, what are you going to do now that you’ve given up your ‘government job’ whatever that was?” Amanda asked, dipping a huge piece of lobster in melted butter and moaning as she ate it.
“If I have to watch your sweet little mouth suck on that lobster while you make erotic noises I know exactly what I’ll be doing in about thirty seconds,” and he leaned toward her and kissed the butter from her lovely bow shaped mouth.
“Sorry,” she said, “I’ll be quieter, answer the question please.”
“Practice law, I guess. I’m not sure where, I’ll have to discuss that with my wife.”
“You have a wife?” she cried and stood up so fast her chair fell over.
“Well, kind of,” and she moved fast to slap him but he caught her hand and pulled her down on his lap. “Really she’s still officially my fiancée,” he said, catching her hair in his hand so he could pull her head back, leaving her long, beautiful neck at the mercy of his lips. “She’s a wild one, the girl I love, with her intoxicating skin and curves that beg to be touched, but she’s a hot blooded red head and she can be possessive of her man so you better watch out.”
“You are so not funny, but still romantic in your own lunatic way, yes I’ll be your wife if that’s what you mean and even if it’s not,” she said, smiling and kissing him and leading him back to the big bed with the gossamer netting and the pink and orange sunset over the enchanting sea just beyond.
*
Dovecote cottage was decorated with dried grapevine entwined with braches of berries and bundles of dried cornstalks tied with orange raffia. Orange pumpkins were piled in a wooden goat cart that sat near the front door. The weather had turned cold and there were unexpected flurries of snowflakes in the air as Finn unloaded the last bag of groceries from the Range Rover. Charlotte was in the kitchen covered with flour and cursing her brilliant idea of making pie crusts from scratch and Atticus was sitting at her feet playing with measuring cups and spoons.
“This looks like domestic bliss to me,” Finn said, setting the bags down on the counter and picking up his son. “Come here, my love,” he said and pulled her against his cold body, “I missed you, isn’t that ridiculous? I can hardly spend a day away from my wife, it’s difficult to believe I used to be gone for months at a time, but if you say it’s true I suppose it must be.”
Finn’s body had healed and his memory was returning slowly but he had large gaps of time that eluded him. Charlotte thought they must be things he chose not to remember and in fact he seemed more at peace than he’d ever been before. Even though she and Georgina had shown him pictures he still didn’t quite grasp ever having known Jude or JP. Jude had stayed by Finn’s side at the hospital, but at the time Finn was suffering the effects of all the medication and so he didn’t remember his brother. He would see Jude and JP as well as their new girlfriends the next day since they were all coming for Thanksgiving dinner and the baby’s Baptism earlier in the day at the Anglican Church in the village.
“Where is my mother,” he asked, as his hand moved inside her yoga pants to her firm little ass. “Atticus misses his Grammy, I’m sure. I’ll just run him down the lane to visit her and we’ll forget about these pies for a while.”
“Hmm, so going to the market makes you…” she started and he covered her mouth with a scalding kiss that stopped her words and caused her to moan and wrap a long leg around his.
When he released her she caught her breath and said, “I’ll get his coat and diaper bag.”
She was waiting in their big bed when he came upstairs and he stopped in the doorway of the bedroom and looked at her sitting cross legged in a white corset and stockings. He moved to the bed and one hand went to untie her laces and the other slipped between her folded legs to her bare little pussy.
“No,” she said, brushing his hands away, “take your clothes off first, then we’re going to see if you remember our honeymoon.”
He looked perplexed but he backed away from the bed and started to undress, “you have a decidedly wicked look in your beautiful eyes, my love. What did we do on our honeymoon besides ravage each other constantly?”
When he stepped out of his boxer briefs she reached under the pillow and held up his wedding suspenders, she tilted her head and smiled as she watched his face.
“I’m not sure I remember but it seems you’re going to force me to,” he said and his cock began to ache in anticipation of whatever his love had in store for him.
“Lie down next to me and hold onto the headboard,” she said, uncrossing her legs and hugging her knees to her chest. Her legs were parted just enough to give him a glorious view of her moist pink slit and the smooth shaved lips that waited for his touch.<
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His body had filled out in the last weeks and his muscles rippled under his skin, the wounds had healed and as always, the pale scars and tattoos spoke to some erotic place deep inside her. She straddled him and he closed his eyes as her already wet pussy rested on his stomach. She ran her hands along the steely bands of his arm muscles as he held the iron headboard, then she tied his hands firmly.
“Look at me,” she said, as she loosened the ties of the corset and let it fall open, then moved her hands over her breasts as he watched. “What do you remember?” she asked as her fingers pinched her pink nipples and a gasp escaped her mouth.
“I’m not sure,” he said and his voice was shaky.
“Too bad, I’ll just have to cum while you watch then,” she said and she reached under the pillow again and held up a small pink vibrator. “I’d rather have your hands or your mouth or your long, thick cock, but you hardly remember our love.”
She leaned back then and braced herself with a hand on his thigh, her hair fell backward and brushed his straining cock. She closed her eyes and held the vibrator to her pussy and as it hummed against her clit, he struggled to free his hands.
“Charlotte, my love, please!” he said through labored breaths.
She came quickly, moaning and squirming against him and she finally fell forward letting his mouth find her breasts. She nearly screamed from the ferocity of his tongue as he teased first one nipple then the other and her hand went behind her back to stroke his cock.
Before she knew what was happening he broke free of his ties and moved her under him swiftly and thrust into her hard and deep, over and over. She wrapped her legs around him and felt every delicious blow against the far end of her pussy, and the pain and pleasure built until she felt herself gripping him tighter and tighter until they both shouted as they climaxed and lay spent.