Mike & Karen Ch.36

A tiny little room, early morning...

The sun was only beginning to dawn, and the vast majority of the people in the manor were still asleep. Maybe Theresa and Angie were down in the industrial kitchen, and maybe Andrea was down in the depths wrestling with her beloved furnaces, but almost nobody else would be. Not even Trilby or Miss Prospero.

So now was the perfect time to take care of something very important and personal to them both. Set into the wall of the Bishop Hooper Library was a subtle door. Past this door was a small room, and this morning was the very first time it was being used. Michael and Alex had prepared it, with help from Andrea and Dave, and it meant everything to Karen to be here now.

The room was only dimly lit, with just enough space for two small wooden pews on either side of the door. The pews were decidedly elderly, having been salvaged from old churches in the Blackwell family's hereditary lands in Berkshire. Karen thought they might be three or four hundred years old. The cushions did little to ease the discomfort, but that was hardly the point. Each pew seated maybe two people, made as they were for Blackwell ancestors from the 17th century, decidedly smaller in frame.

The floor was carefully covered with encaustic tiles, most of which were from the late medieval period in England, once again salvaged from churches on Blackwell lands. They were delicate, certainly, but the room would be used very rarely, so they would last some time if they were kept properly. They were a mixture of religious motifs from all over England.

The walls were covered in tapestries, most of a faith nature, but also some that told tales of the Blackwell family through the ages. Well-preserved, the earliest one on display was from the 18th century. One hung on the back of the door as well.

At the back of the room, a small and simple altar from an earlier time, with a rugged wooden cross standing in the middle on an antique linen runner. It was the altar that Mike and Karen were now kneeling in front of quietly while the bishop looked down at them, holding his bible.

"Of course, in earlier times, men in my position were often blessing the leaders of noble families as they went to war, or well dealing with intrigues of the court, and so on," Fred said with a smile. "And while that aspect may seem anachronistic, I've met my share of Blackwells over the years, my dear, and I know what you're in for."

Karen looked up at him and nodded.

"Bless you, of course. Bless your husband for being your rock and unwavering support, always," he continued. "Here in this, the aptly-named Bishop Odo Chapel, we begin the day that will see you become mistress of one of the oldest families in the world, Karen. Steering it through these turbulent times will be one of your greatest challenges."

He smiled again. "But if anyone is equipped and blessed by the Almighty to do it, my dear, rest assured, it is you."

He put his hands on their heads, and they held one another's hand while he began his prayer.

Today began a new adventure.

Mike & Karen

Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older while actively engaging in sexual activity. This story is a prequel/sequel (sprequel?) to my other work, Alex & Alexa. As always, many thanks and gratuitous panty shots from Freja and Jeanie to my long-suffering editor and beta-reader for their assistance in polishing up and improving this work. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice. Enjoy!

Please Note: There are incest themes with a secondary couple in this story. Just a forewarning.

Chapter XXXVI- At The Lady's Pleasure

The west master suite...

"Well, don't you look radiant," Alex quipped as he walked into his bedroom, wearing a plush robe. "And how is the world's loveliest blonde bombshell wife?"

"Grumbly, but I'll be fine after some socially acceptable chemical stimulants are injected into me," Alexa sighed as she got dressed. It was too early to get gussied up for the day's festivities, so she was just wearing capris and putting on a light cashmere sweater, a combination that would do absolutely nothing to hide her incredible figure. "How 'bout you? Where'd you end up? With Val again?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Alexa raised her eyebrow. "Well if you were getting laid, who else is there? Fre and Jeanie went back downtown, and I know you haven't sexed up Andrea just yet."

Her eyes widened as the answer occurred to her. "You slept with Aunt Ash?!"

Alex grinned. "Well, you were sleeping with Trinian, so turnabout is fair play, right?"

"The difference is that I'm not boffing Trinian," Alexa insisted, looking indignant. "I can't believe you fucked your aunt!"

"You're my aunt and I'm brainstem-deep in you all the time," Alex laughed. "For the record, though, nothin' happened. She just slept against me."

"Honestly, I wouldn't've blinked or cared if you had done her, Alexa said with a shrug. "As long as you don't knock her up. Nobody gets babies outta you before I do, mister."

"So where's your bedmate and newly betrothed?" Alex asked as he watched her finish wrestling her sweater down over her chest. "Trin is normally lurking nearby."

"Ugh, like I care," Alexa groused. "Maybe Nanu got her claws in the kid. She travels constantly in her sleep and snores like a buzzsaw. Fortunately, I look better tired and sleep-deprived than just about anyone else does fully awake and put together."

"It's your modesty at work," Alex chuckled as he turned around and made for the door. "I'll see you downstairs for breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah," Alexa grumbled while she finished up. Seconds later, Trinian came back into the room and walked up to her.

"Hello, Alexandra," she said with a certain seriousness to her voice that contradicted her age and size. "It is time for us to go down to breakfast. We should go together."

"Okay," Alexa sighed resignedly, taking Trinian's proffered hand. "Let's go, squirt..."

She really hoped Ashley took over looking after the kid so she could get on with her day. She'd sleep with Ashley next time and her stupid husband could get stuck with Trinian for the night.

And while I'm dreaming, I'd really like a pony... she wished silently as they walked down the hall.

***

Down the hallway...

"Gawd, woman, are you sure you wanna show up at the festivities looking like that?" Mona asked as she rinsed her body down, her glorious afro protected by a cap. "Your face is eighty percent eyebag."

"I'll be fine after a cold shower, slut," Janet grumbled as she also cleansed herself with her hair in a bun, standing next to her so-called 'friend' who was making fun of her. "I told you, a client called me after we'd all gone to bed, and she needed help. Her ex broke into her place and needed to be dealt with."

"Ooh, dealt with," the black girl breathed, smiling evilly. "I know what that means... Janet the illegal beagle was at work."

"I may have bent the law to the point of snapping its more delicate bones," the brunette said with a shrug. "Point is, I'll break the law as much as necessary to protect women from shitball men. Sometimes you need to move beyond the law to do the right thing."

"Y'sound like Mongo, talking about one of those dopey D&D 'alignment' thingies," Mona giggled. It was true, Mike had explained what 'alignment' each of them was according to his game mechanics. Not surprisingly, Janet the lawyer was actually 'Lawful Good', no matter how irreverent she could seem. Karen was Lawful Good as well. Lisa and Mona were both along the lines of 'Chaotic Good', breaking the rules and overturning the status quo to get the right thing done. It was rather obvious and essential to Lisa as an activist, and Mona as a minority woman.

Mike and Alex were 'Neutral Good'. To the best of Mona's extremely limited knowledge, what that meant was that by means of the law or working outside it, good was the only thing that mattered.

So the fact that Janet had technically worked outside the law was indicative of how serious she was about protecting this client. Janet had done some crazy things and jumped through some insane hoops over the decades for her clients, not the least of which was almost getting herself killed.

"What did you say her name was?" Mona asked, moving in and slithering her nipples against Janet's to be a tease.

"Julie," Janet answered, shaking her head. She didn't stop Mona, but she went to the trouble of shaking her head. "Julie Zane, that was her married name, she never changed it. Her maiden name is Llewellyn. She's got a son roughly Alex's age, his name is Aaron."

Mona pondered. "Have we met her?"

"No," Janet said, shaking her head again. "I like to keep work and pleasure separate, y'know that. But apparently she knows Becky and Nanu, since she's a teacher."

"Small world, for sure," Mona said agreeably. They washed one another's backs and butts, taking more time than was necessary on the latter. But what the hey, they weren't on a tight schedule.

"Think we should've woke Red?" Mona wondered while she massaged shower gel into Janet's butt cheeks.

"Honestly, she seems to enjoy sleeping in recently," the brunette said. "I dunno about you, but I think she's not sleepin' all that well back in Idaho."

Mona understood what her friend meant. "Do we talk to her about it?"

"I wouldn't," Janet answered, shaking her head while rinsing lather off her tits. "She'd get embarrassed and tell us everything was fun. No, she needs to come to us. And she will. For all we know, she's already talked to Mongo."

They were Lisa's best friends, along with Karen, but Lisa had always seen Mike as the great authority figure and problem solver in her life; she always went to him when she was at odds with her circumstances. They didn't blame her, it was the same for them. It was just annoying that he was always right.

They finished their ablutions and toweled one another off. Putting on robes, they went back into the bedroom and knelt down next to the sleeping redhead, who was on her side, curled up, snoring.

"Glllll-peep... glllll-peep... glllll-peep..."

"I swear, this is what a snoring budgie would sound like," Janet sighed, just staring at Lisa.

"Could be worse, she could snore like Big Bird," Mona pointed out with a smirk. "That damn sound haunted my dreams when I was a kid."

"So did the songs from that Burl Ives kids' record, if memory serves," Janet pointed. Mona shivered in remembered fear. Janet gently shook Lisa by the shoulder. "Li... Li, time to get up."

"Don' wanna, D, lemme sleep..." Lisa mumbled, barely moving.

Janet looked up at Mona, who mouthed the word 'Donna' back to her.

Janet smiled and stroked Lisa's red hair. "Li, it's Kar's big day, time to get up, honey. You need to shower."

"I promise, I won't have a good time, I won't..." Lisa whimpered in her sleep. "Jus' gotta go... belong here..."

Tempted as they might have been to let her sleep, Mona and Janet knew they needed to wake her. The question was, how?

Well, if Lisa was hurting in her sleep, they'd wake her up lovingly.

"Li," Mona cooed as she laid down on her side and snuggled into Lisa's front, caressing her hair. "It's me'n Janet. We're waking you up, baby. Time to wake up."

"Yeah, it's a big day you don't wanna miss," Janet whispered nestling into Lisa's back and holding her. "C'mon, honey, wakey-wakey..."

They cuddled and whispered to her, giving her little caresses and kisses. Soon enough, Lisa was smiling, even though she was still asleep. She'd turned onto her back and was smiling, her hands held in front of her like cute little kitty paws. They both knew it was a sign of a happy, sleeping Lisa, and they'd missed it so.

The redhead took a deep breath and her eyes fluttered open. She stared up at the dawn-lit ceiling for some moments and then stretched slowly, letting out one of her famous yawn-squeaks. Janet and Mona both smiled at her adoringly. Once she was done with her cat stretch, she looked back and forth between her dear friends.

"Hey," she said sleepily. "Mornin', guys. I slept great, how 'bout you?"

"Like a baby," Mona said with a smile.

"I mean, your ass kept waking me up by blowing me across the room, but I did okay too," Janet added with a smirk.

Lisa stuck her tongue out at the brunette and then all three were giggling and sharing big hugs. Lisa finally sat up, giving another stretch and a big yawn. Her red hair was everywhere, but at least it'd be easy to tame into the intended look for the afternoon. She looked at them in their cozy robes. "I guess you two've already showered, eh? Y'let me sleep in?"

"We didn't think it was appropriate to ask you to shower with us, you little goofball," Janet pointed out.

"Well, fair," Lisa admitted, cricking her neck now. "I'd look kinda funny showering in a bathing suit, wouldn't I?"

"You go get clean while we get dressed," Mona said as they helped their friend stand up in the endless piles of pillows and cushions. Lisa tottered off to the bathroom, still yawning and stretching. Janet and Mona waited until she closed the door.

"She doesn't seem to remember being upset in her sleep," Janet observed as they began shedding their robes and went about pulling out their morning attire. There was likely to be three changes of clothes today- causal morning wear before the soiree, formal wear for the events, and then classy evening wear for the party that would follow dinner.

"Y'know Red, she never remembers her dreams," Mona replied as she pulled out her chosen clothing for breakfast. Just some posh yoga pants that treated her butt right, and a loose-fitting, off-the-shoulder sweater that recalled the eighties. Might make her look like an exercise buff, just in case any available handsome millionaires were watching. "What're you wearin' this morning?"

"I dunno yet," Janet answered, making a pensive face as she held up a tiny, lacy thong. "Are panties strictly a necessity during the morning meal?"

"'course they are, dopey," Mona snorted.

"For you, maybe," Janet quipped. "That big ol' black girl vulva of yours, y'don't wanna be shouting 'camel toe' at everyone in the neighbourhood. African bush, too."

"Excuse you," Mona said, feigning indignance as she turned to face her friend. They were both nude again. "My vulva is as smooth as a veal cutlet, thank you!"

As if to prove her point, she marched over to Janet, grabbed her and turned her by the hips and pressed forward, squashing her pussy into the brunette's. "You got a fetish for being wrong, Remington?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was wrong about you and your vealy vulva," Janet laughed, grabbing Mona by the butt and squirming into her. They were giggling and tottering around in a circle when Val poked her head in.

"Ladies, I just- oh, never mind, you're awake..." the maid said before ducking out again.

Janet and Mona were laughing harder than ever as they kept wrestling around the bedroom.

***

The dorm showers, Saturday morning, 1987...

"So, I have a splendid day planned for us," Karen said she stepped out from under the showerhead she'd been using. Her glorious body glistened wetly. "I-"

"What, nothing on the docket with your barone?" Janet asked as she stepped out as well, grabbing her towel. "I thought you'd have him deep in you this weekend while tooling around on a private yacht."

"If you must know, he is otherwise occupied," the bronze-haired goddess replied, rubbing one of her plush towels over her hair. "His father dragged him off to some godawful weekend meeting for shipping magnates. His father clearly thinks he's Aristotle Onassis. In any event, no, I am without his services this weekend. I was going to sub you all in."

"Oh, no can do, Princess, at least not today," Mona said, rubbing her tits down with her towel. "I'm meeting my mom to help pick out presents for my aunt Rosie's wedding. Talk about a drag, her taste in everything is chintzy and lame."

"And I'm on a special day lecture," Janet added, wrapping a towel around her hair now. "I'd say I had it planned for weeks, but my prof only reminded me yesterday. I'd totally forgotten."

"Yep, and temple for me today," Lisa said, drying her slender body, her kinky, red hair plastered to her back and neck. "Mom guilt-tripped me into it finally. I'm on the verge of finding my faith just to get her to leave me the Hell alone."

"I thought Jews didn't believe in Hell," Janet mused, wrapping a towel around her body.

"Just a technicality I'm willing to risk to get her off my back," Lisa muttered. "I pretend to faith and go to a Hell I don't believe in. That'll show her."

"Sounds like my Catholic family logic to me," the brunette laughed, making sure Mona's towel stayed fastened tight at the back of her body. Mona then did the same for her. "So none of us are gonna be around today to help Princess have a relaxing day?"

"What a total disappointment," Karen sighed, wrapping her towel around her buxom body and barely concealing it. She wouldn't tell anyone, but that effect was rather intentional. "Now what I am supposed to do?"

"Y'can't just go and do whatever by yourself?" Mona queried as they walked down the dorm hallway together, still wearing towels and flip-flops.

"Where is the fun in that?" Karen seemed to lament. "I was planning on a girls' day of pampering."

"Stupid lecture," Janet muttered now while they kept walking. The other girls mostly ignored them or said hello, but the rare boy on in the hallway found it hard not to gawk.

"And none of you can break your commitments?" Karen asked while they reached the other end of the hallway, which is where her and Lisa's room was. She opened the door and let them in.

"Couldn't you invite another girl?" Mona suggested. "What about Vivi? We've brought her to the dark side now."

"Nah, she's off to an orgy for the weekend," Lisa answered, pulling off her towel now that they were in private. "She told me about it a few days ago. She said with any luck, she'll come back not remembering her name."

"Forget the dark side, we drop-kicked that chick into a black hole," Janet laughed, now also naked. Complete nudity was the norm in their dorm rooms for them. "What about one of the other girls in residence?"

"Well it would hardly be the same, would it?" Karen pointed out, her glorious body on display. Not that anyone was objecting. She shook her head. "We are les quatre inséparables, after all."

"Did she just call us the Four Muffketeers?" Mona asked while holding her arms over her hard as Janet gave her another drying-down with her towel. She'd reciprocate momentarily.

"Yeah, basically," Lisa said, plunking down on her bed, the soles of her feet touching. She grasped them with her hands and began bouncing her knees up and down, as was her habit. "So whaddya gonna do, Kar? Y'can't just call a day of fun off because we're not around. Y'can't be that reliant on us to give your life meaning."

"Certainly not," the heiress sniffed, although she was still pondering the quandary. She was leaning back against the windowpane, quite naked, meaning that anyone who happened to look up in that direction would have a lovely view of her back, and possibly the top of her ass cheeks. She didn't care, she'd been doing this for almost two years now.

Finally, she stood up and marched over to a briefcase resting against the wall. The girls watched as she pulled out a so-called 'mobile phone', a large brick of a thing that allowed her to make calls without a regular line. It worked on radio waves or some bullshit. She swore up and down it was the future, but it just seemed like a giant headache to Lisa. Who would want to be readily accessible by phone call all the damn time? What a nightmare.

"Yes, fetch DeBourne for me, please," she instructed to the person she was speaking with as she held the brick to her ear. They'd all used the device before at one time or another. "Yes, he'll want to speak to me."

She favoured her friends with a bemused look, and they all snickered.

"Where the Devil is that boy?" she wondered, not used to being kept waiting.

Across campus, one of the male dorms...

"DeBourne?" called the receptionist into the showers. "You in here?"

"What do you think?" rumbled the deep voice in response. The giant student looked over the partitions at the entrance. "What is it, I'm kinda busy over here."

Don't ask, don't ask... the receptionist told himself repeatedly before taking a deep breath. He might have a three second head start if what he was about to tell DeBourne pissed him off. "You... have a phone call. She said you'd wanna talk to her."

Thirty seconds later, he was stomping down the hallway, a towel wrapped around his middle, his massive, muscular body trailing water on the floor. Giving the look on his face, everyone knew better than to object to the mess. He strode up to the phone at the reception desk, where the receptionist was holding the receiver rather nervously, as if he expected Mike to bite his whole body off.

The titan blond man took the receiver and pressed it to his still-wet ear, water trickling down his shining, powerful frame.

"This'd better be good, Gordon, or you'll swing..." he growled into the phone.

Back across campus...

Karen tried to not swallow in dread at the tone of the voice now addressing her. She steeled her spine and put on her haughty tone.

"That is hardly any way to greet a lady first thing in the morning, sirrah," she said. "Weekend or no. I will overlook this breach of etiquette and-"

"Gordon, I was showering," Mike interrupted, and even the girls in the room could hear him. "Now I'm flooding out the lobby with a damn towel around my waist. Why couldn't you leave a message and let me call you back? Is this about Lucerne?"

"Not at all," she replied. "My plans for the day have gone awry, and I thought I might avail myself of your companionship in the interim. What say you to a movie?"

The other watched for she waited for an answer. She began to frown.

"What do you mean, why go to a movie theater when I am a double feature all by my- oh, very funny, DeBourne. Hardy-har."

Lisa, Janet, and Mona couldn't help but snicker again.

"Just for that, you owe me penance," Karen announced, standing tall and reasserting herself. Not that standing tall mattered where DeBourne was concerned, since he still towered over everyone when he was slouching. He needed to practically be horizontal before he wasn't taller than Lisa. "Find some decent clothes and meet me outside on the quad at thirteen-hundred. What is it I have planned for the day?"

The boy's dorm...

Mike frowned upon hearing her plans. "Woman, what makes you think I want to spend all day pampering you like I'm some sort of spa slave? That's not it? Then what?"

He was acutely aware that he was still dripping water all over the dorm lobby, and that anyone else would have been called out on that by now. People were giving him looks but said nothing, knowing better. Two nuns from St. Augustine's seminary walked by, one of them wrinkling her nose in disapproval at the display.

The other stared a little too long and walked face-first into a pillar.

Mike's face registered confusion now. "Go with you and get pampered... don't you have some Italian boy-toy you should be doing this with?"

Across campus...

"As I have already said, my plans fell through," Karen iterated. "What do you do when this happens to you, sir? Go back to your room and lapse into power-saving mode? No, you doubtless make alternate arrangements."

"And none of the girls are around to indulge you?" they heard him ask over her phone.

"I have been betrayed and abandoned," Karen announced dolefully. Lisa and Mona both rolled their eyes. Janet made a jerking-off motion. "Come now, DeBourne. I know your schedule. You do not have anyone to feed, you do not have that Dungeons and Dragons thing, and we have no meetings about Lucerne. And don't even try to tell me that you need to study for exams."

She listened for a moment. "It would be my treat, of course, since the place I have in mind is rather sumptuous. You would need to book off for the rest of the day, certainly. Can your endless floozies and trollops do without you for that long?"

The other three girls looked at one another, raising an eyebrow. Just last night, Karen had stolen the virginity of two boys, one of whom was a seminary student. The 'floozies and trollops' remark was a little much, considering the source.

"We go to the spa, we go to dinner somewhere, and then maybe drinks, since you have killed the movie mood," Karen continued. The fact that she was holding this conversation completely naked while sitting on their ledge on her window of her room seemed to have escaped her, or she simply didn't care. Likely the latter. "Well, there is that very posh burlesque club in Yorkville, we could go and check the wares. I have been told good things about its entertainment."

Now Karen rolled her eyes and sighed. "DeBourne, quit being so damned difficult about indulging in lavish moments offered to you. You're not a Carthusian monk, for Heaven's sake. What would your mother say if she heard you were turning this down? I don't care one iota if that is not playing fair, I want to go get pampered, and I don't want to go alone. Meet me at thirteen-hundred on the quad. I bid thee adieu."

She ended the call and shook her head, coming away from the window. "The drawback to these phones is that you do not have the satisfaction of slamming them down to let the other person know they have earned your ire. Honestly, why is it so difficult for him to accept a lady's simple invitation?"

"Probably because every time you rope him into something on a moment's notice, he ends up in deep shit," Mona answered with a smirk.

Karen frowned. "Not every time."

"Your place in February, the businessmen from Beijing," Janet stated.

"That was an exception," Karen protested, still naked. "Without him, we-"

"The near-theft of your dad's Rolls," Lisa added. "He got run over, remember?"

"And don't forget about the Sadie Hawkins Day stampede, back in November," Mona laughed. "You were convinced that party was such a good idea. DeBourne had footprints on his tongue for a month."

"Then maybe pampering him is my way of making it all up to him," Karen said rather icily, trying to keep the hiss out of her voice. "Whose side are you harlots on, anyway?"

"I am not on the side of any forces that might lose me access to DeBourne's dick," Janet said emphatically. "I love you, Princess, but don't deprive me with your crazy schemes."

"Fine," Karen huffed, folding her arms and glowering at some vague point on one of the walls. "I promise he will be returned unscathed. After all, that is the point of a day of pampering, isn't it?"

"I still don't blame Mongo for being paranoid, Kar," Lisa laughed, coming up and hugging Karen from behind, reaching around and molesting her lovely boobs. "Your track record with his body's safety is somewhere along the line of blimps named Hindenburg."

"Lies and exaggerations," Karen scoffed as the other two giggled, closing in and fondling her to make her crazy. "A mendacious farrago of narratives meant to besmirch my character."

"Whatever you just said, sure," Janet said, squeezing Karen's butt cheek. She'd always been envious of Karen's ass, it was so soft yet so taut that you could bounce a quarter off it when she was reclining on her stomach. "But whatever, you talked him into it yet again, so you get the win, Princess."

"I shouldn't have to work this hard to begin with," Karen grumbled, not allowing herself to be mollified. She was, after all, secretly and deeply pleased that he had acquiesced. She'd talked him into participating in the Gordon Games, and it gave her hope. Maybe she was putting him through a lot, but today might be a small way to say thank you for it all. She intended to have a fun day.

The barone would simply have to miss out.

Back across campus...

What is that little lunatic up to? Mike wondered suspiciously as he tromped back toward the showers. Still dripping wet, people avoided him, since his mood was clearly less than clement. Getting roped up in her schemes is becoming a habit. It better not turn into a vice...

He opened the door to the showers and shed his towel, heading back to the stall he'd been using. The water was still running. Normally, he would have turned it off to conserve water, but today had been a little different.

"Well, heya, big man," the wet brunette in the stall purred, smiling up at him. She was glistening with water and the slippery shower gel he'd left her with. "Glad to see you didn't leave me hanging."

She looked down. "Looks like you're kinda hangin', though. Not like I mind getting you back up, mind."

"Hold that thought, Jillian," Mike said as she began to go down to her knees. "I've got something I need to take care of, and I can't finish you up properly if I get going."

"Well you can't just leave me all wet and wild," Jillian whined, looking upset and rather worried. The showerhead isn't gonna cut it, DeBourne, I need dick in me!"

"Hold on," he said, stepping out of the stall and going over to the communal shower area. He spotted someone and walked up to them. "Henson, you like sex, right?"

"W-what?" the boy asked, going pale.

"Not with me, you bonehead," Mike sighed before taking the smaller boy by the arm and dragging him through the shower room. He returned to his stall and looked down at Jillian.

"Jillian, this is Ralph. Ralph, Jillian. I've left her with an itch that needs scratching, and you're gonna pinch hit for me. Got it?"

"W-what?" the other boy said as he still seemed confused. Jillian reached down and stripped the towel off from around his waist.

"Okay, I can totally work with that," she said, nodding. "Get in here, dude."

"Have fun, kiddies," Mike announced as Jillian went down to her knees and took Ralph inside her mouth. Mike was already exiting the showers, towel around his waist, heading back to his own room.

I sure hope Lindsey doesn't find out about this, Ralph the virgin worried, slumping against the wall while Jillian sucked him to hardness and he thought of his girlfriend back home...

***

The grand foyer, the present...

"There you are," Alex said as he came down the stairs and found his friends waiting for him. Per his instructions, they'd walked in once the doors were unlocked. "Good, we don't need to be suited up just yet. Likely just before noon is when that'll happen."

"We're plenty early, then," Dave yawned before pointing at Ted. "That idiot snores."

"We had to sleep with the windows open so that ginger gas attacks didn't melt our faces off before morning," Ted shot back.

"I'd get more sleep in a pit of razor weasels than staying with you two," Anthony sighed. "White boy drama, man."

"Alright, stand down, killers," Alex laughed, shaking his head. "The only ankle-biters around here so far are Percy and Trinian, so you're not on duty yet. Did you have breakfast?"

The three boys shook their heads.

"Okay, go and get your fill in the small dining room with the staff," Alex instructed. "You've got at least an hour. After that, head to the arcade and I'll meet you there. Just put your suits in the cloakroom for now."

He headed off on his next mission, meeting up with his uncle Grizz and the security team. He found them waiting near the mechanical room at the juncture to the east wing.

"Good to see you," he said, shaking his uncle's hand. "We've got time, so go have lots of breakfast. As for rotation of schedules, my uncle Grizz has you guys all worked out, including lunch and rest breaks. Gonna be a long day, but worth it, I figure."

"Three grand cash each?" one guy laughed. "Yeah, trust me, totally worth it."

They would all be wearing smart black suits and ties, so they'd be easy to identify around the place. Once they were off, he began walking and fell in line beside Tatyana, who was walking along at her typical, efficient pace, both a tablet and a clipboard in hand.

"Off to check on the kitchen downstairs?" he asked.

The seneschal nodded. "My understanding is that your mother's friend Angie is taking care of breakfast up here, while Theresa is getting a handle on things down in the depths. I just hope we don't lose her down there."

"It's not the Mines of Moria," the young man laughed. "Dad's probably got tracking chips implanted in you all anyway, so don't sweat it."

Tatyana knew Alex was joking, but a place on her neck itched all the same.

He peeled off from the seneschal and was walking about, looking for anything that might need attention. He noticed the door of a broom closet slightly ajar. He frowned. It wasn't like Val or Trilby to do anything like that.

And then he rolled his eyes at the sight that greeted him once he opened the door.

Jenny and Becky stared at him, since he'd caught them at an indelicate moment. The two blondes were tangled up against one of the walls, clearly making out. They had hiked up one another's skirts, their legs pushed by one another as they ground their panty-clad crotches together while kissing.

"Oh... hi..." Becky said, blushing a little.

"Alex, either get in here and join us, or close the door, you silly boy," his aunt Jen chided, more irked at the interruption than anything. "Have you no manners?"

Alex shook his head and closed the door before heading down the hallway, thinking he should go find his wife.

"Y'might wanna wait on going in closet M3," he mentioned as he walked by Trilby, who was already in her work outfit and making the rounds. "Give it about ten minutes, I guess."

The hippie girl paused, giving Alex's retreating back a wry look before he rounded the corner. What the heck had that meant? Still, if he'd been kind enough to give her a warning, chances are she should heed it. She could certainly find something else to do for ten or so minutes. Sometimes, her sanity depended on it.

"Hey, Nanu," Alex said easily, lapsing into Latin as he walked up to the minute Egyptian girl. She was wearing an elegant silk morning robe, black and silver in colour. It was meant for kids, but whatever. She stopped and bowed low when she saw him, waiting reverently. It still amused him that she thought he, Alexa, and his parents were actually gods. He'd play with that until he was told to stop, or if the bishop was around. "You're looking good this morning."

"Thank you, Most High," she intoned, still bowed. "May I gaze upon you?"

"Yep," he replied. She stood again, looking up into those radiant blue eyes, like the vaults of Heaven. She suppressed the shiver she felt every time she saw him, or the other gods. How blessed their servants were, to always bask in their presence!

He noticed Percy now trudging up, looking defeated and sullen. He was wearing his little dress outfit, consisting of a pressed white shirt, little bowtie, a grey jacket, grey shorts, and dress shoes. He looked like he'd grown on and popped off Angus Young's back. The Ravensworth heir stood there silently, scowling at the floor while the mean girl said something to the tall blond boy while pointing at him and snapping her fingers.

Alex looked at him now. "Percy, Nanu wants you to go find grapes. She'll be waiting for you in the solarium and you can feed her there."

The little brat almost stamped his foot. "Can't you tell her to leave me alone and quit being mean to me?!"

"Only a woman with the last name Penrose can do that, pal," Alex pointed out. "Until then, do as you're told, so that she doesn't bite your whole body off."

Percy spun on his heel and stomped away. Nanu nodded in approval. Her stupid servant obviously knew to obey a god without question.

She looked up at Alex again. "Radiant One, I humbly ask if you have time to fuck me."

"Sounds great, Nanu, but I'm plenty busy," he replied, smiling gently. He liked this girl, even if she was six kinds of crazy, five of which were dangerous. "I promise to make it up to you. Remember, you're a guest today. An honoured one."

She nodded her head. "Radiant One... please, for I do not understand... why do they treat me so well? I am nobody. You know this."

He moved in and put his fingers under her chin, lifting it and making sure she was looking into his eyes. He felt her trembling.

"They know your last name is Tehemet, and they thought it meant you're a queen," he told her. "So they think you're a queen and they're treating you that way."

She swallowed. "You will not tell them the truth? I don't want to incur their ire for my fraud."

Alex smiled again and knelt, taking her gently. She almost swooned at the touch, but he sat her on his knee. He stroked her back through the silk robe soothingly.

"Some day, Nanu, they'll know, and it won't matter. Just don't try to push them around, and everything will be fine. But even if they didn't think you were a queen, they'd still like you. Trust me."

"Of course I do," Nanu breathed, everything feeling unreal to her at the moment. And in her life, that was saying something. "You are a god."

She gave him a worried look. "Perrr-at is still mine, yes? I can order him about? I earned him."

Alex laughed at her earnestness. For someone who had been a slave, Nanu had no problem owning one. Percy must've been a real jerk to her. Well, good on her for keeping him out of everyone else's hair. "Unless one of those Penrose women come for him, then I leave him in your charge. Keep him well, Nanu Tehemet. Make sure he is never mean to you again, but don't disgrace yourself with ill behaviour."

"Of course, Radiant One," she said seriously, her tone indicating she was serious. "You have my word."

"Good," he said, gently sliding her off his knee and standing up. She bowed her head but then allowed herself to look up at him. Some members of staff had gone by, and none of them even blinked at the scene, they just kept walking. Around this place, the rule was that the less you knew, generally the better. "Go to the solarium and wait for Perrr-at. He should be along shortly."

She bowed, turned and hurried off. Alex watched her go before continuing on his way. He hadn't seen his parents yet this morning, so maybe he'd see to that little issue.

Percy went scurrying by, holding a paper plate full of red, green, and even pink grapes. He wasn't looking at where he was going and bounced off a corner. He fell backwards, ass over teakettle, his grapes going everywhere.

Poor kid, he'd have to go get more.

Luckily for Percy Ravensworth, 'attempted grape' wasn't a crime.

Alex laughed heartily at his wordplay and kept going.

***

The men's dorm, 1987...

He lay on his giant mattress, with his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, pondering how to approach the afternoon. Apparently the day consisted of a spa visit, probably a meal and drinks, and then a burlesque show somewhere in Yorkville. He had no idea there was such a thing in Yorkville at all, but if anyone was going to be aware of it, then it was Gordon.

What did he wear for the day? He doubted this was a jeans and t-shirt affair, which eliminated ninety-eight percent of his wardrobe. Gordon could barely put up with those outfits on him during a regular day of the week, forget an event.

His good suit, the one Gordon had bought him and was the equal of anything Savile Row could put out? His intuition told him no, since it didn't seem appropriate to show up to the spa in it and then wear it again after. And he couldn't bring another outfit with him, that was a major faux pas.

So what he needed was an outfit that fell somewhere in the realm of dress casual, something that would look good in Yorkville, be easy to get in and out of, and be classy enough to go to some high end entertainment club after.

So slacks, a dress shirt, and maybe a decent jacket?

No. that wasn't good enough for this burlesque club, he was certain of it. The only outfit he had that was good enough was his expensive suit, but he also couldn't wear that all day.

And then he laughed, because he remembered that Yorkville was a five minute walk from campus. Now everything made sense. He would dress casually for the earlier part of the day, as she no doubt would. After the spa and maybe some refreshments, she would want to come back to her dorm room and slip into whatever outfit was meant for dinner and the burlesque club.

Did he part ways from her long enough to come back to his own dorm room to change?

He got up and left his room, heading down the hallway to the reception area. He caught the attention of the young man behind the desk. It was the same guy who had interrupted his shower earlier, so this would make things easier.

"Get a message to Gordon for me, will you?" he asked. The student nodded and took out a notepad. "Tell her change of plans, I'll meet her at her room at thirteen-hundred. Thanks."

The student receptionist nodded and got the instructions in motion. Mike went back upstairs and began fishing around inside his closet for everything he'd need.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Breakfast was a rolling event, with people coming down as they saw fit to enjoy the cuisine and company. Karen and Mike had already eaten, so they popped in occasionally to greet people and make sure all was well. At one point, the dining room was full of DeBournes and Kjaers, who seemed to have merged into one large family at this point. They chatted gaily and Karen was so pleased to see them getting along.

The titles all ate together somewhat later, since Jenny was tardy getting out of bed. It was only the concerted efforts of her sister that had finally roused the countess, and now she was sitting in the dining room, mostly relying on coffee and mimosas for sustenance. She even managed not to eviscerate Snelgrove, despite sharing the space with him.

"I hope I manage to get rid of these eyebags before lunch," Jenny mumbled, sipping her coffee.

"Please, Greymoor," laughed Belasyse, sitting across from her. "You're so posh that even your eyebags are Gucci."

"Jen would have to roll around in the bogs of Dartmoor and be set on fire before she didn't look more put together than me," Millie added, nudging her sister and winking.

Mona, Janet, and Lisa and their family were another wave, and there was still plenty of fare to be had. They all greeted Karen as she entered the room and spoke quietly with her friends.

"Remember, nothing official," Karen said to them. "Mona, keep an eye on the immediate families for me. Lisa, you've got the Gordons."

"Aye, lass, ye can count on me," Lisa said in a terrible brogue with a wink. Janet and Mona shook their heads.

"Janet, shmooze the unrelated VIPs and politicos," Karen instructed. "The Prime Minister, the MPs and MPPs, the mayor... you know the drill."

Janet nodded, restraining a smirk. She noted that the Premier of Ontario was conspicuously absent from the guest list, probably because he was afraid Karen would tear him open and eat his liver while he was still alive and had to watch. He was probably right.

"Kar, may I borrow you for a minute?" Mike asked from the doorway.

"Excuse me, please," Karen said, briefly hugging each of the seniors at the table before heading out. Lisa, Janet, and Mona smirked at one another. They knew what was coming. Mike had told them so.

"What would you have of me, husband-mine?" the bronze-haired goddess asked as they walked along the Hall of Ancestors. They both nodded respectfully to the bishop and his wife as they walked by, no doubt on their way to breakfast in the dining room.

"I know the gifts aren't supposed to happen until proceedings get underway, but there was one we thought had better happen soon," the titan blond man answered. "Alex and Alli are waiting for us."

They went upstairs, heading into the Dunsany Lounge, where Alex and Alexa were waiting for them, along with someone else.

Karen paused in the doorway, staring.

"Kar, we would like to introduce you to Ramsbury," Mike said as he walked over to join his son and his sister-in-law. With the younger couple was a magnificent beagle. He was perfect in his markings and build. He looked suspiciously familiar to Karen. "Odo is his ninth-generation sire."

Karen walked into the room, her gaze fixed on the noble animal. Ramsbury remained perfectly poised as she approached, watching her. She stopped maybe a meter away and looked down at him.

Ramsbury looked up and wagged his tail.

"Ramsbury, come," Karen said.

The beagle came forward.

"Sit."

Ramsbury sat.

She pointed down to her left side. "Sit."

The dog assumed the position and sat again, turning around to face the same direction as his mistress.

"Good boy," Karen cooed, making a clicking sound with her tongue as she bent down and began stroking him. Ramsbury warmed into the touch immediately, making contented sounds and wagging his tail again. "What is he, eighteen months?"

Mike nodded. "I reserved him just after he was born when I found out he was from Odo's bloodline. Kar, he'll be an even better truffle hunter than Odo, one of the best in the world."

"There's a status symbol the Blackwells will pay attention to," she said, still scratching and caressing the new family member. "He'll no doubt harvest every single truffle in our properties up north."

"Theresa's going to have her hands full making truffle butter and the like," Mike said cheerfully. "But this is the gift Alex, Alli, and I have for you. He's been sleeping in your clothes since he was born, so he'll stick close to you today."

"I was wondering where my old underthings and sweaters kept disappearing to," Karen mused while Alexa giggled. "Where was he overnight?"

"He was bunking with Glenda," Alex said, joining his mother now and bending down to pet the beagle. "Don't ask me how, but when Glenda woke up this morning, Morg was crashed with Ramsbury in his little bed. Guess he smelled him out."

"I can't get rid of Trinian on a bet, but can I keep my own cat around?" Alexa seemed to moan in despair. "Govorite o nespravedlivosti."

"Sometimes life isn't fair even to Blackwells, Alli," Karen quipped while rubbing Rambury's belly. "Such a good boy. I assume he has a command word?"

Mike smirked. "Same one you gave me all those years ago, Princess."

"Good, one less thing to remember," Karen said cheerfully as she scooped the beagle up and cuddled him now, rubbing her face against his jowls. Ramsbury made little noises that indicated this was the best moment of his life. The family members crowded around, letting Karen enjoy this quiet and serene moment.

They'd have to be back downstairs soon enough.

Across campus, 1987...

Karen was touching up her eyeliner in the mirror as she went over the day's itinerary. She was meeting DeBourne in a few minutes and he had revised the plans to meet her here. While that may have seemed odd initially, she had no doubt that said plans made sense, at least to him. Keeping up with that boy was a full-time job.

She stepped back and checked herself out in the mirror- she was still only in a bra and panties, but she wanted to make sure that everything looked right. True, she wasn't going out with her barone, but going out with anyone and looking less than perfect was inexcusable, after all. And DeBourne, for all he drove her crazy, was as worthy as anyone of her at her best.

She pushed her hands through her hair as she turned slightly left and right, one knee in front of the other, making sure this underwear combination had the desired effect on her figure for the afternoon. She'd decided on a classy but still suitably casual outfit to visit the spa and have some light lunch and drinks in.

Her eyeliner foundation was no doubt set, so now she began getting dressed. It was getting into late April, so she'd decided on a silk top in a bold blue and orange, and flowing gauzy pants that would compliment her shirt. Kitten heels would complete the look.

Now which bag to use? No, not a bag, just a small purse. She wasn't shopping, she was entertaining.

And if she somehow did end up shopping, there was no way in Hades that DeBourne would let her carry anything when he could do it. Chivalry was most certainly not dead when he was around. DeBourne was capable of better manners than almost any man she knew, short of her father. Even her barone had lapses in his comportment.

She was freshly into her outfit and had finished her makeup moments before when looked out her window and saw DeBourne striding toward the dorms. The sight of him brought a smile to her face. He was dressed in a smart-causal manner, and he had a bundle with him. She wondered what it was.

She went back to the mirror and went about looking busy finishing up. Two minutes later, there was a distinctive and familiar knock on her door.

"Come in," she called. The door opened and DeBourne was now blocking out the light from the hallway. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself. She continued to pretend fiddling about with her makeup, giving him a chance to present himself.

"Delightfully punctual of you, sirrah," Karen stated now. "I apologize for not being quite ready."

"Take your time, Gordon," he said easily, moving away from the door and over to Lisa's section of the room so that he wasn't crowding her. "Great look, by the way."

"Oh, thank you, just a little something I threw together at the last moment," she said in a casual tone, feeling a sensation of warmth in her cheeks art the compliment. "You look rather well put together yourself, I must say."

"Well, for phase one of this endeavour, I suppose," he replied.

"Do you anticipate more than one phase?" she queried.

"It took me a bit to figure it out, but yes," Mike said as she stepped away from the mirror and found her little clutch again. Small and stylish, it had everything she would need- her ID, cash, credit cards, and a pen. "For tonight, I brought my suit over."

"I see that now," she observed, wishing she'd paid more attention to what he was carrying instead of looking him up and down constantly. Not that anyone would blame her, mind. "And you brought it over here."

"It makes more sense for me to change here than it would to head back to my own quarters across campus and then come to get you," he reasoned.

"Reasonable, if perhaps a little forward, DeBourne," she challenged. "I am seeing someone rather exclusively, you may have heard."

"Don't tell Heyman that, she keeps trying to sleep with you," he chuckled.

"Girls don't count," she said dismissively. "I am seeing a man."

"Gordon, I was here with you not so long ago, and had to wake your drunken and quite naked behind up, you may recall," Mike pointed out. "Not only that, but you insisted I help you get dressed and ready for the Lucerne meeting. Further to that, I ended up brushing your hair, which is not something strangers do outside of a parlour setting."

"Yes, I was in need," she said firmly. "Would it not make more sense for Barone Trinci to be the one to do it, though?"

"And where was he?" Mike asked simply. Karen had no ready response to that. "We can take turns getting changed if you like, in privacy, but something tells me that the bigger etiquette error would have been in returning to my own room across campus and making you wait. Is there a flaw in my logic here?"

She made a point of looking bemused, with a hint of a frown, but it was indeed thrilling to have him figure this situation out, even over her protests. Dangerous. Thank God he was such an honest soul.

"I agree, sirrah," she said finally. "Before the evening, we return here and change. Walking back up to Yorkville and the club will take no time at all. Give me three more seconds to do a last check and we shall be off. Put your suit in my closet."

Mike did as requested, and when he came back out, Karen was ready. He had to admit, she looked amazing, as always. "So what, if one might ask, is involved in this spa trip you have planned?"

"Well, it made no sense to buy big separate packages where we would barely see one another all afternoon," she began as he opened the door and she wiggled out in front of him. "So I got a deluxe couples spa package that is worth several hours and endless treatments of our choice. At least then, we have the pleasure of one another's company."

"You're better company than an Abelian sandpile model any day of the week, Gordon," Mike chuckled as he closed the door and waited for Karen to lock it. Then they made their way out of the dorm and across campus, avoiding the grass, which was still soft, and Karen was, after all, in kitten heels.

***

The east wing hallway, the bel étage, the present...

She nodded to one of the men hired to secure the manor during the festivities. He was wearing a black suit and standing near the auxiliary stairs and the elevator, making sure they weren't used by anyone that shouldn't be using them. Only people wearing little the tiny red rose pin could go where they pleased.

Tatyana was checking down the list, making sure everything was in place. So far, so good, and on time. The halls and rooms were decorated gorgeously with Marie's floral arrangements. Guests were beginning to arrive, but they were mostly Canadian Gordons and Blackwells, who had been staying at various hotels or homes around the city before coming in. She was expecting non-family invitees to begin arriving about noon.

She smiled as a wonderful aroma wafted from the ballroom, where she was headed now. As she entered, she began checking and marking, delighted that everything was in place. All of the decorations were in place. The stage at the back of the huge room was set up, with instruments and chairs waiting, including a venerable harpsichord.

"Well, don't you two look distinguished," she remarked as Dave and Tunde entered the room. Both were wearing matching suits, and while Dave wore it well, he seemed less than pleased.

"Last time I was dressed up like a damn penguin was my own wedding," he grumbled. "Don't tell our bosses I said that."

"What is it time to do?" Tunde asked. He looked surprisingly distinguished. But seeing as how Tatyana normally saw him in coveralls caked in soil, this might have been less effort than it seemed.

"Tunde, you volunteered to assist Marie, so you may begin there," the seneschal said. "Help her out as need be, but be ready to pitch in elsewhere. David, you'll be bartending in the Old Lounge after the festivities have commenced in here. Until then, just help out where you may."

Once they were gone, she considered going down to check on Theresa, but instead just took the little radio off her hip and pressed the button. "Theresa? How is everything?"

"Just fine, boss," came the chef's reply. "Looks crazy, but on schedule and under control. Lunch will be up on time, and dinner is also well underway."

"I'll leave you to it, then," the Russian woman said, nodding in satisfaction. One of the benefits of such a talented staff was her ability to let people do their thing, there was no need to micromanage. As long as everyone knew what they were to do, and when, then she just needed to pay attention to her tablet and keep things updated and moving.

Lord Huntly's gift was en route. Karen had no doubt just met Ramsbury. Everything else was in place. Karen had been kept out of various locations as yet, like the ballroom, on the instructions of her husband.

She looked over at a corner of the room, where easels sat, the images sitting on them covered in crimson satin. She had no doubt one was Karen's portrait for the Wall of Ancestors, but she hadn't seen it yet. Nobody had, except for Mike, Alex, and Alexa. She had no idea what the other image was.

The gift from the Penrose sisters sat in another corner, also covered up. She was so tempted to go take a peek. She wouldn't, but it was tempting.

And this evening, tables would be set up to accommodate over a hundred people for an elegant dinner. After that, it would all be seamlessly cleared away for the party and dancing. All she had to do was help Mike keep it on schedule and running tight and flawlessly.

She wouldn't miss a thing.

***

The Grand Foyer...

People were beginning to arrive, both family and friends. Visiting political dignitaries wouldn't show just yet, but there were plenty of other old acquaintances to see to now. A concierge had been engaged, and his two assistants took peoples' coats and jackets to the coatroom. Once they were sorted out, children were sent to the gaming and entertainment room, where Ted, Anthony, and Dave were waiting to wrangle them.

"Colonel!" Karen gushed as she embraced the older man. He was in his seventies, likely, but ramrod erect. He'd been the commanding officer of the regiment she was attached to when she'd served. And while she was technically part of the Sciences and Psy-Ops department, she'd had an assignment by requirement. "So good to see you! Thank you for coming!"

"Good to see you too, leftenant," he said cheerfully, returning the hug. He couldn't think of anyone else he ever served with that he would show such informality with. But this woman was the exception. "A big day, hm?"

"Just so, sir," Karen sighed, beaming at him. "How long has it been?"

"About fifteen years," he replied, nodding. "Your son was just a little scamp, then. Is he old enough to serve?"

"Yes, sir, but I wouldn't dare inflict him on the services, sir," Karen she laughed gaily. "Honestly, he should only be unleashed on our enemies in the time of most dire need."

"That scary, hm?" the older man mused. He turned and saluted as Mike approached, along with Jordan. "Major, colour sergeant."

"Sir," Mike said as he and Jordan both returned the salute. "We're glad you could make it."

"I thought peacekeeping in Cyprus was a pain the ass, you should've seen the fight I went through to get the missus to let me attend," the colonel said with a grin, making Mike laugh. "Am I the first to arrive?"

"You were punctual even by military standards, sir," Mike replied. "How about you and Jordan go find a drink while we get this chaos under control?"

The colonel nodded and the pair of old servicemen wandered off toward the Old Lounge. Karen looked up at her husband now. "Do I just stay here in this drafty foyer and keep greeting people?"

He chuckled. "No, let's get you to the ballroom and you can begin greeting people there. It's about time you were allowed to see it, anyway."

"Finally!" she said with a sigh as she took his arm and allowed him to lead her. They greeted people along the way and Karen stopped dead and almost gasped when she entered the ballroom.

She couldn't believe the décor. Set around the room were exquisite works of art, all made of chocolate, possibly her biggest vice, outside of tribadism. She could see a carved violin, a full-size orchestral harp with gold leaf, a cello, and a miniature piano. There were abstract shapes, often with gold leaf, chocolate cakes adorned with flowers, a cake with a white and blue glaze that looked like Wedgwood patterning, and a beautiful chocolate fountain.

At the center and back of the room was a magnificent gryphon made out of chocolate, standing proudly, its wings stretched out. The eyes gleamed gold.

"The strings on the instruments are sugar glass and isomalt, so I wouldn't try playing them," Mike mentioned, making her smirk as they walked into the room together. She could now see tables set up around the place, often holding objects that were covered one way or another. The Gordons had brought several of their best vintages of whiskey and gin as gifts, magnificent additions to the collection. she could barely contain her curiosity.

"Your family's pet has never been named, I thought we should hold a little contest, take suggestions," Mike mentioned as they walked around the space, letting her take it all in. He pointed to a little, ornate gift box on top of a table, next to which sat several pencils and small slips of paper.

"Oh, leave it to chance?" Karen mused with a sly smile. "As long as Alex and his heathens are not involved. I would simply die if our charge was named 'Griffy McGriffonface' or some other abomination. Wuzzling without that dread hanging over my shoulder would be welcome."

"I'll scare them off from trying," Mike chuckled, leading her around the room. They stopped in front of the easels, covered in satin that concealed their portraits.

"I'm so nervous, Michael," Karen said in a quiet voice.

"Why? Because whatever your portrait looks like, it can never do the real you justice?" he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I knew that when I got it commissioned, Kar. It's meant for the people who will never have the privilege of knowing you. And I promise you, it's more than enough in that regard."

"Not fair, putting it that way," Karen moped. "And I just meant I am generally nervous in any event."

Mike looked at his smartwatch for effect. "Well, if you decide to run out the front door, flapping your arms and screaming and never coming back, you've got maybe fifteen minutes to do it. Don't forget to bring me while you're at it. I know a lovely little cave in Algonquin Park."

Karen pushed her face into his bicep, trembling as she giggled. She finally looked up at him and her golden eyes with shining with mirth and adoration.

"How do you always know exactly what to say, to put my mind at ease?" she sighed.

"I've spent more time with you in my life than out of it, Gordon, I'd better be good at it by now," Mike said with a smile and a shrug.

She stepped back and took a deep breath, running her hands down her outfit as if to smooth it out. "So? How do I look?"

"Perfect for hosting lunch," he answered simply. And he meant it. She was wearing a stylish cyan dress that showed off her tiny waist without making a commotion about her large bust. The material presented as blue or a deep teal, depending on what angle the light hit it from. It went just below her knees, but a small split allowed ease of movement. She looked stunning, as always.

And the guests began to arrive.

***

Down in the industrial kitchen...

"Right, that consommé looks about ready for the final step," Theresa decided as she checked out the broth that it was near its peak. "Move it to the warming station, keep it wet."

"Yes, chef!" said the assistant who carefully hurried off with the pot to its destination.

"How is the wagyu looking?" she asked as she stepped up to the station where the beef for lunch was being prepared. "Keeping it thin?"

"Yes, chef!" said the young woman slicing the prized meat. She was slicing thin, since it was supposed to be an accent on a salad. It had been seared to perfection and it, along with the j amón ibérico de bellota, were exquisite dishes for the event. Vegetarians were treated to perfectly prepared yaki tofu in their salads, or quinoa.

Lunch was moving ahead just fine. She moved on to the preparations for dinner, a more complicated and formal affair that required perfect timing on all the dishes and sides in the necessary numbers. Fortunately, she had an exact list of what every person would be having.

"Theresa? How is everything?" came Tatyana's voice over the walkie-talkie she had with her.

"Just fine, boss," came the chef's reply. "Looks crazy, but on schedule and under control. Lunch will be up on time, and dinner is also well underway."

"I'll leave you to it, then," the Russian woman said. Theresa greatly valued Tatyana's leadership, since she didn't constantly interfere in what her employees were doing. Having worked in kitchens as a junior chef, Theresa did not remember fondly the days of being unnecessarily micromanaged. Good leaders knew when to be hands-off and just provide the necessary support. Theresa was doing the same with her kitchen staff now, simply making sure everyone was up to standard.

She tasted the roux. Exquisite. So was the bechamel sauce. She was really pleased and excited for this. Everything was going according to plan, and she was certain that both Tatyana and Michael DeBourne would not let a thing get out of place. She just needed to do her job and do it better than ever.

Earn that paycheque, girl, she said to herself, smirking as she realized she had been up here long enough that she was spelling the word 'cheque' like a native.

She went to check on the roasted boar meat.

***

1987...

Karen was stretched out on the long table, humming contentedly as she girl worked along her back in an effleurage pattern. There was no point in modesty at a spa this posh, so she was completely naked, laying on her stomach. The massage was absolute Heaven, relaxing her in a way she would certainly have to pray about had her family been papist.

She opened her eyes slightly. Not three feet away, the titan form of DeBourne also lay face-down on a table, a sturdy one they'd quickly and efficiently moved in. There were two girls working on him, because he was so much larger and more muscular than ninety-nine percent of their clientele. To do the job properly required more than one masseuse.

She reached over and caressed her pinky finger against his. His eyes opened, fixing on her.

"Don't go too far out into the universe," she mumbled quietly in French. "Need you back for Lucerne."

"They're not making it easy," he replied, knowing exactly what Gordon meant. These women were exceptionally well-trained. He'd had some massages before, but nothing like this. Not even close. He'd need to learn how to do it. It was now a necessary skill to be his best self.

"Are you seriously analysing the massage while it's happening?" Karen asked with a smirk. "You're memorising what they're doing so you can do this yourself."

"Don't tell Remington or Bresc, they'll never let me alone if they know," Mike mumbled back. Should it bother him that Gordon knew him that well, just by observing him while she got her own decadent massage? Then again, she could probably solve impossible ferromagnetic spin equations while getting a rubdown. He envied her that. "What's after the massage?"

Karen pondered, pushing through the syrup that was her neural network and finding the right nodes of thought. "I think we get to relax for half an hour in a scented room, while drinking mimosas."

"I love listening to you, you're such a romantic couple," Karen's masseuse sighed, smiling. "Makes me wish I'd paid attention during French in high school."

"Great, they think we're married," Karen muttered, trying to not sound disgruntled. "I paid for a couples' day and all of a sudden, connubial fusion is involved."

"I'll take you down to the courthouse later and you can hyphenate," Mike replied, trying not to chuckle.

It was time to turn over, and they both did. Karen's stunning body was on full display, as was Mike's titan and awesome frame. Karen's masseuse took a deep breath and started it. Mike's two attendants did likewise.

"Zhème dà de nánrén yǒu zhème dà de jībā, zhè bù gōngpíng," one of his attendants said in a neutral voice to the other in Mandarin.

"It is absolutely unfair," the other woman agreed, working on his shoulders, but unable to keep from staring at his giant tool asleep between his legs. "The horses on my father's farm in Sichuan had smaller cocks than that. He would kill me instantly, but what a way to go."

Mike tried not to smirk, since they didn't know he spoke Mandarin. Gordon would have no clue what they were saying, but chances are her woman's intuition would allow her to conclude correctly.

Half an hour later, they were sitting side-by-side in long lounging chair in a room decorated with almost tropical themes. The sound of waves provided a gentle backdrop. They'd asked Mike if he also wanted music, but naturally he deferred to Karen. She'd chosen soft jazz piano.

So now they were relaxing in a warm room, stretched out and still naked on the lounging chairs, and listening to piano jazz while sipping their complimentary mimosas.

"Hmmmm, what a pity we only have thirty minutes before the mud bath and the wraps," she said lazily. "Admit it, DeBourne, even your proletarian nature must see virtue in relaxing this way."

"And I do indeed concur," Mike said, allowing himself to look over at her for the briefest of moments while answering. He was afraid that the sight of her naked body, stretched out so languidly like this, would make him turn into a drooling idiot. Not that anyone would blame him. "As long as we're free of the yoke of labour for money, it has all the merit in the world. Maybe if we somehow create soulless replicants that can do the job for us."

"Okay, I'll take that, but you have to promise no more Marxist or science fiction ideology for the remainder of the day, sirrah," she said as firmly as her buttery body allowed.

"I barely remember what they are right now, so you have a deal," he mumbled, taking another sip of his mimosa. "And no shop talk."

"You have my word," she agreed readily. She really did enjoy being naked around this man. It was... comfortable, on top of what whatever else it might be. She felt at ease. Maybe that was dangerous, but she didn't care right now.

And it was so early in the day, too.

Was this is a date? And if it was, did DeBourne know that? She hoped he knew, because she couldn't quite make it out.

After all, wasn't she, possibly, on the verge of an exclusive understanding with the barone? Okay, not exactly, since she continued to have sex with Lisa. But did that count? Did lesbian flings count? She felt like she didn't. She wasn't terribly interested in being married to a man who took exception to sapphic encounters.

And she couldn't imagine that DeBourne would have cared less in that case. He reminded her of a giant male lion, or a huge silverback gorilla that way, simply making sure nobody got in trouble, and there to fix it if they did.

DeBourne was the ultimate fixer. Hadn't he beaten an ion generator into producing the stuff of black holes?

And hadn't she just finished deflowering two virgin boys so very recently? Did virgins count?

"What's so funny?" Mike asked, looking over at her again and raising an eyebrow. He was trying very hard not to look at her tits jiggling while she giggled.

"Remember that time you beat up science until it obeyed you?" she lilted, her voice laced with a sensuous mirth.

"I thought we agreed no work talk," he iterated. "And how many of those mimosas have you had when I wasn't looking?"

"For all you know, several, since my gratuitous nudity has been the only thing you've looked at for the past hour and change," she quipped, lying back and closing her eyes, enjoying teasing him. "Did you know, DeBourne, that there are five grades of gem-quality opal?"

"Gigi, you are from another planet," DeBourne sighed before also laying back in his chair and closing his eyes. He was here to relax, after all.

They'd choose the type of wrap they wanted while taking their mud bath.

***

Blackwell Manor Ballroom, the present...

"Goodness, look at you, the gang is all here," Karen said in delight as she strode up to greet the new arrivals. "I am so glad you could make it!"

"We carpooled," said the one older man with the big bushy moustache. "Good to see you too, squirt."

"I'll never get tired of that nickname from you lot," she sighed happily, giving them all hugs. "Börje called yesterday to wish me the best."

"Yes, a bit of a commute for him," another rather craggy man said now. "I trust signed pucks, sticks, and jerseys are good gifts for the event?"

"Tiger, you could give a girl a used puck bag and she would think it was the most precious gift ever," Karen giggled.

"Well, nothing as fancy as that," interjected a tall and distinguished gent who looked surprisingly comfortable in his suit. "But we might have convinced Brian and Alexei to let us borrow the mug so we can all drink champagne from it today."

"You boys think of everything!" Karen gushed, hugging the man again. "Alex and Michael will be thrilled!"

"I'm just glad I'm too old to take a check from either of them now," another laughed. "Your husband nearly knocked me into the next arena the last time we collided."

"The big bully," the matriarch cooed, pretending to fuss over him and wipe his lapel. "I'll make sure he says sorry."

"It's a big day for you, Kar, and we're happy to be here," the tall man said again. "You deserve it."

"Thank you, Darryl," she sighed, smiling. "Thank you all, it means so much to have you here. Go ahead and find Michael, and I will catch up in a bit."

She excused herself and continued with the greetings as people flooded in.

"Holy shit, Fre," Jeanie whispered as she stood somewhere else in the ballroom, trying not to stare. She was wearing a pretty green dress, while Freja was wearing a skinny suit and tie, crème-coloured. "This place is absolutely crawling with celebrities. I'm the only person here I've never heard of."

"I am knowing what you mean, yndling," the Danish girl agreed, also trying to keep her eyes in her head. "Look, there he is, right there, the rapper, Eider. He ams taller than I thought. So close. I could reach out and steal one of his testicles."

"Oh, don't do that," Jeanie almost panicked. "What if you steal his soul ball and he can't write his good stuff anymore?"

"I've no doubt Alexandra knows his whole catalogue by heart, she would take over," sighed Freja, shaking her head. "Come, let us see if there is anyone else to drool about."

The arcade...

"Dude, did the 1976 roster first line just pass by?" Dave asked in incredulity as he looked out the door. There weren't too many children yet, only about nine, and they were managing admirably. Fortunately, Percy was with his aunt, and Trinian was with her mother.

"What?" Ted blurted from across the room, where he was watching two kids fail at playing the game Joust. "Fuck off, you're full of shit."

"I'm telling my mom you swore!" said one of the kids in the room, making a rush for the door, only to be 'accidentally' tripped by Anthony and skidding into the wall. Before he could begin crying, Peg and Shana stepped into the room and helped him to his feet, dusting him off.

"Count on you boys to make a dog's breakfast of things," Shana scolded, straightening out the kid's collar. "Don't worry, honey, we'll make sure the bad men leave you alone."

"Oh goodie, the Grady Twins are here to save the day," Anthony grumbled, shaking his head. "Hopefully you're more use than you were yesterday in standing up to that little Egyptian psycho."

"Hey, I wasn't scared of her one bit!" Shana protested, holding the upset child in her arms and bouncing them up and down to console them.

"Tell her that, she's right behind you," Ted announced, pointing behind Shana toward the door.

Shana squealed in alarm and dashed to hide behind a console, tossing the kid in the air. Peg lunged in and caught the child before a lawsuit happened.

"Oh, very funny, you big jerk!" the younger Tyrfel sister hissed, scowling at Ted while peeking around the console meant to shelter her from a very bitey death. "If I knew any other languages, you'd so be getting cussed out right now."

"We'd settle for you changing your underwear, hero," Dave said sarcastically before making a wry face and sniffing the air. "Did you have asparagus for breakfast?"

"You're a dead man, Firestone," Shana growled, coming out of her hiding place, mostly to demonstrate that she had not, in fact, pissed herself. The sisters began helping with wrangling the children, not because the boys really needed help, but they were getting flustered out in the manor, surrounded by so many famous names and important people.

And while they promised one another and others that they would learn to live freely and openly where possible, they couldn't here, of course. But that wasn't the issue so much as the sisters still held a conditioned fear that incest clung to them like some palpable aura. It wasn't reasonable, and they knew it, but it still happened, so they were taking a break to recharge.

"So is there, in fact, a hockey team out there, like Dave said?" Ted queried of the sisters.

"How would we know?" Shana snorted. "There's a bunch of ancient dudes who don't look good in suits out there, most of them have faces like cauliflower. One guy especially."

"Gotta be Tiger," Ted mused. "I can't wait to see and meet them, if we can."

"Of course, Alex knows 'em all and calls 'em uncle," Dave grumbled.

"I don't know what it meant, but I overheard them talking to Mrs. DeBourne and saying that they'd all be drinking champagne out of 'Stan's Mug' tonight, whatever that means."

"WHAT?!" all three boys almost shouted, dropping the children they were holding.

***

The grand foyer, off in a corner...

"Do you want me to advise her, sir?" Tatyana asked, holding her tablet and clipboard.

"No, I'll do it," Mike replied, seemingly slightly grim. "This is a social wrinkle we'll all need to deal with from now on. What's her twenty?"

"I believe she's serving drinks in Windsor, sir," the seneschal replied.

Some seconds later, the titan man strode into the Windsor Lounge, nodding respectfully at the portrait of the monarch who dominated the opposite wall. He looked around and spied his quarry.

"Miss Prospero," he called, catching the young woman's attention. "A word?"

"Yes, Master," the small woman said readily, curtsying and excusing herself from the people she was attending to.

"Penrose, will you and Millie see to drinks for a few minutes?" he asked, talking to Jenny now.

"Of course, good sir," the countess said cheerfully, taking the serving tray from Valentina as she hurried by to see her Master. Mike took her out into the hall and into another lounge, closing the door behind them.

"Master," Val giggled with a blush. "Here and now? Won't Mistress feel left out."

"Behave, you brat," he chuckled. "I have been imparted some information that I think you personally should be aware of."

"Go ahead, Master," she said, wondering what this was about.

Mike nodded. "The Duncolms are here, Miss Prospero."

Val looked uncomfortable for a moment before taking a breath. "Tell me more, sir."

"They have apparently recently purchased a property on the Bridle Path," Mike continued. "And although they haven't moved in just yet, they will have within a week, I have been informed. They also apparently just crashed our party for Kar. Now while I cannot turn them away, I am more than happy to give you the rest of the day off with full pay and-"

"That's won't be necessary, Master," Val said, shaking her head. "I am no use to you or Mistress if I have to be in a safe space every time some wealthy stronzo decides that I'm just pretty tits to fondle and can't protect myself."

"We heard about you protecting the countess," Mike pointed out, smiling. "Nobody in this place believes you can't take care of yourself. But I wanted to give you the option."

"And I appreciate it, Master," she said softly, giving him a hug and almost melting as she felt those giant arms around her. Mistress was the luckiest woman on earth in her view. "Y'know I love you and Mistress, right?"

"We love you too, Val," Mike replied, smiling as he uncharacteristically used her first name. She nearly creamed her panties at the sound. She pulled back from the hug and smiled up at him. "I'm fine with them being here. I know I'm safe all around. I've no doubt Tatyana is already informing everyone and pointing them out so they can keep an eye on my safety."

There was a hint of a smirk on her face and in those lovely brown eyes as she spoke now, "Honestly, I'm kinda looking forward to running into them, and showing them what they lost out to..."

She did a perfect and graceful curtsy, looking unusually conservative in her full maid outfit, as opposed to the rather minimal attire she sported daily otherwise. She exited the room and Mike waited some moments, deciding she wanted to walk by herself this time.

An unforeseen issue taken care of. How many more can there be?

He saw himself out of the room and went to check on some other matters.

Elsewhere...

"Robert! James!" Karen almost cried in joy, hugging the two men. "I was thrilled by your RSVP!"

"Couldn't miss this, love," said the elderly gentleman with the mop of curly blond hair going grey, and the Staffordshire accent. "Long time in coming, though."

"And you haven't changed a bit since we first met you," said the other man with the white hair and the bright smile. "Too many monarchs in positions they don't deserve, and not a single title on you. Unfair, I tell you."

"Well, I hope you somehow managed to bring your instruments, because Michael and Alex will no doubt want a few minutes with you," Karen said with a wink.

Somewhere nearby, Becky was standing and reminding herself not to gape at all the people she recognized. Nanu was standing with her, wearing an elegant dress that Mike seemed to have ready for her (of course). It was a shimmering gold colour that struggled just the right amount to keep Nanu's figure contained within its confines.

"Nanu," Becky whispered, leaning down to talk in Latin to her companion. "There's some people here I should tell you about."

Nanu looked at her mistress curiously for a moment and then listened while Becky whispered in her ear and pointed at the two elderly gents that the goddess was talking with.

Her eyes widened and she seemed to pale. Half a second later, her eyes rolled into her head and she started to fall backward.

"Lllllllet... Zeppliiiiii..." she murmured in a swoon while Becky squeaked and caught her before she crashed to the floor.

"Oh, goodness," the older man with all the curly greying hair said, coming over and seeing concerned. He was followed by the man in the white hair, while Karen looked on in amusement. "Is she quite all right? What happened? Is there anything we can do?"

"She'll be fine, sir," Becky said, fanning Nanu gently and then giving them a sly smile. "As for what you can do, well... when was the last time you gents signed two pairs of tits for raving fans?"

***

1987...

"You mean to tell me you have never had a proper naked mud bath before?" Karen queried as she relaxed in the warm, rich brown goop. It was up to her neck and it felt divine on her skin. This was exactly what she needed right now.

"Does playing naked in the mud with Suzie Longspear when I was younger count?" Mike replied, also relaxing in the thick, cloying suspension. Gordon was crazy, but she was clearly onto something. Because they were having a couples' spa day and were obviously perceived as a 'couple', they were using the large mud basin big enough for both of them.

He was reclining across from her, and they'd been gently reminded to not get naughty during their time in the mud. Apparently people had ideas about them already. It made sense to Mike that they'd think that, because who wouldn't want that with Gordon?

"Count on you to 'perv the situation out', to quote Remington," Karen sighed, smiling and shaking her head. She didn't actually mind, but her remark required the proper response, after all. She had no business letting a conversation partner's witticisms fall flat. That was bad manners. "So you've really never had one?"

"Where, Gordon?" he pointed out. "Kapuskasing is not exactly a hotbed of cultural elitism. People freaked out when the Tim Hortons opened in town. Joe Clark came to visit, and you'd think Marlon Brando had decided to take up residence."

She giggled. "So tell me then, Nanook of the North," she began, touching his foot with hers somewhere under all the ooze. "Does this first proper mud bath measure up?"

"The company skews the experience, so there is no chance to be objective," Mike answered with a shrug, as if speaking the most simple and obvious truth on earth. "Fairly certain we could be immersed in the mystery stew from the Chestnut cafeteria before I finally rated something poorly."

"What woman wouldn't blush at such a compliment, being compared to the mysterious omnium-gatherum that resides in the giant pots of the cafeteria," the bronze-haired beauty remarked dryly. "Even you turn your nose up at those gustatory Lovecraftian macédoines, and you're renowned for eating anything."

"Go sit in one of the pots and let's find out," he suggested, causing to her shudder slightly as she tensed up to keep from bursting into an unsightly fit of giggles.

She touched his foot again with hers.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Things were moving along smoothly, considering the increasing traffic, and Karen's only job was to greet everyone and thank them for coming as they found her. Mike had made it abundantly clear to visitors that they would seek her out.

"Gary, you scamp!" she laughed, hugging the man she was greeting. "Thank you for making it."

"Anything for you, babe," the older man said easily, with his habitual grin. "Neil says hi and congrats, of course, as does Alex."

"Send them our best," she replied, her tone slightly melancholy. It wouldn't be much longer now. "James and Robert are here already."

"And I just saw Sir Brian," the man said, thumbing toward the door. "You certainly have a lot of admirers, Kar."

"Oh, stop," she said, blushing. "You have no idea how humbled I am to have you all here."

"Says the woman whose son is teaching me things about bass!" he laughed. "I assume Alex is around somewhere? There's no missing your husband, of course."

"He never cease to remind me that you owe him five dollars from that bet you lost to him down at the Wheat Sheaff," Karen giggled. Mike and her guest had once made a bet that if he stuck his tongue to a light post outside, it wouldn't get stuck. In the dead of January. Of course it had, and Mike, along with several other patrons, had to pour hot water on the bassist's tongue to unstick it.

He never got around to give Michael the five dollars, over twenty years later.

"Alex is probably picking his friends up off the floor once they found out who has arrived. Their heads will need to be screwed back on, and they'll need to be treated for vertigo."

"I hear they're a garage band now," Gary mused, smiling. "What's their name?"

"I think I'll let Alex explain that one to you," Karen giggled, taking her guest's arm and leading him into the ballroom.

The Old Lounge...

"Goodness, look who," Patricia Duncolm remarked as Valentina approached them. "Miss Prospero, we had no idea you'd come to work at Blackwell."

"Sir, ma'am," Val said formally as she curtsied. "Welcome to Blackwell Manor, I hope you enjoy yourselves. May I get you a drink?"

"Do you remember what I like and how I take it?" Richard Duncolm asked, looking the servant girl up and down, the way he always had. Val found it just short of leering. She suppressed her revulsion. She would not fail her Master and Mistress, and she knew Dave was watching subtly from behind the bar.

Val made a show of thinking for a moment. "Whiskey sour, half bourbon, half rye, light on the foamed egg white, light on the bitters. Garnish with a cherry."

"Excellent memory, Valentina," he said approvingly and somehow possessively, as if he still owned her. She ignored it. "A pity you discontinued your employment, you were working out so well. This is proof."

"I am doing well, sir, thank you for asking," Val replied politely before turning to Patricia. "A Bloody Caesar for you, ma'am? Light on the salt?"

"Yes," Patricia confirmed with a nod. "Were we to offer you employment now that we are moving here to the Bridle Path, you would need to tell us what requirements you have, Miss Prospero."

Val took a breath before answering. "I am happy here, sir, ma'am. I am respected and very well-treated. My paycheque is breathtaking. I am happy. But if I ever wake up one day hating myself and my life and in need of punishment, I promise that you will be the first people I tell."

She did another curtsy. "Allow me to get your drinks, just the way you like them. Welcome to Blackwell Manor, and the event of the season."

She strode off, hiding her beaming smile. That had felt so good.

So good that she almost forgot to get their drinks made by Dave. Oops.

***

The Grand Foyer...

Governess Clarkson was staring in pointed distaste at the monstrosity sitting on the credence table. Blong goggled back at her silently, the white eyes with the dotted pupils and the bowtie around its neck speaking volumes in the back of her mind.

"Such a bizarre and horrid thing," she stated, her voice rife with disdain. "Your opinion, young lady?"

"Thank you, ma'am," Trinian said with a small curtsy. It wasn't time for the ceremonies or party yet, so she was just wearing a blue dress. "It's... very strange, you're right. It never would have occurred to me to do something like that."

She was sticking close to Governess Clarkson, looking after and attending to her where she could, trying to keep pointing out her best qualities. Her mother had told her to not try too hard, and that it wouldn't be a bad idea to let the governess see her be 'imperfect' on occasion. That way she could figure out what she had to work with.

Trinian didn't exactly understand, but she'd do as she was told. She was a Blackwell, after all.

"What do you know of diamonds, girl?" the governess asked now, still scowling at Blong. He seemed unfazed.

The question came out of nowhere, but Trinian did well on pop-quizzes at school, so maybe this was the same. They hadn't really talked about diamonds at school, mind. She thought for as long as she dared before answering.

"I know they are made of something called carbon that has been put under a lot of pressure," she began. "I know they are the hardest things on earth."

"And where do you know diamonds from?" the elderly woman asked.

"I have seen them in my mother's jewelry, she has a few of them," the little blonde girl answered. "And I have seen them in stores we go to where they sell expensive jewelry. Most recently, I have seen many here at Blackwell Manor, because my aunt Karen has so many."

"She does indeed, and many of them are quite famous," Clarkson agreed before looking down at the child. "You are allowed such informality with her, to call her by 'Karen', instead of her proper name, 'Ekaterina'?"

"It is what I have been told to do, governess," Trinian replied, nodding her head and resisting the urge to curtsy. "To the best of my knowledge, nobody calls her 'Ekaterina', although Lady Greymoor calls her 'Kat'. Honestly, everyone calls her 'Karen', and some people call her 'Princess'."

"Yes, that was her name even back was she was attending my academy decades ago," the governess sniffed. "I find such informality distasteful, even from people close to-"

"There you are, governess," Mike said in his penetrating baritone as he strode up. Trinian turned and curtseyed, Clarkson nodded her head reflexively in deference. "Have you seen Gordon?"

"I..." the governess almost fumbled, looking down for a split second before turning and pointing in a direction. "I last saw her heading that way, not more than five minutes ago, in the company of some rather famous musicians."

"Thanks," the titan man said, nodding. "Gotta round her up, see you in the ballroom in about ten minutes..."

And then he was gone, leaving a draft as he passed.

"He's awfully large, isn't he, governess?" Trinian remarked. She was getting used to how big her 'Uncle Mike' truly was.

"A minor understatement, my dear," the governess almost sighed as if composing herself after being unnerved. Fair enough. "At least if you attend St. Evangeline's, nobody will be so physically imposing. Only legacies loom large at the academy. Do not forget that."

She held out her hand now for Trinian. "Come, child. Let us assume our place."

Trinian took her hand and walked her back to the ballroom.

***

1987...

"What kind of wrap should I get, sirrah?" Karen asked as she showered herself down, making sure the mud was off all of her body. She was facing the wall of the shower space, revelling in the feeling of the water sluicing the clag from her skin.

"Gordon, you must know I have absolutely no clue about how to answer that question," Mike replied, standing and facing the opposite wall, letting the water cleanse him as well. The difference was, he had to bend down and under to get his face and neck done. "I don't even know which wrap I need."

"It is not a question of need, so much as one of desire or want," she explained. "Maybe if I narrowed it down to a few choices?"

"Can't hurt, unless a detailed explanation follows," Mike grunted, twisting his neck to get under the jet.

She giggled. "I believe I have narrowed it down to two, one being the chocolate truffle body wrap, and the other the bust wrap. The truffle wrap does wonders with its anti-aging and toning properties. It stimulates endorphins, softens the skin, tones the skin, and plumps out wrinkles. The bust wrap, predictably, is applied to the skin of the bust, where it firms and tones that sensitive skin."

Mike shook his head. "Gordon, do both. Wrap yourself in chocolate truffle, except for your bust, where you use the bust wrap. What are they gonna do, say no?"

"You're right, of course, why choose when I can insist on both?" she agreed readily. "I am certainly paying them enough to compromise where my skin is concerned."

"Just be careful with that bust wrap," he mentioned. "If those things firm up anymore, they'll be interfering with your hearing."

She stifled another giggle fit and turned around to flick water from her hand uselessly at his vast back, her eyes shining with mirth. She doubted he'd even notice. She also couldn't help looking on for longer than was appropriate.

Dear God, nobody that big should have a waist that small. And he has the behind of a mountain lion...

Whatever that meant.

"In any event," she said, turning around again to face the shower wall so he wouldn't suspect she'd be ogling. "Perhaps you need some advice about what wrap you would like?"

"You took my advice, so I guess that's fair."

"Well, according to Janet and Mona," Karen began, going through the motions of still cleansing herself, even though she was no doubt finished. "And a few other girls around campus, your touch may be gentle and rough at all the right moments, but sometimes your skin is less than soft."

"Izzat so?" Mike grunted.

"We girls are fond of nuzzling against, kissing, or even licking skin," the heiress continued, ignoring his tone. "If your skin is dry, or leathery, the sensation can be diminished, or even ruined, you see."

"Not a lot of girls spend time licking my palms and knees, Gordon," Mike sighed, shaking his head.

"Those are the areas obvious to you, Enkidu," Karen pointed out. "That doesn't mean you're right. You have been kissed and licked elsewhere, and I have it on good authority that you need texture improvement in quite a few areas if you wish to be laved lavishly by lascivious lasses."

"I'll take 'sentences I never expected to hear from Gordon' for a trillion, Alex..." Mike sighed. "Proceed."

"Insofar as you need to work on your skin tone, clearly, I would recommend a French red clay wrap," Karen said rather expertly, which she no doubt had reason to do. "Vitamin E, grapeseed, bladderwrack, Irish moss, and sage essential oils can be infused into these clays. French red clay is also rich in magnesium, vitamins A, B, B12 and E, iron and amino acids. The blend purges toxins, leaving the skin soft and remineralized with a noticeable glow."

"Sounds a lot easier to smear myself in chocolate truffles," he sighed. "But I'll accede to your suggestion. After all, who am I to deprive the girls of their tasty, borderline cannibalistic treat?"

"That's the spirit, DeBourne," Karen said cheerfully, shutting off her water and then turning around. "So, am I free of our bathing suspension?"

Mike turned around and did his best to keep a neutral expression while inwardly, his jaw dropped through the floor.

Gordon was standing there, not two meters away, fully nude, her body seemingly on display or awaiting inspection. She put her arms over her head, her fingers entwining, to expose more of her skin. She smirked as she turned left and right just slightly. Her magnificent breasts lifted slightly with the motion, singing their glories. One leg was slightly in front of the other in a tease, her pussy barely visible.

"The bow seems shipshape," he managed to say. How on earth were his mouth and throat dry while he was in a shower?

"Meaning my stern needs to be assessed?" she asked with a smirk. She didn't wait for a response, turning around slowly to show off her shapely back and perfect ass to him. It was over too soon, but that just meant she was facing him again, seemingly not the least bit concerned by her nudity. She looked him up and down. "You seem to have been thorough. Excellent. Let us dry off and continue on to the next phase."

They walked out into the small area beyond the shower and found towels. Without being asked, Mike wrapped one around her, not simply passing it to her.

"Such manners," she said pleasantly before drying herself down and then putting her plush robe back on. "Shall we?"

She took his arm as they walked to the next part of their day.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Pretty much everyone was now in the ballroom, laughing and mingling over drinks passed around by servers. People were looking at the chocolate art and sculptures, laughing as they were introduced to Ramsbury, and examining such gifts as had been presented yet.

The Blackwells from across the pond had brought many framed pictures of what their gifts to Karen were- books, documents, manuscripts, lineage and genealogy references, coats of arms, endless numbers of old suits of armour and sets of armaments from the family's history. Dozens of swords, spears, pikes, longbows, antique firearms of various periods, shields of many designs, and great suits of plate mail.

There were even three 19th century cannons, two of which had been used against Napoleon in the Peninsular Campaign and at Waterloo. They'd been named 'Thunderer', and 'Roaring Bess'. A third cannon, a huge French monster called a 'Gribeauval', that shot a 12-pound cannonball, and had been captured at Waterloo. It was rather cheekily renamed 'Warwolf'.

"Let me guess," Karen said somewhat dryly as she talked with Bolingbroke and Belasyse, her distant cousins. "Her Majesty's government has imposed new taxes on such heirlooms, and the family would end up paying tens of thousands of pounds annually for the right to keep our own possessions."

"And what with you technically being the head of the elder line, it only makes sense that they reside with you," Bolingbroke stated rather reasonably. "After all, you colonials have no such taxes on these things, at least until time of death, and they will still be within the family, safe and sound."

"It's going to be like living in Sandhurst Museum around here," Karen muttered, ignoring the smirks of her relatives. "In any event, you have my word they shall be kept safe. Excuse me, it is time to get this shindig started..."

She walked by the rows of alcohol sent from Scotland by the Gordon clan, and Angus had proudly presented them to her- gin and scotch, some of which were over a century old. They were indeed rare and precious gift, not meant to be taken lightly.

Michael, Jenny, Alex, and Alli had already made their way up onto the dais, seemingly unnoticed, given that nobody was looking their way. There was plenty to do, and many people were reconnecting after many years. Lisa could be seen laughing and talking with the Gordons while wearing the tartan skirt and blouse she and Karen had bought not long before. Her curly red hair was everywhere under her tam, and if you hadn't known she was Jewish, you would rightly have assumed she was a bonny lass of the ighlands.

Janet was wearing one of her power suits and shmoozing up the political, legal, and educational dignitaries that had arrives so far, including the president of the university, a city councillor, and a member of provincial parliament. She was so influential in political and legal circles that everyone seemed to be deferring to her.

Mona had efficiently rounded up the DeBournes, Kjaers, Brescianii, Remingtons, and Lisa's mother, making sure they were near the dais and could see everything.

Becky stood nearby, holding Nanu's hand. Trinian stayed with Governess Clarkson, while her mother Ashley looked on proudly.

Percy tried not to pout as his aunt Millie kept firm hold of him. She'd also confiscated his little slingshot.

Mike slid onto the bench in front of the venerable harpsichord, while Alexa settled in with the viola da gamba, Alex picked up the baroque guitar, and Karen and Jenny began fitting 'Sleeping Beauty' and 'La Pucelle' in place.

The other four watched carefully, waiting until Mike began to play, when they broke out into a lively interpretation of Uccellini's 'La Bergamasca'. Everyone else in the room went silent and turned to listen, the delightful piece capturing their attention. Each member of the quintet was perfect in their timing, making sure their instrument was heard at the precise moment it would have the most effect.

Karen and Jenny played off one another, standing side by side, while Alex and Alexa were sitting next on the other side of the harpsichord, which was in the center of carrying the cadence. Mike's back was to the audience, but every note was heard perfectly. Karen was very proud of the acoustical engineering in the ballroom.

The four minute piece was over all too quickly for those listening, they'd been held rapt by the performance. Even Percy had listened intently, causing no trouble. The applause was loud as the quintet stood, faced the audience, and bowed. It had gone perfectly, exactly how Karen had wanted to open things for the event. She stepped forward now while Alex took Sleeping Beauty out of her hands and set the Stradivarius down.

"Welcome, dearest friends, family, neighbours, guests, one and all," she said to the room, her divine voice like a crystalline chime. Those radiant golden eyes held everyone almost spellbound. "And thank you for being here today, to celebrate with me. Most of you don't need to be told what today represents, but in case you are wondering, the Old English phrase you are wanting is 'Hit is abūtan swīþe tīma,' which means 'It's about damn time.'"

The laughter around the room was punctuated by applause, not to mention cheers from many women. Karen waited politely before continuing. "No speeches, at least not by me, and certainly not yet. Honestly, I have been kept largely in the dark about what today entails. If you wish to know, you may take the matter up with my lord and master, my mighty husband. Only he knows everything about the days and how it is disposed."

There was more applause as Mike stepped forward and stood beside his wife, commanding everyone's attention. "From now until fifteen-hundred, it is basically free time to mingle and celebrate. Lunch is a rolling buffet; eat where you in please in any of the indicated lounges, or here in the ballroom. Please restrict Windsor to beverages. You'll all be notified when the official ceremony will begin. Dismissed."

More applause, and the throngs began breaking up. Karen sighed and turned to her husband. "Are you sure I'm not privy to anything that might be happening, sir?"

"Today's festivities are on a need-to-know basis, young lady, and you don't need to know," Mike replied, his expression betraying nothing, but a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to go out there, dazzle the guests as only you can, and make it one of the most memorable occasions of their lives."

"Now that I can do, my love," Karen said warmly, revelling in the feel of his giant hands clasping hers while she looked up into his eyes. "Try not to have too much fun without me..."

Today's about you, Gordon, he thought as he watched his gorgeous wife swish off toward a knot of people and begin dazzling them as only she could, per her instructions. And even you have no idea what you're in for. I can't wait.

He strode off to greet Sir Robert.

***

The gaming room...

"Right," Alex said as he entered the room and thumbed back at the door. "One of you goombahs go grab some grub and mingle for thirty minutes."

The boys played Rock-Paper-Scissors and Anthony won, so he headed out. Alex looked over and saw Peg and Shana now. "What're you two doing in here? You're guests, not wranglers."

"Honestly, Alex, it is pretty, well, people-y out there," the older sister replied. "We're not used to it. We nearly freaked out when we saw your rapper neighbour, and had to go hide in here with the kids."

"Sell it to Hallmark," Alex replied with a shrug. "Part of the problem is you do everything together and have a paralyzed reaction dynamic."

He looked down at Shana now. "Shana, go out there and mingle. Someone, anyone. Get a drink and go join a group. They won't bite. You say you're friends of Alexa and myself from the university."

"I'm not old enough to drink, Alex," the younger Tyrfel sister faltered, trying to make excuses. "I-"

"I can guarantee you that absolutely nobody out there cares," he said dismissively. "I could probably get these kids served if I tried. Get out there and have an actual good time. Thirty minutes. Then come back and it's your sister's turn. Scram."

Shana didn't even look at her sister as she hurried out. Alex looked at Peg now. "You two weren't invited to be wallflowers. There's a whole new world that can open up for you two, as long as you have the stones to try. For real. If Alexa and I didn't believe that, you wouldn't be here. Bet."

Peg took a breath and nodded. "Okay, Alex. You're right. I'll even make sure we're not always together today, I promise."

"Good," he said, nodding now. "Have fun playing video games with the ankle-biters and I'll see you out there..."

He turned and walked out of the room, pausing only once to talk to Anthony's little sister Tina before exiting.

"Just like his father," Peg said, sighing heavily. "Couldn't tell him no, and don't really wanna. Not fair. Big jerk."

"Hey, we've known 'im for almost eight years now," Dave said, losing a fighting game to a six year-old. "You're preachin' to the choir, sister."

She'd think about it later. Meanwhile, she turned back to play some goofy game with a little girl.

These old-school games were hard!

***

The Wellington Lounge...

"Mom," Trinian said, standing with her mother now. Ashley had just finished talking to a potential business contact and looked down at her daughter.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Am I doing well with Governess Clarkson?" the little blonde girl asked. Apparently she would be changing outfits before the big ceremony, but she'd still been careful with this one.

Ashley smiled. "I'm fairly certain that if that woman didn't want you around, you'd know it, Trin. And since she hasn't told you to get lost, yes, I'd say you're doing well."

"Do I have to spend the day with her?" Trinian queried, sounding concerned. "I want to spend it with Alexandra. Or you."

"Thanks, kid," her mother said dryly, sipping her martini now. "Honestly, Trin, you'll likely spend the afternoon with me, because Alli is very busy, helping keep the festivities going. I know you like her, but you need to let her do this and give her space. This is important."

"Okay," Trinian decided, nodding. "I mean, I'll be sleeping with her tonight, so I guess I can wait until then."

I wonder who that means will be my bed partner again? Ashley pondered with a naughty smirk. "Did the governess say you could go?"

"Yes," Trinian confirmed. "She wanted to talk about the academy with people."

"Do you want to go around on your own, or stay with me?" Ashley asked. "I trust you to be good, and you can always go to the games parlour, if you like."

"I'll go around and meet people, then," Trinian decided. "I'll be polite, I promise."

"I know you will, beautiful," Ashley cooed, leaning down and giving her daughter a loving kiss. She then watched her head out of the lounge.

I can't believe my little girl is going to go to St. Eve's, she mused, heedless of the activity around her. I just don't know what that holds for my future...

***

1987...

"So," Karen sighed as she lay still, waiting for the attendants to finish fastening her wrap. She'd refrained from giggling because three people had been required to put DeBourne's on him. "How does it feel to be embalmed in French red clay, monsieur?"

"Actually, this part is familiar," Mike replied, lying on the table they'd put him on while they worked to get him wrapped up. "Ronnie used to make me do these mud wraps, when she was young and practicing to own her own spa. But she'd cover me in mud she got from anywhere off the ground and then wrap me in plastic wrap."

"It's the intent and effort that count, of course," Karen pointed out, revelling in the warmth of her wraps. Bust wrap on her bust, chocolate truffle everywhere else. She loved the scent.

"Maybe, except she wasn't exactly careful about vetting her mud," Mike explained. "One time, it took my mother two hours to get all the leeches off me."

Karen wasn't the only one giggling at his statement, as all four of the attendants were as well.

"You'll be happy to know, sir, that we don't have leech treatments here," one of the girls trying to wrap him said with a smirk.

"Oh, wrapture," he replied with a sigh. "Pun intended."

Eventually they were both wrapped, and the attendants left them to be in the warm room, with the lights turned low and sonorous, New Age-y music playing. No doubt meant to align one's chakras.

Good luck while anyone's trussed up like this, Mike thought. No chakras are budging in this getup...

He looked over at Gordon and saw she'd done the full megillah- she had clay on her face, and cucumber slices over her eyes. Despite being completely covered in some silvery foil-lamé from her feet to her neck, and mud on her face, she still looked enchanting. How the Hell was that even possible?

"Do those cucumber slices actually work?" he asked, his voice betraying his skepticism.

"I have never seen so much as a hint of a wrinkle around my eyes, so my assessment is yes," she replied, lying still.

"Gordon, wrinkles might just be scared of you and they leave you alone," he muttered. "It proves nothing; it's like saying holding a banana in your ear keeps the elephants off Sesame Street."

"Hm, I actually got that reference," Karen said, smiling. "Now stop talking and just stew in your mud, DeBourne. If I thought it wouldn't do you good, I wouldn't have said to do it."

Mike sniffed and lay still, letting his mind wander, and trying to not think of complex equations. He'd told Gordon 'no work talk', so he couldn't very well start-

"DeBourne?" chimed her lyrical voice from a few feet away.

"I thought you said no talking," he protested, frowning.

"I said you shouldn't talk," Karen pointed out. "It's okay if I do it."

"Well, you got me talking against your wishes by not explaining the mechanics of this weird dynamic," he grumbled. "Talk away, I'll listen."

"You might need to answer, so disregard the first rule," Karen said.

Mike closed his eyes, just listening. He might just make it through this spa session with his sanity intact yet.

"Do you think I am doing the right thing with my life?" she asked.

The question caught him off-guard, but he answered quickly enough. "I'm not exactly in the habit of telling people how to live their lives, Gordon. But if I can guess at what you mean... you are asking if you, as an heiress to a vast industrial empire, have any business studying sciences, and music, and theology, and Lord knows what else, looking for a career in one of those areas in the future."

"That... is more or less the query," Karen admitted. She suppressed a shiver, even through the warm wrap. "But I can count on you to be honest, and not to give me platitudes or to patronize me."

"That's true," Mike agreed. "Gordon, if you weren't an heiress, you'd still be a peerless scientific mind and musician. If you'd come from a place as remote as Moose Factory, that would still be true."

Karen listened intently. Rarely did people have her undivided attention so completely. It was almost never truly necessary, even if she could fake it.

"But if something happened that burned the science and music centers out of your brain, you'd still be an heiress," Mike continued. "And I can't imagine you being satisfied with just that unless you were given said lobotomy."

It was some moments before she answered his statement. "I'm not sure I have the right to leave all this legacy behind, I fear."

"Then don't," Mike said with as much of a shrug as he could manage inside his wrap. He'd be in such trouble with the attendants if he'd loosened anything. "Do both. Do all of them. Be your dad's successor, and become a brilliant, renowned scientist and musician."

"Oh, I don't think even you could pull off that feat, sirrah."

"Not my job, and not my opportunity," he said plainly. "My money's on you, Gordon. If anyone can do exactly that..."

Silence reigned for some time. He'd answered her, and while she'd anticipated that answer to some degree, it still unnerved her to hear him say it. So plainly, from so close by. In these strangely quiet and intimate circumstances.

"After this, we'll rinse off again, and then we get to relax while they give us manicures, pedicures, and facials," she said finally, changing the subject. She hadn't been ready for it. "And after that, we head back to my dorm room to get changed and ready for the evening. Is this still agreeable?"

Mike nodded. "I'm down for it. I can't wait to show up on campus, glowing like the sun and blinding everyone with my radiant epidermis."

"Where your wit annoys, let your skin prevail," Karen sighed. "You are a true enigma, DeBourne. Honestly, I am amazed that Marks only desperately hates you as much as he does. It could be worse, after all."

"And one day, maybe I'll notice," Mike replied rather lazily, stifling a yawn. Was this wrap thing actually relaxing him?

Note to self, tell Ronnie to stop using mud full of leeches... he thought before drifting off.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Shana was wandering around, trying not to gawk at all the people she recognized- politicians, actors, singers, sports personalities, people famous for being famous... she felt totally out of place, but she had promised she'd go mingle.

She bumped into someone and blushed. "I'm sorry!" she said quickly. "I wasn't-"

Now she stopped talking and stared at the person she'd collided with. The man smiled back at her. "No biggie. Name's Eider."

"Sh-Shana..." she stammered, wondering how pale she'd gotten. "Big fan."

"You from the neighbourhood?" he asked. "Don' recognize you."

"No, I..." she tried to say, almost forgetting English entirely. "My sister and I are friends with Alexa, she invited us."

"Coo, coo," he said with a grin. "Lexi knows her stuff. I'll grab ya babe later and give her tickets for you and your sis to come sit with me courtside at a game. Y'down?"

"Y-yes," she stammered again, her mind whirling. "Thank you."

"Check y'later, Shae," he said with a smile and then wandered off again. Shana stood there for some moments rather blankly before coming back to reality.

Had that really just happened? Had she really just met Eider? And he'd invited her and Peg to a game?"

She turned and went off to find a drink, something she'd avoided, but now she needed it.

The Thomas Arne Lounge...

People were enjoying watching while Millie sat at the piano, playing a tune everyone knew and loved. Leaning against the baby grand, Jenny was sipping her martini while wearing her silvery afternoon gown that did nothing to hide her figure. She began singing in an exaggerated Cockney accent on cue.

"All I want is a room somewhere,

Far away from the cold night air,

With one enormous chair,

Oh wouldn't it be loverly?

Lots of chocolate for me to eat,

Lots of coal makin' lots of 'eat

Warm face, warm 'ands, warm feet

Oh wouldn't it be loverly!

Oh, so lovely sittin' abso-bloomin'-lute-ly still

I wouldn't move 'til spring comes

Over the windowsill!

Someone's 'ead restin' on my knee

Warm and tender as 'e could be

Who takes good care o' me

Oh wouldn't iiiiit be loverly

Loverly. Loverly. Loverly. Lov-er-ly..."

People were applauding now and whistling the tune while Jenny strutted around, her nose turned up as she pretended to put on airs. Many of the peers present laughed, because as respected and sophisticated as she was, Lady Greymoor was known to be a ham.

Anthony watched from near the door, wondering what it was going to be like to be apprenticed to this woman for the next month or longer. She certainly had a way of making everything seem fun. And his parents were certainly not above him getting some free formal training. None of their Chinese manners efforts had worked on him, seemingly. Thanks to Alex, his Klingon was better than his Mandarin.

Hell, Alex's Mandarin was better than his Mandarin.

He'd known Alex growing up, when the DeBournes lived in Kleinburg. It was a ritzy enough neighbourhood, but nothing like the Bridle Path. And Anthony had always been aware of what family Alex's mother belonged to. He'd been here once or twice over the years, usually to celebrate Alex's birthday.

Now he was going to be staying here for at least a month. And he had no idea how to do that. Alex, so always down-to-earth and always himself, seemed to just naturally fit here. It was part of him. How would Dave, Ted, and himself navigate all this?

He hoped Lady Greymoor had an answer.

The Old Lounge...

The mood in the lounge was festive, people waving their beer mugs in the air while singing along to the tune that was being played. Alex was strumming on a baroque guitar while Alexa played a fiddle. Alex led the guests in song.

"Nottingham ale, boys, Nottingham ale,

No liquor on earth's good as Nottingham ale!"

Dave watched from behind the bar, serving up drinks and making sure every had what they needed. As long as nobody asked for anything too strange or fruity, he could make it well enough. Right now, everyone was drinking the beverage they were singing about, something called 'Nottingham ale', because Lord Bolingbroke had brought a goodly supply along. Apparently it was a favourite, and he travelled with it when he could. Dave would have to try it later.

This was definitely not like the boring and effete parties he'd always expected the wealthy to have. He remembered working on the gardens of an estate and how people stood around with their noses in the air, listening to music they probably didn't understand. As the hired help, he wasn't allowed anywhere near the event, but he was looking for supplies in the landscaping huts and stopped to watch on occasion, shaking his head.

Sure, lots of people attending this event were no doubt like that. He didn't doubt it for one moment about Val's former employers, the Duncolms. He'd considered adulterating Richard Duncolm's beverage with something special, and as much as the man would have deserved it, doing such a thing was beneath Dave's status as the employee of genuinely decent people.

There was another family present, the Ingrams, and they were the wealthiest family on the Bridle Path, which was pretty amazing, because Dave was aware of how wealthy his employers were. The Ingrams owned the vast golf course that stretched through much of the center of the wider neighbourhood. The Blackwells owned what was listed as protected land. It was probably a source of contention.

Nancy Ingram had toddled in, ordered a martini, and toddled out, seeming to hold her nose up at everyone who didn't have a title in front of their name or was surnamed 'Blackwell'. She certainly had no use for that Eider kid. Clearly she thought she was better than anyone not as wealthy as her.

Dave hoped that his bosses never 'loaned him out' to the Ingrams for some shrub work. He'd do it, of course, but he wouldn't like it.

He found himself smiling as he listened to Alex sing, and even joined in the chorus of the song on one of the rounds.

***

A spa, 1987...

"I'm not used to you not hauling around that military backpack disguised as an attaché case with the phone in it," Mike remarked as he sat back in the long chair while a woman massaged his feet and another his hands, as part of his 'mani-pedi'. A third one was giving him a facial. If his sheer size took up extra resources, none of the attendants seemed to mind.

"This is a relaxation day, sirrah, I have no intention whatsoever of being interrupted," Karen replied, also lying on a long chair beside his, getting the same treatment, although apparently only two girls were necessary to see to her. They were both wearing plush robes. Mike was surprised but relieved that they had any that fit him. He doubted they got many customers in his size.

"Meaning you told the front desk people you would contact them if there was a crisis," he mused, relaxing under all the skilled hands. This did feel really good. Ronnie had lots of practice to do. "Good thinking."

"Thank you," Karen said simply, also relaxing. "A girl deserves a day like this every so often."

"We're only in Lucerne for a week, and I'm pretty sure you'll figure out how to fit in a pampering session or two," Mike pointed out. "Not that you don't deserve it, for all the work you've done."

"You've done no less than I, DeBourne, and merit it even more, since the original ideas were yours," she responded casually, but meaning it. She felt almost boneless. She needed to get the girls trained to give proper hand and foot massages. They were all hopeless as things stood.

"Are you two sure you work in the same field?" the senior attendant asked, going back and forth between them and checking their nails. "Your skin and nails say otherwise."

"We're both physicists, yes," Karen confirmed, not bothering to mention they were only students. Apparently that hadn't occurred to the staff. "But my friend here is much more physical in his approach than I tend to be. So if his nails look like the teeth of a chainsaw, he comes by it honestly."

"Hard hands and feet, lots of calluses," mused one of the girls. "You obviously work out, but you're also used to hard labour, right?"

"I grew up in Kapuskasing, which is about as small-town as you can get," Mike answered, still relaxing. "Working with steel, working on vehicles, building and repairing things, hunting, fishing..."

"The feral type, hm?" one of the other girls said. "Guess you're lucky your wife got you into the pampered upper classes, right? Couple of more sessions and we can have all these cracks in the skin of your hands and feet gone. You'll feel so much better."

Karen creased her lips in a smirk, restraining a giggle. "Yes, his little wifey-poo will have him dandied up in no time, I assure you."

"Gordon," Mike started to say before the girl at his head began massaging his jaw and around his mouth, making it impossible (or at least ridiculous) to speak. His chiding of the little brat would have to wait.

He promptly forgot what he was bent out of shape about when the girl at his feet pressed into deep tissue and found a nerve bundle that needed relaxing.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

"There you are," Jeanie chirped as she trotted up to them in the foyer. "Glad you made it. Traffic bad?"

"We might've made a few wrong turns trying to get here quickly," her father admitted as he removed his jacket, which was taken by one of the paid valets, as was his wife's. She hugged her daughter. "Have we missed much?"

"Well, just breakfast proper and the beginnings of the festivities, I guess," Jeanie mused. "But the formal event is another hour and change away, and there's lots of food to nosh on, I know daddy'll like that."

"Jeanie," he protested while he hugged her. "You look lovely, by the way,"

"Thanks, daddy," she said, scrunching up her nose cutely before giving them a little twirl to show off her green dress, which was decidedly more modest than most of her attire. Still, it looked good on her and showed off her figure.

"Where's Freja?" Jocy almost sniffed, looking around. "Couldn't she come greet us as well?"

"You were the ones who were late, mom, not her," Jeanie pointed out. While she and her parents seemed to have reached an accord of late, she'd also made herself a promise that she'd stand up for herself and her wife, and not let her parents drag on them for no reason. Her mom was a bit of a snob, after all. But probably not today. "She's probs with her family, or helping out somewhere."

"You're not guests?" the older woman asked.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean we're not gonna help if needed," the bubbly brunette answered with a shrug. "You two, now you're guests. Let's go and make sure the hosts know you're here, and then you can start shmoozing around. You're gonna love it."

Vince took his wife's arm and followed his daughter into the crowds. He was already recognizing lots of famous people from all walks of life.

At least he wouldn't have to worry about his wife putting on airs and pretending they were a big deal.

***

The ballroom...

The Prime Minister and his wife had insisted that Karen remain seated and keep playing her gorgeous harp as they joined her. She was currently playing a piece by Ravel, and had many admirers standing around listening.

Elsewhere in the room, Mike was dealing with an issue.

"So I was hoping we could have some of your time, and your wife's," the man in the suit explained to Mike while standing with him off in a corner. "Since we were here with the Prime Minister anyway, we thought it made sense to-"

"I will quite happily make time for you tomorrow, and the same for my wife," Mike interrupted, watching Karen perform for her adoring audience. "Today isn't good, for obvious reasons."

"I'm sorry, but we'll likely be back in Ottawa tomorrow," the man said, trying to get his point across. "And I think we can all agree that this matter is of some urgency, with national security being compro-"

"Okay, first of all, do you remember what my rank is?" Mike interrupted again, turning to face the smaller man now. He'd had enough and he was not letting this cowboy throw off his itinerary.

The man from Ottawa swallowed and nodded. This was the first time he'd met DeBourne and he now understood how truly big he was. He must have been an absolute terror during his service years. "I... yes. You were a major."

"I am a major, and you are about to start remembering it," Mike said firmly. "You are going to address me properly while we get this worked out. Do we understand one another, leftenant?"

The man nodded again. "Yes, major. Sir."

"Better," Mike growled, determined to wrap this up quickly. "We invited the PM and his wife to this event. We expected him to have a guard detail. No problem. But we were uninformed that Intelligence would be using this opportunity to interrogate us about a problem that we have, up until now, fully cooperated about. We know it's important. Did anyone call ahead to explain that this would be happening, leftenant?"

The man remembered to shake his head. "I don't believe so, sir."

"Do you think that there is any chance whatsoever that some new wrinkle in this debacle will arise between today and tomorrow and throw everything into chaos?" the titan man asked pointedly.

The agent deflated. "Likely not."

"We agree," Mike said, nodding now. "So let me make this clear, leftenant... you may guard the Prime Minister and his lovely wife. That is your job today. You are free to come by tomorrow and ask questions regarding this issue, or call and set up an appointment. I expect full compliance about this, or I'll be calling HQ tomorrow and asking who exactly was responsible for this idiotic idea. Am I achieving clarity?"

The man, who was now sweating, nodded. "Yessir."

"Good," Mike said curtly and tilted his head. "Dismissed."

The man headed off to join the Prime Minister. Seconds later, Mike was joined by Gergo and Indur.

"CSIS?" the Hungarian man asked, holding his drink.

"Yup," Mike answered grimly, nodding. "Thought it'd be a good idea to ambush Kar and I to ask questions about Ping."

"Not the smartest thing they've ever done," Indur mused. "They've contacted both Gergo and I already. I hear they've even contacted Dean Marks."

"They found him at Happy Gardens?" Mike wondered, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt he'll be any use, apparently he calls himself 'King Cosmos' most days and wraps himself in tinfoil to keep the marmosets from stealing his organs."

"I still blame you for him going completely crazy," Gergo said with a smirk, nudging Mike.

"Hey, it wasn't totally my fault," the host of the event protested. "Gordon made him tweak out at least once."

They all laughed together before Indur and Gergo excused themselves to go say hello to some alumni and the governor of the university.

"Eh bien, bonjour, toi, grand, fort et bel homme..." purred a woman beside him while they caressed his arm. He turned and smiled now.

"Sophs," he said cheerfully, nodding. "How're you doing, lady?"

***

The Arne Lounge...

Trinian was showing off her skills on the piano, playing an old Victorian parlour tune for people, who were clapping and encouraging her. She hoped that Governess Clarkson was watching from somewhere. This was a complicated piece for her little body to do, but she was managing. Leaning back against the piano, her distant uncle Alistair was smiling, took a drink, and began to sing the words to the song she was playing.

"A little maiden climbed an old man's knees

Begged for a story: do uncle, please!

Why are you single, why live alone?

Have you no babies, have you no home?

I had a sweetheart, years, years ago,

Where she is now, pet, you will soon know;

List to the story, I'll tell it all:

I believed her faithless after the ball.

After the ball is over, after the break of morn,

After the dancers' leaving, after the stars are gone,

Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all--

Many the hopes that have vanished after the ball."

"Quite the little talent, isn't she?" Jenny mused as she came up beside Ashley and leaned on her shoulder. She was a little taller than the Blackwell woman, but not much.

"Thank you so much, countess, for agreeing to sponsor her," Ashley said, feeling warm next to Lady Greymoor. She was indeed very attractive. "Do you think she'll fit in at St. Eve's?"

Jenny pondered. "I don't know if they still administer spankings for poor behaviour, but it might be best that she be ready to have her rump tempered, just in case. Speaking from experience, it helps if it becomes a turn-on for a young lady."

Maybe she should have been horrified, but Ashley just giggled instead. She loved having her ass spanked, so it was likely that the trait would pass on to Trinian. Heaven only knows, she warranted it often enough. Her father was a softie, however. She'd make sure to not discuss corporal punishment around him before Trinian was accepted. "Kar said even she got a few whacks on the behind while you two were there."

The countess nodded. "She got her arse whacked, mostly covering for me. You'd swear her cheeks were made of steel. Never cried once. Even I cried sometimes. Not Kat. Never Kat."

Ashley smirked. "Is that why Mike calls her 'Princess Iron Fanny'?"

Jenny shrugged. "Some obscure reference to Chinese mythology, I am told. Hopefully our dear Trin proves wiser than myself."

"She's a handful, so we'll see," Ashley sighed before smiling at Jenny. "'Thanks again, Jen. It means so much."

"Oh, the privilege was mine, lovey," Jenny cooed before looking around furtively. Convinced no one was looking at them, as they were off in a corner, she pressed her lips to Ashley's in a wet kiss that lasted some dangerous seconds. Thankfully, nobody seemed the wiser.

The kiss finished and both blondes exhaled for a moment, looking into one another's eyes. Jen smiled lewdly. "I cannot wait to fuck you, my dear. I hope you find a way to stay for a little. And for the record, feel free to make use of my boys. They could use the training."

Ashley shivered as she felt Jen's hand subtly but skillfully caress her ass and somehow her pussy without a soul noticing and then breezing out of the room. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before returning her attention to her daughter's performance.

She really had to find a way to stay for a few days.

***

The Grand Foyer...

"Sir?" Tatyana said, talking into her little walkie she was keeping on her hip.

"Go ahead, Tatyana," came Mike's reply from somewhere else in the manor.

"Those people you advised me to tell you about, the Dannings?" Tatyana continued. "They just arrived."

"Thank you for telling me," he said. "Just make sure there's eyes on them at all times, but especially Brenda. And the moment the Connors arrive, I need to know. You've seen the contingency plan."

"I have, sir," she confirmed. "I'll send the Dannings to you presently."

She went over to greet the newcomers, well aware of what was at stake. It was a pity, perhaps, that they couldn't not be invited, but if her boss had a plan in place, she also held no doubt it would work, as long as everyone did their part.

"Mister and Missus Danning," she said with a smile. "We're so glad you could make it, thank you for coming. I'm Tatyana, the estate seneschal."

"Nice to finally meet you," the husband said with a smile. His brunette wife, Brenda, nodded, but seemed almost distracted as she looked around, as if expecting to see something or someone. "Honoured for the invite."

"I suppose it is a rather special occasion," Tatyana replied, before looking down at Brenda's little clutch. "I must say, ma'am, that is a most spectacular clutch you're carrying."

"Oh, this old thing?" Brenda said, trying to sound modest, but it was clearly a practiced humble-brag. "Nothing, really, just a Roger Vivier with some accent stones."

"Is that real satin?" Tatyana asked.

"Absolutely," Brenda confirmed, pleased someone was noticing already. The clutch matched rather well with her attire. She's be intrigued to see what Karen DeBourne was wearing today. Brenda handed the Russian woman the clutch, letting her examine and feel it. "You like?"

"Exquisite," Tatyana said readily, handing it back to the owner before gesturing. "Please, let me lead you to the ballroom and gathering area."

The Dannings now followed her to the ballroom, blissfully unaware of the tiny tracking device she had fastened to the bottom of Brenda's clutch, which would allow Ari to track her anywhere she went inside the manor.

Elsewhere...

"Mister Chao," Karen said gracefully, coming up to the businessman and nodding respectfully. The elderly Chinese man in the expensive grey suit bowed in humble respect. Today was a great day. "I am so glad you and the association could make it."

"We were honoured to receive the invitation," he said while the people around him bowed as well, men and women of the community, leaders and entrepreneurs. "You and your husband are great friends to us, we will never forget."

"Michael will be pleased to hear that, of course, and he no doubt has much to discuss with you, when apropos," Karen chimed pleasantly. "Having said that, I would like to finally introduce you to my little sister, Alli, home from Europe and fully integrated back into the family."

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Alexa joined her older sister now, enchanting and beautiful as Karen. Her long golden hair spilled down almost to her knees, and her sapphire eyes danced with an immortal joy. Like her sister, she was very tall, the best part of six feet, and her bust was very large. She had a tiny but strong waist, and her legs went on forever, even beneath her royal blue dress.

"I am very honoured to meet you all," she said in her crystalline tone that made one's heart leap at the sound. "Kar's told me much about our relationship with the community."

"The Blackwells have built many bridges, my dear," Mr. Chao said, clasping her hands. "You are as welcome to us as your sister, her husband, and your nephew are."

He looked at Karen now. "Will she need a dress for January?"

Karen smiled. "If your ladies can work their magic on me, they can no doubt do it for Alli. We would appreciate it."

"There will be no charge, of course," he mentioned, waving off the notion.

"Then at least allow us to make a contribution to a community charity of your choice for said amount," Karen said, enjoying the traditional negotiations. She loved these people. They were all shocked and enraged to hear about Ping, a black mark for the Chinese community in Toronto, who had heralded the physicist as one of their own for many years. Chao would no doubt be talking with Michael about that later.

She'd leave them to it. "Please, come in and join us now. Bill, you'll be glad to know that my cousin Hannibal is here. You always got along well with him."

"As long as he isn't borrowing thousands of dollars from me before I realize it," Chao laughed before joining them in heading to the ballroom, with Karen and Alexa escorting him by his arms. "Is it true the PM is here? I have some questions I'd like to ask..."

***

1987...

"Here we are, then, sirrah," Karen lilted as she led Mike into her dorm room. She dropped her clutch on the bed and looked up at him. "If you would like to change first, I can step out, or into my closet. How long do you need?"

"Give me five minutes, I guess," he reasoned.

"Boys," she sighed as she went to exit the room. "Five minutes..."

She wandered down the hallway, considering what a splendid afternoon it had been so far. True, it had all been improvised, per se, as had the company, but she was enjoying herself immensely.

Would I be enjoying myself this much with anyone else? Annoying as he can be, DeBourne's discourse on most matters is very gratifying. He always seems to know more than he lets on, and usually because he doesn't want to appear the expert at everything. There is a frustrating streak of modesty to the boy.

She thought about how he'd listen to Lisa, or Mona, or Janet go on about their preferred subjects, commenting at length, even when she knew he was already well-versed in the subject matter. Lisa would talk animatedly about the movements she was studying or involved in, and DeBourne often asked subtly leading questions that would improve the little redhead's understanding without her ever knowing. He seemed to genuinely enjoy hearing people gush about their passions.

"Oh!" she said as she almost bumped into the windowsill at the end of the of the hall. How had that happened? Where had her mind been?

She looked down at her watch and noticed she'd been out of her room for three minutes now. Three minutes? It would normally take her a minute and some seconds to reach this end of the hallway at a casual walk, so what on earth had nearly tripled the length of time? Had she been stopping and not noticing, or simply moving at a snail's pace?

She turned around and began walking back, slowly. She observed her surroundings, trying to sense if she'd noticed them in the immediate past. She always picked up on small details as she walked. A crack forming in the corner of a window pane, a wrinkle or a new stain in the occasional carpet, a scratch on the hallway floor. Nothing registered with her as having been seen in the last few minutes.

She'd been completely oblivious, so lost in thought had she been.

She blinked and found herself just outside her own dorm room door. She'd done it again. What was going on?

"Done, Gordon," Mike called from inside her room, making her start just a bit. Had he assumed she'd waited outside her own door the whole while, or that she'd be back now, promptly?

Annoying.

She opened her door and went inside, trying not to draw in her breath at the sight of him in his suit. True, she'd seem him in it often enough before, but it never failed to take her breath away. The words to describe how he looked didn't come easily. It wasn't anything as simple as suave, or dapper, not even distinguished. The barone was all those things. DeBourne was something more, somehow.

He looked like he belonged in the suit, he wore it likely no one else could, because it was tailored to exactly him. No, this was grander. The old adage that 'the clothes make the man' applied only loosely here. It seemed more like clothing had finally done the sculpture it was cast upon justice. Only matchless perfection was warranted.

A man looking good in a suit made for them was easy. Capturing that person's grandeur and... nobility... that was a work of art.

"I find myself in my usual quandary, I do not know who to give credit to, you or your suit, for making the other look splendid," she said, observing him as if assessing him and critiquing his look with her studied eye. "So I will settle on congratulating you both. Well done."

"Thanks, on behalf of my suit," Mike said with a nod. "How long will you need?"

"No mere five minutes," she answered. "But hopefully not painfully long. Maybe fifteen. You needn't leave, though, if you want. You have seen me 'in my altogether' before, as you've pointed out."

"Have I seen you before in the dress you're about to wear?" he asked.

"No," Karen replied. "I have not worn it before tonight."

"Then I'm lookin' forward to the big reveal," he said with his charmingly boyish grin. "See you in fifteen, Gordon."

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him.

It wasn't often (okay, at all or ever) that men declined the opportunity to see her naked. Certainly the barone didn't. As yes, DeBourne had seen her in a state of complete nudity more times than either can count, but it still perplexed her in a tingling way to have the offer declined so easily and graciously. She now had to look her very best for 'the big reveal'.

Karen gazed at the back of the door for some moments, the poster of Duran Duran that Lisa had put up staring back at her. She couldn't help but think about how ridiculous Simon Le Bon would look next to DeBourne. Le Bon was chic, very chic, just like that George Michael fellow.

DeBourne was no less for not needing to be. He was so much more in some intangible way.

She snapped out of her reverie and began getting ready.

Outside, Mike had gone down to the main floor, so that it didn't look like he was simply hanging around outside Gordon's room. That seemed less than proper. So now he found himself conversing with several people, all of them girls who were from the dorm. Some were just talking with him, others were trying to set up dates with him. The suit was a big hit, with everyone telling him how distinguished he looked.

Several girls were trying to give him notes with contact information, and he made a game of it by telling them to slip the notes under the door of his room, but leave them as riddles, to see if he could guess who it was. They all giggled, calling him a giant nerd and a tease, but they would comply readily.

Frankly, he simply had no intention whatsoever of going out with Gordon while his pockets were stuffed full of bits of paper with other girls' names on them. Talk about bad manners. His mother would've scolded him severely, even if this wasn't really a 'date'. Courtesy and manners mattered.

Granted, none of his blue-collar family members subscribed to Emily Post, or knew a shrimp fork from a melon baller, but respecting women was certainly an ethic he'd been brought up with. He had to convince some woman out there that he was tolerable enough to have a kid with one day, didn't he?

He talked with everyone intently, but his mind was also elsewhere, wondering what Gordon would look like. He'd more or less just let the conversational part of his brain do the talking, but his real focus was on what lay ahead, both in the next few minutes and in the next few hours. He hoped he did well by her and didn't embarrass her, whatever they ended up doing.

And before he knew it, his time was up.

Thankfully, his autopilot function had begun disengaging from the various subjects, and he pleasantly bid everyone adieu. He'd been subtly groped and fondled several times, and he hoped they hadn't wrinkled the material of his suit. That wouldn't do. He headed back upstairs, arriving outside her door with thirty seconds to spare. He rapped on the door with one finger.

"Come in..."

Mike entered and tried not to stop and stare, his breath taken away. Gordon was looking at him with a hint of a smirk, as if she knew. She was wearing a black dress that almost qualified as painted on, gleaming in the dim lights of her room. A delicate silver chain cinched around her tiny waist as a belt, of sorts, dividing her upper and lower halves.

The top half was held up by narrow straps that zeroed down toward her cleavage, of which there was so very much, but it only served as a classy tease, no more. A swathe was nearly transparent black gauze was draped behind her back between her long black gloves and her waist, fastened at invisible points, but giving her the air of wearing a train, without the effort.

The long, fitted skirt went almost to her ankles, but the slit up the side showed off the sheer black stockings beneath. The slim black heels gave her already impressive height even more of a lift, and yet she somehow didn't seem unacceptably or awkwardly tall. She was still a good deal shorter than him, so they complemented one another well.

"So," she said as she put a hand on her hip and turned her head a little, giving him a sassy smirk. "Your opinion, good sir? Have I hit the mark?"

Mike simply sighed. "Gordon, Toronto is lucky to be seen in your presence."

How on earth did she keep from blushing? Her face felt so hot at the compliment.

"I just have to put on my jewellery, but I figured you did not need to be absent for that," she stated as she turned back to face her vanity mirror. She had a necklace, a few dainty bangles, and a headpiece to put on. "But I did have one request of you, if you felt amenable."

She turned again and held out her mammoth ivory-handled brush. "Would you be so kind as to brush my hair again?"

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

"Come now, Mill," Jenny said, caressing her sister's shoulder subtly and in a not-so-sisterly way that gave the younger Penrose a tingle. "Let's start rounding 'em up and getting 'em to the ballroom. Won't be long now."

"Aren't there staff for that sort of thing?" Millie almost protested. She had been speaking with some rather handsome younger Asian businessman, and was building hope of perhaps getting fucked. Then her elder sibling happened along.

"Orders from Himself, Mill," Jenny pointed out, her tone brooking no dissent. "Hop to it, spit-spot."

Millie sighed and gestured for her target to make their way toward the ballroom, while she began informing others nearby. She was fairly certain she would manage to have no personal time with the young chap again. Looked like it would be another lonely night for her rusty minge.

Valentina took particular pleasure in finding and informing the Duncolms that the festivities were about to get underway, directing them to the ballroom. It felt good to direct them and feel no obligation. She made sure the smile she wore was one they'd never had the joy of seeing when she was in their employ. They only ever would if they had the fortune of visiting her home.

"Right, start the herding," Alex said as he went into the arcade and thumbed back at the door. "Find their parents and drop 'em off. Then they're back in here until dinner."

Dave, Anthony, Ted, Peg, and Shana divvied up the ankle-biters and began leading them out in controlled lines, heading to the ball room. To the distress of the kids, they all had different colour-coded dots on their clothing that corresponded to dots given to their parents, guaranteeing safe return. All the parents knew better than to be cavalier about retrieving their children. The last time someone had not taken their child on time, Michael DeBourne had fed the kids espresso smoothies and then let them go.

Message received.

Still, despite the perfection of the system, some children would not conform.

At some point, Percy and Tina both managed to peel away from the pint-sized conga lines and started prowling around. People were headed to the ballroom and took no notice of two children wandering about. One room in particular intrigued them and they made a beeline for it.

Glenda was laughing and talking with people as they exited the hookah lounge, where she had been hosting for the past two hours. Once everyone was out, she went down the hallway, heading toward the ballroom. Percy and Tina poked their heads around a corner, making sure the coast was clear.

Seconds later, they had crept into the lounge, looking around in wonder. The room was unlike anything either of them had ever seen before. The ceiling was draped in luxurious fabrics, which hung down in graceful bows. Exotic lamps hung in place, suffusing the place with a warm glow. There were no proper chairs, just what looked like comfy beanbag chairs or piles of pillows around the walls.

And next to each of the seating spaces was an apparatus, the one that had intrigued them so. It was called a 'hookah', seemingly.

They walked up to one of the strange things, and it was almost as tall as they were, with a bulbous glass bottom, a long neck made of metal, and a weird little tray and bowl on top. It also had two hoses coming out of it, and they'd seen people inhaling through the hoses, like they were smoking.

They looked at one another and then each picked up a hose attached to the strange thing. The little mouthpiece at the end of the hose made it obvious what to do. They put their lips to the mouthpieces and then began to inhale, like they'd seen the grown-ups do. They heard the bubbling noise again from inside the hookah.

Then they both burst out coughing, doubling over and holding their stomach or their throat.

The demon device was forgotten as they retched and hacked, eyes water and spiralling. Tina almost began crying, but somehow held it together. Percy was on his hands and knees, gasping like he was on the surface of Mars and deprived of oxygen.

They made it to their feet and began staggering toward the door, still choking and gasping. They needed to get to the ballroom before it was noticed they were missing. What were adults thinking?!

Lesson learned.

The ballroom...

"Well, here we go," Karen said quietly as she stood at the back of the room with her husband. She watched as people streamed into the space, taking up positions. Everyone understood innately that there would be places reserved for distinguished guests and VIPs- the peers who had arrived from England, the Prime Minister and other political figures of note, would be closest to the family.

The Gordons were grouped together, as were the Blackwells. Jenny's family was standing together, with the countess wearing a lovely blue dress, while Millie was in a skirt suit, with the Sheppey ceremonial dagger 'Dolphin' on her hip.

"Well, hello there," Millie quipped as Percy slipped up beside her and said nothing. He looked red in the face. "Where'd you get off to, your highness?"

Percy coughed slightly and a puff of smoke came out.

Millie went back to watching the bustling activities around her. Whatever had happened, he'd thought better of it. Good enough.

Lisa and her family were standing with the families that represented the neighbourhood. Per her instructions from Mike, she'd made sure everyone was able to see. The only exception was that one family was on the opposite side of the ballroom, next to various celebrities and guests of note. Ron and Sybil Connors were nowhere near Brenda and Pete Danning. It was the rule of the night.

Janet was with her little family, but they were with these VIPs, making sure everyone could see and was seen to. Mona was with the various business communities and associations. The staff were spaced around the room, waiting to respond to any needs.

Once Theresa, Angie, and Grizz were accounted for in the room, Tatyana closed the doors quietly. Any noise from outside would be stifled, at least for a while, and that was important in this case.

Karen subtly touched her husband's finger, and it was time to begin. Today was a big move forward.

Mike stepped up and began to speak to everyone.

***

A posh café in Yorkville, 1987...

"Am I right in assuming that you have never been here before?" Karen asked as she sipped at her espresso from the dainty cup.

"Gordon, I think we can safely assume that I have been to none of the places we'll be visiting tonight," Mike replied, looking surprisingly casual in his seat and in these surroundings. He'd removed his jacket and was sitting well at the table. It was as if he'd immediately marked how all the other men in the expensive café were sitting and mimicked it to perfection.

No, not even that. Improved on it. She doubted any other man in the place could pull this off like DeBourne. His vast, powerful build took second place to how he mastered the scenery, like he belonged to it. He might not be born into it like her, trained into it like her. But he was doing a flawless job of faking it. She appreciated this, since it meant they didn't look awkward. She hated looking awkward.

"Fair enough, I suppose," she allowed. "What do you think of it?"

Mike looked around casually, as anyone else privileged enough to belong in the place would. Certainly they'd been admitted with no questions asked, and even his huge size had not been an issue. He was simply the most imposing man here, and the best dressed. He had nothing to answer for.

He finished his perusal and finally spoke. "Hardly anybody in here genuinely belongs in here. A place like this is meant to cater to old money and to class, not to the crass nouveau riche. But here they are, making sure they're seen."

"Brutally astute of you, sirrah, but also completely true," she agreed, thinking on what he'd said. "The more often I see you in your suit, the less often your observations about high society seem out of place coming from you. It is something of a disconnect, you can imagine."

"I'm used to it, honestly," Mike admitted. "People expect me to know about the upper echelons of society they way they expect me to know about sciences. They see me and assume I should be flattening Hulk Hogan in a ring."

"Get used to disappointment," Karen said coyly, smiling as she took another sip of her beverage. DeBourne was not having anything as dainty as espresso, but he was drinking an Irish coffee. The staff had found a graceful and elegant mug that accommodated his huge hand. Once again, he didn't look out of place. "Why do you know these things? Generally, I mean."

A small shrug from Mike. "Books and reading, mostly. I read everything I can get my hands on, including manners and etiquette books from ages past. I drive the girls in the university library crazy with my requests, no doubt."

"I've no doubt you find ways to make it up to them," she pointed out with a smirk. "Did you not tell me that you once took a dining etiquette course?"

Mike nodded. "A professor came through Kapuskasing, and he'd been advertising for a while. My parents made sure to pay for me to go. I had just turned fifteen. The promise was 'manners so proper that an afternoon in the Russian Tea Room was no cause for concern'."

Another smirk. "And were the lessons indeed good enough for the Russian Tea Room?"

"I'll tell you when I've finally been," he replied with a cheerful smile. "I've always wanted to try caviar over blinis. I assume you've been."

"Occasionally," Karen confirmed. "It has been a few years since we've been to New York, mind."

"Are you folks in the mood for a canapé, hors d'oeuvre, or noisette?" the server asked as he came over.

Karen looked over at Mike, expecting him to see to the order.

Mike was already scanning the menu. "You have sfogliatella," he said finally. "Is it the standard Riccia version, or a frolla, using shortcrust dough?"

The server paused for some seconds before answering. "Allow me to go and confirm, sir, that's an excellent question I'll make sure all staff know the answer too. Please excuse me, and I'll come back with new beverages for you."

The man walked away crisply and Karen was smirking at Mike, her golden eyes glinting with mirth.

"You are awful, sir," she said in a delighted titter. "Riccia or frolla? We're not in Napoli, man."

"If you want crispy layers and don't get them because I didn't ask, you'd be disappointed, wouldn't you?" Mike pointed out. "For the record, the traditional recipe in infinitely superior. You don't consume everything in sight the way I do without learning about all the food you take in."

"I had no idea that sfogliatella was such a delicacy up in Cochrane district," she quipped, enjoying herself. "There must be an exquisite Italian pasticceria in town, hm?"

"Yes, it's right between the coal refinery and the freight station," Mike answered. "You can't miss it."

"You'll be pleased to know, sir, that the sfogliatella is indeed the standard Riccia, sir," the server announced as he came back and set down their new drinks.

"Two of those, then, please," Mike said, and the server nodded and left.

"A whole sfogliatella to myself before dinner, DeBourne?" Karen asked in amusement. "Your faith in my metabolism might be somewhat misplaced."

Mike subtly gestured with his head over at another table. "Look at the size of the noisette plates. Any sfogliatella that fits on a plate like that without being awkward will be less than two hundred calories, done right."

"Didn't we agree to no math or science today, sir?" she laughed gaily, feeling light as air.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Karen was hoping her face wasn't displaying her actual feelings on the subject, because she was less than impressed. To quote her son, her non was 'plussed off the scale'.

But she watched as Roddy addressed the room, making people smile and chuckle while he held up a large iron ring that had antique keys on it.

"The entire board and senior heads of the family all agreed," he announced. "For the first time in over a century, the family will have a officially have a castellan leading it. Or, to be more precise, its first chatelaine. Ever."

People applauded all around the room. Karen watched Roddy as he held the keys up, displaying them. The ring had the official antique key to every important door in the New World Blackwell empire, and more than a few back in the Old World as well. Apparently Bolingbroke had been in on this and added a few of his own.

It was more an inconvenience than anything. First of all, the chatelaine was obligated to attend just about every Blackwell executive meeting and event, no matter how insignificant. It was one of the reasons that there hadn't been one for over a century. Worse still, the chatelaine had to wear the damned key ring as a badge of office at these occasions, and it weighed no small amount. What on earth could she wear that it wouldn't clash with?!

"Shoukran, Bif," she said quietly in Arabic, a language he also spoke, as he handed the keys to her. Her smile was pleasant, but like a Monet painting, the closer you got, the more the reality of the situation became apparent. "I'll get you for this somehow."

"Closest I'll ever come to getting you back for that fiasco in October," he replied before he winked. "Congrats, cuz."

The Canadian branch of the Gordons went next, not only giving Karen the scotch, gin, and spirits they were famed for, but once again affirming that the head of the Blackwell family was a chief executive in the Gordon family businesses all across the country.

"There is one more thing, though," her cousin William Gordon, the CEO of the family businesses announced. With a wave from him, Alex and Alexa moved out what looked like a portrait and had been covered up in satin. They put it on an easel, and her cousin gestured for Karen to unveil it.

Karen was silent as she stared at the image. It showed a series of low brown buildings arranged in a rectangle and divided in two, but with several common areas in the middle. According to the image, there seemed to be about eighty residential units in the place.

Karen knew what the place was, it was a downtown residential cooperative, one that had been a commune before that, and was constructed in the Edwardian era. But she didn't know why she was looking at it.

"Most of the legwork was done by your husband, but with the Gordons backing him, we acquired it. There's work to do, but it's official. Kar, say hello to the Miranda Gordon Artists' and Collective & Commune."

Alexa clasped her hands over her mouth as she gasped. She knew she was helping with some big surprise, but she hadn't known what exactly.

Karen stared, feeling the corners of her eyes sting and her throat go slightly dry. She was thankful when Bill hugged her, and she took a moment to bury her face in his shoulder and compose herself. The sound of loud applause around the room masked her somewhat ragged sigh.

She smiled and wiped at the corner of her eye while she thanked the other members of the family before returning to her post next to Mike.

"You have many questions to answer when this is over, sir," she said, sotto voce before turning around to face the room again.

"How the Hell did Mike pull that off?" Alexa asked Alex quietly while they stood nearby.

"He'll no doubt tell you when he tells mom," Alex whispered back with his easy smile.

"Did you know?" Alexa asked pointedly.

Alexa just shrugged. Alexa scowled for a microsecond before going back to looking out at the room. DeBourne men could be so annoying!

Nanu watched in envy as the goddess was given several instruments, a worthy tribute to her divinity. Becky explained that a few of them were not unlike the barbiton or lyre in function, even if they looked different. She said it was called a 'gittar'. Nanu had seen them before, and she barely believed they were actual instruments. The man with the curly greying hair gave her a little hollow round thing, and when she shook it, the thing jingled and clattered like the chimes on a dancer's hips. It had the rather absurd name of 'tam-boo-een'.

The people of tomorrow had weird names for shit.

Jenny and Millie both waited while Karen pulled the cover off their gift, one the countess had flown in soon after her sister arrived. Karen gasped in surprise and delight.

"Jen," she breathed and she looked art the squat stone structure. "Is... is that the letterbox?"

"Just so, Kat," Jenny confirmed rather proudly. "And its mate is still on the grounds at Heatherly."

The Devonian tradition of the letterbox, which dated back to at least the nineteenth century, had been a thing of joy for the two girls when they were younger and so very in love. They would find remote letterboxes in the Devonian countryside during Karen's visits and leave one another love letters. The one she beheld now had been a favourite of the two girls, and was nearly two centuries old.

She hugged Millie and then Jenny close, thanking them for the gift.

"I might've left you a letter in there already, Kat," Jenny whispered to her. "Just make sure to not open it if anyone is around. Except, of course, our lord and master, since it might smell like my panties."

Karen giggled and sniffled, poking Jen on the nose and thanking her again.

Mona's present was up next, and she drew a deep breath as she stood next to it. Another portrait of some kind, concealed beneath satin. "Hope you like it, Kar," she said in a tentative voice.

Karen pulled away the satin and the entire audience, except for those in the know, gasped.

Staring out at them from the canvas was a regal gryphon, the golden eyes glinting and the stance one of supreme confidence and poise. The background was a swirl of colours that led the eye back to the subject.

"Mike said you've never actually had a portrait of the family mascot, ever," Mona said, feeling more encourage now that Karen was gaping. "I kinda channelled my inner Frazetta and Vallejo in order to geep!"

She found herself swept into a crushing hug, and people applauded as Karen whispered 'thank you' to her friend repeatedly.

"You are so getting kissed up later for this, missy," Karen whispered to Mona, who blushed and now hugged her dear friend back.

"At least I was allowed to know about that gift," Alexa muttered to no one in particular.

Mike stepped forward now while his wife was still bear-hugging her friend. "We'll be having a contest later tonight to name the mascot," he announced. "In all the centuries that the Blackwells have been represented by the gryphon, nobody, seemingly, ever named it. Time to change that. There will be slips of paper and pencils available, and suggestions can be dropped into Lady Greymoor's box here."

"Phrasing, Michael!" Jenny called out saucily, making everyone laugh.

"For the record, though," Mike added, sounding serious. "My son and his friends will not be allowed to participate. This will hopefully cut down on the number of suggestions along the lines of 'Griffy McGriffonface', and so on. Alex, boys, if I catch you near that portrait..."

People laughed and applauded again. Karen was still holding Mona, but they were forehead to forehead now, eyes closed.

"Where do you want me to put him, my love?" Karen asked quietly. "I insist that you choose."

"Honestly, Kar, I painted him to fit in either Dunsany or the Grand Library."

"Dunsany it is, then," Karen concluded.

Mona smiled. "Good. That way he won't be competing with that big ol' picture of Mike."

"Shhhhh," the bronze-haired goddess urged, looking around. "You know he has super-hearing at all the wrong moments! He doesn't know yet!"

There were more presents, but the Gordons from Scotland has asked to go last, before the portrait for the Hall of Ancestors was unveiled. Karen honestly hadn't really kept track, with everything going on. Then Lord Huntly stepped forward and addressed the attendees. Of course, he was wearing his brogue when he spoke.

"Of course, we have the standard gifts for ye, lass, the scotch and gin and all, but there was something we worked out with yer laird husband, and Lady Penrose might've had a hand in it too, recently, smoothing over things on the southern end..."

Jenny smiled and waved prettily at Lord Huntly.

"Yer the head of the colonial branches of both our lines now, and since yer the descendant of Catherine Gordon, the wife of that scamp Lord Byron, you're close to the center of our family back home as well."

The doors to the room were closed, but there was a distant rhythmic beat, a drumming sound almost.

"And we agree with your laird husband that you were nae given the respect you deserved as an officer in Her Majesty's Colonial Armed Services," he continued as the drumming grew in volume, seemingly getting closer. "An' we agreed that somethin' had to be done."

Pipes now. Bagpipes. Along with the drums. They were somewhere in the manor, coming toward them.

Dave and Tunde opened the door and the sound of the pipe band spilled into the room. Karen watched as twenty men in regimental kilts turned around the corner from the main hall and came down the wing, following their drum major.

They were wearing the kilts and garb of the 92nd Gordon Highlanders, and they were playing the 92nd Regiment of Foot March. The ballroom was filled with the sound of the famed anthem, a swelling thrill rising in the chest of many, Karen not least, even if she had no idea what this was about.

They'd reached the dais and were marking time while they played. All around the room, people watched in fascination, although several children had their hands over their ears because it was so loud.

Mike nudged Karen forward, and with an almost imperceptible gasp, she stepped forward, standing beside Angus. She knew that the Marquess of Huntly was a figurehead commander of the 92nd Gordons, and had been since the regiment's inception in the late eighteenth century.

The drum major held his ceremonial mace in the air and called for the halt. The music stopped and the ballroom was roaring with the sudden silence. Some seconds passed before the drum major moved forward smartly. He saluted Huntly, who returned the gesture.

"Colonel Anselm," Angus said, grinning. "Ye made it. Impeccable timing, too. That makes up for Quatre Bras, aye?"

The colonel smiled. "Happy for this duty, my lord."

He turned on an angle slightly to face Karen and saluted. "Leftenant! Regards from the regiment and our commander, General Sir Strathbairn."

Karen may not have been wearing anything remotely military, but she returned the salute smartly. "Colonel Anselm. You are most welcome, and thank you. A long trip to play a song."

"Just doing our part," the colonel said with a nod. He stepped back and held out his hand, receiving a scroll tube from his bass drummer, respondent in his leopard pelt. The room was absolutely silent as the colonel went about his business, and nobody was more still than Karen. What was all this about?

Alex hefted a lectern into place near his mother and Lord Huntly before stepping back.

Colonel Anselm opened the scroll tube, unfurled the contents and began reading loudly. "On this day, that being the twenty-first of April in this year of Her Majesty's reign, be it known that Ekaterina Gordon-DeBourne, leftenant of Her Majesty's Canadian Armed Services, is hereby commissioned with the rank of Brevet-Captain within the ranks of that same Majesty's 92nd Gordon Highlanders. Upon her acceptance, she will be recognised and honoured within the regiment. Her faith and duty are regarded as beyond reproach, and this special commission is royally recognised."

Karen thought she might faint.

The band began playing the renowned Gordon tune 'Cock o' the North' as Anselm moved up to the lectern and spread out the scroll he'd read from. He gestured for Karen to join him, handing her a pen and indicating in a few spaces where to sign. Karen signed readily, knowing that Michael had set all this up for her and wouldn't get her into anything crazy.

She was being recognized as an honorary captain within the Gordon Highlanders! Her mind was spinning as the valiant music played.

She stepped away from the lectern just as the music ended. Anselm approached her again, presenting her with a leopard pelt meant to be worn.

"Last I checked, colonel, I was not a bass drummer," she remarked, smiling.

"Lord Huntly insisted, captain," he replied, putting emphasis on her new rank. "An' it will look rather dashing on you. An' we didn't have a gryphon pelt. But there's something else..."

He handed the pelt to Mike, who gave it to Alex to lay aside. Angus now turned and presented Karen with a something in a velvet satchel. She pulled it out and stared at the handsomely made sash with the old dress tartan of Clan Gordon, resplendent in scarlet with gold.

"Put it on, lass," he prompted her.

Karen knew how to put the sash on, and now realized why Michael had put her in this particular outfit for the formal event. The sash complemented her outfit very well.

"And now it's time for the unveiling of the portrait, folks," Mike announced. "Gather round, let the shortest people up front. Kids, sit once you're there."

The entire assembly gathered close, leaving room up front for Karen and Mike. Everyone was looking at the large portrait now, covered in crimson satin. Another poignant silence, almost nothing to be heard.

Karen looked up at her husband now, who simply nodded. She reached out, took hold of the satin, and pulled it away.

Just about everyone gasped at what greeted them.

A magnificent painted portrait of Karen, standing nobly. She was wearing the black command jacket of the Blackwell family's officers, the cut hearkening to the Napoleonic Era. The paired gold buttons complemented the gold epaulettes on her shoulders, while the placket and collar of the jacket were ornately gilt.

Her hands and forearms were clad in tough leather gloves that were almost gauntlets, with the forearm tapering to a point. She was wearing the crème breeches of an officer, the black boots reaching her knees.

Around her waist was the Gordon sash she now wore. The belt held a baldric, and a saber hung off her hip. In her right hand, a swagger stick made of dark wood and capped with the head of the Blackwell gryphon.

She stood on an angle facing left, but she was looking off to the right, as if observing some distant thing, her golden eyes gleaming brilliantly while her bronze hair curled around her beautiful, regal face. Behind her, the background was orange that bloomed into hazes of grey, blown, and black, as if some pitched battle were being fought.

It was an absolutely magnificent portrait of the most remarkable leader of the Blackwell dynasty for the past thousand years. No other portrait or likeness came close to matching its brilliance.

"Michael..." she breathed, still unable to believe what she was looking at. Hushed whispers of awe flitted around the ballroom, since Karen was not the only one in awe. "Who... who did this?"

"Not me, that's for damn sure," Mona quipped, making people nearby laugh.

"I might've managed a commission from a certain portrait expert by the surname of Carreg," her husband mused with a smile.

He put his hand on her back, since he sensed her knees getting weak. Mike pulled her gently aside and let everyone come forward and take a good look. The only other person who had seen it before today was Alex, and there would be plenty of time to gape at the portrait once it was hung in place.

Karen turned and hugged herself into him, saying nothing. But he didn't need anything to be said. The hard part of the day was over, and now there was only the fun. Dinner, and a wonderful party. Tomorrow moved things along as normal, so he'd make tonight last as long as possible for her.

Colonel Anselm called out loudly to his pipers and drummers suddenly, on a subtle signal from Mike. The attendees parted quickly to give the band room as they assembled and readied their instruments. As the drums rolled to begin, Anselm saluted Lord Huntly and Karen. Along with Mike and any other servicemen in the room, they returned the salute.

The band began playing the Gordon Highlanders tune 'When The Battle Is Over', the Gordon withdrawal. Anselm walked through his men, turning them in and around as they began to march, following him out the door. Through the manor they went, and out the grand entrance, where the music finally faded.

"Don't worry, captain, they'll be around back," Mike said encouragingly. "They just needed to make their planned exit and all that."

"You think of everything, major," she said in a quiet voice, looking out the ballroom doors toward the empty hallway. She turned and smirked up at him. "Couldn't swing me a better promotion, hm?"

He laughed and pulled her into his side while she giggled. "Sorry, apparently all ranks that begin with 'brat' were already filled."

Jenny, Ashley, Mona, Janet, and Lisa were coming up and hugging her, congratulating her. Mike busied himself organising and doing final checks with Tatyana, Alex, and Alexa. They were on schedule, with no hitches. He'd even managed to keep the Dannings and Connors apart so far, which was a miracle by anyone's standards.

"Right," he boomed, getting everyone's attention. "Let's head out back, folks. Drinks, canapés, and music before dinner! Lord Huntly! Lord Bolingbroke! Bring out some of your best!"

Both men laughed and agreed readily. Orders from Michael DeBourne were always obeyed.

"So when're we hangin' the picture, dad?" Alex queried as he joined his father while most of the assembly dispersed.

"Tomorrow, I figure," Mike answered, looking around, always taking notes. "Everyone who should be here for the event will still be here. Until then, it'll stay where it is, protected by a layer of polymer glass, just in case."

"I know what 'just in case' means," Alex laughed. "People're already making sure the Connors and Dannings are nowhere near one another until they've gone home."

"Yeah, about that," Alexa said, looking at her nephew-husband. "Any chance of fillin' me in? Kinda wanna know, in case I need to do something."

Alex looked at his smartwatch. "I've got a few minutes."

"Good, you can tell me while I blow you in a closet," Alexa said with a rather unsubtle firmness, taking Alex by the wrist and pulling him along.

She almost cried out in despair, however, as she was intercepted by Trinian, who needed to tell her all about how she was doing with Governess Clarkson and getting ready for life at St. Eve's.

Alex smirked as he waved goodbye to his aunt-wife. Alexa favoured him with a dark look before disappearing.

And the day wasn't even close to over.

***

The campus, 1987...

"What, we all got back early?" Lisa wondered as Janet now entered the dorm room. Mona had arrived a few minutes earlier. Lisa and Mona were already undressed and lounging around, waiting for Karen to get back and tell them all about her 'not-a-date' with DeBourne. "What happened to your special lecture you'd almost forgotten, Jan?"

"My professor forgot," Janet replied with a shrug before looking at Mona. "What happened to picking presents?"

"Mom got into it with aunt Rosie over the phone and now we're uninvited from the wedding," the animation student sighed, shaking her head. "Don't get me wrong, they'll be best friends again next week and we'll be invited all over, but mom won't even think about wedding presents until she gets her apology dance. I decided to get out while the gettin' was good. Li?"

"Some lobbus detonated a stink bomb or two in the basement before service started, so we were evacuated before the rabbi could start," the redhead said, waving her hands beside her head. "For rambunctious children, we say shkoyach."

"Well, if you're interested in getting the stench of stink bombs outta your nose," Mona continued, putting her backpack down and starting to undress, since the other two already were. They were usually always nude when they were together in a dorm room. "I've got some Northern Lights and a few papers. I love how silly it makes Janet."

"Oh, you just like it because I start groping your tits," Janet teased, coming up behind Mona and cupping her still bra-encased tits, giving them a squeeze and making her friend giggle. She took the garment off Mona and then knelt to shimmy down her panties. "Jesus, woman, when was the last time you shaved? Any guy who goes down on you is gonna think he's hackin' his way through the Congo."

"It was two days ago, bitch, and it's not that bad," Mona sniffed, turning around just forcefully enough to slam her ass into the kneeling Janet and knocking her backward, giggling. "I'll take care of it tonight after Princess gives us all the gory deets."

"What if there are none?" Lisa posited, sitting on her bed with her feet touching, clasping them with her fingers and bouncing her knees, as was her habit. "I mean, what if it was a cut-and-dry outing?"

"Puuuuhhhhhhh-lease," Janet drawled, rolling her eyes while she sat up now while Mona fished the goodies out of her backpack. "The only thing bigger than their UST is their competitiveness with one another. Li, they're going to a spa, dinner, and a burlesque show. These are not things you do with someone you merely tolerate. They're probably having dinner right now."

"It's weird imagining them naked together," Lisa mused, watching Mona roll.

"They've seen each other naked plenty of times," Mona pointed out.

"Yeah, but there's always been other people around," Lisa answered. "This is just the two of 'em. Y'don't think that'll be weird?"

"Oh, it'll totally be weird, but that's just how they are, no matter what," Janet laughed, opening the window and turning on the fan. "Do you know any bigger weirdos than those two, Red?"

"Well, no," Lisa admitted. "I mean, maybe my cousin Shmooey comes close, but still not on that podium. Y'don't think anything'll happen, do you?"

"Noooo," Mona snickered, finishing her first project. "If y'mean are they gonna fuck, then no. But they'll do their level best to be completely casual about being naked together or watching burlesque. Count on DeBourne to be a gentleman, and Princess to be a graceful, innocent tease."

"So weird," Lisa sighed, shaking her head. "Kar isn't here fucking me, and you two aren't getting your brainstems bruised by DeBourne. They're out with one another, and not fucking. And probably enjoying it. Where's the justice?"

"You're thinkin' too much, Li-Li," Mona said, crawling over and handing the spliff she'd rolled and a lighter to her friend. "You're hostin', so you get first hit."

"Here we go," Lisa said, lighting the treat up. "Anyone wanna shotgun?" she asked before taking her hit.

"Dibs!" Janet called, trot over and leaning in, and pressing her lips to Lisa's.

No matter when Princess got back, this was gonna be a fun evening.

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

The little garden party in the backyard was in full swing, people enjoying the late April afternoon weather. It clearly knew better than to be contrary. The sky was blue, the clouds fluffy, and the sun warm. The white marble gazebo had been pulled from its winterized covers, and the ensemble was now playing light jazz and classical music while people milled around, laughing and talking.

The Blackwells and Gordons from across the pond got along well enough to begin with. The Canadian branches, their relationship always strained because of the drama with Jonathon and Miranda, still managed to be genial with one another, especially since Mike was looming over everyone.

When the ensemble took a break, the highlanders began playing a fling, and people applauded and cheered while Karen showed off her sword-dancing skills, even though she wasn't wearing a kilt. She stepped and danced around the crossed swords expertly, with even the Gordons of Huntly saying she was flawless in her execution.

"What about you, lass?" Lord Huntly asked Lisa, since she was standing with them. "Don't tell me you've ne'er danced the dance."

"What, in this big ol' thing?" Lisa replied, gesturing to her Highland garb. "If it's all the same to you, your lordship, I'd just as soon not get kilt by trying to dance around razor-edged stabby things. Jewish redheads have no business sword-dancing. Miss me with that freaky claymore stuff. I'll stay here where it's safe and clayless, thank you."

Small wooden swords were brought out for children interested in trying to dance, and Trinian caught on quickly, hoping that the governess was watching. People laughed and clapped while Alex's friend Dave, the redhead, tried the dance, and only wiped out once.

Shana muttered under her breath about teaching elephants to dance.

Alex and Alexa who had both done highland dancing before, participated as well, applauded by everyone, although Alexa took the time to tie down her chest first, since she was in a rather flouncy dress and didn't feel like giving herself a black eye.

"Are you enjoying the fête, Miss Propsero?" Mr. Duncolm asked her as Valentina served him a drink from a tray.

"Thank you for asking, sir, I am," she said pleasantly enough. "Anything else you need?"

"I was hoping you would save time for a dance with me after dinner," he suggested, standing rather close to her. She didn't like it, but she also didn't budge. This wasn't his residence, after all.

"Unlikely, sir," Val replied, trying to keep a sour tone out of her voice. He may have deserved it, but she would do nothing to make her Mistress' party awkward. "I imagine my schedule is pretty tight when the big party hits."

"Please reconsider and find the time," Duncolm pressed, sounding insistent. He was smiling and put his hand on hers, hopefully keeping her in place. Val blushed now, but still didn't raise a fuss. "It's only fitting that-"

"And here I thought my job tonight was just to keep people out of restricted areas," Grizz said as he walked up to join them. He put his arm around Duncolm's shoulder. "Didn't think I'd be giving protocol and etiquette lessons to fancy people."

Duncolm went still as the larger man kept him in place with what was almost a one-armed bear hug. A casual one, of course.

"The lady said no," Grizz said quietly but firmly, fairly certain nobody except possibly Mike was noticing the exchange. As it should be. "She is not interested in dancing with you, and you need to respect that, sir."

Duncolm was somewhat pale.

"Now let go of her," Grizz instructed.

Duncolm dropped his hand instantly away from Val.

"Now apologise," the larger man said firmly, his smile carrying a hint of menace.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Miss Prospero," Duncolm said now, sweating. "I... was out of line and respect your wishes."

"Thank you for the apology, Uncle Grizz," Val said now, looking at the man in charge of security rather than her former employer. "It means a lot to me."

She turned and strutted away now, greeting some of the Blackwells with her drinks. Grizz watched her leave for a few moments before clapping Duncolm just gently enough on the shoulder and then walking off. Duncolm ran his finger along the sweaty collar of his shirt and disappeared into the crowd to find his wife.

"Mistress," Nanu asked, touching Becky's hand. "Why do the goddesses dance that strange dance with the screaming bags?"

Becky giggled. Nanu was learning a lot today. "Deep in her blood are ties to the men playing the screaming bags. They're instruments called 'bagpipes', and those are their national instrument."

"They must be nearly extinct, or they're terrifying warriors," Nanu mused. If the goddesses liked the music and the dancing, she would need to as well. So be it. "What are these screaming warriors called?"

"Today, their nation is called Scotland, but back in your world, they were the ummmm... Caledonii."

Nanu frowned. "The tall barbarians with red hair who painted themselves blue and ran naked into battle like maniacs? Well, that explains the screaming bags as instruments. At least they're not naked now."

"Oh, I don't know," Becky said with a smirk. "There's lots of rumours that they still go into battle with nothing on under their kilts."

Nanu thought about that for a moment before excusing herself. Becky set about talking to a member of the Chinese community delegation. Seconds later, they all heard a yelp.

"OCH! Hae, what're ye doin', ye wee thing?!"

A few minutes later...

Becky was still making apologies to Colonel Anselm while Nanu stood beside her, looking somewhat embarrassed. Mike and Karen were there as well, with Karen unsuccessfully fighting back a smirk. Mike was admonishing himself silently. He'd been determined to leave nothing to chance, and simply hadn't considered Nanu looking up one of the Highlander's kilts to see if they were regimental. Still, as complications went, comical and harmless.

"Your majesty," Anselm said to Nanu now, his tone deferential. He had, after all, been told by Huntly that Nanu was an African monarch. "I say there is nothing to forgive, but in the future, please be aware that ye cannae go aboot peekin' up a man's kilt. It's just nae done without much whisky first."

Becky translated for Nanu, who apologized again and nodded before doing a small curtsy. Anselm saluted the monarch and then Becky walked her off somewhere, probably to put food in her hand. She was less likely to get in mischief if she was eating, after all. Anselm watched them leave, along with Karen and Mike.

"Jaysus," he sighed, shaking his head. "She got me up tae high doh, an' I'm fair puckled. Still, count on a queen to gie it laldy."

"Even I barely understood you just now," Huntly laughed. "Go get yourself a drink, Anselm, nobody'd blame ye at this point."

The colonel had left when Lady Belasyse joined them. "Never a quiet moment where the elder line is concerned, it seems."

"And I'd agree, normally, except we're celebrating the woman who spanked your father into submission with a cricket bat at the age of fourteen," Mike pointed out.

"I really do wish you people would stop bringing that up," Karen sighed, taking a sip of her gin martini.

"Oh, but Kat, it was a sight to see," Jenny declared unhelpfully as she strolled up, putting her arm around her dear friend's waist. "The old codger had it coming, I might add. No offence, Gwen."

"None taken," the baroness said with a shrug. "Kar's lived the dream the rest of us wish we could since papa's gone off his nut. But speaking of such matters, Kar, Tom and I would like to have a word with you and Mike about a way we need your help."

"We're listening," Karen replied, enjoying her martini.

It wouldn't be long before they were called into dinner.

***

Barberian's Steak House, 1987...

Mike knew he was not supposed to make a dining partner burst out laughing with anecdotes, so he made sure that he simply kept Gordon tittering prettily behind her hand. Of course, she made it easy, since she could converse on just about any subject. They were doing a good job of avoiding 'work talk', although occasionally some scientist or concept came up. Mostly, though, it was social ephemera and strange happenings.

"No, I'm serious," he insisted, enjoying himself. "Every time that particular window in the old Latham house was replaced, it turned black and opaque. The entire town was convinced it was because of the murders inside. The place was haunted."

"And I refuse to believe that you didn't find some way to take advantage of that, sir," she said, looking amused over her glass of wine. "What did you do about that superstition?"

"Not much," he replied with a shrug. "Even the cops didn't go in, so my friends and I would sneak in and play D&D uninterrupted for hours on end. And we might've booby-trapped the place with scary sound effects to keep other kids out."

"I doubt that would have kept me out," Karen mused. "I have a rather curious mind, after all."

"Count on you to go all Velma Dinkley on me and expose my chicanery," he chuckled.

"I like to think I would look better in an orange sweater than that," she sniffed as she cut into her steak. Medium-rare, just as it should be. DeBourne had guessed right when he ordered for her. He also got the salad and apéritif right. If he didn't already know, he was a quick study, certainly.

He'd also guessed correctly and taken the lead while they were here, confidently instructing the maître d' and their servers to make sure everything went on the Blackwell account, without her telling him to do so. They agreed readily, so clearly he understood the expectations.

"Besides, there must be endless examples of crazy things happening out in your neck of the woods, Gordon."

"Do you mean across campus?" she asked teasingly.

"I already know about that insanity, thank you," he replied somewhat dryly, making her titter again. "I live it almost daily. No, I meant your stomping grounds, the Bridle Path. There is no chance whatsoever that weirdness doesn't happen constantly where all the mega-wealthy live, especially if your family are the sane ones."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment," she announced while he poured more wine for her. A nice zinfandel. Perfect. "And yes, I will allow that things can get a bit strange in my 'neck of the woods', in ways not so common to less affluent areas."

"I'm sure you share some common afflictions with the common folk," Mike pointed out cheerfully.

"Such as..." she queried before taking a morsel of steak. She would no doubt eat everything on her plate, and yet she would somehow look so proper and dainty doing it. One might not even notice.

"Well, in Kapuskasing, it isn't exactly uncommon for two gals to get into a scrap in the middle of the street, or in a grocery store," he mused as an example. Some of our more redneck wives or daughters have been known to get into it, especially with the indigenous women from the reserve if they happen to come to town."

Karen nodded. "I imagine you and yours intervene, since I cannot see you abiding by that."

Mike confirmed with his own nod. "We've been good friends with the reserve since dad moved to town way back when. We're welcome there."

"Even with that one boy who kept trying to fight you?" she asked, revelling in her perfectly done asparagus.

"Oh, Maat, Kee's older brother," Mike said, nodding. "He's come around. He had real anger issues, and I don't blame him. The Cochrane police aren't very kind to young Cree men if they catch them alone. He's better these days. He trains with my sifu, Master Pan. Done wonders for him. In any event, I can't imagine rich white women not throwing down their lace gloves over one imagined slight or another."

"Very well, it does happen," Karen admitted readily. "While it might not be as comically regular as you seem to hope, I have indeed seen a contretemps or two between women of the neighbourhood, usually at a soiree. Thankfully, things never became so Georgian as to involve duels with swords."

"Luckily for them, you've never played along," he chuckled. "You're a terror with a sword."

"Nice of you to notice, since you dispatched me so very easily that one time you allowed me to cross blades with you," she seemed to lament.

"I'm still not convinced you weren't letting me off easy," he said, bolstering the banter. "I don't think anyone on the men's team could handle you, Gordon."

"Where did you learn and why are you so good?" she asked, sipping her wine again. "I doubt there are reputable schools of fencing in the Cochrane District."

He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm a natural with just about every weapon. Master Pan finds it incredibly annoying. I watched any and all video media I could get my hands on, read manuals intensively, and when I got to Sudbury, took fencing lessons and practiced constantly. The difficult part was trying to adjust to a weapon that was as small as a standard foil."

She smiled. "They do look somewhat ridiculous in your oversized mitt, sirrah. Still, there is no debating your skill or effectiveness with such a dainty little needle."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to the jazz quartet that serenaded the dining room. They were both secretly pleased and intrigued by how easy it was to be around one another. Conversation to fill dead air was not the least bit necessary. Karen almost giggled as she thought of Mike brushing her hair earlier and felt the same tingle. Silly.

"Do you worry that you'll have to take over for your father one day?" he asked finally, having finished his entrée just before she would.

"You believe I do not want to?" she asked pointedly. She wasn't offended by his question, but it seemed the proper tone for what he wanted to say next. That was important here.

"I think you want to use your gifts to unravel the secrets of the universe for the benefit of humanity, and to teach aspiring minds in the future," he answered. "The unknown doesn't stand a chance in that case."

"DeBourne, really, now," she chided as a server took away their plates. She was still smirking, though. "There's no need to make me sound like a monster."

He laughed again. "I think that you feel an incredible sense of obligation to your family, and that is at odds with your personal aspirations. If you'd been born in a mud hut, you'd still be challenging science to defy you. That said, I think that you uniquely could run your family's empire and still find time to pursue your own dreams."

"That sounds better than coming across as a relentless logic engine," she allowed. "And yes, it does concern me on occasion. I cannot simply ignore my family's legacy and my obligations to it. But to not do as I see fit with my life..."

"And this time it can't even be blamed on patriarchy, since if that held true, you wouldn't be afforded the chance at all," he said with a smile. Karen narrowed her eyes for effect at the jest. "They have a chocolate mousse cake for dessert, I assume that's what you'll want?"

"Whenever chocolate in involved, there are two voiced inside my head," she explained. "The first one says 'Eat the chocolate', and the second one says 'You heard her, eat the chocolate!'. So, yes, good sir, I accede to your suggestion."

"What will you drink with it?" he inquired, without looking at the menu. "They have a Banyuls, and they also have a tawny port."

"Why do you know what to pair with chocolate mousse?" she laughed. Dear Lord, he's memorized the spirits menu! "Even for you, DeBourne, that is an absurd stretch of esoteric fancy."

"I know you like chocolate," he reasoned. "And if you were ever having chocolate, I thought I'd better know what paired with it."

Karen ignored the rushing thrill. "Very kind of you, sir. And very proper. The sheer immensity of you aside, you would certainly fit in to many of our garden parties with your grasp of protocol."

"I'll choose to take that as a compliment," he said, repeating her earlier statement and making her smirk. He gestured for the server to come over and ordered their desserts and drinks. Soon after the man left, the maître d' made his way over.

"Miss Gordon, as always it is a delight to have you visit us," he said pleasantly. "Our ensemble has a request though."

Karen made a show of a tiny sigh. "What is the request, Honore?"

"They were hoping you might perform a number or two with them, now that you have finished your main," he asked hopefully. It was always a treat for the establishment, and the patrons, when the Blackwell heiress deigned to sing.

"Go for it, Gordon," Mike said with a smile. "Science and being pampered aren't your only gifts, after all."

"Since you put it so elegantly," she said dryly, standing up and allowing the maître d' to accompany her to the small stage. She greeted the musicians pleasantly and discussed doing a number with them.

"Sir," Mike said to the maître d', getting his attention. "Make sure the kitchen holds off about five minutes on delivering dessert, since she ordered the mousse."

The man nodded readily and hurried off. Mike turned in his seat to watch. He was never anything but stunned at the sight of Gordon, how elegant and breathtakingly beautiful she was. It was so effortless and natural, simply the way she was, and seemingly always had been. What a gift from the Almighty.

The ensemble struck up a piece that started slowly, and then Gordon began singing in her lilting, crystalline voice, enchanting everyone with her flawless French.

"Ce soir le vent qui frappe à ma porte

Me parle des amours mortes

Devant le feu qui s' éteint

Ce soir c'est une chanson d' automne

Dans la maison qui frissonne

Et je pense aux jours lointains."

He smiled as he listened, knowing the piece, an old French standard from the Forties. The pace of the song would pick up and slow down, mimicking the heady rush of love, and the languid bliss of romance in turn. She sang it perfectly, and even patrons who didn't speak French could sense what she was crooning about.

Mike, on the other hand, understood every word.

"What remains of our love?

What remains of those lovely days?

A photo, an old photo

Of my youth.

What remains of the love letters,

Of the April months, of the meetings?

A memory that pursues me

Without ceasing.

Faded happiness, hair in the wind,

Stolen kisses, shifting dreams...

What remains of all that?

Tell me.

A little village, an old bell-tower,

A well-hidden countryside,

And, in a cloud, the dear countenance

Of my past."

He understood this was a number that the ensemble had no doubt selected with her, but he also wondered if it had some personal meaning for Gordon. She seemed to be at one with the song and its whims.

"The words, the tenderest words one murmurs,

The purest caresses,

The oaths (sworn) deep in the woods,

The flowers rediscovered in a book,

Flowers whose scent makes you drunk-

Have all flown away. How come?"

There was applause all around the room as she finished the song, bowing gracefully before turning and gesturing to the ensemble, who gratefully took their bows as well. Mike got up and escorted her off the stage before returning her to her seat.

"Goodness," she said breathily as she fanned herself with her hand. "It has been a while she I last sang anything by Charles Trenet. Hopefully I was not rusty."

"I notice you managed to slip in a hint of an Occitanie accent for your performance," he observed. "Don't worry, I was reminded more of Trenet and less of Dusty Springfield."

"I do an excellent version of her as well, so either way, the audience was happy," she allowed. "I am pleased you noticed my homage with the accent."

"You normally speak with a Parigot accent, so it wasn't hard to pick out," Mike explained as dessert arrived for them. The drinks were poured and the server left again.

"Is there anything you don't notice, good sir?" she asked, her voice carrying just a trace of feigned exasperation. "No wonder you drive my friends mad."

"I guess you'll just have to watch and guess," he said easily, cracking the caramelised top of his crème brûlée with his spoon. "Being an open book around you girls sounds dangerous."

Karen allowed herself another giggle as she took a sip of her tawny port, thrilling to how perfectly it matched the chocolate mousse cake he'd ordered.

I am not the dangerous one, sir, I assure you. If you only knew...

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

People had been kept out of the ballroom long enough for it to be converted into the dining room for nearly a hundred and fifty people. Names were laid out at each location, and they'd been spread around, to allow people to mingle, rather than sit in family units. The exceptions were that the Dannings were kept on one side of the room, as far from the Connors as possible, facing away from one another at their respective tables.

Baron Snelgrove was also seated away from Jenny, in case he annoyed her and somehow ended up with a shrimp fork buried in his skull.

The apéritifs were light and fun, foise gras on crackers, light broths, and suitable vegetarian options.

There had been options for each guest to choose from for a main course, with the most popular being the boar in wine sauce, along with la bonnotte potatoes. There were salmon and vegetarian meals as well, and the sextet provided light classical and jazz music while the portrait of Karen sat in its easel nearby, watching the proceedings.

People were seated quickly, and a brief speech by Mike, punctuated by a toast to his wife, started off the dinner. Soon enough, people were being served. Mike, the meticulous planner, had made sure that each table had one person who was not only an entertaining storyteller, but a facilitator, someone gifted with getting other people to talk and enjoy it.

"I had been invited to Buckhouse for a function and dinner," Jenny explained to the other guests at the round table while the apéritif was served. "And as, is it happened, I ended up having the good fortune to sit next to Her Majesty, with whom I made small conversation, as is her habit."

The people at the table, including the bishop, his wife, and some neighbourhood friends, all listened intently.

"And almost out of nowhere, she looks at me and simply says 'I will not abdicate.'" Jenny continued. "At a loss for half a moment, I simply said 'That's good her hear, mum, I'm not sure anyone is wanting that.'"

A few of the people chuckled. The Connors were at the table, since a strong personality like Jenny's could keep them in check.

"'It just isn't our way,', she said to me," The countess said, mimicking the queen almost flawlessly. "'But, I suppose if I were to go ga-ga, something would have to be done...'"

Laughter resulted, of course, followed by Jenny asking the bishop for an anecdote.

Karen and Mike both ate subtly quickly and quietly, before getting up and spending most of the rest of the main meal wandering around, checking on people and making sure everything was on schedule.

"Your guys doing okay, Grizz?" Mike asked as he approached his old friend, gesturing for him not to stand, but to keep seated. Grizz was at the table where the Dannings were seated.

"I've got them on shifts going to eat in the informal dining room," the former pro wrestler said. "Three on, three off, it's working."

"You're doin' a great job, let me know if you need anything," Mike said before continuing on. He found Tatyana at a table, who stood whether he wanted her to or not.

"That's all the major surprises for the night, Tatyana, so now there's just Kar's party, and seeing that transportation is arranged for all guests. Make sure you have a good time too."

She nodded politely, and he simply decided to hope for the best about it. Before long, they were back at their table together, and Karen was being served her chocolate mousse, which she dived into with delight. She'd barely finished when there were calls for her (led by Jenny, naturally), to get up with the ensemble and sing a song.

Karen made a show of protesting as she was led up to the stage by Lords Huntly and Bolingbroke, to the applause of everyone in the room. She spoke to her audience now, her voice holding everyone rapt.

"This little number is dedicated to my husband, and the other lords in the room..." she said, gesturing to Mike, Huntly, Bolingbroke, and Snelgrove.

The ensemble started to play and Karen lit up the room with the Edith Piaf standard.

"Allez, venez, milord

Vous asseoir à ma table

Il fait si froid dehors

Ici c'est confortable

Laissez-vous faire, milord

Et prenez bien vos aises

Vos peines sur mon cœur

Et vos pieds sur une chaise

Je vous connais, milord

Vous n'm'avez jamais vue

Je ne suis qu'une fille du port

Qu'une ombre de la rue..."

"Yet I brushed past you

When you passed by yesterday

You were quite proud

Lady! The sky was showering you

Your silk scarf

Floating on your shoulders

You had the leading role

One would say the king

You walked as a victor

With a young lady on your arm

My God!... How beautiful she was

It chills my heart

Come on, come, Milord!

Sit at my table

It's so cold outside

Here it's comfortable

Let yourself go, Milord

And make yourself at ease

Your troubles on my heart

And your feet on a chair

I know you, Milord

You've never seen me

I'm just a girl from the port

A shadow of the street

To think that sometimes

All it takes is a ship

For everything to fall apart

When the ship sails away

It took with it

The sweet one with tender eyes

Who didn't understand

That she was breaking your life

Love, it makes you cry

Proving that existence

Gives you all the chances

To take them back later

Come on, come, Milord!

You look like a kid!

Let yourself go, Milord

Come into my kingdom

I heal the regrets

I sing the romance

I sing the milords

Who didn't have luck!

Look at me, Milord

You've never seen me

But... Are you crying, Milord?

I... I would have never believed it!

Well, come on, Milord!

Smile at me, Milord!

Better than that! Make a little effort

There, that's it!

Come on, laugh, Milord!

Come on, sing, Milord!

La-la-la

Yes, dance, Milord!

La-la-la... Bravo Milord!

La-la-la... More, Milord!... La-la-la!"

With the end of her last note and the final drumbeat, Karen bowed, and the entire audience was on its feet, applauding. Even Nanu, who had no concept whatsoever of French, was applauding wildly.

"D'you think I'll ever have that kinda stage presence?" Alexa asked her nephew-husband as they applauded. They were sitting at a table with Uncle Roddy and his mother. The conversation had been surprisingly pleasant and amenable.

"You already do, same as she did when she was our age," Alex said readily, smiling. It simply wasn't an issue, the talent of these two sisters. "Kind of a good thing your interests lie elsewhere, or I'd never see you because you'd be on tour around the world constantly."

She kept applauding, but Alexa blushed, because she couldn't imagine being anywhere except at Alex's side. It was just an elemental truth for her, the same as she knew it was for him. If this was how her older sister had lived for the past thirty years, the bliss must have been unreal and so very fulfilling.

She went back to regaling their Aunt Grace with stories about some of the G-rated shenanigans Alexa and Freja got up to in Europe. Soon enough, she'd be changing into her dress for the evening party. The theme had been Karen's idea, and she couldn't wait.

***

Yorkville, 1987...

The club was indeed exclusive, but they had been admitted readily. The way they were dressed, they would have needed to be covered in blood and visibly armed to the teeth before anyone questioned them.

They were immediately impressed by the space, Located atop a building that was several stories. It was a wide-open space, with plenty of round tables and a stage on one side. The stage had a catwalk in the middle that jutted into the room. The servers were wearing sexy Playboy bunny-style outfits, taking orders and selling cigarettes and cigars.

Karen had decided to sit at the catwalk so that they could pay attention to the show. There were strip clubs everywhere, but a good burlesque show was worth tracking down.

When they'd arrived, a number involving some slapstick comedians was ending, and they ordered their drinks when they were seated.

"I assume you have absinthe," Mike said to the server. The cute girl in the racy outfit nodded, clearly pleased to have the giant man's attention while he was sitting with an absolutely stunning goddess. He ordered a bohemian-style absinthe for Karen, and a whiskey sour for himself.

"What's the theme of the next number, if you happen to know?" he queried.

The girl thought. "Our featured vedette is up next, her name is Princess Shylene. Really famous dancer from the States. She interacts with the audience some, but no singing. Her main attraction is her build."

The girl looked at Karen for a moment. "Hope she doesn't mind a little competition."

The girl wiggled off while the two settled in to watch the show. The current act was just getting off stage, a woman in a slinky outfit doing a magic act.

"Ugh, magic," Karen sighed, shaking her head. "Simple chicanery meant to ensorcell the masses. We could just as easily have gladiatrices trying to spill one another's blood on the stage and the entertainment would be more honest."

"Clearly we need to get another drink in you, Achillea," Mike chuckled. "Can't have you painting the streets red, after all."

"You've done well today, sirrah, do not mar your record by spiralling down into japes at this stage in the evening," Karen commented, trying to sound dismissive, even if she had a smirk on her lovely face.

The emcee came out and introduced the evening's star attraction, the aforementioned Princess Shylene. A rather stacked woman in a tight, glittering gold dress with a long trail sauntered out onto the stage, her long, curly brown hair falling past her shoulders. Mike figured she was in her early forties, based on how she was built, and how she moved herself.

"Hello, boys," she called out to the audience, waving and winking. "I'm here all night, think you can keep up?"

The dancer began sauntering and wiggling around the stage in time with the music the band was playing, some version of the song 'The Stripper'. The audience, mostly men, gave her appreciative applause and even catcalls as she began removing articles of her clothing, teasing the crowd. She would slowly peel off one long glove, and then toss it to an audience member. She did the same with the other before staring to shimmy the shoulders of her dress down.

Mike nodded to the waitress as she brought over their drinks. She beamed at him and left.

By now, Shylene was undoing the zipper on the back of her dress, slowly revealing a valley of creamy white skin. The zipper had reached the dimple on her lower back when she turned around again, beginning to work with her shoulders.

"Do you think she's talented?" Karen asked as she watched, sipping her absinthe. "Deeply and importantly talented, I mean."

Hmmm, how to answer that one, Mike wondered for a moment. "Given that I've only been to two strip shows before this one, I doubt I'm qualified to answer."

"P'raps, but I trust you to see talent when you come across it," she pointed out. "I find you almost uniquely qualified to ascertain that quickly in just about any person."

"In that case, just give me until the end of her set," Mike suggested as Shylene wiggled up the central catwalk toward them.

"Well, heya, handsome," Shylene quipped, smiling down at him and winking. "They sure do grow 'em big up here, don't they? What's your name?"

Mike looked back at her, his face placid but slightly amused. "I'll never tell. At least not while the sun's shining."

There was a momentary waver in the act as Mike's reply threw her off for a second. But then the entertainer laughed and continued her show, heading to another part of the stage.

But not before the train of her long dress whipped around and almost spilled Karen's drink, sitting on the edge of the stage.

Karen didn't react, at all, seemingly just staring off into space.

Well, that's done it, Mike concluded. It'll be interesting to see where we end up from here...

Princess Shylene continued to wiggle her way out of her layers in time with the music. Her top fell away, revealing a lacy gold bullet bra. She was gyrating her waist to the applause of the crowd while teasing the shoulder straps of the garment. The music seemed languorous, but there was actually a good pace the tease itself. It was never fast, nor slow. Whatever talent was involved in a burlesque striptease, Princess Shylene seemed to have an affinity for it.

But deeply and importantly?

She'd wiggled out of the dress to stand in her gold heels, shimmering hosiery, and panties to match. Her back was turned to the audience, her hips bumping back and forth as she looked over her shoulder, winking at the crowd.

The music was hitting its climax as she turned around, holding her arms away from her body and revealing large, creamy breasts, the nipples hidden by pointed gold caps that matched the rest of her sparse ensemble. She gave the girls a couple of shimmies while the audience roared and clapped, many people standing as they applauded.

Shylene trotted offstage to the outro music, before making people laugh by hastily coming back on and gathering up her clothes. She gave the audience a final wink as she concealed her body with the certain, and the act was over. People were still applauding loudly.

"I swear, they would be shooting at the ceiling if they had pistols with them," Karen seemed to sigh in exasperation. "Is this the Mink Mile in Toronto or a bordello in No-Name City?"

Mike couldn't help but chuckle, even if Karen would be unimpressed with him. "Drink your drink, Princess."

"Oh, I thought there was only one princess here tonight," she sniffed.

"Yes, and I brought her," Mike concluded. Karen blushed and went silent, staring down at her absinthe.

"Shut up..." she whispered inaudibly.

Another act followed, two girls reading ribald excerpts of Shakespeare to one another and the audience while slowly getting out of their clothes, down to their panties and bras, no doubt in some prop-shop versions of theatre clothes from the Bard's time. It was entertaining enough, and Karen seemed to have gotten back into the mood, smirking and tittering at the witticisms, punctuated with clothing loss.

They were between acts when a man approached, introducing himself as the manager of the establishment. He seemed somewhat concerned.

"I apologise for bothering you," he began, looking at Karen. "Would you happen to be a vedette, ma'am?"

"No, I happen to be an heiress," Karen replied rather pointedly, her golden eyes narrowing at his inference. "Why, is it hard to tell the difference?"

Don't eat him, Gordon, Mike thought as he watched the man fumble for words. He'd already guessed why the man was here. You'll never get the blood out of that fabric you're wearing.

"I'm... I'm sorry," the manager said now, almost sweating. Karen's piercing eyes were giving him a headache. "It's just that several of us were convinced you must be an entertainer with... well, with how you're built. And we thought you might be out on the town, scoping out the competition."

"I could choose to take that as a compliment," Karen sniffed again. "In any event, what of it?"

"Well," he said, hoping he didn't die in a fountain of arterial spray for what he was about to ask. "One of our acts just quit, refusing to follow Princess Shylene, who is something of a diva backstage. I... I was hoping, if we paid you, that you would fill in for our missing segment."

Karen looked at him levelly for some seconds, letting him writhe like a worm on a hook, before she looked over at Mike, her eyebrow raised, his opinion desired.

And his response was to shrug. "Are you deeply and importantly talented, Gordon?" he asked simply.

She nodded to him and looked at the manager. "Right," she announced, getting out of her chair. "Where is the staging area?"

The man seemed shocked, and didn't know what to say for a few moments. He was still alive! He wouldn't have guessed he would be. "Oh, um... yes, please, follow me..."

He led Karen by the arm, and she wiggled off across the room, drawing looks from many patrons, men and women alike. Not that Mike blamed them. It would be interesting to see what the little lunatic got up to this time.

Two more acts passed, and the emcee came out, grinning. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are pleased to inform you that we have a substitution tonight, and we're quite excited, since this is her first time appearing on our stage. A warm welcome, please, for the lovely Gloriana!"

People applauded and the band struck up the music. However, Mike began to recognize this tune. Meanwhile, Karen slinked out onto the stage, wearing her evening dress. The only thing missing was her clasp, which was sitting on the edge of the stage next to Mike.

She stood at the back of the catwalk in the middle of the stage, standing in a sultry pose, her eyes glinting with some kind of desire he was not used to seeing in her. But she wore it well. A few more beats of the music played, people watching her spellbound before she began singing.

"Let me entertain you

Let me make you smile

Let me do a few tricks

Some old and then some new tricks

I'm very versatile."

She began to walk forward slowly, one foot in front of the other, like a cat, but with a naturalness that made you wonder if it had ever been courtesan training at all. Her eyes spoke of smouldering seduction and somehow also had a playful quality to them. One could choose the expression desired and keep it close.

"And if you're real good

I'll make you feel good

I'd want your spirit to climb

So let me entertain you

We'll have a real good time

Yes sir!

We'll have...

A real good time!"

"Hello! Hello... everybody!" Karen called to the crowd now while removing her long black gloves in a slow tease, and Mike could feel the tension and the electricity in the air around him. Even the waitresses were all staring dumbly at the stage.

"My name is Gloriana... what's yours?!" she asked in her lyrical, crystalline voice that enchanted so. Every single audience member, Mike included, felt like she was talking to them alone. She was twirling one of her gloves in her hand before slinging it back over her shoulder to the floor of the stage. The other followed shortly.

She turned and dramatically pointed at the band. "Mr. Conductor, if you please!

So, let me entertain you...

And we'll have a real good time, yes, sir!

We'll have...

A real good time!"

Karen strutted around the catwalk and stage like she was born to it, slowly loosening parts of her outfit without revealing. She gave various patrons a wicked smile as she came close to them. It was fascinating to watch her work, since she'd had no time whatsoever to rehearse.

Mike knew that. And he somehow doubted that courtesan training included burlesque lessons. This was strictly raw talent and determination.

Bully for Princess Shylene.

"Bon soir, monsieur et monsieur!

Je m'appelle Gloriana.

And that concludes my entire performance in French,

I've been too busy learning Greek."

The audience laughed at her jests and applauded as she continued to tease, promising so much without showing. There would be a fever pitch before long.

"Some men accused me of being an ecdysiast!

Do you know what that means? Do you?" she asked, point at one man and winking.

Do you? Oh, you do!

Aha! He's embarrassed!

Don't be embarrassed... I like man without hair!

An ecdysiast is one who or that which

Sheds its skin!

In vulgar parlance: a stripper!

But I'm not a stripper!

At these prices - I'm an ecdysiast!"

You'll get no argument from me, Gordon... Mike thought as he watched, as spellbound as everyone else.

And then almost all at once, Karen's black dress had come off, falling to her feet. All that remained on were her heels and her stockings, along with the garter. But her bra and panties and everything else were gone.

And even as the crowd roared, the tease was maintained, because somehow Karen had kept the gauze swathe that had been attached to her gloves and waist, and she now slid this fabric effortlessly around her body, strategically covering her nipples and her womanhood. Her magnificent body was on display, but still concealed.

Karen kept slinking around and dancing, never failing to conceal her nipples or her pussy, and only sparing glimpses of her incredible behind. Her eyes burned with a merriment and enjoyment that Mike understood only too well. She really did like to entertain people.

"And if you're real good

I'll make you feel good

I want your spirit to climb

Let me entertain you

And well have a real good time, yes, sir!

We'll have...

A real good time!"

She belted out the final note before bowing, giving the audience the briefest flash of her large breasts and her nipples before they were concealed again.

Everyone was on their feet, applauding and roaring their approval. Except Mike, who didn't want to stand and get in anyone's way. But he certainly applauded.

Karen turned and wiggled off toward the back of the stage, the black gauze now on her front, so she was showing off her ass as she walked away. She turned to exit stage left, bunching the gauze around her breasts and womanhood, giving the audience one final wink before disappearing behind the curtains.

Mike spent several minutes trying to convince many eager patrons that he was not her manager, and they hoped he wasn't her husband.

Backstage...

Someone had retrieved Karen's dress, gloves, and any other accoutrements she'd left onstage, because if she went back out to collect them herself, she would have to reply to the already continuous calls for an encore.

She was clipping the gauze in place on the back of the dress' waist and her gloves when she felt someone behind her.

"I guess we're all lucky you're an heiress and not one of us, hm?" Princess Shylene said, her voice neutral, but carrying an undertone of jealousy. Not that Karen wasn't used to that with girls, or women. "Because if you were, I'd probably have to get one of my boys take your kneecap out."

Karen decided to not ignore this, in honour of her nearly spilled absinthe drink. She turned around, fully naked, and stared back at the other woman. She was decidedly taller than Shylene, younger, and better built.

Faced with this lush body and radiant charisma, Shylene seemed to shrink inside herself.

"You've seen who brought me tonight, yes?" Karen pointed out. "It sounds to me like sending anyone after my kneecaps would just be a waste of money, Queen-Mother. You brought this on yourself, after all, denigrating me while I was simply a spectator. Consider it a life lesson, one learned deeply and importantly."

Karen strode off to find a room where she could dress in peace. She had just finished putting her gloves back on when there was a knock at the door and the manager came in.

"Apologies for barging in," he began.

"But you're going to work through the bad manners somehow," Karen sighed, turning around and looking at him pointedly. "You're lucky I'm dressed, because clearly one charges for nudity."

"Er, yes, sorry," he faltered, once again worried about living. This woman terrified him as much as she enthralled his patrons. "I... wanted to talk to you about your pay."

"Cash, as we discussed, is fine," Karen said, going about checking her gauze train.

He handed her ten crisp hundred-dollar bills, which she folded and stuck down into her pronounced cleavage. She'd insisted on new bills, of course. "I wanted to talk with you about possibly making more appearances at our venue and-"

"Thank you, but I must decline," she said, cutting him off before he got his hopes up. "I am, as we have established, not a vedette or an ecdysiast."

"But you're so good at it," he pressed, seeing the money he could make with this woman.

"I'll take that as a compliment, but once again, I must say no, sirrah," Karen said firmly. "I am a scientist, not a burlesque performer."

"A... scientist?" he fumbled, bewildered.

She nodded. "An heiress, a scientist, a courtesan, perhaps... but not a stripper. I have other callings."

She moved to exit the room before pausing and looking back at him, her regal self again. "But for what it's worth, good sir, I had fun. Thank you for the opportunity to express that side of myself. Ta!"

She waved her gloved fingers and went back out to the hall, where another act was already performing, and DeBourne was no doubt waiting for her. She nodded politely as men rose from their chairs and complimented her when she walked by.

Mike pulled out her seat and eased her into it. She noticed that he'd gotten her another drink, this one sans brocade dress train as a garnish.

Seconds later, she gave him a wry look. "So... aren't you going to ask me how much they paid me for taking all my clothes off?"

Mike had to stifle himself from laughing too loudly.

***

Blackwell Manor, East Master Suite, the present...

"I've been enjoying everything so far!" lilted the girl's voice over the speaker on the Rubus. "I'm just sorry I couldn't be there. Mom and dad wanted to make this birthday just us, no idea why. I mean, it's just twenty-four, not exactly a landmark number."

"Actually, I may have an answer for you there," Mike said with a smile as he talked to the girl on his phone. They hadn't seen her in over a year, and she was as pretty as ever. Karen was getting changed into her party dress, so Mike kept the phone turned away from her. Not that anyone minded the nudity, he just wanted the girl's attention, and that was very hard to get if Karen was naked. "We were sorry we missed your birthday too."

"Aw, c'mon, Uncle Mike," she almost protested. "You guys were rather busy, to say the least. Not every day the most amazing woman on earth becomes matriarch of a thousand-year dynasty."

"True, but your birthday present that we have for you no doubt has something to do with your parents being selfish about you recently."

He looked over and saw Karen had now wiggled into her dress. "Gordon, why don't you tell her and I'll zip you up?"

"Thank you, good sir," Karen chimed as she took the phone from Mike and spoke to the young lady on the other end of the video call. Mike stood behind her, wanting to see her reaction to his wife's news. "You see, darling, they were spending all the time they could with you, because you're coming here to live with us at Blackwell Manor."

The girl's blue eyes shot open. "I'm what?"

Karen smiled. "Yes, Raven. We've arranged for you to live with us while you go to the university to finish all your degrees."

"I'm really going to live there with you?!" Raven exclaimed. "You, Uncle Mike, Alex, Alexandra, Jordan, and... everybody? How did you get my parents to agree?!"

"It was simpler than you might think, darling," Karen said warmly. She adored Raven. Always had. "Once I told them about the accommodations we already had in place here, and that you wouldn't need to stay on campus, they agreed this was by far the best solution, even more than taking your courses remotely."

"I never would've given them credit for that," Raven almost gushed, her voice brimming with excitement. "I can't believe it! When?! In time for the fall semester?!"

"So to speak," Karen said with a smirk. "You'll be moving in on Monday. You'll be taking off from YBC mid-morning and landing at CYDZ a few hours later. Our chauffeuse Glenda will come and get you and bring you here."

She couldn't help but smile almost in bliss. "After that, my dear, your new life begins."

Raven had tears on her face, but they were joy and excitement. "You... y'know I love my parents, but they're a whole lot of overprotective. I... Aunt Kar, words fail me. How often does that happen?"

"The literary scholar, without words?" Karen laughed. "Don't worry, my love, you'll have all the time in the world once you get here."

Raven sniffled and wiped at her eye. "Guess I'll be spending all tomorrow bringing friends over to say goodbye, and then saying goodbye to all my favourite little nooks and crannies in Flemarrion. I... what do I bring, Aunt Kar?"

"Things that truly matter, Rae," Mike said, because Karen had stopped talking to wipe at her eye as well. "Important books, clothes, personal effects... we can always send for more. And we'll get you a new wardrobe once you're here. Travel light."

"I... I'm still so discombobulated," the young woman breathed. "I... I can see you're nearly ready, so I'll let you go for now. You've got a party to host."

"Have you got your dress handy so you can dance with us?" Mike queried.

The girl beamed and held up her dress. "All ready to go! I've got room to dance, and I've been practicing! I... thank you both so much!"

"Raven Cymoril Ekaterina Moorcock-Blackwell, the pleasure is all ours," Karen sighed in bliss, her heart filled with love. "We'll talk to you tomorrow. Enjoy the dancing."

"Will do! Talk to you tomorrow! Congrats, Aunt Kar!"

The call ended and Karen sighed and lowered the Rubus while Mike got her put together. "Michael, I cannot tell you how wonderful it feels to know we'll have Raven here with us, and what it will mean to her life."

"I'm familiar," he said cheerfully. "We're big fans of hers, after all."

"Do we tell Alex and Alli?" she wondered as he put the jewelry around her neck.

"Alex no doubt already knows, I say we don't tell Alli," he suggested as he fixed a fascinator in her hair. "It'll be something when those two meet."

"Pity we won't see it," Karen said with a smirk. She turned and smiled at him, striking a sultry pose. "So, do I look ready?"

"Ready and roaring, Gordon," Mike confirmed, nodding. "Give me just a moment to get ready and we'll head down."

Karen hummed to herself and glided around the room. Her favourite part of the day's festivities were about to begin.

***

Philosopher's Walk, 1987, late at night...

"Not cold, are you, Gordon?" Mike asked as they walked along the path. They were behind the museum, and just passing the amphitheatre. The green space wound behind the ROM and toward the campus proper. Day or night, it was a lovely place for a stroll.

Karen shook her head. She had used her sheer gauze train as a wrap for her shoulders, which was one of its intended uses. The result was predictably elegant as she held it in place. "I am fine, but thank you for asking. A cool night and a walk is just what one needs after a day like this."

They walked by a clump of trees, and the sounds of two people whispering and panting, along with bodies slapping together, could be heard emanating from it. It was not unusual for more daring students to come and have sex at night on Philosopher's Walk. They just ignored the sounds and kept walking.

"Freshmen," Karen seemed to sigh, shaking her head. "No sense of decorum."

"Didn't you tell me that you have occasionally flagranted the delicto out here?" Mike asked in amusement.

"Yes, and I was a freshman at the time," Karen confirmed. "My point stands."

"It would, if the girl getting whomped behind those trees wasn't a junior," Mike mentioned casually.

"And how do you know that, sirrah?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's Callista Horner," he replied with a shrug. "Third-year stats major. I recognize the little catch in her throat when she's panting. Especially behind those trees, she thinks they're soundproof."

"Shameless," Karen said, shaking her head again but smiling. She put her arm through his as they walked, heading back toward the campus. "Did you have a favourite part of the day, sir?"

"Well, the food aside," he began, making her titter and squeeze his arm as a chiding. "I would say it's hard to pick, because it was all wonderful, but honestly, just chatting with you. So few people can keep up with me, because they don't know what to say. And you just make it so effortless and easy."

She was lucky it was dark, because he would certainly see her blushing if it had been lighter out. She was worried that the bills lodged in her cleavage would get moist from sweat. "High praise from a man who can converse on any subject known to our species."

They lapsed into silence as they walked, feeling no need to say anything and just enjoying the company. The comforting silence was enthralling for them both. No need to fill the dead air. How many times had that happened today and it was just perfect?

Don't be an idiot, DeBourne, he chided himself.

Silly girl, you and your grand flights of fancy, she thought.

They finally arrived at the entrance to the girls' dorm, and they paused outside the old doors. She turned and looked up at him, her arms wrapped in the sheer gauze train. Her golden eyes glinted in the light of the nearby lamps.

"I must say, DeBourne, as impromptu days go, this was quite splendid," she announced. "Frankly, I cannot imagine having enjoyed it more, regardless of company, if I am honest."

She held up a finger now, and her expression was supposed to be a warning, but there was that mischievous smirk as well. "However, if that ever leaks out, I will deny it to my dying day, decrying you to be as annoying as ever."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," he laughed. "Not sure this reality is ready for great minds thinking alike."

She nodded, still smiling. "I would invite you up to retrieve your clothes from earlier, but doubtless I will be hounded by the ladies about my day. I will have them dropped off to you tomorrow at your convenience."

"That works for me, Gordon," Mike agreed, nodding. It always felt to her like Zeus nodding his head to confirm his universal will when DeBourne did it. "And thank you for a wonderful day."

She nodded once and turned to go into the dorm. She hadn't quite reached the first step when she turned around and trotted back to him, putting her arms around him in an embrace, the side of her face pressed to his chest. It took only a split-second pause for Mike to return the gesture, holding her to him.

"Always embrace a lady to say goodnight, sirrah," she Karen murmured as she held him, revelling in the feel of those titan, powerful arms around her, shielding her from a world gone mad. The warmth of him, the smell of him, the...

Stop that. Present, you dumb girl!

"I promise to remember, Gordon," he said as she straightened herself and he let her go. She nodded to him again, this nod not at all curt, but warmed by her smile. She turned and went inside, the door closing loudly behind her.

Mike stood there for several seconds, seemingly in a daze, not really noticing anything around him. Not that anything was happening in the dead of night, but short of a comet landing, nothing was likely to get his attention. He finally blinked and looked around, realizing he'd been standing there like an idiot for who knew how long.

He turned on his heel and headed toward his own dorm on the other side of campus. Once he was in his room, he leaned on his giant desk, took a deep breath, and sighed, happy for the darkness around him. He felt like he didn't have to account for anything just yet. Had they done a single thing that day which he was the least bit meant for?

Spa days, the café, dinner at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and the burlesque club... what place did he have in any of that?

Don't be so pretentious, dopey. Nothing wrong with knowing your place, and where it isn't.

He began undoing his suit and setting it aside carefully. He wasn't allowed to wash it himself, Gordon insisted that it be cleaned by 'her people' when necessary. She was probably right.

He was trying to figure out if he should shower now or in the morning, then he noticed that her perfume was clinging to him. Not just his clothes, but also somehow to his skin. The smell of her was with him.

Tomorrow it is, then, he decided as he climbed into his massive bed.

With her scent somehow caressing his senses, he didn't feel at all alone.

***

Blackwell Manor ballroom, the present...

Karen had indeed chosen the theme, and everyone who had the inclination dressed for the event. Many men had donned well-made tuxedos fit for dancing, and many of the ladies were in colourful, fringed or feathered outfits.

Karen, decked out in a glittering black fringed dress with a jewelled feather fascinator, was dancing the Charleston while the band played the 'Black Bottom'. With Alexa, Jenny, and Mona dancing with her, they had the entire crowd cheering and applauding as they did groove walks, swinging kicks, and bumped their hips in circles in time with the music. Alexa was in a silvery dress, Jenny gold, and Mona a dark blue.

The next song began and the dancing became general. People were laughing and enjoying themselves, switching partners, although the Dannings and Connors were always kept far apart. Karen was dancing with her cousin Hannibal, who despite looking rather awkward in his skin, could cut a rug. Val was cackling as she tried out the flapper dances, laughing that her tits kept getting in the way and she should have tied them down.

Nanu took to the dancing instantly and instinctively, having mastered the Charleston and Black Bottom steps before almost anyone else who didn't know them already.

"You're doin' great, Fre," Jeanie said breathily as she danced with her father while Freja danced with her mother beside them. "And you look amazing in your dress."

"Thank you, yndling," Freja beamed, enjoying herself. She was worried that her rather wiry frame and muscles might make her look silly in the straight dress, but it complemented her well, and her pixie haircut adapted to the style readily. "I ams enjoying this very much! Actual dances are very fun, ja?"

While many of the DeBournes were dancing, the only one who was doing a good job was Joshua. With his slender build, he fit easily and naturally into his suit, and the movements were almost second nature to him. The Kjaers danced with them, about as elegant as their new friends. The important thing was the fun.

Alexa had a hard time not being monopolized by Trinian, who insisted on being taught the dances in case they came in handy at St. Eve's. As the girl's apparent 'sponsor' (Alexa never did figure out how that happened, but she was quite willing to blame Alex), she seemed honour-bound now to teach Trinian what she wanted to know. Come Hell or high water, though, she'd get at least one dance with her nephew-husband in.

A slow song began, and Roddy took over the mic and began singing 'Honey' by Rudy Vallee. Alexa grumbled as she danced with Trinian, while Alex was dancing with his aunt Ashley. Janet was dancing with the Prime Minister, Lisa with Sir Robert, and Mona with Lady Belasyse. It also meant that Mike and Karen finally had a dance together.

"You know, if memory serves, you were wearing a slinky black dress on this very night just over thirty years ago," he mentioned as he waltzed her around to the music.

"Oh?" she replied, making a show of thinking. "And what, I pray, was the occasion, sirrah, and why do you know, since we were not an item as yet?"

A silly assertion, of course, since the belonged to each other the moment they met, even if it took over a year for them face up to it and admit it. But why be straightforward and factual when she could be oblique and create wonderful and memorable conversation with him, here and now? A conversation to treasure, as they did with all their exchanges.

"You tried your hand as an ecdysiast while we visited the Adonia Club," he said as if explaining to jog her memory. Her facial expressions were always perfect as she moved through them in response. "Stunning as you were in your dress, seeing you peel yourself out of it was truly an inspiration, Gordon."

"Tosh, to quote the countess," she said with a smirk as she looked up into his piercing, laser-blue eyes. It was a trait she was so pleased had passed on to their son. "A young girl's flight of fancy."

"And every young man's dream come true," he pointed out while they slowly twirled around the room.

"I'm in love with you, Honey

Say you love me too, Honey

No one else will do, Honey,

Seems funny but it's true

Loved you from the start, Honey

Bless your little heart, Honey

Ev-ry day would be so sunny,

Honey with you."

"I remember just about every little detail of our lives together, my love, with such clarity," she said in a dreamy voice. "Frankly, I am amazed there's any room left in my little brain for anything else. Such a hardship, you understand."

She glanced over at something across the ballroom and changed her mind. "Well... maybe not the same scale of hardship that Lady Chudleigh has thrust upon herself."

Mike looked over and restrained a laugh as he watched Millie trying to teach old Dave how to do a jazz waltz. His feet looked even more awkward than he did in a suit.

He only stepped on her toes three times.

***

A dorm room, 1987...

Karen came in the door and immediately held her breath, since the pungent of Northern Lights was heavy in the air, despite the window being open. And true to form, all three of her friends were there, sitting naked and awaiting her arrival eagerly.

"There you are, sexy," Mona purred, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. Apparently she hadn't shaved for a day or two. No big deal, since Karen wasn't having sex with her anyway. "Soooooo, spill. What happened?"

"Yeah!" Lisa said excitedly, sitting on her butt and bouncing up and down. "Dish, dish, dish!"

"Turn around, you goony box," Janet said, making a wry face at her friend. "You're facing the wall, doofus."

"Farshiltn," the redhead squeaked, turning herself around to face the door and the new arrival. She was clearly very high, because her eyes were crossed enough to switch sockets. "Hiya, Kar."

"At least she doesn't forget she's Jewish when she's baked," Mona muttered, shaking her head. "So get naked already and tell us!"

"What if I want a shower?" Karen seemed to protest, but knowing this was going nowhere. She had to at least try for form's sake.

"Have a shower in the morning like normal person, Princess," Janet snorted. "You're not gettin' outta telling us what happened, so you might as well just ditch the threads and start fessin' up."

"Very well," Karen sighed, deftly unzipping her dress and wiggling out of it, leaving her clad only in her bra, stockings, garter, panties, and heels. She tossed the garment at the bed, but showing remarkable hand-eye coordination for someone who was stoned, Mona grabbed it out of the air and hugged the dress to herself.

"I beg your finest pardon," Karen now said, her hands on her hips. "I meant for-"

The black girl was ignoring her, burying her face in the dress and taking a deep sniff. She paused mid-inhale, her eyes going wide.

"What is it?" Janet asked, curious as to her friend's reaction. Mona handed her the dress, and Janet pressed her nose into it and sniffed it as well, her eyes finally going wide.

"What the-" she began saying, seemingly shocked. "Why does your dress smell like DeBourne, Princess?"

"What?!" Lisa yelped, somehow facing the wrong way again. "Lemme smell!"

She crawled what she thought was forward, grabbing a handful of the corner of her bedsheets and giving them a deep smell. Everyone just left her like that.

"Well?" Mona pressed as Karen continued to shed her underthings.

"He just hugged me at the end of the evening outside the dorm," Karen sighed, rolling her eyes. "You may have noticed, he's rather large, so I imagine getting his scent on everything is relatively easy."

"He's not a bear and you're not a tree!" Janet cackled, falling over at the images dancing through her hazy mind of Mike rubbing Karen all over his body while she tried to look put out. "So you're sayin' he didn't manage to get you naked and this scent is from a hug?"

"Get me naked?" Karen asked in shock. "Woman, we went to a spa together, of course he saw me naked, as he has many times before. The original plan, you may recall, was for me to be naked at the spa with you three traitors."

"Okay, okay, we'll give you that one," Mona said with a shrug. "But aside from that, he didn't see you naked?"

Karen drew in a breath, dreading where this was headed. "Well..."

***

The ballroom, the present...

They had just finished dancing the Lindy Hop and the evening was finally winding down. While the party was in full swing, several people had exited for some moments, going into another room and drinking champagne from Lord Stanley's Mug. Amongst those who had joined the Leafs in doing so were Mike, Karen, Alex, Alexa, Jordan, Mona, Janet, Lisa, and Ashley. Ted, Dave, and Anthony were invited as well, and nearly fainted at the honour when they took their drinks.

"Why did nobody invite me?" Roddy had protested when he found out upon their return.

"Well, that's what you get for being a lifelong Habs fan, isn't it?" Karen replied with a smile. "Maybe next time, cuz..."

She winked at him and walked off. Maybe that stunt with the chatelaine keys hadn't been so clever after all.

The dancing was ended, and there was to be one final toast to Karen before things wrapped up. Champagne all around (and sparkling grape juice for the kids, which disgruntled Percy and Trinian). Toasts were made in her honour, and Mike made one final announcement.

"Before everyone leaves, there is the matter of naming the family pet," he announced, gesturing to the magnificent gryphon Mona had painted for the occasion. "Winners of drinking age with be gifted with a prize wine from the cellar. Minors, well, we'll think of something. You've all deposited your little slips into the letterbox brought by Lady Greymoor, and now Gordon will randomly pick one out of the submissions."

He gestured for Karen to go to the letterbox and reach inside, once Alex had pulled off the stone lid. She looked away as she rummaged around inside, finally pulling a chit out. Everyone was gathered around and silent as they awaited the result.

Karen unfolded the piece of paper, read it and smiled, giggling. She passed it to her husband, who read it and chuckled.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Blackwell gryphon, that mighty and majestic beast, is now named 'Zeppli'."

There were murmurs of confusion around the room for some moments until there was a yelp of excitement.

Everyone turned their head and saw Nanu jumping up and down in her tight dress, babbling in some language none of them understood (except Mike and Karen). Even Becky was somewhat perplexed, once she'd explained to her charge about what name had been picked.

Sir Robert looked at his companion, Sir James, his eyebrow raised.

"Don't look at me," Sir James replied. "That sounds like something Geddy would call him."

"I submitted the name 'Bonzo'," Sir Robert sighed.

The excited babbling about the mighty Zeppli continued as the party began to disperse. People were saying their good-nights and retiring to their rooms, or getting ready to head to their hotels. Mike and Karen said their goodbyes to everyone who would not be back the following day, giving each of them a gift in appreciation of their attendance.

Some minutes later...

"God, Kar, I can't believe I'm gonna miss it," Ashley almost whined as she walked alongside Karen through the third floor. She was still wearing her good clothes from the party, while her hostess and distant cousin, Karen, was wearing the dazzling flapper dress she'd spent the night dancing in. "I wish you'd told me sooner!"

"Apologies, my dear, but you may recall I wasn't expecting you to come without your husband," Karen pointed out while they walked arm-in-arm into her master suite. Mike was still seeing people out, and had given his wife leave to go start winding down. They would all have a nightcap in Dunsany. "Since I sense negotiating about to happen, you might as well shower with me..."

The two women stripped out of their clothes, getting naked and walking in to the large, en suite bathroom. Ashley never ceased to marvel at the luxury of the Blackwell family's hub. It was not the oldest residence in the New World by a long shot, but the power was absolutely found here, ever since their great-great-grandfather, Achilles Blackwell, had moved from Quebec City to Toronto.

"Predicated on the notion that Trinian can certainly not be here at the time of such an event," Karen began, turning on and adjusting the water for them. She was well aware of how Ashley liked her shower water and she found it acceptable for her own needs. "And since you brought her by yourself, this means that Trinian has no means of getting home, preventing you from enjoying the upcoming event."

"You got it, pard'ner," Ashley agreed as she stepped into the shower with her cousin. Ashley knew how attractive she herself was, and she was about a decade younger than her host. But every time she saw Karen... she'd trained herself to not feel like goldfish food. There was no point in comparing yourself to a goddess like Karen, and now Alli. "I just... oh, Kar, you know I love my life, but Tobermory is hardly a hub of social activity, despite what Trin might believe."

"It won't be long before Tobermory is far too small for her," Karen said as she inundated her lovely body with water, running her hands up through her hair. "Perhaps St. Eve's will be her next evolution."

"It turned out girls like you and the countess, and it also turned out monsters," Ashley pointed out. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Karen replied, shaking her head, her glorious body glistening with water. "The girls come as monsters, and St. Eve's maybe does nothing to change them, it just sharpens and hones them, cutting them into brilliant diamonds, like the rest of us. Just... evil diamonds. What she brings from home is what she'll magnify at the academy, Ash."

"Well, I like to think we're raising her right back home," Ashley sighed, trying not to think about how close she was standing to Karen while they soaked themselves. She sure didn't mind. "Gotta love her crush on Alli, though."

"The only thing funnier than that is poor Alli's predicament," Karen said with a smirk as she looked at her cousin. "By the time Trinian leaves, Alli won't have had sex for almost three days. She's already fit to burst, another day may kill her."

"She's going to absolutely rape Alex when she gets him back again," Ashley giggled. "Not that I blame anyone who isn't you for wanting to rape the boy."

"He spent the night in your bed, so I've heard," Karen mentioned as she squeezed some expensive shower gel into her hands, her tone indicating she couldn't have cared less. She motioned for Ashley to turn around.

"Yep, and it felt good, even if I just slept next to him naked," Ashley said readily as she turned to face away from Karen. She sighed in relaxation and pleasure as her cousin's graceful hands began rubbing the gel into her skin, all over. It was heaven. "Don't get me wrong, Kar, Geoff is still in very good shape and sexy and all, but... well, I don't need to tell you there's nothing like a DeBourne man pressed up against you, do I?"

"True enough," Karen agreed with a giggle of her own. "I do think Geoff has it a little easier than you, though."

Ashley's reply was almost a moan as she savoured the feeling of Karen lathering up her body. She couldn't wait to reciprocate. Karen was referring to Ashley and Geoff's 'arrangements' within their marriage. While it wasn't an open marriage, Ashley knew he had little flings with his secretaries and a few other employees when he was abroad. She didn't mind, especially since she was still hotter than any of them. Similarly, Ashley occasionally had a discrete rendezvous with a man or woman, as long as nobody found out. It worked for them. They loved one another, though.

"Maybe it is easier for him, since his trysts are with our employees, a closed circuit," she managed to say as she felt Karen's hands caressing her opulent breasts. She couldn't help but move back, pressing herself against her cousin while she reveled in the sensations. "I've got... I've gotta find mine, and let's face it... Tobermory and the peninsula are not exactly the right place to find hot young studs or beach bunnies, hm?"

"Methinks not, but that does bring us back to the matter at hand," Karen said quietly, her face next to Ashley's ear while she fondled the lather into the blonde woman's breasts. Ashley was almost writhing now, reaching back to hold Karen by the hips and squirming her ass against her. "You want to stay for the next housewarming, yes?"

"Mm-hmmm," Ashley hummed, her eyes closed while the palm of Karen's hands slid over her nipples. The tingle and rush was unreal. Thank God for the water to mask the fact that she was already so damn wet. "Trin can't stay, she has school. And I doubt I'd get away with going home and then coming back down for the weekend. Something will keep me there, with my luck."

"Can't Lucy watch her?" Karen queried, grazing her fingertips over the nipples now, making her distant cousin shudder and writhe. She was rarely so intimate with Ashley, but this seemed one of those times, so she went with it. Lucy was Geoff's mother, and Karen generally liked her. She could afford to, because she and Michael scared Lucy.

"No doubt, but it's about managing to get back here if I head home," Ashley murmured, almost forgetting how to speak. "And I'm her only means of transport home."

"I'd offer the services of one of my people, but they're all spoken for," Karen seemed to lament as she knelt and worked the gel into the cheeks of Ashley's taut ass. Yes, she was still definitely a MILF, to quote the kids. "So many bigwigs to see off and other people to attend to."

"I know," Ashley murmured, reaching back and caressing Karen's hair, resisting the urge to squirm her cheeks into her cousin's lovely face. "I need to work this out somehow..."

They switched places and Ashley began lathering up Karen, although she somehow doubted it felt nearly as good. Karen had courtesan training, after all. But she didn't seem to mind one bit. "I need to get Trin back for school, she can't miss a day. She's been exemplary, and even a day might be a blotch. Now that I know St. Eve's is interested in her..."

"I understand," Karen lilted in her enchanting, crystalline voice while Ashley massaged her breasts. She reached back with both arms and put her hands behind her cousin's neck, then began squirming her ass back into Ashley's hips, making her moan again. "We need to think of something, since I want you to be at the event."

"I wish I just knew what," the blonde woman sighed as she molested her cousin. "I don't see a readily available solution."

Karen turned around now, her body pressing into Ashley's, tits squashed together and hip to hip, their mounds pressing. Their hands went to each other's ass, holding themselves in place while they danced in a slow circle, looking into each other's eyes while the water inundated them.

"What about Turner?" Karen asked quietly, squeezing Ashley's cheeks for emphasis.

"You know he retired years ago, Kar," Ashley stated, amazed she could speak at all since she was slithering her slippery body into Karen's. "Retired, got his bonus, his pension, and he's living a nice quiet life. Geoff asked him once if he would consider doing the chauffeur thing for a weekend, Turner flat out said no. He retired soon after I had Trinian. We've just done without a chauffeur since then, Geoff drives into the city himself if he needs to fly."

"A man not influenced by money," Karen mused as they squirmed their slippery bodies together. "Those are few and far between."

Ashley shrugged. "He doesn't want money, so I don't really have anything to bribe him w-"

She paused for a moment and then gave Karen a smirk. "Well, there is one bargaining chip I'm sure he'll take."

Karen returned the smirk. "Why, Ashley Morgana Constantine-Blackwell," she whispered slyly. "Are you attempting to get me to bribe your retired chauffeur with sexual favours in order to bend him to your will?"

"It'd only be a blowjob, I'm sure," Ashley reason-pleaded. "Kar, nobody knows their way around a beej like you do. We couldn't get that damn grin off Turner's face for a week the last time you did that favour for me."

"I don't even readily call what that favour was for," Karen made a show of musing before they both giggled and hugged one another, followed by a rather un-cousinly kiss that lasted several seconds, their bodies squashed together under the water. Finally, Ashley needed air and pulled back, taking a deep breath.

"Hooooo," she exhaled, her eyes crossing. "Y'don't know how much you've missed something until you experience it again. You just keep getting better at this, Kar. Not fair, y'know."

"Cry me a river, Tobermory," Karen said with a wink before giving Ashley's lower lip a quick bite and then looking at her again. "So, madame, your plan is..."

"Well, I..." Ashley began. "I ask him to come down and get Trin and bring her home, so that Lucy can look after her for the week and change that I'm gone. While he's here, you, um... make sure he's properly thanked for his effort?"

"I am a married woman, Ash," Karen seemed to protest, even while she was holding her cousin in a naked embrace. "What would Michael say?"

"I have no clue how that man thinks, Kar," Ashey pointed out. "What would he say?"

By way of response, Karen almost waltzed Ashley over to the wall, pressing her up against it. Ashley shuddered as Karen squashed her taller, more lush and stronger body into hers, reaching by her head bipping a button on the intercom.

"Husband-mine," Karen chimed into the speaking. "A word, if you so please. I am in the shower."

She ended the call and brought Ashley back into the water. They continued washing one another down when a tall and vast figure came into the room. Mike stood outside the shower, looking at the entwined women, since his wife had left the door to the large shower open.

"What can I do for you ladies?" he asked in that molten caramel bari-tenor that made knees weak everywhere.

Or more to the point, to us, Ashley thought longingly as she stared at the handsome man's powerful body, even through the exquisite suit he was wearing. She'd only ever seen him naked, no more, but there was nothing like it. Karen was the luckiest slut on earth.

Karen now stepped away from Ashley and seemed to point an accusing finger at her. "Ashley seems to think it is acceptable to ask me to bribe her retired chauffeur into coming down and picking up Trinian and taking her home so that she can stay for next weekend's festivities. With fellatio. Can you believe the cheek? Just because I have done it before. What do you have to say, sir?"

"Hmmm," Mike said, looking back and forth across the floor for some moments and seeming to think before fixing his gaze on the two naked women and holding up a finger. "Gordon, I forbid you to do anything so strange as to fellate a man in order to achieve a desired end. I am your husband, and I have spoken."

With that, the titan man turned and strode out of the room, leaving it feel empty and almost bereft of authority. The two women were silent for several seconds, as if still seeing an after image of him.

"The nerve," Karen said finally, folding her arms under her breasts and sounding indignant. "Telling me what I can and cannot do. 'I am your husband, and I have spoken'. What is this, the thirteenth century?"

She turned and looked at Ashley now, her hands on her hips. "Why, I have the undeniable urge to disobey orders and proceed with your plan, cousin. I have to show him that I am my own woman, yes? Consequences be damned."

"And what are the consequences likely to be?" Ashley almost purred with a sly smile.

Karen matched it with a naughty smile. "With any luck, a spanking or six."

"Oh, God, maybe for both of us, right?" Ashley cackled giddily. The two women laughed before squashing their bodies together in a tight embrace, kissing deeply before resuming helping one another with their ablutions.

There was bribery to see to, after all.

***

Downstairs...

"Well, that was a crazy evening," Anthony mentioned as he stood in the grand foyer with other people. He thought he'd conducted himself well tonight, and Lady Greymoor had even taught him how to waltz. "Can't believe I got to meet some of my music gods, not to mention one of the greatest Buds lineups of all time."

He waved to one of said hockey players as they tromped by. The icon smiled and waved back.

"And I got to drink champagne out of the Stanley Cup," he added, very pleased with himself.

"Still gross, if you ask me," Shana sniffed, standing there in her dress from the evening. She was wiped out, because this had been a lot of socializing by the standards of her and her sister, those standards being, well, none. "Y'don't know where that big ol' thing has been."

"Y'don't know where Jeanie's been, but you've fucked her," Dave pointed out, making the other boys laugh while Shana turned puce and scowled. Peg just snickered behind her hand.

"Whatever you goofballs are laughing about, it can wait," Alex announced as he walked up to them, accompanied by Trinian, who was holding the hand of a rather discontented Alexa. "Since you've all been drinking, you're staying here, no driving. We've got a few guest rooms on the second floor now, so you'll stay in them. Peg, Shana, y'mind sharing a room?"

The sisters shook their heads. Predictably not a problem. Alex nodded. "Make sure anyone who needs to know is informed. Your rooms'll be ready in an hour, your names are on the door. Tomorrow is casual and lazy, so no schedule if you need to sleep in. Carry on."

Alex turned and walked away. Alexa tried to follow, but Trinian pulled her in a different direction, saying it was time for bed. Alexa shot them all a look of pure frustration.

"I don't wanna be Alex tomorrow night after that kid's gone," Ted chuckled. "Alexa's gonna drain every microliter of moisture out of his body after three days of being cockblocked."

"Say the guy who's been cockblocked by life and is still a virgin," Shana sniffed.

"'kay, I'm leavin' before she gets spanked," Ted sighed, heading toward the Old Lounge. "I'm gonna get a final 'tipple', to quote the countess, and then hit the sack. Later, sophistocrats."

The other two boys departed, and the sisters were now left by themselves. Shana huffed and folded her arms. "Like I'd let any of those losers spank me."

"No matter how much you deserve it for being such a brat?" Peg pointed out. "C'mon, let's go play a game or two without any kids around while we wait for our room."

In a small room in another wing, Jeanie and Freja were in a corner, wrapped up in one another and kissing hungrily. The fact that their clothes were still on something of a testament to their willpower. They had to leave in a bit, and they'd ravage each other once they got-

"Ladies, a moment, please?" came a lilting and amused voice from the door.

The girls sighed and disentangled themselves, wiping their mouths as they turned around and approached Lady Greymoor, who stepped further into the room.

"What can we do for you, your countess-ship?" Freja asked.

"I was hoping you two might do what is hopefully an enjoyable favour for me," Jenny said with one of her customary naughty smiles.

***

Bedtime, late that night...

"Well, lovies," Millie said gently into her microphone while sitting in front of the computer and radio system in her assigned bedroom. "A glorious day for one of the oldest families in the Empire, and yours truly was here on behalf of the people of Sheppey. I know you all wished the new matriarch of the Blackwell dynasty well, and I hope you even raised a pint of two in her name."

She looked over at one of the beds and saw Percy completely passed out in it. Apparently he'd snuck some champagne, and now was gone to the world. She doubted her sister had tried too hard to keep the little squint from trying the bubbly. Still, this meant he'd be asleep all night without question, and that gave her leave to do other things.

"So with that in mind, I'm leaving you with girl power songs of decades past, and signing myself off for the night. I don't know if I'll ever get used to this time differential. Atrocious colonial habits. This is your baronetess, out for now, and I'll see you tomorrow. Stay Sheppey-shape, lovies."

She turned on the playlist, which ran about two hours, before the system would turn itself off. She made sure the screen was locked and password enabled (in case young Lord Prat woke up somehow), put on a robe over her nightgown, and quietly made her way out the door. She nodded to one of Belasyse's servants, and headed up the west wing stairs.

The third floor was quiet, with everyone seeming to have retired already. That, or they were in one of the lounges. She passed Dunsany and was surprised to see only Mike, Karen, Jordan, Lords Huntly and Bolingbroke, and Lady Belasyse, having quiet drinks. Nobody else was around. She smiled and waved off an invitation to join before heading to her destination room.

"There you are, Mill," Jenny said cheerfully as she stood on the far side of her suite, hanging up some articles of clothing. She was, of course, completely naked. "Make yourself comfy and get in bed."

"And no doubt by 'comfy', you mean completely starkers, Greymoor," Millie sighed, pretending to be put out by the instructions. Of course, she was already removing her robe and nightgown, but she had to play her part. "It's like you only want me around to see my tits."

"Tosh," Jenny replied, smiling over her shoulder and catching her younger sister staring at her taut ass. "I'm surrounded by tits, but I only have one sister."

"That's cheating, you harlot," she grumbled as she crawled onto the bed, kneeling and waiting for her older sibling. "So was today everything you expected and hoped for?"

"Po-si-lutely," the blonde woman replied, closing the door of her closet and turning to check herself in the mirror. She looked like she'd just come back from an enjoyable all-day party. Perfect. "I even managed to not gut that wanker Snelgrove, you may have noticed."

"Yes," Millie agreed with a smirk, since she knew how much Jenny despised Hannibal Fotheringay-Phipps Blackwell. If Roddy Blackwell was the most pretentious and annoying member of the Blackwell older line, then Lord Snelgrove was the most jaw-grindingly maddening of the younger. "We all applaud your restraint in not committing pratricide, Jen."

"And did you enjoy the dance?" Jenny asked now, coming over to the bed where her sister waited. She crawled onto it and joined Millie in kneeling on the plush mattress, their knees set past one another's, leaning in close enough that their breasts kissed and they could rest their foreheads together. It was a Penrose sister tradition, after all. "I saw you attempting and failing to teach old David how to jazz waltz."

"My poor feet," Millie exhaled, wiggling her toes behind herself at the memory. "I won't be attempting that again in a moment of charity. I just felt bad about him being a wallflower. Apparently I should have left him that way. My Bromleys had enough of that quickly."

"Alas, poor feet and toes," Jenny cooed, taking her sister by the cheeks gently and kissing her lovingly. "A few ponies to make it better."

"I s'pose they help," Millie mumbled through the kiss. Reticent petulance was her part in this game, one they'd perfected over decades to justify their unique relationship. Jen meant everything to her, of course. They'd only grown closer over the decades. They were holding one another by the upper arms now, still kneeling and sharing nibbling kisses as they whispered to one another.

The kisses ended long enough for them to crawl under the silken sheets, lying on their sides and tangling up in one another. Jenny's big tits squashed into Millie's, and when she slung a leg over Millie's thigh, she felt their pussies nestle together, so very comfortably.

Sometimes it amazed Millie that they weren't lovers, no matter how close they came.

Their lips met again, and they kissed lovingly, arms around each other, bodies locked. They would happily sleep like this until it was time for one of them to go and wake Percy. They had time for a good night's sleep, thankfully.

"Mmmmph, lights out," Jenny said in a muffled voice through the kiss, and the room went dark. They caressed and whispered to one another, hands stroking along each other's backs. Millie felt the excitement and tension of the day melting away, here in her sister's arms.

"I'm so glad you've decided to stay, Mill," Jenny said softly, looking through the darkness while running her fingers through her sibling's brown hair. "We'll shove Percy off to his father, my darling David goes back to Rockingham, and then it's the two of us again."

"I'm looking forward to it," Millie whispered back with a smile. "if I can ever pry you away from your cabana boys, that is. Are you certain about this plan, Jen?"

"What, bring them back with us in June for the month?" Jenny asked. "Certainly. A single month of training is simply not enough, and if I bring them back to Heatherly, I can train them on my terms, unbothered by colonial restraints."

"Hopefully you don't kill them with your training before we come back for July," Millie pointed out, smirking. "And maybe you'll let me borrow them once in a while? There are some things around Shellness that could use some free repair."

"As often as you need, Mill," Jen whispered before pulling her sister in even closer and kissing her deeply. "Anything for you."

They kissed in an unsisterly manner until sleep took them, wrapped up in each other's arms.

***

The second floor...

Anthony was lying in his bed, hands folded on his chest and looking at the ceiling of the dark room. He couldn't believe how comfortable this bed was. No wonder DeBourne was so cheerful all the damn time. It had been such an amazing day. He'd met some of his sports heroes and drank champagne out of the Stanley Cup... he'd talked with some of his rock music gods, people he'd never dreamed he'd meet. He now knew and could keep in touch with-

The door of his room opened and light shone in from the hall. The silhouette of a girl appeared before the door was shut and then someone was walking quietly toward him.

"Uh... hello?" he called quietly, wondering what the heck was going on. "Can I help you?"

"That's what I'm here to do," whispered a bubbly girl's voice. "Help you. A gift from Lady Greyskull."

"Jeanie?" he queried. "What're you-"

"Shhh-shhhhhh," she said gently, and now he could see her in the beams of moonlight that came through his window. It was Jeanie all right, wearing a virtually transparent nightie, her creamy skin and big tits almost shining in the lunar beams. "I'm here to help you. Y'just lay back and let me take care of everything, y'got it?"

Before Anthony knew it, she'd drawn the blankets back and knelt, fishing his cock out of the vent in his pajama bottoms. Half a second later, he felt her warm, wet mouth around his member. Of all the things that had happened today, all the surprises, this was the biggest one, no question.

"Mmmmm, say g'bye to life as a virgin, sport," Jeanie mumbled around his cock, getting him harder than he'd ever been in his life. "An' say hello to life as a studmuffin..."

Anthony closed his eyes as he felt his pajama bottoms being pulled down and Jeanie straddling him. He just handed her the reins and let nature take its course.

Two doors down...

"Are y'sure... sure y'don't want... me to do anything?" Ted asked, lying on his back on the bed and feeling the most incredible sensations. He had put his hands under the small of his back as instructed, so her couldn't used them.

"Ingen," Freja replied huskily, moving up and down on his cock, buried in her wanton pussy. She'd had bigger, of course, but this would do nicely. And she was here to take Theodore's virginity properly, per the request of the countess. And Freja couldn't imagine saying no to Jenny Penrose. "You will let me do everything. Your job... is to lose your virginity, to be fucked and to cum, as quickly as possible. Once that cum is done, we can begin. Trust me on this."

Ted trusted Freja more than he had ever trusted anyone in his life at this moment.

***

Across the hall...

"So the boys're stayin' here from now on?" Shana mused, lying on her side and looking at her sister. Peg was lying on her back, looking at the ceiling. The room was dark, except for a tiny nightlight that gave a hint of illumination. They were both naked under the blankets.

"That's what I understand," Peg replied. Like her sister, she was tired, but still a little too wired to sleep just yet. It had been the most amazing day as she thought back on all the famous people she met. "The countess is training them to be gentlemen."

"They could use it," the younger sister grunted. "They don't know how to treat girls."

"Maybe they do, except for us," Peg wondered. "I mean, are we bratty to them?"

"Maybe if they didn't deserve it, I'd be nicer to them," Shana grumbled. "Telling me I deserve to be spanked."

"You're just mad that he was right," Peg pointed out. "Do you want me to lick you until you're done griping? I wanna sleep."

"Just hump me until we cum and that should be fine," Shana sighed, waiting while her sister sat up and then climbed on top of her, scissoring their legs and pressing their already wet pussies together.

***

Third floor...

"Gawwwwd, what a perfect day," Janet gushed as she fell back into the pillows and cushions. "Worth it just for the looks of amazement on Princess' face all day. She loved the painting you did, M."

"I thought it was a risk to begin with, and that was before I know Mongo had her portrait commissioned by the royal portrait painter of the Crown," Mona sighed, rippling her fingers against her chest while she looked at the ceiling. "Seriously, how does that man do that shit?"

"Best off not boilin' your brain about it," Lisa said with a shrug, lying between her dear friends, her hands behind her head. "Did I pull off the Scottish Jew thing today?"

"Y'mean in light of the fact that everyone knows you're not?" Janet asked with amusement. "I'm sure it honked off quite a few of the Blackwells, but honestly, Li, kinda down on their radar. They totes got showed up by the Gordons today in the gifts and prezzies department."

"Yeah, even if we'd known about the commune, I most defo did not have 'Kar getting promoted to captain in some foreign army' on my bingo card," Mona agreed. "The gryphon jumping off the canvas sounds more likely."

"What's its name now?" Lisa queried. "Zeppli?"

"Yeah, Becky said that Nanu is obsessed with Led Zeppelin, she just can't pronounce it. This bash must've given her a heart attack, then."

"She's so cute when she isn't scarin' the bejeezus outta me," Mona mused. "But she apparently thinks Mike, Kar, and Alex and Alli are gods, and who can blame her?"

"I gotta call Calgary tomorrow and confirm at the very least a long leave of absence," Janet mentioned. "And honestly, I may just get them to buy me out so I can come back home. I can fake being a ten-gallon cowgirl, but I'm a Toronto urbanite all the way."

"Yeah," Mona sighed. "I'm thinkin' about it too, leavin' the coast and comin' back. It's what feels right, y'know?"

"I wish I could," Lisa seemed to lament. "But I've gotta head back to Kuna before long. Pretty sure Donna expects me to pack up and leave tomorrow first thing. I'm not, but... it's gonna be tough, guys."

"We'll do whatever we can to make your life easier, hon," Janet cooed, rolling onto her side and hugging Lisa now, while Mona did the same. They all lay silently, waiting until Janet told the lights to go out, and then they were left with their thoughts until they drifted off to sleep.

There were so many decisions to be made, and challenges to be met.

***

Down the hall...

He was lying in his comfy bed, fingers folded on his chest and looking at the ceiling. He was just beginning to doze off when his door opened.

"Heya, your lordship," said a husky voice quietly as the silhouette of a strongly built woman came into the room. Once the door was closed, he could hear her taking off her clothes in the dark. "Thought I'd come and make sure you were warm enough overnight."

"Oh my..." Hannibal said in trepidation as Andrea climbed naked into his bed.

***

The second floor, one of the guest rooms...

"Well, count me lucky, scoring your company two nights in a row," Ashley said quietly, lying on her side and wrapped up with her guest on the bed. It was warm tonight, so they were above the covers, both naked. She had her leg slung over his trim, muscular waist, and could feel his large cock nestled against her pussy. "Your parents sure know how to make a girl feel welcome."

"Just don't tell that to Trinian," Alex said with a smirk, his face inches away from his aunt's. He had his arms wrapped around her to hold her close. He could feel her lovely tits squashed to his chest, her gooey pussy making his manhood sticky. He did her the service of not getting hard, of course, even if it took some effort. "She's just about ready to take up residence here."

"Poor Alli," the blonde woman snickered, enjoying the feeling of her distant nephew clamped to her, like they were pieces of a sexual puzzle that fit together distressingly well. She'd just enjoy the bliss of a DeBourne man's body pressed to hers. That was enough. "At least I've now found my solution for getting her home tomorrow so that I can stay."

"Yeah, TMI there on telling me that mom is gonna blow your chauffeur to make this all happen," Alex said with amusement in his voice. "I mean, I know factually about my parents and their various sexual dynamics, but to know the gory deets... yeah, innocence lost."

"Says the naughty boy fucking and marrying his aunt, his own mom's little sister," Ashley pretended to chide, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. God, she just wanted to reach down and fondle that huge cock, even for three seconds. It was almost begging her. Thank God Alex wasn't hard. Normally she might be offended; now she was just secretly relieved. But she was still getting horny as Hell. Could she really sleep through the night, wrapped up with him like this and somehow not 'mistakenly' end up impaled on that beast down below?

"Okay, guilty, not feelin' bad about it," Alex admitted cheerfully. He was enjoying holding Ashley, she was really hot. He remembered taking naked naps with her when he was little. Things had changed since then, of course. But here he was, naked in her bed again, with the intention of sleeping.

"I thought you might end up in Miss Prospero's room tonight," Ashley suggested. "I understand she's pretty fond of you."

"Maybe, but she's no doubt still pretty wound up after dealing with the Duncolms all day, so best to not keep her wound up all night," Alex pointed out. "'sides, it's nice here, Ash. If I can't be sleeping with Alexa because of Trinian the Morality Officer, this is a pretty darn cool alternative."

"Oh, is that what I am?" Ashley asked archly in what she hoped was an indignant (rather than amused) voice. "Just an alternative."

"Oh no you don't," Alex chuckled, pulling her even closer into the hug while she giggled. "We're not married, and I am under no obligation to fall for that trap by answering. Nice try, though."

"A girl's gotta have a little fun," Ashley pointed out. "Even an old aunty. How's Alexa ever gonna have fun or trap you if you're immune to those kind of tricks and wheedles?"

"Oh, she just jiggles her tits in my face and I forget about whatever I was saying and agree on the spot," Alex said with a shrug of his muscular shoulders.

"I'll just have to keep that in mind the next time I need any favours from you," Ashley purred before turning him onto his back, rolling partially on top of him and burying his face in her large tits while he laughed, pretending to struggle and protest.

***

The Master Suite, west wing...

Please don't knee me in the crotch tonight, please don't knee me in the crotch tonight... Alexa pleaded silently as she lay on the back on the titan bed. Trinian was out cold on top of her, snoring away, her limbs and hair splayed everywhere.

This bed's bigger than the whole damn Bruce Peninsula, why's she gotta be right on top of me? The blonde goddess groused inwardly. I could fit sixty Trinians on this bed and still have my own space to sleep!

She also couldn't figure out why Trinian was so comfortable like this. Alexa may have been plush in places, but her topography was hardly uniform. Her shoulders and arms were strong and graceful, as were her legs. Her tits were soft and pillowy, sure, but was being flopped on them with your whole tiny body really that suitable for sleeping? It was the same with her ass, although it was taut and muscular if she flexed her cheeks.

Wonder who Alex is sacking with tonight? she wondered, scowling. Aunt Ash again? Val? Andrea? Maybe Aunt Jen? Endless women wanted that boy inside themselves. The only one she trusted to not want him was Kar.

Okay, she was just grumpy from lack of sleep and lack of getting fucked. She didn't care one damn bit if he had sex with Ashley, Andrea, or Val, or just about any other girl. She understood exactly how devoted to her Alex was, it was in their every moment together. Petty, possessive jealousy was beneath them. Any if people didn't understand, well, who gives a damn what they think?

She was getting overwarm in these dumb pajamas, and couldn't take them off, thanks to her company and their matching pajamas. Falling asleep when you weren't naked was difficult enough, forget when you had a tiny doppelgänger of yourself crashed on top of you. It didn't seem fair.

And it had been over two days since she'd had sex of any kind. She was so damn horny!

Did she do the girl thing and make Alex pay for this, even if it wasn't his fault? Well, he was going along with the joke, because the troll in him was amused by it. At any point, he could've pulled rank and told Trinian to go fly a kite, he was taking his woman back and he was going to fu-

Her eyes opened wide and she thrashed, gasping and gagging as the sleeping Trinian almost rammed one of her little hands down Alexa's throat.

***

A dorm room, 1987...

Gllllll-peep! Gllllll-peep! Glllll-peep!

She couldn't exactly say she was pleased to hear her roomie snoring again. She could, in fact, say she was exactly not pleased to hear the sound. Lisa sounded like a dyspeptic budgie when she slept. Karen couldn't help but wonder what kind of surgery was required to fix the condition. She'd have her father pay for it, if necessary, simply for her own sanity.

She pushed the absurd noise out of her head and concentrated on the day she'd had. And while she'd never admit it to anyone, it had been far more enjoyable than it should have been. And it was simply because of DeBourne's presence. Not a moment of the day in his company did she not feel like she was lighter than air or walking on clouds. With the laughter he induced, she felt like she was floating, not bound to the earth like some mere mortal.

He'd brushed her hair again. Heaven.

Spending hours with him nude at the spa had reminded her of why women were crazy about this man. His body and features were wonderful to behold, but below the waist... how was a girl to keep her mind at the sight? She didn't want to think about how much of her courtesan training concerning composure in all circumstances had been required.

The entertainment about the Italian pastries... it made her wonder if her barone knew these trivial but absolutely essential details about his own culinary culture. Come to think of it, she'd never really tested his formal manners in a formal, multi-course dinner.

She had no doubt now that DeBourne would pass a test like that. Dinner at Barberian's had proven it.

Know what types of wine to pair with chocolate mousse...

Why had she agreed to take off her clothes and do an exotic dance at that club? Was she showing up a famous vedette? Was she dancing for an anonymous but appreciative audience?

Was she dancing for one person?

Even just the walk back to the dorms had been a type of bliss, and there was a danger in how comfortable she was around him.

Because one day, that comfort would simply not be available to her. They lived in different worlds, and hers was too ridiculous to inflict upon a man like that. No. Enjoying these moments as moments in a life well-lived was fine, even treasuring them. But to yearn for them, that was too much, and doomed to fail. She had to put aside girlish fancy and face reality. Even if she forged her own future as a brilliant scientist, men like the barone were still her obligation and future.

Silly girl. But tonight, hold onto it a little longer. Give yourself that.

She rolled on her side, holding the dress she'd worn all evening close to her chest. She could smell her scent, and it was mingled with his.

She closed her eyes and began drifting off.

His scent in my dress, on me. Like he was marking me.

Silly, silly girl.

***

Don't forget to read the stinger after these Author's Notes, folks!

Author's Notes: I'm gonna keep this brief, since the chapter is already over fifty thousand words. And sorry it's been a long time in coming. As things stand, I don't see this batshit crazy trade war hindering my ability to write, unless I suddenly need a new and better computer.

Not a lot of sex this time around, although I hope what little there was filled the bill. There was a lot of plot to get through, which is setting up so many things that are going to happen. Also, many things alluding to past events we will get around to.

I tend to be oblique about celebrities, but chances are a few of them were obvious. But those are the circles Karen and Mike run in, so I can get away with it. The funny part is how casual Alex is in talking with these famous people, often calling them 'aunt' or 'uncle'. You'll see more of that at the Naughty Housewarming in a week.

And for you zoilists and 'Um, actually...' types, yes, I'm perfectly aware that the that the 92nd Gordon Highlanders are no longer an existing regiment in the British army. Ask me if I care.

Raven's coming to live at the Manor? Who the heck is she? You'll find out very soon.

Expect to see the Tyrfel sisters and the boys of KSM around pretty much constantly. I'm enjoying them. Also, none of the boys are virgins anymore. Woo! And Jenny plans to take them to Heatherly with her June to continue their training. What could go wrong? Find out in the two new series called 'The Intimate Memoirs of Lady Jennifer Penrose', and 'Kaiju Sex Massacre'. Yes, that really is the story's name.

The Alexaverse, the Hammerverse, any associated characters, and the humble Author, do not condone children smoking, or drinking champagne. Having said that, still funny to watch.

Ec·dys·i·ast. /ekˈdēzēəst/ noun, humorous- 'to shed', hence, a striptease performer.

Val's going to be fine. Promise.

The Connors and the Dannings? What the heck is that about? Tune in to learn more!

Music credits. Plenty of them today!

The Bergamasca by Marco Uccellini, 1642. If you want to hear the version I based the quintet's performance on, go to the Tube of You and look for the channel called 'Voices of Music' and find La Bergamasca. I think you'll agree it's wonderful way to open the soiree.

Jenny singing 'Wouldn't It Be Lover-ly, of course, is from 'My Fair Lady', in this case the Audrey Hepburn version from the movie, as opposed to the Julie Andrews stage version. The exaggerated Cockney accent in the movie is much more Jenny's style, especially when you consider that she sounds like Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins in her daily speech.

'Nottingham Ale' is an old English tune from the mid-eighteenth century and shares a tune with the well-known song 'Lillibullero', which was popular at the time. The version used is that done by the Virginia Company, from their album 'Nine Points of Roguery'. Enjoy, it's quite fun!

'After The Ball', a Victorian parlour tune, can be found on the Tube of You, on the channel called 'Parlormuse'. Picure Trinian plunking away on the piano for all she's worth while ol' Alistair sings.

So even though the 92nd Gordon Highlanders no longer exist in our world, you will be happy to know they do in the Alexaverse. All three of the tunes they played are legit. The 92 nd Highland Regiment of Foot March, the song of the Lord of the Gordons, 'Cock ' the North', and the Gordon Highlanders withdrawal, 'When the Battle Is Over', can all be found on the Tube of You. Surpriiiiise!

Karen sings 'Que Reste-T-il De Nos Amours' by Charles Trenet at the restaurant, with a torch flair like no one else. Give it a listen!

I love me some Edith Piaf, so her spectacular song 'Milord' in sung by Karen near the end of dinner. Listen, it's wonderful.

'Let me Entertain You' is, of course, from the soundtrack of Gypsy, 1962. But Karen gets more naked that Natalie Wood ever did. Rejoice!

'The 'Black Bottom' is an old jazz/flapper tune, our version is by Enoch Light & The Charleston City All Stars. When the party starts, this is what Karen is dancing to with Alexa, Jenny, and Mona. This version of the old tune 'Bei mir bist du schön' courtesy of the New Orleans Jazz Band. Both can be found on the Tube of You channel 'Jazzy Feet'.

As mentioned in the story itself, 'Honey', this time performed by Roddy, is a song belonging to Rudy Vallee. A slow song that fits the theme, and time for a little Miike and Karen exposition.

*snerk!* Admit it, you're just jealous that you don't have a gryphon named 'Zeppli'...

I could explain plenty more things, but it's time to get this edited and move onto 37. Expect an avalanche of chapters quickly now, folks, because of lot of the ones due shortly have been ready for some time.

I hope the spring is treating you well.

Elbows up, Canada!

- Management

***

Blackwell Manor, the present, late at night...

She had the entire place to herself at this point, and she was walking around quietly, looking back on what a splendid day it had been. Everything had apparently gone to expectation (except for Nanu discovering what a regimental Scotsman looked like), and her dreams of the occasion exceeded.

While she could feel the delicious tiredness growing within her, she was still too wired, too excited, to be in bed. Michael had given her leave to make the rounds; he would warm the bed up for her. She'd hugged her husband, and Ramsbury, and then gone for a saunter around her home.

She walked quietly along the second floor, smirking as she passed the guest rooms, hearing the panting sounds of young people making love. Or at least having sex. Whatever kept them occupied, as long as the bishop wasn't around.

She went to the main floor and walked in and out of rooms and studies, smiling as she remembered individual moments during the festivities. The witty banter and repartee, the songs that had been sung...

Her home was once again full of music and song.

She finally found herself in the ballroom, and after the day it had, the huge space was quiet, dark, and felt almost empty. It was cool now, but she was wearing silk pajamas under a silk robe, so she was warm enough. She walked around the edges of the room, trailing her fingers over gifts she'd been given, stopping to appreciate some of them, like the letterbox, the documents about the Miranda Gordon Artists' Commune...

Zeppli...

She giggled at the name, because the picture itself was magnificent. The gryphon was regal and fierce, noble in aspect and unconquerable. It was a perfect name, in a way.

She looked at the portrait of herself, the one that would go on the wall in the Hall of Ancestors, and she had to wonder at it again. Was this how people saw her?

Was this how Michael saw her?

It felt like there was a weight on her shoulders for a moment, but then she straightened up and shrugged the perceived burden off, because it was no test. This was a statement from the man she cared about more than anything in this world, and that he saw her this way, and had gone to the lengths he had to make this portrait happen...

He was loudly proclaiming who his wife was, not his expectation of who she should be. According to her husband, the efforts put into making this happen were the stating a fact. Nothing less would do.

She could have stared for hours, analysing every single detail of the portrait, but she pulled herself loose from it and kept walking.

She smiled as she reached her harp, sitting majestically in a corner, the gold gleaming in the moonlight.

Oh, look, a new pedal, she mused as she approached the magnificent instrument. It must have been a gift, and it either failed to get announced, or she just had failed to notice. She was always in the market for a new pedal to give additional sounds and effects to her playing. And it's plugged in. That's convenient.

Since no one would hear her, she decided to give the new pedal a spin. She sat on her orchestral stool, turned on the power supply for the pedal, and rotated her neck once or twice, thinking about what to play. Seconds later, her graceful fingers came up to the strings and began to strum across them.

BrrrrrrRRRRRRRT!

Karen's eyes widened and she hastily clapped her hands over the strings to still them and stop any noise. Her eyes darted around furtively, looking at the dark room, wondering what had just happened.

Somewhat unsurely, she looked down at her strings and plucked her thumbs across a few of them.

SPBRRRBLLLLLLLLLLTHPTTHHHHTTPPPPTTTTTTHHHHHH! the harp sang wetly.

Her hands instantly silenced the offending strings again, her eyes still wide. She frowned and began picking her fingers over strings, one at a time.

Brt!

Blooph!

Prrrrrrt!

A fart pedal! Somebody had installed a damned fart pedal on her Leon & Healy?!

"Alex!" she called out, her voice conveying her outrage at this betrayal. "Alex! I know you did this child! Alex!"

She sat in the dark and huffed. This would not stand!

"Get down here, you brat!" she called again. "I have doctorates in Music Theory and Musicology! I do not deserve to be treated like this! Alex!"

Did this ruin a perfect day?

"Technically no, mom," Alex would say when she finally hunted him down. "It's well after midnight, so the following day. That means your big day wasn't ruined at all. Just the following day started off kinda weird."

"Alex!" she called again, standing up. "Get down here and let's see how technical we can be about filicide!"

Another typical day at Blackwell Manor had begun.

~fin~