The traffic had decreased considerably
while we were at Dad's station, and the drive across town to
Monticello Ave. did not take very long. Monticello, at one time,
had been one of the better residential streets with homes
that were built in the Victorian style. With the passing of
time, many of the original owners had either passed away leaving their
homes to their children or sold them in order to move out of the
encroaching downtown commercial areas into the
growing suburbs that were being rapidly developed. Many of the
grand old homes had been converted into apartments or rented out as
they were, but the neighborhood had slowly deteriorated from the lack
of
maintenance and the indifference of the occupants.
As I was looking for Mrs. Rowe's building, Derek was engrossed in
looking at the various homes, some of which had
been converted into offices for real estate agents, lawyers and other
businesses. One
very large one had a sign that indicated it was the offices of Rowe
and Associates, Ltd, Architectural Consultants; and I pulled to the
curb almost in front of it.
"That was lucky, Larry," Derek said, glancing at me and then looking
up at the building.
"Maybe, I'll be as lucky later," I said suggestively as I turned the
engine off.
"Don't you ever think of anything else?" he asked, turning to look at
me and sticking his tongue out but with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Only when I'm asleep," I answered, sliding across the seat and
tickling his ribs before he could open the door.
"Larry, somebody might be watching," he said, squirming and giggling as
I ran my fingers over his ribs.
"So what if they are?" I replied, winking at him and reaching
across him for the door handle.
"You are getting bolder," he said as he pushed the door open and got
out on the sidewalk.
"Because I love you, that's why," I responded as I followed him.
"Well, you don't have to let the whole world know it," he said as he
straightened his clothes and, turning to face me, very deliberately
arranged his impressive
package.
"D, we are going to see a lady," I said kidding him but
admiring the double bulge in the crotch of his tight fitting
jeans, balls on one side and cock on the other.
"Maybe we are, but it doesn't hurt to be comfortable," he said airily,
teasingly brushing his hand over his crotch before turning and
moving toward the ornate iron fence while looking up at the beautifully
restored
Victorian house. "Whoever did the restoration of the house
really did
an excellent job of it."
"This used to be one of the wealthier neighborhoods years ago," I
said attempting to discreetly adjust my swelling cock and my balls as I
caught up with him. "It went into disrepair for several
years; but, since it has been declared a historical district, several
of
the houses have
been restored and converted into offices. We furnished a lot of
the materials from Carlson's for the interior work which could be
changed, but the exteriors
had to remain original."
"It must take a lot of work and money," Derek said as we reached the
top of the steps leading up to a wide porch.
"Well..., I don't know about the outside as that work was done by
companies that specialize in historical preservation; but the material
we
furnished for the interiors
wasn't cheap," I said, reaching for the ornate brass door handle of one
of the large, heavy walnut double doors.
"Mrs. Rowe and Merrill Winters must like Victorian architecture," Derek
said as he went ahead of me into a large ante room with high ceilings,
pastel blue
walls and a thick cobalt gray carpet.
"Yeah," I said softly, looking around at the comparison as I followed
him inside.
A brass chandelier with glass chimneys hung from the center of a
rosette centered in the white ceiling. At the other end of the
room a circular stairway led up to the second floor; and, between where
we were and the stairway, a strikingly beautiful well-groomed young
lady sat behind a desk that matched the blue of the walls. She
stood as we entered and, moving around the desk toward us, said in
a soft lyrical tone, "I'm Miss Lawrence, may I help you?"
"Yes, Miss Lawrence, " Derek said as we moved toward her. "I'm
Derek Kingsley and this is Larry Marks; we have an appointment at
ten-thirty to see Mrs. Rowe."
"Yes, she is expecting you," she said, smiling demurely as she returned
to her desk, picked up the telephone receiver and pushed one of the
several
buttons on the base. "I'll let her know you
are here."
We stood admiring the paintings on the walls while she spoke into the
receiver, turning around when we heard her say, "Mrs. Rowe, Mr.
Kingsley and Mr. Marks are here to see you."
After listening for a few seconds, she smiled and said, "Yes ma'am,
they are."
Derek, and I glanced at each other, both of us raising our eyebrows
questioningly while she listened to whom we assumed was Mrs.
Rowe. After another second or two she quietly returned the
receiver to it's cradle and said, "Follow me, please; and I'll take
you to her office."
We followed as instructed, and I couldn't help but admire the slimness
of her hips and the way they swayed almost seductively as she walked in
front of us placing one well shod foot in front of the other, but I
wasn't expecting Derek to lean over and whisper in my ear, "She's a
good looking woman, isn't she?"
Surprised by his observation, I almost blurted out my response but
caught myself and, looking at him and seeing the amused twinkle in his
eyes, whispered, "Yes."
I could have sworn she overheard us, but she didn't show
any indication that she had, and I was relieved when she opened one
door of a double set which blended with the walls. She stood
back
while we entered into an obviously feminine office but with a subdued
masculine touch. The walls
were of a slightly darker hue than that of the ante room; but the
clearly expensive Persian rug was mystically patterned in a variety
of red, orange, green, and
yellow hues on a dark blue background with a gold fringe, unlike the
cobalt gray of the reception area. A casually but
tastefully
dressed mature lady
sat behind a large ornate white desk trimmed in gold and mother of
pearl inlay. There were several chairs,
upholstered in a pattern that matched the Persian rug,
seemingly scattered
lackadaisically around the room with small tables that matched her
desk. On closer inspection, it was obvious that they had been
strategically
placed in order for the office's occupant to remain behind her desk and
maintain a formal atmosphere softened somewhat by the casual placement
of the upholstered chairs. Three very large
floor to ceiling windows were draped in rich matching blue drapes, and
the walls were decorated with several landscape and ocean shoreline
paintings, and there was an architect's table with an over hanging
light
together with a tall stool in one corner behind the desk.
The greatest contrast in the room, was the jumble of documents and
magazines on the desk. Mrs. Rowe stood as we entered, moving
around the desk toward us. Just as Miss Lawrence was about to
speak, she interrupted and, looking at me, said, "You must be
Larry.
Fred described you to me, but he didn't mention this handsome young
man," she said in a smooth dulcet tone, shifting her gaze to Derek.
Before I could introduce him, he stepped forward and said, "Derek, Mrs.
Rowe, Derek Kingsley; I called you earlier."
"Ah..., yes," she replied, smiling warmly. "I recognize your
voice," she
said turning toward Miss Lawrence and saying without stopping, "Thanks,
D'Lea, would you see that we aren't disturbed, please?"
"Yes, ma'am," D'Lea replied looking at us and continuing,
"would you like for me to bring in some coffee or tea?"
"It's a little late for coffee for me, D'Lea; but maybe
our guests
would like something?" Mrs. Rowe answered, turning to look at us.
"Ice water would be fine," we answered in unison.
"Ice water it is then; bring three glasses, please, D'Lea," she said
crisply, turning toward her desk.
D'Lea left the office silently, and for a moment we both were in a bit
of a quandary as to what to do until Mrs. Rowe spoke. "Why don't you
pull a couple of those chairs up to my desk and let's get acquainted,"
she said, clearing a space on her cluttered but obviously organized
desk.
Surprisingly, the chairs were lighter than they appeared to be; and, as
we were
positioning them, D'Lea returned carrying a large silver tray
with a matching decanter and three crystal goblets. Derek was
about to offer assistance, but she deftly placed the tray on one
unobstructed corner of the desk, and after serving us she
left as silently as she had entered.
"Sometimes, I don't know she is around," Mrs. Rowe said after taking a
long drink of her water. "We've been together for several years,
and I couldn't ask for anyone better."
"She seems to be very efficient," I said, "and beautiful."
"Yes, she is," she answered, glancing at both of us and smiling softly
as she continued. "Fred tells me that you are thinking about doing some
remodeling, and he told me that you work for him, Larry."
"Yes, ma'am," I answered, setting my glass on the table that we had
drawn up to with the chairs. "My, dad and Mr. Carlson are
friends,
and Dad mentioned our wanting to remodel our apartment to him," I said,
looking over at Derek.
"Mrs. Rowe," Derek started to say when she rolled her eyes and,
leaning back in her chair, threw her hands up in the air
exclaiming, "If we are going to be working together, let's drop the
Mrs. Rowe; and you call me 'Helen', okay?"
"Yes, Ma'am," we both said.
"Good," she replied, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a drink
before continuing. "Now that we have that out of the way, what
were you about to say, Derek, when I rudely interrupted you?"
"That we have a rough sketch as to what we would like to have done," he
answered, standing up and glancing at me with a twinkle of amusement
in his eyes as he handed her the paper.
"Rough?" she said as she took the sketch and casually looked at the
front and back of the paper before grinning and saying, "Well, it is
rough; but, I've seen mansions start out as scratches on paper napkins,
and this is better than most."
"We aren't looking for a mansion, Helen, just improving our apartment,"
Derek said with a hint of amusement in his tone.
"Perhaps not," she chuckled softly, glancing at Derek before
continuing. "I'm sure it will seem like one when we've finished,"
she said,
looking intently at the sketch, and then asked, "Is this floor plan
taken from the existing structure?"
"Yes," I answered as I leaned forward. "There is a two car garage
with a small apartment, and that is what we want to remodel. The
drawing is based on a slight enlargement of the garage."
"And we would like to build a cantilevered deck off of our bedroom if
it is possible," Derek interjected.
"I see that," she said, "and it can be built; but I'll have to make an
on-site inspection for measurements, ground conditions and the
condition of the existing structure before
coming to any conclusions. I'll draw up an improved version of
what you have given me here, and we can go from there. When can I
see the property?"
"Tomorrow or whenever you want," I said looking at Derek, a feeling
of excitement welling up inside me as he added, "The sooner the
better, Helen."
"Ahh, that is what I like, young men with a purpose," she said, her
eyes shining. "Would tomorrow morning at eight o'clock be all
right? I can get the information that I'll need on my way to the
office and get started on a proposal. You will need that to
arrange financing."
"I don't think there will be any problem with financing, Helen; and
eight o'clock will be fine if I can get Larry out of bed before
then. He always finds it hard getting up early," Derek
said, grinning and glancing at me impishly as we
stood up to leave.
"Me, what about you?" I protested. "It's always hard getting you
up," I said following his play on words but a little less cavalierly
than he had.
"If you have that problem, why don't you set two alarm clocks?" She
said as she stood. "Set one for around six and the other
an hour or half hour later. I'm an early riser and I don't really
have that difficulty," Helen said, laughing as she followed us
out
into the ante-room.
"We'll be up before you get there, Helen; and it was really great
meeting you and also you, Miss Lawence," we both said, as we reached
D'Lea's
desk.
"I was my pleasure," D'Lea replied, softly as she stood, standing with
Helen as we passed.
"I'll see you boys bright and early tomorrow morning if you don't find
it too hard getting up," Helen called
out cheerfully as we opened the door.
"Maybe we will use two alarm clocks like you have suggested,
Helen. That should give us plenty of time to get ready before you
arrive," Derek said cheerfully as we looked back at them standing
together by D'Lea's desk.
"Lesbians, Larry," Derek said as I caught up with him going down the
steps. "Helen and D'Lea are lovers."
"I got that impression, too; but you almost told her we are gay," I
replied softly as we walked toward the truck.
"Why not?" He said. "She was probing and from the innuendos it
was obvious she suspected that we are."
"Whew, and you call me bold," I exclaimed as we reached the truck.
"That is not being bold, Larry," Derek answered, chuckling as he opened
the truck door. "I only followed her line answering her
suggestive innuendoes, that's all."
"You're better at it than I am," I said as I went around the truck and
opened my door.
§
"Larry," Derek said as we got back into
the truck. "Talking with Mrs. Rowe took a little longer than I
thought it would, but we have plenty of time before we have to pickup
Morgan. Could we stop by the bank? I'm broke, and I want to
see whether the checks Mr. Masters was going to have made up are
ready."
"I don't see why not," I answered glancing at my watch as I pulled
away from the curb. "We have an hour to kill."
The traffic had increased somewhat since we had started out, but it
didn't
take long before we were driving onto the Heritage Bank's parking
lot, and I was backing into an empty space.
I don't believe that I'll ever get used to a bank such as the Heritage,
but it felt good to be recognized. As we approached the
receptionist's desk, Ellen's face broke into a smile when she saw
us. "Mr. Kingsley, Mr. Marks, good to see you," she said as she
stood. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"I hope you can, Ellen," Derek said, answering her with a brilliant
smile. "We don't have an appointment with Mr. Masters, but do you
think we could
see him for just a few minutes?"
"I'm not sure, Mr. Kingsley," she answered hesitatingly as she looked
over her shoulder in the direction of Masters' office. "He has been
tied
up all morning, and I believe he may be having lunch with a client in
the Executive Dining room."
"Maybe Catherine could help us if she is available, Ellen; it is
important," Derek persisted.
"Catherine usually does not go to lunch until Mr. Masters does; so she
may be in now," she replied reaching for her phone. "Let me ring her
office."
It took only a few seconds after Ellen spoke on the phone and told us
that Catherine would be out in a few minutes that she approached us
from the direction of Masters' office. She was dressed in a
conservatively cut brown business suit with a mint green blouse and low
heeled brown pumps. Her brilliant blond hair was beautifully
coifed, and even with the buttoned up blouse, there was ample cleavage
to be seen. Smiling brilliantly, she said tersely, "Ellen
mentioned that
you
and Mr. Marks wished to see, Mr. Masters, Mr. Kingsley. He is
tied up at the moment, but I'll be happy to help you if I can."
"You may be able to help me, Catherine; Mr. Masters told me he would
have checks made up
so that I can access my account," Derek said smoothly. "Would
you know whether or not that has been
done? If it has, I'd like to pick them up and make a
withdrawal."
"I think they have," she answered curtly, turning to look at Ellen
and asking, "Would you know whether Mr. Kingsley's checks have been
finished and if they were mailed, Ellen?"
"I believe they have been finished, and they were supposed to be
mailed," Ellen answered, displaying a little
frustration. "But I don't think they have gone out yet; would
you like for me to check with the mail-room?"
"Would you, please? I'll watch the phones until you return,"
Catherine
said stiffly, watching as Ellen scurried away before turning back to us
and continuing, "I believe you mentioned making a withdrawal."
"Yes, I'd like to make a withdrawal," Derek said. "Five-hundred
dollars will be enough for
now."
"That should be no problem," Catherine replied, as she pushed a
blinking button on the console and answered an incoming call.
"Damn, D," I whispered, "that's a lot of cash to be carrying
around. Do you really need that much?"
"If we are going shopping with Morgan, there are a couple of things I
need that we can get at the same time," he answered, grinning at my
worried look.
"Okay," I said, glancing up and
seeing Ellen rapidly approaching, carrying a small manilla envelope.
Seeing that Catherine was on the telephone, she handed the package to
Derek saying, "The package had not gone out yet, Mr. Kingsley."
"Thanks, Ellen," Derek said, "I appreciate you getting it for me."
"It was my pleasure," Ellen answered nervously and was about
to say something else when Catherine interrupted.
"I see Ellen retrieved them for you; and, while you check them over
for accuracy, she can assist you with the withdrawal you wish to make,"
she said, quickly turning and giving Ellen the necessary information to
make Derek's withdrawal.
"Now then," she said, turning back to Derek and me as Ellen was filling
out the required debit draft. "If there is nothing else, I really
should be getting back with Mr. Masters."
I detected an undertone of dismissal in her voice, and I saw Derek
stiffen slightly before he replied coolly.
"Oh, I am sorry for interrupting you, Catherine. I hope we didn't
pull you away at an inopportune time," Derek said.
There was an unmistakable edge in his voice as he spoke, and, glancing
at him out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was irritated.
"Not at all," Catherine answered. "Call on me anytime," she said,
turning and moving away.
We watched her disappear though Masters'
office door, and then we heard Ellen say almost timidly," "If you will
sign here, Mr. Kingsley, I'll take care of getting your money for you."
§
After Derek signed the draft and while
Ellen was gone, he opened
the envelope and quickly scanned the four packets of checks.
Ellen returned with his money as he was sliding them back inside the
envelope, and I could see he had calmed down somewhat as he did a quick
count of
the bills,
and he thanked her for her help.
I was waiting for Derek to say something as we walked quickly to the
truck, but it surprised me when he said, "Pretentious bitch. Did
you hear the way she dismissed us, Larry, and see the way she treated
Ellen? Boy, it pisses me off
when someone acts like that for no reason other then their own
self-assumed importance."
"She didn't seem as friendly as she did the other day, but I wouldn't
let it bother me," I said as we started out of the parking lot.
"Oh, I won't, Larry; but it irked the hell out of me the way
that she spoke to us and implied that we had interrupted her," he said,
breathing in deeply.
Letting the subject drop, I concentrated on driving while Derek pulled
the checks out of the envelope and gave them a closer inspection.
When we drove
on Dad's lot, Morgan came bouncing out of the door running toward the
truck.
"Buck up, D," I said. "In a few minutes the rest of the day will
be total chaos."
Putting the envelope in the glove box,
Derek looked out the window at Morgan running toward us and said, "Oh
shit."