The Training of Scarlet Worthy (2 page)

I ran a hot bath and I used the last of my lavender bubble bath. Easing into the old tub, I took a quick calculation of myself. My skin was that of a fair redhead, with just a touch of color from the sun. My body was now lean and fit from walking the hills of Bath in search of work.

I hardly need it, but I shaved my legs to insure that I was presentable. I closed my eyes and fantasized about walking the grounds of an old English manor. Fawn colored horses frolicked in a far meadow. The path I walked was lined with rose bushes. Perfectly manicured hedges framed the crisscross lane that meandered through the garden.

I relaxed and eased further down into the hot soothing waters. My mind drifted to a familiar and hazy image conceived during many lonely nights in my dorm room. I indulged in new episode of a favorite fantasy that I had conjured so often that the events were somehow real to me. I had difficulty separating facts from fantasy. It had stopped mattering to me.

The images began after watching an episode on the rich and famous show which featured a black basketball player living the party lifestyle in the Hollywood hills. In my heated musings he is poolside, and on his arm hung beautiful women of all races. His name is unimportant. He is tall of course, his features larger than life. His head is shaved and his chiseled body is fee of hair. He smiles easily. He speaks softly, and says very little.

I’m one of his three maids, assigned to stock the towels in the pool cabana. I call him Sir.

The warm water is buoyant, and my body is floating as if on a cloud. My fingers find my pussy and I begin to explore – I stroke. I pull. I pinch. I find my clit.

I’ll just fold these few towels. Sir like’s things neatly placed for his weekend guests - wait I hear him. He’s coming
.

Sir enters my cabana. There are no windows and its dark inside the changing room. Slivers of sunlight slip through the joints of the white linen walls allowing an occasional glimpse of his beautiful shape. My breath quickens when I see his skin. He is polished black onyx. Sparks of light flicker over his muscled frame.

Sir approaches me as always, searching for me in the dark. “Take off your uniform and come to me.”

I reached for my zipper, it runs the length of my dress from collar to hem. I hear the sound of the zipper, I feel the uniform drop about my ankles. I am naked in the dark cabana.

My skin needs his touching. Suddenly his arms encircle me and I feel like a toy doll in his grasp. I press my cheek against him. I lick his muscled chest. I’m losing control, my wicked heat is loose. Sir smells like fresh soap. I feel his lips on my forehead, his large hands cover my entire back. He squeezes me against his muscled body. His biceps flex against my arms.

Large hands and long fingers slide down my back and cup my cheeks. I’m lifted easily as I rise to kiss him. My legs are wrapped around his hips. I reach below and squeeze his ass. It’s hard, the muscles taught. I dig my fingers into his flesh. His tongue darts into my mouth, we are panting animals.

Sir sets me down on the edge of a massage table – I’m still locked in his embrace. “Do you want me baby?” He whispers.

My ankles are now out of the tub and my knees are flared against the porcelain sides. I am panting in heat. My fingers are wildly stroking my clit. My head is arched over the rim of the tub and my mouth is open and sucking in the steamy air.

Yes Sir, I need you. Fuck me Sir.
I plead.

Together, my hand and his, we grasp his polished bronze wand.

My hand barely encircles its girth. I love the feel of his aroused member, and I’m proud that I have aroused him so. We feed the hard cock toward my waiting pussy. I’m wet, and in desperate need of penetration. I pull on him. I pull on him again, this time harder and I squeeze firmly.

He snickers
.
Does baby want some cock? Speak up baby
.

Yes Sir, please Sir. I answer.

When I’m ready, that’s when you get it baby, but lucky for us it happens I’m ready - NOW!

He exhales. I feel his warm breath on my neck. Sir pushes the head of his member against my swollen pussy. I close my eyes and feel my lips splitting to accept the bulb of his rigid cock head.

Oh Sir, yes, now, make me come now. Yes Sir. It feels so good. Fuck me Sir, please fuck me – NOW!

Sir feeds the remainder of his beautiful cock deep into me. He’s so thick it hurts, I look forward to that part. Soon he begins the familiar pumping motion that always brings on my orgasmic spasms.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes.” The water is moving in gentle waves in my tub. My pussy is contracting, there are spasms clutching my finger. The words now come as whispers. I float on an orgasmic cloud, light headed, dreamy - slowly back to reality. I’m smiling. The curtain of my daydream falls on the cabana scene.

***

After an hour of daydreaming I toweled off and wrestled to best make some order with my hair. I chose the conservative white blouse and a black skirt. It’s a rather snug-fitting item for an interview, but it’s the only item I own that I feel at least somewhat attractive.
I for sure don't want to look mousy. First thing in the morning I’m going to splurge on a pair of heels. My ratty flip flops will not serve me with a Lady of a Manor.

My shopping trip was urgent, my funds low, and the selection sparse. When I returned to my hotel room, I modeled the black leather pumps. I walked back and forth in my room to insure that I was steady. I had not worn heels in what seemed like ages, but I was impressed with my rapid adaption to the new shoes.

In the mirror, I looked decent. The broadcloth tuxedo blouse worked well with my black skirt and the heels made my trim legs appear surprisingly athletic.

I pulled my red hair into a ponytail, and set the base of it with a cheerful green bow. The bow complemented my green eyes. My nose is thin, petite and my skin a creamy white. I would have applied some makeup but I had none
No matter
, I thought. I was frighteningly unskilled at its application, so it best not to experiment at this late date and with so much riding on a successful meeting.

I began thinking.
What if I don't even get a call? What if all of my preparations were for nothing?
I began to feel silly. I looked in the mirror, blushing at my lack of humility.
Who do you think you are Sybil? You have no work experience to speak of, and you’re nothing but a shy simple farm girl with a degree. What were you thinking, silly girl? You have no right feeling so confident. Shame on you....

The phone rang. The shrill sound jolted me, interrupting my self-abuse. I dashed to it, struggling to remain upright in my newly purchased heels.

"Hello?" I answered meekly. Who is it?”

"Ms. Smith, this is Arthur at the front desk. A message came for you while you were out. I’ll send it up to you with the room service attendant. May we get you anything else?"

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.
No one knew I was here. I had no friends in Bath. It must be the position....

"Yes Arthur that would be most kind." I responded, "And a pot of tea, some tea would be wonderful. Thank you."

I sat nervously waiting for the correspondence from the front desk. I looked at my watch. It was ten AM.
The mail could not have arrived this early. Settle down, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Maybe it’s bad news from the University?
My mind was spinning in gloom.

There was a rap on my door. I opened it, and the room service boy entered with my tea. I motioned toward the only table in my modest room. He placed the room service tea set on the table.

There, next to the tea set sat a silver tray that cradled a simple white envelope.
Silver, how nice, but silver, how unusual
. I thought.

His mission complete the silent boy backed out the door and closed it behind himself. I poured some tea without taking my eyes from the envelope. I seated myself and pick it off the tray as if it were an historical document. On the front, in the most precise and ornate script it read,
Miss Sybil Smith, C/O The Old Abbey Hotel, Bath Spa

I turned the envelope over, and on the back of the envelope, embossed words - Lady Julia Sweeten-Roseau, Brighten Manor and a wax seal. I brought the envelope closer to my eyes. The seal was made of red wax and pressed by heat to insure privacy.

A note made only by the eyes of the sender and directed for only those of the addressee.
I thought. I felt suddenly special, and also a bit nervous.

Imbedded in the Manor Crest was a scripted loop of a heart at the top of the crest that was connected a duplicative inverted heart looped at the bottom. The center of the crest held the initials
J S R
.

I opened the envelope slowly, careful to insure as little damage to the linen paper. The note was penned in the same exquisite scrip as that of the address:

My Dear Miss Smith,

Lady Julia is in receipt of you petition for employment as a servant to Brighten Manor, and as a personal assistant. The Lady finds your written response acceptable and worthy of an interview. Lady Sweeten-Roseau's man servant will be dispatched this day with instructions to collect you at your hotel at promptly two pm. Your return transportation will be provided.

The note was straightforward and it left little room for noncompliance with the instructions. I sipped my tea thinking.
What did you expect Sybil? Did you think that the note would warrant some gushing review?

I continued to work on the remainder of my tea while rehearsing my interview performance in my mind. I gave up assuming any presumptuous dialogue or adopting some phony persona.

Just be yourself Sybil
. I thought.
Just tell the Lady that you will do your best. No. Tell the Lady that you will do
whatever
she wants you to do. Anything, just make her happy with your service to her. You need this job.

At exactly two PM, as instructed, I waited, fidgeting nervously in the lobby of the Old Abbey Hotel.
What does it mean to be collected? Is it like someone will pick me up? Will they send a taxi for me?

I stood and began pacing. Maybe I misunderstood the note. Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. I turned and stood facing a tall slender man. A handsome man he was, fiftyish and dressed in a formal chauffeur’s uniform, his drivers cap clutched smartly under his arm.

He spoke softly. "Miss Smith?"

"Yes, I'm Sybil Smith, and you are?"

"Madison DeChain, my name is Madison. I am your driver from the Manor at Brighten. My instructions were to collect you for an appointment this afternoon with Lady Julia Sweeten-Roseau."

The tall attractive man presented a card with his name engraved on it along with the same ornate two-hearted Crest. He bowed slightly toward me. I took the card.

"Well Madison, you can call me Sybil, and if you lead the way I'll happily follow. I'm looking forward to this afternoon."

Madison smiled. The uniformed man gracefully ushered me out of the Old Hotel Abbey and into the afternoon sun. The man had a peace about him, his demeanor that of peaceful efficiency. I felt immediately at ease with him.

A black Bentley sat curbside. The limo was clearly a priceless gem of a vehicle and also neatly cleaned and polished – Madison’s handiwork I presumed. The same red crest that was engraved on Madison’s business card was painted beneath the door handles of the automobile. The vehicle was long and sleek. I estimated it to be twenty feet long. I didn't know much about cars, but this one showed the tradition of old English about it. The spare tire elaborately encased above the fender, and from the front, the grill was tall and rectangular, silver with an ornate winged
B
below the polished radiator emblem.

Madison slipped on a pair of white gloves. He opened the rear door and I slid inside the room-sized interior. I felt like I had stepped into the world of the 1920's. The floor was richly carpeted. The ceiling boasted a circular light fixture that mirrored the look of a chandelier.

The seats were dark burgundy velvet, and the seatbacks rose tall along my back, more of a couch height than that of a standard car. I sat as if I was in a raised position. Behind me, the vehicle was elongated and more square, unlike a standard tapered sedan. I presumed it was designed to carry extra luggage.

Two sets of windows spanned each side of the car and below them two matching lounges shaped more like fainting couches. I almost giggled. I looked forward, it must have been a span of nine feet from where I sat to the velvet wall that separated me from Madison.

The velvet wall descended. Now a glass window separated Madison from me. I felt very small, but I was thrilled.
This is living the good life Sybil girl
. I thought.
Do not mess this up today.

Madison eased the big auto away from the curb and easily into the Bath traffic. His voice came over an intercom. "The Estate is about thirty miles from Bath Miss. It is actually outside of town next to the small town of Twilling. You will find bottled water and other refreshments in the console behind me. Please help yourself."

I inched forward in my seat. The velvet felt exquisitely decadent on the backs of my thighs. "Can you hear me Madison?"

I was unsure if the speaker system worked two ways.

“Yes, I can hear you Miss. When the light above the glass is green the intercom is on. If it is red you will have your privacy."

"How long have you been working for the Manor?" I could see Madison's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"I've have been in service to Lady Julia for fifteen years - give or take a month or so."

"Is it a good place to work?"

"The best," Madison answered. "I have always been treated splendidly and you will see the lovely working conditions for yourself when we reach the Manor. It is quite stunning and, personally speaking, my lodgings in the stable house are better than most fine gentlemen could hope for - no, I have not a regret Miss. Not a one. It has been a privilege to serve Lady Julia."