Chapter Ten
Mike watched as Rachel’s carry-on was scanned through the security barrier. Since he wasn’t a passenger, it was the end of the line for him. The kiss had been poignantly sweet, but with a promise of more to come. Words had been said with the same meaning, but that last kiss made them seem much more real. It had only been a few hours, but he knew that he would see her again. The hug had lasted as well and he knew that he had the memory of her regardless. She had mentioned that she wanted to consider Rochester home in order to see him more and had hinted at a change in her modeling that she didn’t care to elaborate on.
It was easy to imagine that the jet that flew overhead as he climbed back into his car was hers, though the airport hosted several hundred flights a day. It was more romantic that way, and his mood was definitely tilted far in that direction. First Eliza, then Rachel.
He still had to deal with Aimee. The easiest path would be to leave the nineteen-year-old beauty behind and to not risk what he had rebuilt with Eliza and the gorgeous young model. With the world at his fingertips, was she worth risking all of it?
She was.
That first, knee-jerk answer to his own rhetorical question survived the entire journey back to Rochester Mansion, through a slew of hypotheticals and scenarios.
He was going to have to open up to Eliza about her. He was not only going to have to tell her that he was sleeping with her step-daughter, he was going to have to admit that he was madly in love with her as well.
Suddenly, a set of clouds crossed over the sun.
Chapter Eleven
The spells in the book provided no solace. Even though he despised the thought of using magic to bring the rough edges of his perfect new life together, he had it under consideration. The house didn’t seem to be wanting to help with this one, though. There were spells for taking the magic of the house outside of its walls for a few hours at a time and there were spells for bringing people to it.
There was nothing to help ease telling your ex-wife that you were in love with her step-daughter, or even that you had been banging her and her friends for almost month.
“Go figure.” Mike sighed.
From the looks of the secret chamber, not all of the residents of Rochester Mansion had worried too much about the morality of their actions. At least it didn’t appear that Will Robinson had renovated or used the sex dungeon hidden even within the secret cavern.
Will Robinson. Perhaps it was time to take the time to do a little research. Will Robinson’s fate might be important, as were the fates of the rest of the home’s owners.
The drive to the library was uneventful, yet frustrating. Even catchy songs on the radio couldn’t keep him from repeating the couplet regarding taking his power outside of the mansion:
Grant me thy powers without
Your strength for six hours no doubts
Was it Mansion Mike, already influencing him beyond the walls of the mansion? He had felt the same emotions before, as if he wasn’t in complete control of his own mind. It was his own mind, though. Mansion Mike was part of him, just as much as the old Mike was him; it was just an influence, or even less, simply a change in himself.
The librarian was helpful and unavoidably attractive. It wasn’t that she was advertising her looks, far from it. She was wearing a conservative business suit with a modest skirt. The beauty was in her face and her eyes, somehow even amplified by the glasses.
But Mike ignored it. He simply asked his questions and was guided to the basement where the local Rochester newspaper microfilms were stored. The basement seemed fitting. The last bit of research he had been doing, for a much different reason, was in the secret area beneath the mansion’s own basement. The first few hours were futile as he wasn’t even positive about the dates. He was starting to think that the courthouse might be a better place to start narrowing down the timeframe when he finally found something. William Randall Robinson had been the last owner of the home. Considering the nature of the house and its prominence in the town, it was surprising to him that the article was so small and so succinct. It simply stated that ‘Mr. Robinson had been arrested, suspected of the disappearance of his personal trainer, Linda Sue Carmody twelve weeks prior and that the Rochester Mansion would be condemned until such time that a valid owner could be found. That had apparently not happened until a month ago when the auction had occurred.
The new information changed Mike’s research direction. Not only did he want to find information about what had eventually happened to Will Robinson and Linda Sue Carmody, he was also more and more curious about which ‘valid owner’ had authorized the auction of the mansion.
The former were questions he was able to answer while in the library. As for Will Robinson, he was convicted of murder even in the absence of a body. Enough witnesses had seen Linda Carmody enter the home and not return. Signs of struggle and physical evidence of her presence had been enough to convince a jury, though Mike found some articles hinting that Will Robinson was not a very popular person in Rochester.
As for the valid owner question, the archives were no help. The only reference he found was a small article in a real estate section discussing how Mr. Robinson was not legally entitled to the estate and that it was to be held in probate until a legitimate heir or family member was found.
Needing a break, Mike climbed the stairs, hoping to pick up a drink or something at the corner store before going back to his work. Text messages and missed calls chimed one after another from the time without service below ground.
A message from Eliza that she might drop by in the evening after discussing things with Larry and Aimee.
A message from Aimee that she might drop by after having dinner with her father and step-mother.
Mike cringed at both. Was his research into the history of Rochester Mansion just a way to distract himself from the tidal wave that apparently was about to hit him this evening? It seemed likely, but there were valid reasons for him to dig, especially since it seemed as if things hadn’t worked out so well for the last owner and a woman that he more than likely had some sort of relationship with.
The girl at the shop was young and brunette and flirty, but Mike had other things on his mind. There was a brief thought about his own self-confidence. Had he just not noticed the attentions of women when he was with Eliza or during their separation? Likely. The thought was easy to dismiss as he walked past the librarian’s desk, giving her a nod of acknowledgement before heading back to the basement.
There were no references to Linda Sue Carmody before her disappearance, just the brief mention in the article about Will Robinson’s arrest and then a memorial obituary a year or so later saying she would be missed.
Mike skimmed forward to the most recent reference pointing to Rochester Mansion’s former owner. He had been injured in a prison riot along with a number of other detainees and had several additional charges levied against him. The article was dated roughly a year prior as Mike verified by checking his phone. Sounds across the cubicle wall from him told him he was no longer alone in the basement, but he pored through the article, hoping for any other reference. Should he go to visit this Will Robinson in prison? What the hell would he say? By the way, found your secret magical sex dungeon in the basement?
It would be about as awkward as the conversation he was already dreading that was apparently going to be on the docket that evening.
Awkward like the touch of fingers on the front of his pants?
Mike scooted backwards in his chair but the librarian followed along with him on her knees, managing to open the front of his jeans even before he could say anything. As shocking as it was, the object of her affection was already responding to her desperate touch.
“I, uh…” Mike stammered. There’s the old Mike, he thought.
“Please? I don’t normally…”
Mike was speechless and the librarian obviously took his non-objection as a sign that she didn’t need to further explain herself. Within
seconds, his rising cock was in her hands and quickly engulfed by her mouth.
The spell.
Mike thought about the spell as he felt his cock growing exponentially in the pretty librarian’s mouth. Her lips clamped down hard and he could feel her cheeks hollow out against the contours of his shaft as she increased the pressure. Was he completely wrong about needing to evoke the spells by saying them out loud? If so, what did that mean for his relationship with Eliza? Was that magically influenced as well? He couldn’t trace anything back to what had happened with Rachel, but how was he supposed to be sure?
As he looked down after coming out of his thoughts, he found his hands clasped to the side of the librarian’s head, giving her guidance for details such as speed and depth, pushing her down a bit more on some strokes than others as her lips slid up and down the length of his cock with enough pressure to cause a white line of circulation change that quickly filled back up with blood.
“Shit.” Mike whispered, looking around as if fully expecting there to be an audience of library-goers surrounding them. The basement was deserted. “That’s fucking outstanding.”
The librarian looked up at him, flashing soft brown eyes through the glare of her lenses, reflecting the fluorescent bulbs above. The face seemed to smile, even without the benefit of a mouth to display the emotion. His shaft disappeared in and out from between pale pink lips as her enthusiasm for the blowjob seemed to increase as it continued.
Footsteps coming down the stairs seemed to only concern Mike as the librarian continued to worship his cock. He started scooting his chair back in, watching as she shuffled back to meet it, but not before he shoved his cock down the back of her throat, making her gag fiercely. It seemed as if she thought that was what would pleasure him the most as she attempted to deep throat him on each successive stroke after that. He wasn’t about to complain about it, though.
The power of the house was following him, though. That was certain. With Rachel, he had been filling her tight little body with his cum within minutes and though he was enjoying the blowjob immensely, it had not yet brought him close to orgasm.
Mike scooted in further as the newcomer to the basement appeared around the side of the cubicle. Could she see what was going on beneath the desk? The thought of it distracted him from the fact that she was the girl from the convenience store; but just for a moment.
“Hey, did I not give you the right…”
The curly-haired brunette kissed him suddenly.
“…amount?”
“I just wanted to serve you.” She whispered, tugging at the hem of her short, flowing dress as she kissed him again. “Master.”
“Of course you do.” Mike said, or was it Mansion Mike? Did either one of them care?
With a quick turn of the new beauty’s hips, mike had her up against the desk, then on it, without the hot librarian skipping a beat on his aching shaft. The lusty clerk had already flipped her skirt up over her hips as she propped her feet on the desk, revealing the fact that she either hadn’t worn panties that morning or had abandoned them somewhere; perhaps on the stairs leading down to the library’s basement.
Mike was entranced, though. She was perfectly shaved and his fingers verified the fact for his eyes, stroking the silken skin of her labia as she scooted forward a bit on the table. She lifted her hips a bit as Mike’s hands then slid under the rounded curve of her ass, lifting her up off the table as she struggled to support herself with her arms behind her. He lifted that pussy to his mouth like he was about to drink from a bowl, smelling her scent a moment before driving his tongue into her offered body.
By the time he drove the clerk to orgasm, his cum was pulsing down the librarian’s throat. He felt her swallow over and over again with the magically increased size of his load. The woman in his hands bucked and squeaked, trying to keep her voice down as the film reader lay on its end in the corner of the oversized cubicle. The mouth working his cock never ceased, milking him until he was almost overwhelmed by the sensation. A minute later, the lips disappeared and he heard fleeting footsteps ascending the stairs. He was alone with the clerk, and thanks to the magic of Rochester Mansion, his cock was still hard as a rock.
The chair clattered back against the wall, tumbling over as Mike stood up rapidly, his cock immediately finding a home in the quivering wetness of the clerk’s primed pussy.
Faye.
It struck him as odd that he hadn’t noticed her name there on her nametag until his cock was buried inside of her and her hands were draped around his neck. He started pounding in and out of her young and nubile body. Was this magic and was it even real, or was it something else? The experience with the librarian had been out of the ordinary enough, this just reduced all chances that it was some sort of serendipitous coincidence. All he knew was that it wasn’t his intention.
He wasn’t stopping it, though, and he knew that was on him. As he continued slamming into Faye’s eager and willing body, he decided that paying Will Robinson a visit was definitely in his future. If not, he could likely end up visiting him from the other side of the glass.
Chapter Twelve
Mike peered out the window, looking out over Rochester, and more importantly, on the long drive leading up to the house. He had finished his research at the library, though he hesitated to call the last hour he had spent there ‘research.’ As he had slumped in his chair, spent from his exertions after the store clerk had hurried back to her post, he had managed to look up visitation procedures at the state prison down the road.
He just had to have permission from the inmate to visit and be added to the list. For a small fee, he had used the prison’s email system to send a message to Will Robinson.
Interested in speaking with you regarding renovations.
Mike attached a selfie of him standing in front of the now perfectly restored grand staircase, the bulbs in the chandeliers providing the perfect lighting for the shot. He wasn’t expecting a quick response, but he was definitely expecting one to be forthcoming.
As the sun finally started to go down over the horizon, dusk settled in, creeping backwards from behind the house and across the sprawling city below until it touched the spot where the sun was last seen. A moment after his eyes followed that disappearance, a new set of lights blazed up at the house.
The headlights climbed the hill, doing the double switchback required to reach the final bit of the driveway. It wasn’t until that last stretch of grass-webbed asphalt that Mike could determine the owner of the car.
Eliza.
Mike hadn’t really had a preference, in fact. No matter which one arrived first, it was the combination of the two that would make the situation volatile like combining elements to make nitroglycerin.
He deadbolted the front door to make sure she didn’t use it before going out through the kitchen door and winding his way through the garden, where early green shoots of tomato plants he hadn’t sown were winding their way up freshly installed trellises. Coming around to the front porch, Mike watched as the car pulled into the drive, walking down to the curb to meet Eliza as she arrived. A kiss, a walk up to the house and perhaps the opportunity for a stiff drink before Aimee arrived a bit later.
Fate, or the Rochester Mansion had other ideas.
Before the driver’s side door on the other side of the car opened, the passenger door opened.
In a seeming tease of Mike’s already tired brain, the dome light seemed to flicker for a moment before fully coming on and illuminating a shock of curly red hair and the biggest, smirkiest smile he’d ever seen on his young lover’s face.
“My idea to carpool.” Eliza said from over the top of the car as she stepped out. “We figured since we were both headed this way, it would save gas.”
“You know me; always about the environment.” Mike said, struggling not to choke on his words.
Chapter Thirteen
“Honestly, I never meant it to come to anything remotely like this.”
The blonde
followed him down the dark steps, the flashlight in her hand causing a beam that danced ahead of the two of them with his own.
“There’s some sort of magic in the house, and I’m pretty sure it starts from down here. I only found this stairwell after I cut the crap out of my leg working on the staircase. There was a piece of broken bannister sticking out and it turns out if was from the stairs when they hinge up.”
Rochester Mansion- The Complete Series Page 10
