Chapter One – The Dean Sends Me to Suddenly Wealthy Claire
Toward the end of my second year of architecture study, my senior professor and mentor, who was also the Dean, called me into his office.
“Elliot, I have an interesting summer job opportunity for you. A dear friend, who has inherited a lot of money, needs an architecture apprentice to help design and flesh out a personal residence in the hills of Marin. I have no idea what this will do for your future as an architect, but she is a brilliant and interesting person, to say the least.”
He went on, “There are special aspects of the job. You will live on the land with her, and perhaps other helpers. She keeps horses, and if you like riding, there apparently are good trails. She asked me what a fair wage would be, and I said half of next year’s tuition, since we are so stingy with scholarship dollars.”
Doing quick arithmetic in my head, I said, “Professor Collins, that is a stunningly high salary, what did she say?”
“She said I was a terrible thief, but if you were the best student I had, she would pay it.”
“I suppose she deserves a proper interview?”
“Yes, of course. She was working in Sacramento as a legislative analyst when the rich aunt died. But now has a place in Woodacre, which is just west of San Rafael. The property is a gorgeous chunk of undeveloped land off upper Lucas Valley Road.”
“Thank you for the introduction. I’ll ring her for a convenient time.”
“Elliot, she is single, but has a fearsome reputation as a feminist liberal who goes both ways. I originally met her through my wife. They were roommates at Berkeley.”
“I should call Joyce for more advice?”
“Don’t do it. She loves to chew up my students, especially if they are as big and handsome as you are.”
Claire Cartright had a pleasant modulated voice on the phone, and sounded genuinely interested in a meeting. “Don’t call it an interview, Elliot. Come Saturday morning as early as you can manage, and we will dive right in. By lunchtime, we will know if our chemistry works.”
“Yes, Ma’am, that would be fine.”
“And don’t call me Ma’am. It’s Claire, unless we are in a bar in Sacramento, where it is any number of nasty tags.”
By Friday morning, my finals were done and I did a little digging in front about Marin zoning rules, which were generally hostile to development. Utility access wasn’t much better.
That afternoon, my cell chimed and it was Claire. “Are you by chance a runner?”
“I ran track in high school, but now am just recreational.”
“Sounds good. Get yourself up and over here by seven. We will have a run and talk about the summer project.”
“Sounds fun. I’ve never been out in your part of the world. By the way, have you made any progress on permits so far?”
“Ha! Why do you think I called your professor? You are the golden haired architect from Berkeley who is going to solve all my problems.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Elliot, I have a flogger in my closet and will use it if I hear that word again.”
I hesitated, and said, “Claire, darling, I promise never to use that word in your presence again.” Click.
That might get me fired before I started, but it felt good to push back a bit.
Summer fog was on the Bay, but it was clear in Woodacre, which seemed mostly to be a collection of funky redwood shacks. A woman who had to be Claire was in front of her building in running clothes when my ancient Porsche 914 drove up. She pointed to a parking place and I got out.
“You have no business driving my favorite sports car. I finally could afford one two years out of school. Drove it into the ground and moved up to a 911.”
We set off at a brisk pace on woodsy back roads. I had a feeling that everything about Claire was going to be brisk. In the first ten minutes, more than a little out of breath, we exchanged the usual family background. Not needing to dwell on those details, I moved the conversation to the project for me.
“What led you to property here in Marin?”
“My aunt Catherine was a librarian and a single woman. She admired my in your face feminism and we spent time together. She loved trains and we rode Amtrak every summer. Her fortune arrived from her grandfather when she was thirty, but she never said a word to anyone about it. It was a complete surprise when her lawyer called after her death and said I was the residual beneficiary and the amount would be greater than fifty million.”
“But why Marin?”
She frowned, “I’m getting to that. For the princely sum I am paying, you will listen to my ranting patiently.”
She looked sidewise at me with a grin. A pixie grin trying to get a rise out of me.
“You are going to have to give me a little time to adjust to your brand of feminism.”
The frown returned and she upped the pace. “I can see you are going to be trouble. Perhaps the kind of trouble I need. I’ll be honest with you, the bequest from my aunt is allowing me to do something about Claire as well as build a house. I shouldn’t say this, but I can already tell that you are going to be part of the remodeling of Claire. Is there a woman in your life?”
We were at the top of a hill and she stopped. “This is far enough. You haven’t answered my question.”
She grabbed my hand with hers and twisted. “Answer.”
“There isn’t a yes or no to that question.”
“Damn, I might have known. Give me the short version.”
“I have some good friends in architecture school. Good enough to share my bed once in a while. But we are working too hard and are too ambitious for our careers to let romance get in the way.”
She was speeding up downhill. “You are going to wreck your knees that way. Let’s take it easy and keep talking.”
Her look was half frown and half grin. “You know how to push back. I like that. I’m thinking we are going to get along ok on this project.”
Her building was more or less a one bedroom in bad shape. “I don’t have to worry about money anymore, so just bought this outright. Reminds me of being poor when I was a student. Take your shower while I whip up some breakfast.”
I came back in a tee and jeans, ready to help. “If you don’t mind a smelly client, we can take these eggs over by the window and have them while they are hot.”
“Sweaty women turn me on. Is there a man in your life?”
“Tit for tat, is it?”
“Well…”
“My last year at Berkeley, I had the hots for a brilliant guy who was doing Poli Sci and headed for glory as a politician. Somewhere along the line, I realized he saw me as the perfect woman to be at his side. I got drunk and dumped him.”
“And I suppose an overly bright woman like you is surrounded by too many lowlifes in Sacramento?”
This time, the look was curious. “I’ve already said too much, haven’t I? I see your wheels turning about my remodeling crack.”
I drew her up and into the middle of the carpet. “You take any self-defense?”
“Karate. I’m pretty good at it.” I smiled and gave her a quick slap to the head. I got a quick kick to my shins back. Over the next ten minutes, we battled back and forth, giving and taking some good blows. Finally, with a snarl of impatience, she took me down and flopped on my chest. She smelled great and I sniffed a time or two.
“Outrageous beast. No sniffing!” She leaned down for a long kiss that started easy and ended up hard.
“Damn.”
“Damn?”
“Why did you start a fight with me?”
“There was too much noise in the system. I needed to clear the air between us.”
“Fuck.” Her head rested on my shoulder.
“We can arrange that if you wish.”
“I thought architects were taught not to fuck the clients?”
“Yes, we are. But you are special. I wouldn’t mind getting it on with you. Smart, athletic, pretty, and rich. Very rich.”
She used a fist to pound on my chest. “We haven’t known each other for two hours, and you are trying to get into my pants?”
“I think you suggested it first.”
She rolled to her back, eyes closed. Her hand snaked around until it found mine. “I want you, but can’t decide whether it is now or later.”
“Since you raised the idea, you get to decide.”
She got off the floor and pulled me up. “Thank you for that. Let’s shower.”
We were enjoying each other’s soapy bodies too much for talk. I didn’t mind a second shower and nibbled on her ear from the backside. My fingers probed between her legs. I had a suspicion she hadn’t had a guy after her for a while. At least a guy she might want to go to bed with. I slid two fingers inside, where they instantly got clenched and my shoulder muscle got bitten.
“Now,” she finally said. I didn’t wait to see if she meant in her bed now, or in her shower now. One hand pressed her to the tile and the other spread her cheeks. My cock went in hard and fast. She was used to calling the shots, but Elliot was a different kind of guy. I thought of Professor Collins’ advice and thrust harder. If she was bi-sexual, I wasn’t, and needed to make that clear.
She pushed me away and turned around, “That’s a wonderful cock, but I want it later. Will you do that for your new client? The one you aren’t supposed to fuck?”
Her eyes were soft and the face vulnerable. The dominance contest was over. I didn’t want to be a winner and kissed the tears away. We sat on the edge of her bed, dripping and pressed tightly together. After a minute, I lay her back and found towels.
I was working on her hair when she mumbled, “This is a terrible way to start a relationship. I thought you were supposed to be professional?”
“Be quiet. I am professionally massaging you to remove the stored up tension. When I discover the client is all messed up, some foreplay is necessary.”
She giggled and tried to swat me. I pushed her head down and kept massaging her back and into the hamstrings. She had good solid muscles but very tight. If I worked on them every day, her running would improve.
“Why is this body so fit? Doesn’t match my image of a legislative analyst.”
“You are doing incredible things to me. May I hire you separately as a trainer?”
“No. Sorry. Comes with the package. You are paying too much already to the starving architecture student.”
I was down to her feet, working every bone and taking toes randomly into my mouth. She was twitching. I figured that meant she was still horny and needing a cock. If I made her wait, my home cooked dinner was at risk. The sleepover too.
I made a circle of my arms and legs and arranged her in it. Her breasts fit naturally into my hands. A series of low happy noises came forth. I obviously had the lead, for the moment at least.
“We are actually going to do client work, and then I am taking you to dinner. Strictly professional.”
She turned around, pressing my erect cock down with her pubic bone. “You do not make all the decisions. After your professional dinner, we are coming back here and exploring unprofessional behavior.”
We were still hungry and she prepared a snack while I dug into the project files, which were on a card table in a corner of the living room. The parcel of land was magnificent. So was the price, three million. Thirty acres, part of it open grassland, the rest a grove of trees sloping upward to the west. I thought of all the architects who would drool at the chance to design for Claire.
She came to the table with a sandwich plate and a glass of fizzy hard cider. My arm around her waist, I asked, “Are you going to engage an architect?”
“Your professor said I should decide that after working with you for a week or two.”
My heart sank. I would fail the test and be banished. “My final exams were nothing compared to your decision.”
“Don’t be silly. I can already tell you have enough talent to meet my needs. Many talents, in fact.”
My arm tightened as she leaned down for a kiss. I groaned.
“What’s that about?”
I pulled her to my lap. “I thought we were having this nice easygoing relationship and you have ruined it. Designing a house for this property is the biggest challenge of my young life. I will be frozen with fear.”
She laughed and pulled my hair. “It’s already fun working with you. I’ll bet that thing between your legs isn’t the least bit frozen tonight.”
Chapter 2 – Elliot is Challenged
I was driving across the Richmond-San Rafael bridge back to Berkeley. I was in a daze, which was not helped by brilliant early morning sun blasting straight into my eyes. My whole world had been upended in two days. A job, a design commission, and the most amazing sex of my young life. Even better, a female friend to share life with.
I was desperate to get back to my drawing board, where a whole term’s grade in my design course depended on finishing and submitting the project drawings by tomorrow. How my scrambled brain could concentrate was another question.
Somehow, the quality of my initial work drew me into the final steps on the drawings. My pen and pencil flew across the paper. The drawing template behaved, instead of giving me the wrong curve. My big fingers didn’t massacre the tiny notes at the bottom. I was almost finished at ten pm when the phone rang.
“Are you finished?”
“Almost. Two or three more hours and I am there.”
“An all-nighter. I remember those. The reason I called is that I need to be in Piedmont tomorrow for lunch with school friends. What if we meet up after?”
“What about dinner and a sleepover?”
“I thought you would never ask!”
“Claire…”
“Don’t say it. Save the mush for later. I’ll ask my friends for the latest in restaurants and text you.”
Filling in details here and there on the sheets allowed me to think about relocating my existence to Woodacre. Claire hadn’t said anything about living on the property. Or the horses Prof Collins had mentioned. If they needed a barn, that could go up first, with small living quarters above for a groom eventually, but the two of us for now.
I would need a workroom for my drawing table, computer, printer and other stuff. Maybe buy new over there rather than trucking my own stuff across the Bay. I looked down at my work. It was 3 am and my body was worn down. If I got up at nine, that was plenty of time to wrap it up and walk to the department offices to turn in.
I was walking up the steps to the department secretary’s office at eleven when George Collins emerged, coming down to me. “You had a good weekend?”
“The best. Thank you…”
He interrupted, “She talked to Joyce. Seems you made a big impression. A good impression. Joyce said that Claire is impressed with your mind and with your body.”
“Well…”
“Don’t try to explain. I told you she was unusual.”
“About the commission for the house…”
“She told you what I said?”
“She kicked me to the floor with a karate move and said I was already hired. I’m scared to death.”
“And I am jealous up to here.”
“May I call for advice?”
“Yes, but the core of the design has to be all you. And don’t try the Wright technique of ignoring the client.”
“I understand, I think. We have already established a certain rapport…”
“That’s what Joyce said. Capitalize on all that emotion. Squeeze out of her the dream house she wants, and season it with yourself.”
He walked away with a smile on his face, so I guessed I wasn’t in too much trouble for bedding the client before pencil was ever put to paper.
I turned in the course package with a sigh to Dorothy, the department’s academic secretary. She always had a smile for her students. “Elliot, why is it that all of you sigh when you turn in your work?”
It was a joke. She had shepherded budding architects for two decades and knew all their ups and downs.
I grabbed a taco and a soda from the trailer out front and hurried back to my tiny apartment, which needed drastic attention before a rich client entered it. At four pm, the apartment was clean and I was very dirty and smelled of ammonia. My phone chimed with a text. “Chez Lulu at six. Directions on Google.”
I rushed out for breakfast materials, and the right refreshments for entertaining a lady. No hot tub available. Didn’t that have to be part of the first construction? What about a wood burner up in those oaks? I was horny all over again. Claire in my lousy student bed. I took a shower and felt weak in the knees. Better not be weak in that other place, I told myself. The memories of a few nights ago were vivid. She wanted to be in charge and I let her, mostly. Crouched over me, ass in my face, she applied her mouth diligently to my big cock. There were many complaints until I drove my tongue straight into her puckered hole.
“Ahhh, I didn’t say you could do that!”
Two fingers into a very wet pussy produced more moans that sounded like “No, no, no,” but didn’t mean it.
She was about to come and her technique on my cock faltered, “Oh, Elliot.”
I switched us around to missionary and drove hard. That was all it took. We came together, shuddering and making all those noises of climax.
Enough daydreaming, I told myself. Treat her properly. I wondered if she was bothered by the age difference. She was thirty-six and I was twenty-three. Thirteen years. I could have some fun with that if she didn’t get upset.
There was time before dinner, so I took some notes on the house design. I was responsible for knowing all the relevant themes. Vertical, horizontal, and good designs of both types. Also outliers with unusual, even comic, features. Also, as we would be reminded endlessly in the permit approval process, anything in Marin, especially back where the land was still mostly open, needed to respect nature. I wondered if I had the patience to sit through multiple harangues about respect. Some of the speakers would no doubt like the sound of their voice. Others would propose restrictions so onerous they were essentially trying to deny a permit. There was already a large adjoining land preserve. I smiled to myself. This was a good subject for pillow talk, while she was in a good mood. I suddenly realized that Claire had been years in the Sacramento legislative grinder, and knew all about devious and loquacious opponents. “Put on your game face,” I envisioned telling her.
I got to Lulu’s right at six. Claire was there, and so was another couple. I was introduced to Marc Valenti and his wife Sharon, who had gone to school with Claire. The waiter was there for a drink order and we went around. The women both wanted martinis. Marc had scotch on the rocks. I took a white wine. Said to myself a clear head was needed for sleepovers.
It turned out that Marc was an architect who mostly did residences for well off people in the Berkeley and Oakland hills. As the meal progressed and the scotch went to work, his pompous self emerged. Claire carefully explained that I was going to be her summer assistant in some planning for real estate acquisitions in Marin. It quickly became clear that Marc would like some of the action. I saw how well Claire handled him, deflecting the worst comments with questions on another subject. Sharon shared a few stories from her kids and otherwise was quiet as Marc monopolized the conversation. I saw her wince at his comments once or twice, which Claire picked up on. We skipped dessert and Claire made an excuse that she and I had an evening date with my professor and his wife. She also insisted on paying. For all his talk, Marc did not step up to the challenge of saying the bill was his.
Walking to my car, before I could say it, Claire poked me and said, “First class prick. I don’t know why she stays married to him. Probably, for all that talk, he doesn’t make much money.”
I poked her back. “He is counting on your commissions.”
“In a pig’s eye! I hope you have something to drink at your apartment.”
There was still a slight ammonia smell as we entered my abode. “You cheated and cleaned up!”
“I don’t often entertain high class ladies such as yourself.”
Instead of taking a seat on my lonely sofa, she knocked me into it and sat on my chest. “I was counting on reliving my slovenly coed days. Dirty underwear in the corners. Mold in the refrigerator. Black fungus in the shower…”
I rolled us tight and kissed her. She breathed alcohol fumes into my mouth. “I hope you are rejuvenated from the weekend. I am feeling cranky and need a good fuck.”
I caught on to the age difference. Those thirteen years had exposed her to a lot more adult humanity than I had seen. Including objectionable types you needed to put up with for the sake of your employment.
Saying nothing, I put her over my shoulder with a whack or two, and sauntered to the tiny bedroom with the freshly made twin bed.
“I’m not getting in that clean bed until we have been through the shower. You can wash Marc Valenti off me.” Her voice had an alcoholic rasp to it that I had heard from my parents after parties.
If she was feeling rough, then I had some rough to go with hers, leftover from the tension of my school project completion. I soaped us up, pinching her here and there. “Don’t let him get to you. Think about ways to rescue Sharon. Punch me a few times. Tell me I’m going to be a better architect than he is.”
“Dammit, Elliot, you’re right. I don’t have to put up with misogynist shit anymore!” She cried and pounded on me, but was laughing by the time I tossed her into my bed. I disappeared to fill two glasses with the expensive sauterne I had bought for the occasion.
She was sitting up and smiling. I handed her a glass and raised a toast. “To Claire, who is in top form. You handled him like a champ.”
“Get in here and stop being so nice to me. She reached to grab my half hard item and missed. I joined her, hip to hip, and kissed her cheek. “We sort of have fun together, don’t we?”
She put the wine down and climbed into my lap, fingers circling my cock. “I am going to tell you a secret that you must promise not to use against me.”
“Scout’s honor.” My fingers tweaked a stiff nipple.
“I have never met a guy like you and I have never in my life had sex as good as ours. I really like the remodeling you are doing!”
I pulled the sheet over us and slid down in the bed.
In the bright morning, I woke in her arms. Her eyes were just open too.
“Do you really have exams today?”
“No, I’m done for the year. We don’t have to rush anywhere unless you do.”
My hardness was caught between us. She reached down and found a home for him inside. “Sorry I was such a klutz last night. I don’t usually have a second drink but Marc was being impossible.”
“I thought boozy Claire was fine. You had your gloves off. Taking it out on Elliot. Architects have a hard time with remodels. Usually have to fight with clients over bad ideas.” I kissed her face and fought with a tongue.
“You promise to eliminate bad ideas from my project?” She was on her back, kicking my ass and humping fiercely.
She came with a wail and I grabbed us upright and headed to the shower again.
Full of my stuff, she hopped around under the sluicing hot water, laughing and swatting my head.
“Are we going to live on the property? Collins said you had horses.”
I sat her at the kitchen table and made coffee. She stared at me. “I don’t suppose you know how to ride a horse.”
“I suppose that when you poke your head up from bed in the new house, the view must be of pasture with your horses in it.”
“You are getting inside my head. That goes along with getting inside my cunt?”
I handed her a steaming mug. “I am learning more about client relations every day.”
“That bed you are talking about has to have you in it.”
I sat next to her. “Hold that thought. It may be years before we get a permit. But what about filing for a horse ranch operation? Marinites love horses. We could put up attractive fences, and maybe get a single wide for a groom.”
“Two singlewides. One for the groom, and one for the property custodians. A couple with mismatched ages.”
“I wondered when you were going to bring that up. Is it a problem?”
“Only if we make it one. You are the young buck who has an old woman after you.”
“In one minute you are going over my knee. You are forbidden to think about, or speak about, being older than I am. What if we celebrate thirtieth birthdays together?
She leaned into me with a laugh. “You are going to scrape me down to thirty? Ha.”
“I’m going to take you in that bed again before we go.”
“I dare you.”
My arm tightened around her waist. “What about brunch at your redwood shack? We can tidy up here and go.”
We walked to my bedroom. I picked underwear from the floor and handed it to her. She handed the briefs back, “Please hold these for me.”
She leaned over but found herself flying through the air, with me close behind. I was buried deep in an instant. Deep in a warm juicy place that was happy to have me.
My voice was harsh. “I’ve decided to give up this apartment. You are the last woman to be loved in this bed! Now fuck!”
She howled and twisted. I thrust and pinched her boob. But the macho male lost his drive and turned us over. She collapsed on my chest, “I’m falling in love with you, Elliot. I don’t know why.”
I was hard as ever, giving her little pushes. “Yes. It is the same for me. Doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t have to. Just love me…”
Chapter Three – Working for a Demanding Client
After several days as resident apprentice architect and livein boyfriend, I was still seeing stars. Claire brought me down to earth several times a day with vicious kicks and slaps. My hand was successful in tripping her into my arms on the floor, after which she usually required sex.
“Lover, your apprentice is not getting enough work done.”
“Be quiet. The client is always right, and we are doing this my way. Would you like to go to Colusa with me this weekend? A friend from school has the horses boarding on her ranch up there.”
We were kissing gently. She did not look like a tough client. She looked like a coed that I was desperate to attract into a relationship. “I’m along so you can watch the horse throw me off?”
She had us on our feet, elbows working. “What if we make another pass at county planning?”
I kissed under her ear. “What about the joint birthday do? Should we rent a place at Sea Ranch and have a party?”
“Elliot, you are truly getting to me. I thought that was just a dumb idea, but now it sounds better. I do have friends to invite. What about you?”
“My divorced aunt would love any invitation to the coast. She will show up with a male in tow.”
I sat us down at my drafting table. “We have to get some things cleared up with the county. Being around you makes me dizzy, but they were after me yesterday about whether we are filing for a commercial horse ranch operation, or just a residential horse ranch.”
“Let’s not go to the county today. We can talk about this on the way to Colusa. My friend will be happy we are coming early.”
The ranch lady was named Elisa and gave me a big hug. “You are the new man in Claire’s life! My gosh, look at you. What a hunk!”
Claire had my hair firmly in her hand. “He does architecture too. We are here so that he can absorb horse culture from you and use it in the design of my new house.”
Her direct blue eyes drilled me. “Do you ride?”
“Um, sort of.”
The two of them had a giggling fit while I turned red. “Do you have to rub it in?”
They each took an arm. “You get Annie. If you can’t ride the gentlest horse in California, we are sending you back to Berkeley!”
I thought to myself that if they wanted a tease contest, I had some weapons of my own. For now, I would play a waiting game. What was in Elise’s love life? Was that trim cowgirl figure attackable?
“I am ready to be your humble student. I am here to learn.” I didn’t add that I was being well paid for learning.
Things got better. They were actually gentle, leading me through the routine of saddling a horse. Most of the hazard, they pointed out, was from ornery beasts trying to avoid being ridden. “Annie likes getting out on the trails. She will like that you aren’t some fat dude, busting her back.”
Both of them had favorite geldings that tried tricks and got nowhere. Their voices commanded equine respect. “Knock it off, beast, or you will regret it.”
The day was superlative. Puffy clouds and temperatures in the Seventies. After an hour of kind treatment by Annie, I was feeling better. We had ambled, trotted, and even galloped a bit.
Elise reined her horse close to mine. “I suppose you’ve learned all there is to learn?”
This was clearly a trap. “Elise, I’m still a greenhorn. How many weeks will it take to turn me into a horseman?”
She laughed loudly, “Claire, you’ve brought me a sly dog. Must have designs on my body already.”
Now Claire was laughing, “Roomie, you are as bad as ever. I’m going to tell him you are dangerous and go both ways.”
Feeling bold, I reached across and pulled the hostess onto my saddle, with a firm arm around her front.
“Help! This is not authorized!”
I bit softly into the shoulder muscle in front of me, a hand rising to cover her boobs. “Relax, woman. This is just a friendly afternoon ride, isn’t it?”
She sagged back into my chest. “You are fresh, terribly fresh. And strong. Maybe you should stick around after I send Claire home.”
Claire was staring daggers. “He is an employed architect and not your ranchhand, even if he is acting like one.”
I realized I was caught in a giant female tease. Claire had decided her college roommate without a boyfriend needed male attention. The strong feisty woman sitting in my saddle was not giving in easily. We didn’t know each other but were learning fast. She twisted to get an arm free, but I pinched a boob tip hard.
“Oww! Not permitted, you beast!”
“Subside, or you are going over my knee!”
We fought quietly all the way back, getting hotter and hotter. I kissed her on the lips and she kissed back. “Stupid oaf, attacking me in the saddle. Poor Annie.”
By now, her gingham cowgirl shirt was undone, and the black bra unhooked. She was firmly tethered to me by architect hands cupping her fine plump breasts. Claire was a few feet away, holding the reins of both their horses and laughing hard. I winked at her and said, “Feisty cowgirls can get taken right in the saddle!”
Elise screeched, “Don’t you dare!” She sagged back against my chest and I wondered if maybe saddle sex was in our future.
By the time we returned to the barn, she was full of soft noises and wet kisses. “Are you really going to make love to both of us?”
“Sounds like a good idea. I like the hospitality at this ranch!”
There was a concrete pad with a shower head off the side of the porch. The women handed me items of clothing until they were bare and soaping each other. Claire said, “Put those down carefully and join us.” She was using her firm client voice and smiled at me. I smiled back and did as the client ordered.
Sliding on two soapy bodies, I reflected on my good fortune. Two tigerish females about to share me. And I them. Maybe now, maybe later. I made sure to attack both sets of fine tits, making low growling noises.
“You’ve allowed the studly ranchhand into your shower and will suffer the consequences!” My hands had them back to back, roaming from tops to bottoms and exploring curves and crevices.
“Elliot! You are to prepare refreshments while your ladies fix themselves up. Good behavior will be rewarded.”
“There is a problem. The studly ranchhand lacks social graces. But he does appreciate prime pussy.”
I was nudging them to the neighboring hitching rail and bending the dripping glistening bodies over it, a hand firmly pressing in the middle of each back. Elise was first to feel my stiff shaft driving hard and fast into her juicy passage. “Ahhh no!”
Her halfhearted resistance was easy to ignore. My cock was getting wonderful squeezes from a marvelously tight cunt. An underused cunt, I suspected. After a few strokes, I quickly shifted to the client whose cunt already knew me. This time I got a low, “About time…” grunt and a good squeeze.
I pulled out and took them into a tight clinch. “I knew there was fine pussy at this location. Am I earning my keep yet?”
Elise found towels to dry with, swatting at me. The words were tough, the eyes soft. “Claire, he is impossible! You are letting him design your house?”
“His design sheets are impressive, and he has other talents as well.”
“Yes, other talents.” Elise’s arm went around me, a boob pressing into my side.
“Elliot, I have been trying to get her to move here for ages. Why can’t you design a house for our Sacramento Valley? Something distinguished?”
“Good idea. What about this distinguished body? Feels like it needs special attention.”
“Later. I am still recovering from the last attention.”
I made margaritas and we sat on a wicker sofa on the back porch watching the sun go behind the western hills.
“Elliot, do you mind being the barbeque chef in a little bit? The grill and supplies are over there, and the steak is marinating.”
“What about the marinating ranchhand? You juiced him well.”
They poked me, and kissed me, and giggled like they were back in college. My summer internship was starting out well. I growled and was handsy, like a college guy should be. I left to work on the grill and they collapsed into each other on the long sofa.
I was tending meat when they squeezed me between them. “It’s ok for a couple of old ladies to hit on the young stud?”
“Is it ok for young stud to say driving into a couple of experienced cunts is turning him on something fierce?”
They kissed each other across my shoulder. “What are we going to do about this trash talk?”
“Give him red meat to keep his strength up.”
Chapter Four – Suddenly, There are Two Clients
Dinner was outside on a mild evening. To change the subject, I began asking Elise questions about the perfect ranch house design in her head.
“Elliot, it is foolish, but would you take something plain and ordinary from the last century and make it modern?”
“Elise, you can’t take pieces of architecture and paste them together like a puzzle. Those ranch houses didn’t have insulation, or indoor plumbing, or electricity. The porches were too hot in summer and too cold in winter.”
She wasn’t looking happy, so I added, “But they had an integrity of line that still attracts, even today.”
Claire had one of my hands, “I think you should do a design exercise for Elise. A collaborative exercise. Add in the missing modern conveniences, and keep the integrity. See if you can find an updated version that meshes old and new.”
I pulled her into my lap. “Elise, you see why I call Claire the client of my dreams?”
No one said anything for a while, sitting in the twilight of a Valley evening. Telling them to stay where they were, I cleared and returned with ice cream and berries.
In a bit, Elise said quietly, “Claire, that is a fine idea, and the two of you are not leaving until the design is on paper. I will go to town and find a drafting table and supplies for him.”
The next morning, my bed warmers had disappeared. When I wandered into the kitchen, they were dressed in go-to-town clothes and already forking eggs. “Sleepyhead, your plate is in the oven. You will have to amuse yourself while we are gone. Perhaps Annie would accept another ride.”
I cleaned up the kitchen after shooing them out, then found my sketch book and water bottle. In the barn, Annie poked her head out of the stall and whinnied at me.
“Ready for another outing with your new rider? Your beginner rider?”
I didn’t deserve her patience and gentleness, but happily rode her at a walk across a big pasture and along a path toward a far clump of trees in a draw where there must be water. When we got there, a perfect log lay surrounded by grass, ready for me to lean back with the sketchbook and think about Elise’s challenge. Something traditional but updated. That could be a whole lot of things, most of them awful.
Annie enjoyed the green grass and kept a curious eye on me.
The southern exposure needed to be well insulated, with solar on the roof. The best views were to the north and west. Horizontal lines were needed to pick up the rolling hills surrounding the site. But a vertical motif was also needed, to pick up the symbolism of the home ranch, the place where humans and animals converged. I rehearsed in my mind the California Ranch House designs of Eichler, May and others. They owed design elements to Wright’s Prairie homes, but had lost integrity in the transition to inexpensive tract houses.
Gradually, my sketches coalesced into three outlines. I used fresh sheets of paper to flesh out each of them. Elise deserved options and choices. She was strong willed and it was going to be her house.
I stood and stretched, thinking I had done enough for one morning. Annie looked up from her grazing and snuffled. Heading back, are we?
I decided to walk and so the two of us ambled back to the existing house, which exceeded shack status, but not by much. The barn was a better structure than the house. I found some feed for Annie and gave her a hug. What a fine horse.
I hadn’t been in the kitchen for ten minutes when the ladies returned, bustling in with grocery bags and pointing me to the trunk, whose lid was partially open. “Go get it, Elliot, now that you don’t have any excuse for lazing around.”
Arms around waists, I growled, “If I am treated as a slave, there won’t be much architecting done. You probably don’t need to see my sketches from this morning.”
I had them against the wall, applying kisses and using my hands in rude ways on the trim bodies. They gave in immediately. “Elliot, that was not nice of us. Please sit down with Elise. I will bring lunch.”
My newest client, if she was a client, instantly liked the sketches. “My god, Elliot, they are all good!”
She poked me, “Are we building a three house compound?”
Lunch arrived while Elise was going from one drawing to the next, muttering to herself. Claire gave me a poisonous look, “Giving away your best work to my roommate? I thought I was the client!”
I pulled her down for a hot kiss and a grope. She struggled and I hissed, “If you don’t stop putting me down, I am going to build you an underground dungeon, with all the latest S&M equipment!”
She lay in my arms, teary. “Elise, what am I going to do? His kisses are turning me to mush. I bring him out here to meet you and suddenly you are a client too, and have three house designs on your coffee table!”
While she was complaining, I was undoing buttons, and unclipping her bra so that I could lick and suck on a plump boob. “Claire,” I said in my best firm voice, “you are smart, sexy and rich. The magnificent house I am designing for you will be the envy of your holier-than-thou West Marin neighbors. You have to have a little patience, however. Rome was not built in a day!”
Her fingers were in my hair as my tongue continued to work on stiff tips, but she apparently couldn’t decide whether I was to stop, or keep on. Elise was laughing loudly, and I joined in. Claire turned into my shoulder and cried.
“Oh god, I am having a breakdown! This is impossible.”
I was hard and thinking about a quick trip to the bedroom. Her moist eyes suggested the same thought had occurred to her. But I straightened up and looked at Elise who was back to the sketches. Leaving one potential client to have sex with the other was not a good idea.
“Elise, those sketches pick up design ideas other architects have had. Each client is a unique personality that an architect must work with. Don’t be afraid to reject the features that don’t appeal to you.”
Claire pulled me down to her ample chest. “Listen to him! Damned if he doesn’t sound like a practicing architect and he isn’t even out of school.”
I sat us up and clipped the bra with a soft pass over her curves. “How can I do architecting when you keep hitting on me?”
Elise offered the sandwich plate, “He’s right. Have a sandwich and stop flirting.”
The three of us sat on the ancient sofa, munching and talking house design. Architecture was floating in a sea of sexual innuendo. I asked, “Did you mean it when you said Claire and I couldn’t leave until you had a house design?”
She stood and slipped out of the dress. With Claire glaring, she found my lap and said, after a hot kiss, “Yes. Not permitted to leave until the client is satisfied!”
This was too much. I grabbed both of them and lofted the bodies into the middle of last night’s unmade bed. “The clients must learn to behave. There is work and there is play. And there is punishment!”
I had them naked in moments, screeching at me as I administered hard swats. I rolled them together and pinned the top body down with my cock. The soft happy noises got louder and louder, turning into wails as I took care of one and then the other.
Their bodies lay back, sighing and turning into me with giggles. “Is this a special perk for architecture clients?”
My fingers ran up and down two muscled backs. “You two are teaching me all kinds of bad behavior. What happens when some possible woman client doesn’t want attention from my cock?”
They kissed each other across my chest and said, “You don’t want her as a client anyway. Send her to that idiot, Marc Valenti.”
The afternoon sun was warm, the sex was terrific and a nap caught us.
The sun had moved and Elise was whispering in my ear, “What if I asked you to do a more detailed drawing of the design you like best? Is that a copout? After all, you are the one with architecture training.”
“I am to set up the table and get to work? Do the job you hired me for?”
She licked my ear and rubbed her bottom on the top of my thigh. The voice was seductive. “Yes. But don’t forget the other job you seem very good at.” She squeezed my hardening cock. “The one that requires the use of this special tool.”
Massaging their scalps, I sighed and said, “You are making me horny all over again. Am I taking you to dinner in town?”
Kisses came from both sides. “Absolutely not. We have already shopped for a fine dinner here. Take us to the shower and get to work.”
In a sunny corner of the living room, I was in business with the new table in a matter of minutes. But first, I walked around the outside of the house, taking pictures with the phone and thinking of siting alternatives.
My drawing of the site, with barn and sheds, but minus the shack, looked good. It filled a large sheet of paper, almost 20×24. Gradually, a synthesis of my morning’s work appeared. At the southeast corner of the new structure a tower rose. Not dissimilar from the cistern towers that graced so many early farmhouses in this country. Slimmer lines took away the squatty look of most of them. I used openings at the top to suggest a bell tower. Actually, the inhabitants could take their afternoon beverages there and pretend to be lords and ladies of their demesne.
The solar was embedded in the roof, not propped up on ugly stands. The porch along the north side provided for sitting either in the morning early sun at the east end, or the later afternoon sun at the west end, depending on the weather.
After two hours, there was enough to show the client. I walked to the kitchen and busied myself making drinks. The chefs looked at me and asked if they were permitted to view the architect’s work.
“With a drink in hand, and a hug for me, the answer is yes.”
I fastened the drawing to a piece of pasteboard and walked outside. Standing back a hundred feet, they pressed to my side and absorbed what I had tried to create.
“Elliot, I am in love with it already. The tower has a stair inside?”
“Yes. It can be a solo hideout, or a group cocktail location.”
“What about the naked orgy location? Is there space for a hot tub?”
“I thought it was the guys who were criticized for one track minds?”
Claire nibbled on my ear. “The problem is that your first two clients are just sluts. This is setting a bad example.”
They pestered as we walked back inside. I couldn’t retaliate because the precious drawing was in my hands.
“Let’s sit outside and talk more about the house. Dinner is in the oven.”
For once, we actually concentrated on Elise’s house, sipping and enjoying the late sun. She asked about cost and I said the design was flexible with regard to square footage, and that total cost, excluding architecture, could easily reach half a million. I had no idea what her financial situation was.
“Does it have a fireplace?”
“That’s up to you. They are very polluting and don’t give off much heat into the room. But a traditional ranch house without a fireplace would be a break with tradition.”
“What if I go deeper into my trust and have you build me a fancy rock fireplace using propane for fuel?”
I pulled her tight and whispered, “I love my very creative clients. Your pockets are as deep as Claire’s?”
She fell back into my arms and smirked. “Rating us already, are you? Points for good screwing, for good ideas, for bottomless funding?”
“The two of you are completely spoiling the architect who doesn’t even have a degree or a license.”
(cont’d in Part 2)