September 2008
Shakespeare wrote: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
When I first met her, she was Blanche, Blanche Rousseau. I assumed she was somewhat of a recluse spinster caring for her elderly bedridden father. At least that was the consensus of most of my neighbors.
I lived in the house directly across the street from Blanche. I found out later that it was encumbered upon by lien after lien.
Although bedridden at the time of his death, Mr. Rousseau was a mean, abusive bastard. Before his wife died, Mr. Rousseau was a very successful businessman. His family wanted for nothing and he gave his wife and daughters everything, including himself. The Rousseau's were a well-liked and respected family. Mr. Rousseau was a Deacon in his Church. The family attended Mass every Sunday.
After his wife's death, Benedict Rousseau denounced his faith. Alcohol became his sacrament ...then, his damnation.
I moved there after he was bedridden and knew of him by reputation only.
Never married, Blanche was promised the house after he died. Sadly, for all intent and purposes, Blanche was left with nothing for all her sacrifices.
This sweet, passive lady had no formal education beyond high school. Blanche worked part time on weekends delivering the local penny saver to get spending money.
Although Blanche was left the house in her father's will. Everything else was left to her younger sister, Clarette. Clarette and her latest boyfriend removed everything of value from the house. They even took Blanche's bed and dresser. They dumped Blanche's meager clothing to the floor, trampling them as they carried the furniture out. . They backed a rented moving van up to the house while we were at the wake. Blanche and I were the only attendees. Clarette never attended her father's wake or funeral.
I lived next door to Blanche for almost a year and never talked to her until the night when....................
I was washing 2 weeks accumulation of dirty dishes when the doorbell rang. I answered the back door off of the kitchen and saw Blanche standing there. It was obvious that she had been crying. Blanche's eyes were red and puffy. I invited her in and sat her down at the kitchen table.
"May I get you something Miss Rousseau? Coffee, tea... water, perhaps?" Blanche was sitting with her face in her hands, not answering. "Are you ill? Did something happen?"
Miss Rousseau, Blanche.... I called her Blanche then. I called her Blanche when I hired her as my live in housekeeper/maid. I changed her name when she became my submissive lover.
"My father died this morning." Blanche said hoarsely. She started coughing, trying to clear her throat. I brought her a glass of ice water and made her sip it slowly. Then I put the teakettle on to boil. Chamomile tea with honey and lemon would be just the thing to sooth her raw throat.
When the tea was ready, I brought her a cup and sat down across from her with mine. I put my hand on top of hers.
"Take a deep breath and sip your tea. Good, take your time and calm yourself." It was obvious that Blanche was hoarse from crying.
I held her hand while we sipped our tea, neither of us saying anything.
Although a bachelor, I am a man who enjoys looking at women. My first passion is for fishing. My occupation, I build custom fishing rods for a living. I am a stickler for details, striving for perfection. I specialize in split bamboo.
My prices for bamboo start ay $2500.00 per rod. I build no more then 25 rods a year. I require a 75% deposit upon placing an order and the average waiting time per bamboo rod is two years. I also will fabricate oak & leather hard carrying cases for any of my rods to the purchaser's preference.
As we sipped our tea I studied her, taking in the smallest details.
Blanche's face is heart shaped with a nice little turned up nose. She has a marvelous creamy completion with dimples in her cheeks. Miss Rousseau has full generous, inviting lips. And when she smiles... certainly not then, and not often at first.... but now.... often, sunlight, warm and inviting...lighting my life.
Dark brown eyes, little puppy dog eyes with such long eyelashes and perfect, precious little ears.
Blanche was five foot-five inches tall. A slim petite woman, no more then 110 pounds if that. Her figure was perfect for her small frame, round full breasts and a cute little round ass. I believe the correct terminology is that Blanche has a small frame. Blanche had small graceful hands. Beautiful hands with long fingers, the type of beautiful hands one sees in advertising for hand cream. As I was holding her hand, I was thinking a shame that she bites her fingernails.
This is in to way a put down, especially when taking into consideration her circumstances. Blanche's clothing although clean was threadbare, possibly second hand. It appeared she no real sense of style, so unlike Laura my friend David's wife, or Samantha.
Blanche wore glasses. The frames of her eyeglasses made of black plastic. They were broken at the bridge, then amateurishly glued back together They were too large and the wrong style for her pretty heart shaped face.
Blanche was not wearing them that night. They were hanging from her neck on a rhinestone eyeglass cord that was missing three stones.
The only jewelry of any quality that I could see was a fine 1.5 mm diamond cut sterling silver rope chain. Blanche's mother's platinum wedding band was hanging on that chain. As well as her birthright, a flawless, blood red 3- carat heart cut ruby. The ruby was mounted in a solitaire platinum ring and was nestled between her pert breasts next to the wedding band.
Blanche had her father convinced that he pawned them while on a drunken binge. Blanche later confided with me that she hid them from her father so that he couldn't pawn them.
"Mom promised me the ruby before she died, Adam The ruby was always to go to the eldest daughter." Mom inherited the ruby from Grandma, who in turn, inherited from her mother. This is a tradition from mother to daughter for as long as anyone can remember."
As I sat with Blanche, I remembered that it was her hair that I noticed when I first moved here. I saw Blanche from a distance riding her bicycle to work. Her hair was pure silver white in a thick solitary braid down her back, as it was styled now.
At first, I assumed she was an older woman, perhaps in her sixties with a wonderful figure and graceful movements. Although shabbily dressed, and wearing black frame glasses on a rhinestone cord.
I was intrigued with that old woman, or so I thought her old at first glance. As I said, I am a man who enjoys looking at women; therefore I watched for her return.
And return she did; "Curious & Curiouser" said Alice (she was so much surprised). This popped into my head when I saw Blanche's youthful face. I was much surprised and pleasantly so.
I contemplated, why in the world of all things did that thought pop into my head just then? Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll...what nonsense I am thinking. On the other hand, I would love to Tweedle Dee her little twat, and then, Tweedle Dum her little bum. Now that's more like it! Honest male carnal lust. I walked back into my house grinning like the "Cheshire Cat."
Blanche was the first to speak "I don't know what to do. I could tell from her expression that she was starting to cry. My sister won't help me and Clarette is demanding..."
"Slowdown." I interrupted, gently squeezing her hand. "Start from the beginning, Blanche.... may I call you Blanche, Miss Rousseau? Blanche wiped her tears with her hand, and nodded, yes. "My name is Adam and I will help you anyway I can."
We called the county coroner. Afterwards her father was taken to a funeral home for a one-day viewing.
Fortunately we were able to bury her father next to her mother in their family plot. Her mother preceded her father by 23 years. During all that time that bastard never bought a headstone for his wife.
Between the cost of the funeral and the headstone, I paid out over nine thousand dollars. Not that I am Saint by any means, but this was the right thing to do. The creditors foreclosed on the house two weeks after the funeral.
Blanche and I came to an agreement. She would work for me as my live-in housekeeper/ maid. Blanche would receive room and board. In addition, she would receive a small weekly stipend: twenty-five dollars for spending money.
We set up a payment plan. Blanche would satisfy my loan to her in eighteen months. If she decided to stay on we would renegotiate a salary.
Blanche moved in with two plastic garbage bags of clothing, plus four large cardboard boxes of books. I kept it to myself, but I was outraged. I can't put it into words without using the vilest, most explicit profanity. Such was the contempt that I held for her selfish, mercenary sister, Clarette.
In retrospect: It made me all the more protective of Blanche... well, so much for minding my own business.
Blanche was my housekeeper/maid for 6 months. I suppose that she grieved for her father in her own way. Considering how he treated her.... abused her... lied to her. Blanche was smiling more often now. I had not heard her crying in her room for weeks.
I discovered that I could tolerate having a woman underfoot.
The house was certainly much neater and cleaner. As a matter of fact, it was spotless. There were no more dishes piling up in the sink.
The hardest thing was learning to share our one bathroom. Blanche scolded me for leaving the seat up, but she was right, so I started leaving it down.
Blanche's bedroom is across from mine and is the largest bedroom of the four rooms upstairs. Originally half the size, the previous owner removed the wall separating them. This made one very large room out of two good-sized ones.
Not that I have many overnight guests, but I furnished this room quite lavishly as a guest bedroom. This room had a queen size poster bed with bedside tables on both sides. I furnished it with brass hurricane lamps on each table. I included a secretary's desk, vanity table- with attached mirror and matching chair. There are three large dressers, a rocking chair with a matching footstool placed near one of the windows. I included a tiffany floor lamp beside the rocker for reading at night, plus a small round table near both for books or whatever.
Unfortunately, this room had no closet. I included two large floor to ceiling wardrobes with mirrors on the inside doors. It should be noted that all the mentioned furniture is of black walnut.
After six months, Blanche's books were still in the boxes on her bedroom floor. I decided to surprise her by putting some barrister bookcases in her bedroom while she was out.
I have a friend, David Ares who builds furniture and restores antiques. David was sure to locate some bookcases to match the bedroom furniture, and I was right.
David arrived with his wife Laura while Blanche was out of the house. Wednesdays are Blanche's days off. Normally she stays in her bedroom and reads or is in and out of my garage workshop just watching me work. Often she will just sit on a tall stool near the window with a book keeping me company. Blanche is not allowed to talk while I am working so that I will not be distracted.
On this Wednesday, I gave her specific instructions that I needed to be alone and sent her away for the day.
David helped me carry the bookcase sections upstairs. We rearranged the furniture while Laura unpacked the books and filled the bookcases once they were stacked in place.
Most of the books were dog-eared paperback romances, at least the books on top. The books on the bottom hidden from view were books on the subject of Erotica and Erotica Novels.
They just looked at one another smiling, the non-verbal message understood only by them; two people most intimate. For a second I was jealous.... and then they looked at me, nodding and smiling.
"Why are you both looking at me like that? Are you going to tell me or is it some big secret?"
