Disclaimer:
All characters are 18 years of age or older while actively engaging in sexual activity. This story is a prequel/sequel (sprequel?) to my other work, Alex & Alexa. As always, many thanks and gratuitous panty shots from Freja and Jeanie to my long-suffering editor and beta-reader for their assistance in polishing up and improving this work. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice. Enjoy!
Please Note:
There are incest themes with a secondary couple in this story. Just a forewarning.
Chapter XVIII- To The Manor Reborn, Part II
St. George Campus, late January, 1987...
Mike tapped his pen against the desk while he looked down at the notebook in front of him. He somehow subdued the grin that lurked under his current expression of serious thought. He wouldn't have blamed himself for grinning, mind. This was really fantastic work, and a huge step forward in the field.
Calabi-Yau Manifold study had come a long way, and quickly. If the numbers that he and his crew had assembled were right, this would absolutely rocket the university to the fore of the research internationally. It would probably even hijack the conference in Lucerne later that year.
His numbers in his own work were solid, and he'd be giving it over for final integration into the larger project. Everyone else had been enthusiastic and diligent as well.. So far, so good, and they still had a day or two to the final assembly of the theorem and a week until submission. The presentation would knock everyone's socks off, even the dean.
He allowed himself a sigh of satisfaction. This was definitely a win.
***
Blackwell Manor, late January, the present...
Tatyana walked back and forth in front of the assembled staff in the grand foyer. They all stood patiently, waiting while she performed her inspections of their uniforms- at least, those who had to wear one. She herself was wearing a charcoal-grey blazer and a matching pencil skirt, with her hair back in her customary low bun.
She looked at Trilby and Valentina, standing side-by-side, wearing their housekeeping outfits. Their garb was traditional, being black with white trim, and the skirts ending just above the knee and allowing freedom of movement. When she'd asked both girls about their uniforms, they'd merely commented that they 'weren't much fun'.
Valentina looked like she was trying to contain her giddiness, putting considerable effort into keeping a ridiculous smile off her face. Trilby was actually standing up straight, instead of the lazy slouch that Tatyana had quickly come to associate with her over the last day or so. The girl nodded to the seneschal but said nothing. Tatyana moved on.
She stood now in front of her two groundskeepers, who were very different from one another. The senior man, David, was in his mid-fifties, but ruggedly built, and had been hired because he was a three-decade veteran of the landscaping field. Bald on top, but with silvery hair on the sides of his head and a silver beard, he exuded competence, which was just what was called for.
The younger groundskeeper, Yolatunde, who said it was fine to call him 'Tunde,' was the opposite of his senior partner. He was in his early twenties, his almost coal-black skin indicatng his South African heritage. Lean and strong, he would be a perfect accompaniment to David's vast knowledge, and he took instruction well. Tatyana held no doubt that the grounds would look better than they ever had with these two on the job.
Working closely with David and Tunde was Marie, an experienced gardener from Brittany in France. She was a slight woman, with long, frizzy light brown hair, who looked like she should be puttering about in a garden. She'd won awards in Europe for her work in various famous gardens and was now looking for a job that was less expansive, but still required exquisite artistry. She would be responsible for the greenhouses and preparing flora for planting around the grounds.
Andrea stood in the middle of the lineup, and she was the tallest member of the staff, a shade taller than David, at around five-nine. She was a well-built woman, with blonde hair done up now in a messy bun behind her head. She was dressed in sturdy coveralls, and a white t-shirt beneath. She had strong shoulders and some definition in her arms, which was good, since she would be charged with maintaining the mechanical and electrical operations of the estate. She grinned at Tatyana, seeming eager to begin.
Ari was a slightly built and short man, also in his early twenties. He'd emigrated from Haifa with his mother while he was very young, and he was a whiz with computer systems. Initially, it seemed strange to Tatyana that a private household, even one as large as this, would need a live-in IT specialist, but once she understood that the powerful computers that her employers used were connected to various universities and institutions around the world, it seemed more reasonable to her. And if a private IT specialist seemed somehow extravagant, she knew better than to ask.
Theresa was from the States, a divorcee in her mid-thirties. She was an extraordinary chef, who had run several successful restaurants and catering companies before moving on to her next challenge. She'd escaped an abusive marriage by moving north, and had just begun looking for work when she answered the ad to work at the Blackwell estate. She said in her interview that preparing excellent food for a smaller, more familiar and appreciative crowd was what she was in the mood to do. Unlike the other staff-members, her contract was annual, allowing her freedom of movement as necessary.
Lastly, there was Glenda, an experienced chauffeuse, who was in her late thirties. Of all the staff members, she was the most experienced at working for wealthy private citizens, and she stood crisply but easily in her spot, a light smile on her face. She'd been driving the famous, wealthy and powerful for nearly twenty years now. Her professionalism and vast experience had shone through on her rรฉsumรฉ.
She stopped in front of them and addressed them now. "We have a few minutes yet before our new employers join us. Aside from Mister Winson, how many of you have met them as yet?"
Valentina smiled and raised her hand slightly. "I met Mr. and Mrs. DeBourne during my interview, but not their son or her sister."
Tatyana nodded. "The same as myself, I have met them only once. I have already talked with each of you, at length, about the expectations for maintaining the place and the atmosphere desired. But as a small test, tell me what you think of when you hear this..."
In her hands she held a small remote control, and she clicked a button on it. Half a second later, lilting music played by the string section of an orchestra filled the foyer. Some of the new staff members looked around, while others simply listened. Glenda closed her eyes.
After maybe two minutes, Tatyana ended the music with the press of a button and looked at them all. "When you hear that music, what does it make you think? There is no wrong answer."
Trilby shrugged. "That our shifts are done and it's bedtime? It makes me sleepy."
"I stand corrected, there
is
apparently a wrong answer," the seneschal said dryly while a few of the other staff members snickered. "Anyone else have an idea that does not make them think of their binkie?"
"Quiet, pleasant and efficient work around the estate," Glenda said simply, smiling. "Dusting, simple food prep, quietly pruning plants, that sort of thing."
"Very good," Tatyana said, looking at her. "That is exactly what it is meant to represent. It is the entr'acte from 'La fille du rรฉgiment', in fact."
"I know," Glenda said, nodding. "You don't drive bigwigs back and forth from the opera for twenty years without playing a lot of Donizetti in the limo."
There was a noise from the top of the grand foyer stairs, and Tatyana whispered for everyone to stand up straight, before turning around and facing the wide central staircase, her hands folded in front of her. She swore that on the very edges of human hearing, she could hear Valentina let out a squeak of excitement.
Please don't let her pee on the floor...
she prayed silently.
It seemed to take forever, but Mister Winson appeared at the top of the staircase and started to come down. Behind him, two people came from either side and then followed him down. Tatyana could hear several of her people take deep breaths, or almost gasp as the group reached the bottom of the stairs and approached.
They certainly know how to make an entrance, I will give them that...
she thought, trying not to swallow.
Two men walked just to Mister Winson's left, and two women to his right. The men were both tall, one of them an absolute giant. They both had great manes of golden hair, piercing electric-blue eyes, and infectious smiles. The younger man was built like a gymnast, with strong limbs and a tiny waist, whereas the older man was massive, with chiseled muscles everywhere. The son, Alex, wore jeans and a T-shirt with a rock logo on it. Michael, the father, was wearing a grey three-piece suit that somehow complemented his massive frame, rather than simply stretching around it.