A Haunting Love

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Chapter Twelve

Ramona had entered the house with a lot on her mind. She'd been thinking about what she and her children had talked about the night before. She'd been thinking about what Renee had said. And, most lately on her mind, she'd been thinking about what she and Robert had just done, right next door. Robert had a singular way of trying to convince her that grasping women should be the least of her worries. His soothing voice had come with soothing hands and, like she always did when she was around him, she was soon panting with passion as he casually undressed her.

Then he had made love to her with his mouth, all over her body, driving her to distraction by bringing her close to an orgasm, but always pulling back before she got there. Somehow he had gotten naked while he did this, and when he stood to show her what she did to him he smiled. He had placed his open hand under his balls and that magnificent penis, like he was holding it, about to lift it away from his body to present to her.

"This is yours, Rami. It has no purpose but to pleasure you and give us children together. If you do not want it, then it shall lie unused for the rest of my life. You are my love, and I want no other."

She had burst into tears of mixed joy and hope and frustration that she couldn't just be like any other woman and love him and be allowed to love him. He had mounted her, somehow knowing that she wanted him and stroking her until her tears stopped flowing. She confessed her own love for him again and though they had done this many times, it was like the first time for her. He was gentle and brought her to an orgasm that was like being suddenly dipped in warm water when it's freezing outside. Then he came in her, flushing her full of warmth deep inside too.

Ramona's face got hot as she looked around the kitchen to see if her children were there, where they could see her reaction to remembering what had only happened thirty minutes ago. But they weren't there and it was quiet in the house.

She went to her bedroom to change panties - the ones she'd put on for work this morning were no longer suitable to be worn in public - and she had to pass her daughter's bedroom on the way. The door had been carelessly left open and she saw the still forms of her son and daughter clasping each other under the light sheet.

Had Ramona not been in the afterglow of her own sexual release, and had not her brother taken from her the burden of worry and fear that had been laid upon her by her friend, she might not have reacted to what she saw in the way she did.

She stepped into the room and leaned over her children, seeing that they were both asleep. Their faces were beautiful and peaceful in repose and she reacted to that like all parents do when they see their sleeping children. There was an upwelling of love in her heart. She noticed their bare shoulders, and understood without having to look under the sheet that they were naked together. But she and Robert had just been naked together too. While she KNEW how that felt to her, she also knew of the difficulties that siblings could suffer when they had that kind of relationship. The world was a harsh and unforgiving place for siblings to be in love in. Before this moment she had been teetering toward trying to convince her children that what they felt was a dead end, and not worth the pain and stress of keeping it alive.

But, what had just happened between her and Robert was so powerful that she also knew that whatever means she tried to use to keep her children apart ... it would fail.

She didn't wake them. Instead, she turned on her heel, did what she had come there to do, and went back to work.

That afternoon, while Ramona was back at work at the bank, Robert Ellsworth Nettleton appeared in court, where the last of his legal issues was brought to settlement. He hadn't told his sister about this for a couple of reasons. He didn't know how things would turn out, for sure, and he didn't want her to worry. He also planned on putting more of his plan in motion and didn't want to argue about that with her.

Robert, by use of well paid and experienced experts, showed beyond any doubt that the claims against his estate for "services rendered" were not onlyh frivolous and without merit, but likely even attempts to steal from the estate. The gavel sounded repeatedly as the ambulance chaser hired by greedy businessmen to plunder the Nettleton fortune sagged lower and lower into his chair. He had enjoyed visions of a hefty income, based on thirty percent of what he anticipated "recovering" for his clients. He had already spent those hundreds of thousands of dollars in his mind. He had thought that, when the judge scheduled all six cases for one hearing, that the judge had already decided to grant all his claims. Why else would a judge try to do that much business all at the same time? Instead, he began to wonder if he would still have a job when he went back to the city and reported complete failure. He berated himself for filing these cases in a jurisdiction that was in the middle of nowhere. He should have known not to let this hick judge hear these cases.

"Mister Cochran," barked the judge when it was all over.

The lawyer stood and looked up at the old man on the bench. What did the old fart want now?

"If you ever appear in my court room again trying to commit robbery, I'll have your license and if things go like I want I'll have your balls too. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Jeff Cochran was stung. Nobody treated him that way back in the city. He was stiff with outrage as he responded. "Your honor," there was a hint of sarcasm as he said that, "I merely pursued the objectives of reputable businessmen and believed their claims to be legitimate. You can't fault me for that. That, sir, is what lawyers do."

The judge scowled. "You just remember what I said, young man. I doubt you will, because you appear to me to be an idiot. Next time some fly-by-night contractor hires you, at least go look at what he claims to have done. Now, get out of my courtroom. I have real cases to hear!"

Robert, who had stood quietly as the exchanges took place, merely bowed toward the judge, by habit, and said, "Thank you your honor."

The judge waved his hand. "Welcome back, sir. Some time perhaps we can have lunch. I'd like to hear what you've been up to all these years."

Robert left the courtroom and went directly to another office in the courthouse, where he paid a reasonable fee for copies of certain documents on file there. These he placed in his briefcase before leaving the courthouse.

When he went outside there was a man waiting for him. The man had a notebook and pencil in his hand.

"Mister Nettleton!" he called "Randy Stevens, of the Howard County Picayune. Could I have an interview please?"

"Certainly, Mister Stevens," said Robert. "But first, a question for you, if you don't mind. What, exactly, is a 'picayune'?"

Randy looked confused. "It's a newspaper, sir," he said.

"I understand that," said Robert patiently, "But from where does that word come? What did it mean before somebody decided to use it as the name for a newspaper?"

Randy was still confused. He was all of twenty-six years old and, after graduating from college, had gone home to live with his parents and work for the biggest newspaper in the county. It had over two thousand subscribers, which seemed like an awful lot to Randy.

"I don't rightly know the answer to that, Mr. Nettleton."

"Ah," said Robert sagely. "No matter. I was just curious." Robert had been having a little fun, trying to needle the reporter. He was quite aware that a 'picayune' was a half dime coin that had been in use in the South in years past. The dictionary definition these days was "something of little value".

Randy, on his first real live mission as a 'society reporter' just nodded and launched into what he thought were penetrating and important questions about what 'the famous Mister Nettleton' had been doing since the tragic death of his parents. All this was the result of his editor, one Hortence Robinson, age sixty, who had seen the court docket and recognized the Nettleton name from her youth. She had instructed her 'ace reporter' to "get on down there to Nettleton and get me something to put in the paper. It's been a slow week for news and I need to fill a couple of columns!"

Thus it was that Howard County and the city of Nettleton, found out that Robert Nettleton, the child of murdered parents, was back in his ancestral home, which was being refurbished in an attempt to restore it to its historical splendor. Roughly two thousand and twenty people (twenty bought the paper from a machine at the local grocery store) were pleased to read that a nice young man who had done a whole lot of missionary work overseas in six different countries, had come back to spend some of his inheritance in Howard County. The only sad part of the story was that, over the years, he had lost touch with his sister, who had gone on to live her life in anonymity somewhere. If, as Randy pointed out sadly, she was even still alive. Hortence filled her two columns and was happy. What with people sharing newspapers like they did so often (to her disgruntlement), it was quite possible that as many as twenty-five hundred people in the county had read the story. And if they talked about it to their friends, maybe the other thirty thousand residents of the county would be spurred to buy a damned paper themselves!

Ramona was glad to leave work that night. She needed to soak in a nice hot bath and relax. Her world had been turned upside down and, though it was beginning to settle, the world looked different to her than it had such a short time ago. She was astonished at the differences in the mansion. The landscaping was almost done, with the exception of the part of the yard that was reserved for contractor's vehicles to park in. A large Gazebo had been built on the front lawn, surrounded by flower gardens and a winding path of flagstone. Hedges had been planted that, when mature, would make walls along pathways, turning them into private places, almost like a maze.

There was a fresh coat of paint on the structure. The shutters had been repaired, along with various portions of the facade and roof. The tower roof now gleamed with a new covering of burnished copper. The carriage house had been renovated and even the old carriage in it had been lovingly restored by one of the few people in the country who knew how to do the work in the original fashion.

The interior of the house looked like her dim memories of the home she was born into. There were some new things. She loved the stained glass windows and how they cast bright color over everything. Electricity had made a tremendous difference in the place, banishing gloom and dark corners to a past that was also becoming easier to make dim and unnoticeable. Robert had even restored her bedroom to its exact appearance in her memory. Wood gleamed everywhere with oils and polish. The musty smell had gone with the original fabrics which had been replaced with authentic period designs.

She had noticed all these things in her panicked trip to see Robert, and then had really seen them as she left. As she got in her car to go home and change panties she had realized that the house in her memories, the dark and forbidding place where so much pain had been felt, wasn't there any more. This house looked like a warm and inviting place, where only love might live. It was unsettling in a strange way, because she wasn't used to thinking about the Nettleton Mansion as anything but a sad, dismal and lonely place.

And then she'd come home to find her children naked in bed. After she went back to work and had time for her emotions to calm, the fact she'd left them alone began to niggle at her. It seemed like everything in her life niggled at her right now. All she wanted to do was soak in the tub, with maybe a little Mahler playing softly on the record player. She wished she had a bottle of wine.

She entered the house to find that her children were preparing supper. They had put together a green bean casserole with crisped onions on top, and had made a valiant attempt at frying chicken, though the breading hadn't stuck and the pan was a bit too hot. There was a pot of semi-mashed potatoes on the stove. A little additional milk would finish them to a creamy texture. There was also the smell of baking bread in the room.

"You baked bread?!" she asked, incredulous.

"Well, sort of," said Debbie, a little uncertainly. "It didn't get all big and puffed up, like when you do it."

Ramona looked into the oven and saw a loaf of bread about half as risen as it should have been. It would be very firm when it was cooked.

Still, it made her heart warm to think that the children had done this for her. She announced that she was going to let them finish while she took a bath. She wouldn't get to soak quite as long as she'd planned, but it would be enough. She already felt better.

Getting out of the tub sooner than she'd have liked, Ramona wrapped a towel around her head, turban style and donned her thick terrycloth robe, belting it tightly around her body. She put on her fluffy blue slippers and padded down to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway. Debbie was stirring the mashed potatoes industriously while Robby stood behind her, his arms around her. It was obvious his hand were on Debbie's breasts and she was wiggling her hips, pushing them into Robby's groin.

"Robby!" scolded the girl. "Behave yourself. Mom could be down any minute."

"I can't resist you," said her brother into the back of her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

"You're sweet," said Debbie, and Ramona could tell she meant it. "But knock it off. You're making me horny and dinner's almost ready."

"Put it on warm," suggested her brother. "Mom's probably still soaking. We could have a little fun before she gets done."

"Mom's already done soaking," said Ramona, stepping into the kitchen. She almost laughed as Robby jerked his hands away from his sister's breasts and stepped back, looking embarrassed.

"Told you," said Debbie, looking over her shoulder at her brother. Her cheeks were a little pink.

"The bathroom is free," said Ramona, sitting down at the table. "In case you want to take a cold shower or something." She wanted to smile at Robby, but didn't. She didn't want to get into it with her children. Not only was she feeling better, she wasn't at all sure how much energy she could put into trying to warn them about the dangers of the path they were pursuing.

She changed the subject. "If not, I'm starved and it smells wonderful in here."

They sat down to eat and the tension drained away as they talked about inconsequential things. The food tasted good and, if there was a little burn on the chicken and the bread was heavy and dense, Ramona didn't care. It was the thought that counted, and she appreciated that.

That night they watched a movie together, all three sitting the couch, with Robby in the middle, sandwiched between the women. Both leaned their heads on his shoulder. It was such a satisfying evening that neither Ramona nor her children felt compelled to seek sex for the rest of the night.

The next day Ramona was at her desk, head down, going through the ever-increasing stack of bills and invoices associated with the renovation of the mansion when a shadow fell over her desk. She looked up to see her friend, Renee standing there.

"You have a visitor," she said, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "I see now why you never answered my question about whether he was cute or not. I wouldn't want anybody to know what a hunk he is either if he were mine."

Ramona's gut clenched. Robert? Here? In daylight?

Renee misinterpreted her look of consternation. "You want me to stall him while you go freshen up?" She looked absolutely delighted to be part of a conspiracy to bag a rich bachelor.

"That won't be necessary," said Robert's deep voice from behind Renee, who jumped visibly and blushed, having been caught in her self-started conspiracy. "Ms Franklin is quite lovely enough as she is, do you not think so?" he asked in his odd speech pattern.

Renee was quick on her feet, Ramona had to admit that. "Alas, for the rest of us, she is, indeed, quite beautiful as she is." She turned to Ramona and winked broadly. "Mister Nettleton is here to see you Ramona. Shall I get you both something to drink? We have ... ah ... water, I believe."

"If I were to drink anything, I should be forced to drink in the beauty of two such lovely women," said Robert, bowing.

Renee flushed bright red at the compliment and gasped as Robert reached for her hand to kiss it.

"Ah ..." he sighed. "I see that you have foolishly wed another man. Oh well, such is life. It shall be difficult, but I shall go on."

He said it in a way that made it obvious he was poking a little fun at Renee. But the feel of his fingers on hers, and the thought of all that money made her loins tighten. She removed her hand from his and, with a sigh, left for her own desk.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Ramona, staring up at her brother.

"Why, I'm visiting my account representative at this wonderful bank," he said. "Is this something I should not do?"

"But you're ... you," she said.

He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down, just as the president of the bank hurried up to her desk.

"Ah, Ramona ... Mister Nettleton ... we're honored that you visit with us today. I'm Frank Peterson, president of the bank. Would you like to move to the conference room? We can call out for some refreshments."

Robert stood. He assumed a somewhat stiff physical demeanor that was utterly alien to Ramona, and his head came up a trifle. There was a smile on his face, though, that softened the look of superiority.

"Thank you so much, kind sir," he said graciously. "I only wanted to come in and convey my thanks to this fine woman who has done such a wonderful job thus far in managing my accounts. I understand that she caught someone trying to take advantage of me and has resolved the matter. I appreciate it when someone cares for my welfare."

Frank fairly wiggled with excitement at Robert's words of praise for Ramona. "Well, we try to serve," he said happily. "And Ramona is one of our best."

Ramona shot him an incredulous look at the blatant lie and then listened in disbelief as the man went on.

"As soon as your ... ah ... man ... suggested her I knew you had instructed him to find only the cream of the crop. We treasure our Ramona here at the bank," he said importantly.

"Yes ..." said Robert. "I'm sure you do. And now I treasure her too. Isn't that nice?" He reached over and patted Ramona's hand. "Thank you my dear. I have a lot of money, but I appreciate you saving some of it from that unscrupulous contractor. Perhaps you could let me express my thanks more effusively over dinner?"

Ramona couldn't believe what was going on around her. She was so unsettled that she parroted the company line. "Thanks so much, but employees aren't allowed to date customers."

"Nonsense!" barked the president, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. "Mister Nettleton isn't just a customer. He's almost family."

It sounded ridiculous to everyone within earshot ... and there were suddenly a lot of employees within earshot. His comment about family, even though it was obviously ignorant of the true situation, struck Ramona like a blow.

Almost as an afterthought Peterson went on. "And you two can discuss a little business at dinner. That will make it all perfectly on the up and up."

It was an almost blatant pimping of the resources of the bank, and everyone in the room knew it. Frank Peterson was all smiles though, as Robert nodded.

"Yes, that would be fine. Alas, I have no automobile yet. Nor have I hired a chef. Would it be too base of me to call for you in a taxi this evening? Where would you like to go? I'm so new in town that I fear I have no idea of good places to eat."

Ramona saw Frank taking a breath that she feared would lead to all kinds of problems as he made what would likely be insane suggestions. Without thinking it through she spoke.

"Mr. Nettleton, as it happens I live right next door to your house. Perhaps you'd like to just have dinner at my house. I have two children, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind having a guest for dinner."

Robert lit up, his smile wide. "What a stupendous idea," he said. "I accept!" He reached for her hand and kissed it like he had Renee's. "What time shall I be there?" he asked. "And which of my neighbors are you?"

His acting was impeccable to the point that Ramona even found herself believing he didn't know anything about her. She described how he could get to her house and suggested that she could have dinner ready by seven. He grinned and, whirled to find twenty people standing around the desk, staring at him.

"You have a wonderful bank," he pronounced, as if he had gathered them together intentionally and was now delivering a planned speech. "Thank you so much."

Then he strode for the front door, the sea of people parting before him as if he were a huge ship on the ocean.

There was a general babble of excitement when the front door closed, and several customers looked around, wondering what was going on, and why no one paid any attention to them at all. Frank Peterson shooed everyone back to their work stations and then turned to Ramona.

"I'll arrange for a catered meal immediately," he said brusquely.

"Sir," she objected. "He's only coming for dinner. He's just a man."

"No, Ramona" said Frank, that small frown back between his eyebrows again. "He is not just a man. He's a very rich man. We only have one depositor who has more money in our bank than he does. That depositor is this man's sister, and we haven't heard from her in so long that I'm not sure she's even still alive." If this man withdraws his money from this bank, almost a third of our assets will disappear in a puff of smoke and I don't want to even think of that happening. Now, you go home and get ready. I really wish you hadn't offered to meet him at your house. Do I need to hire a cleaning team?"

Ramona's face had gone from pale, at his mention of Robert Nettleton’s sister, to pink and then a mottled reddish purple as this thoughtless man suggested her house wasn't a fit place to entertain one of the bank's customers.

"I do not need the services of a cleaning team, Mister Peterson. And I do not need anyone to cook a decent meal for my family and a guest! If you don't think I can adequately entertain Mister Nettleton I will most happily contact him and tell him that he's just going to have to have dinner with someone more acceptable than I am!"

When she was finished shouting she was breathing deeply, her shoulders rising and falling, her fists clenched. Frank Peterson recognized something that every man must learn to recognize, if he hopes to survive in this world ... the sound of a woman who is pissed off... and who is pissed off at him.

Everyone was staring at them again and Frank raised his hands. "Okay, okay, Ramona. I meant no offense. I was just suggesting it so that you wouldn't have to take so much of your time to prepare. No harm done. In fact, take the rest of the day off. That way you won't have to hurry."

He abruptly turned and went back to his office. Ramona saw a few grins on the faces of her co-workers. She sat back down angrily, and began to sort her papers, getting ready to do just what Peterson had suggested - take the rest of the day off.

Renee appeared at her desk. That she was excited was evident in several ways. She was almost panting, her face was a wreath of smiles, and her nipples were poking firmly through her bra and blouse.

"He's gorgeous!" she whispered excitedly. "And he's coming to your house for dinner!" She took a moment to breathe. "You want to send Robby and Debbie over to my house? So you two can be alone?"

Ramona, still furious, glared at her friend.

Once again Renee misunderstood what was going on in Ramona's mind. She held up one finger and pointed it at Ramona, like a knife that she meant to threaten her with.

"Now you listen to me Ramona Franklin. Don't screw this up. I don't care if he's quirky or even a pain in the ass, which he does not appear to be to me. You be nice to him tonight. I swear I'll tear your hair out if you mess this up. You deserve to have a decent man in your life and he looks plenty decent to me."

Ramona's eyes had gone round with surprise at the forcefulness of Renee's admonitions.

Renee deflated, her anger melting away like a snowflake on a July day. She sat down at Ramona's desk and leaned close, speaking more softly, pleadingly.

"Come on sweetie, give the guy a chance. He likes you. I could see it in his eyes. Get to know him a little. What could it hurt. If he's really a jerk you can blow him off later. You'll never get another chance like this and maybe he could even make you happy."

Ramona sensed the honesty and care in Renee's voice, and felt a little guilty that Renee was pleading for something that had already been done.

"Okay," she sighed. "I'll be good."

Renee grinned. "Excellent. But don't be good. Be bad. Be very bad. What size are you? I have this perfectly delicious little number that would look really good on you and leave him drooling. We're about the same size aren't we?" She nattered on, full of ideas of ways Ramona could seduce Robert Nettleton, while Ramona tried not to giggle and loved her friend for what she was trying to do.

In the end Ramona waited to leave until lunchtime, when Renee could run home and show Ramona the dress she wanted to offer for the seduction of Robert Nettleton. When Ramona saw it she actually blushed. It would show off almost every inch of skin on her body, and would allow access to every part of her without any barriers at all. It was a scandalous dress.

"I can't wear that in front of my children," protested Ramona.

"I told you, send them to my house. I'll order pizza. Teenagers love pizza. They'll be fine. What do they care about some guy coming to dinner anyway?"

"More than you might think," said Ramona without thinking.

"Well, take the dress anyway. Talk to the kids when you get home. If they want to come visit Aunty Renee then tell them they're welcome. Okay?"

Ramona went one way while Renee went back to work. She parked the car and went into the house, carrying the scandalous strips of flimsy cloth that somebody had decided to call a dress. She was distracted enough that she didn't call out to her children.

Once again she approached her daughter's bedroom door, and once again it had been carelessly left open. Once again her children were in the bed together, and once again they were naked.

But they were most definitely not sleeping this time.

Debbie's elbows were hooked under her knees, which she had pulled up, toward her head and spread widely. Robby was between his sister's thighs, his hands on either side of her breasts. His lips were firmly suckling one of her nipples as he slid his long, hard teenage prick slowly in and out of his sister's pussy.

To Ramona it looked almost like a slow motion film. Robby's movements were measured and almost gentle, as if he were easing his penis into his sister's sex while she was asleep and he was trying not to wake her. When he reached full penetration he stopped, grinding his pelvis against hers before slowly dragging his penis out of her again. Only Debbie’s soft repeated "Yes ... yes ... Oh, Robby", said at normal speed, spoiled the illusion that time had slowed.

Ramona's pussy squirted at the tenderness of the copulation going on before her eyes. She thought of her children's statement that they had never done this and felt the hurt of a parent lied to. Just then Debbie sighed.

"Oh Robby, I'm so glad we decided to try this. This is so ... I feel so ... I can't believe how much time we've wasted not doing this. I completely understand why Mommy wants to do this." Then she began to pant too hard to talk, and she pulled her knees harder, her head lifting off the bed. "Oh Robby, it's going to happen ... Oh ROBBY! OHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmm"

Ramona's pussy clenched as she realized her daughter was having an orgasm. Even the orgasm seemed to be in slow motion, almost quiet and serene. At that moment, Ramona gave in. She recognized in her children the same love and affection and satisfaction she felt with her own brother, and had felt for years without any feeling of shame or guilt. Her children's lovemaking was so tender and sweet that she somehow knew it was as real as what she shared with Robert.

She stayed long enough to see Robby's buttocks clench, his penis fully embedded in his sister, as he gave a low groan of satisfaction. Ramona knew what was happening inside her daughter. She could almost feel the wet heat of Robby's sperm flowing in her own pussy. A dim part of her mind tried to bark about how dangerous all that sperm could be, but it was pushed into the dark by her own flooding emotions.

She turned silently and tiptoed back the way she'd come. Dinner could wait. She needed to go see Robert.

She took the dress with her.

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