pale and pink as her hips swayed and her soft smooth breasts bounced with each step. The wind began to whip her long blonde hair about on her head and suddenly there were large splotches of rain splattering down on her. She hadn't even bothered to wear a coat! The house was still several blacks away and Sylvie wondered where she might take shelter. A flash of light and a booming sound of thunder rolling in the distance told her that it would be unwise to stand beneath a tree. Lightning crackled sharply somewhere in the distance and after a few seconds another loud peal of thunder made her break into a run.
Then Sylvie was aware of someone calling her name. At first she wasn't sure, but then she knew it was so. 'Mrs. Cassidy… Mrs. Cassidy!'
A dark car rolled up beside her, and a man leaned over and held the door open for her.
'Get IN!' he called. 'Don't catch cold, Mrs. Cassidy!'
The voice was terribly familiar, and Sylvie hesitated. It was Frank… her husband's former valet! At first she thought she would not get into the car beside him, and then there was another peal of thunder and she told herself that the past was all over and she had no reason to shy away from Frank. What she had done, she had done under the influence of a powerful drug. Erick Cassidy, her younger brother-in-law, was the one who had instructed Ella, her maid, to give it to her, telling her that it was medicine.
Trying not to think about all that, she hurried into the car and closed the door behind her. She must act natural, Sylvie told herself, although being wet to the skin had caused her to feel more vulnerable than she had in years-as though by seeing Frank again she had brought back those terrible moments she had endured in Grandville.
'Why Frank!' she said. 'What a wonderful surprise… and you've come just in the nick of time! I would have been wetter still in a few moments!'
Frank smiled at-her in his familiar servile way. He had been a servant of the old school, the kind that no longer exists except in a few fortunate English homes. He had served the Cassidy family for many years, and had even continued to serve after the incident in Sylvie's dressing room. Then he had given notice, explaining that his health was failing and that he would like to use his hard earned wages to make the rest of his days as comfortable as possible.
Tim had added a goodly sum of money to the wages owed to Frank, and had seen to it that Frank got a comfortable apartment in a pleasant neighborhood in Washington. They had thought they would hear no more from him, but now here he was.
'Glad to be of service, Mrs. Cassidy, you know that!' he said softly.
The car was moving slowly along, and Sylvie peered out through the rain.
'I think you turn at the next corner, Frank!' she reminded the elderly man.
'Only too glad to be of service,' he repeated, and Sylvie wondered for a second if his mind was going. She thought with alarm of the night when she had rung for him… it was after taking the 'medicine'. She had lain nakedly writhing on the floor of her dressing room when he entered. Sylvie flushed a deep red at the thought now, and at the idea of how she must have looked. Then she remembered the candle… the gilded candle that she had been desperately trying to ensconce within the tightness of her straining, tingling vagina.
'Oh, help me, Frank,' she had cried to him. 'Help me!'
'How are you, Mrs. Cassidy?' Frank inquired now, and Sylvie wrenched herself back to the present. Why was he making a left turn instead of a right?
'Why, I'm just fine, Frank, and the Senator is well too. You're looking quite well yourself. Enjoying your retirement?' She did her best to make small talk, but she could hear her voice trembling. Perhaps it was the drenched state of her clothing. She felt a definite chill! She had to get home right away!
'I must get home swiftly, Frank!' she declared. 'I think you may have made a wrong turn…'
'Oh, Mrs. Cassidy, I was so hoping to show you my apartment. You know, the Senator has seen it, but you never have. I've made quite a few improvements… I have my own workshop, you know, and nothing gives me more pleasure than to…'
So that was it… he was taking her to his apartment! Sylvie tried to think of what she should do. She had learned that it was important to maintain a semblance of dignity, even in the most difficult situations, and now she counted on Frank's long training as a valet and her own instinctive calling toward being a true 'lady'. She must maintain that relationship, no matter what. But she was frightened as the car gathered speed, and she turned to see Frank's lips set in that same smile, his gray hair slicked back in a different way, a new, more debonair way.
Come, now, she told herself. He's just an old man… he lives all alone… probably lonely, needs company. He's proud of his house and wants to show it of, that's all!
'I'd… I'd love to see it, Frank!' she lied. 'I hope it's nice and warm… I'm soaked clear through!'
'Oh yes… you'll dry out there!' Frank promised, nodding his head in a strange manner.
The rain poured down across the windshield of the car. Sylvie noted that the car was brand new and showed very little use. She speculated upon the amount of money that her husband Tim had added to his valet's pension, and surmised that it was probably a great deal. Frank ought to be very satisfied, she thought. There's no reason for me to worry! But what Sylvie wanted more than anything, as the car driven by the silent and enigmatic retired valet sped toward the northwest, was to be safe and warm at home. The nervous young blonde clutched and unclutched her fingers, clasping them tightly together upon her leather pocketbook which she held in her lap. Already, she was wishing that she had stayed in bed that morning instead of going out to enjoy the bright sunshine.
All that sunshine was gone now, and a dark fear was spreading inside her which was augmented by the thunderstorm that surrounded the small compact car and its strangely determined driver.
Frank could feel Sylvie's nervousness beside him, and he wanted to tell her that there was really nothing to be nervous about. But somehow he didn't know how to couch the words. She would just have to wait until they arrived at his apartment. It wouldn't be long now. It was still difficult for the older man to converse easily with any of the Cassidys after so many years in their service, so many years of 'Yes, Ma'am' and 'No, Sir' and 'Will mat be all, Sir?'
Frank thought about the early days when he had been hired by old man Jenson Cassidy and his wife Thelma. The three boys had been mere children then, and things had been considerably different. Different, that is, from the way they were later on when Frank-an aging though still effective worker-became young Mr. Tim's valet. He had seen Tim through his bachelor days and watched the comings and going of hundreds of comely young women, and then he had been with him during the first few years of his marriage to Sylvie. Frank knew, as did all the servants in the big house in Grandville, that strictly speaking Sylvie was not of the same caliber as the Cassidys. He had even heard Mrs.
Thelma Cassidy refer to her daughter-in-law as a 'shopkeeper's daughter from the sticks.' Nevertheless, with her elegant looks and manners and that natural poise of hers, Sylvie had managed to hold her own. There were a few minor exceptions, of course, and Frank smiled to himself now as he recalled that night when Sylvie's voice had spoken so harshly into the intercom. Frank could not recall the exact words, but she had said something like 'Help… you've! Got to come help me!'
'Here we are, Mrs. Cassidy!' Frank said, pulling up in front of a small three-story apartment building. There were similar houses on either side of it, and sloping lawns ran down to the sidewalk, divided by descending concrete steps.
Wet and cold as she was, Sylvie did not want to enter that building.
Yet, she knew that she would. She had very little to say in the matter.
Frank hurried around the front of the car and opened the door for her.
Then he produced an umbrella and, taking her gently by the elbow, escorted her up the concrete steps to the front door of the small apartment building. For a moment he fumbled with his keys, and then they were entering the warm interior of the building.
'Here we are… it's right here!' he said, a tone of excitement entering his voice.
Once more Sylvie reminded herself that the Cassidys at least owed Frank a little bit of interest in his life after he had been with them for so long. After all, servants were people, too… not to be dismissed with a nod and a thank you and some money as though they had no real lives of their own. She felt a little better as she entered the apartment. It was quite large inside, and although sparsely furnished it gave the appearance of being very comfortable. A wall-to-wall rug covered the living room floor, and an old-fashioned sofa looked like a good spot for her to sit. But first she gravitated toward a radiator that was giving off steam heat in a corner of the room.
