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CHAPTER 1
Summer of 1899, near the Oregon forests.
Ophelia heard the secretive footsteps on the service stairway and
smiled. Tonight, as he did several times a week, James Pohl, her husband's
personal secretary, was sneaking up to Fanny's room for a quick tumble. They
thought they were getting away with it. Thought no one could hear their
thrashing and writhing and muted cries.
But here in this mausoleum of a mansion, where it was only the two
of them and Ophelia now, every sound was magnified by the silence of the night.
She waited in the darkness, listening. James always paused on the
stair opposite her desk, because that one creaked. She imagined him looking
through the wall at her right now, as he avoided putting his weight on that
step.
Did he know she was naked?
Tonight I tell him, she mused, her pulse quickening. Tonight he gets a big surprise.
When she heard his footfalls ascending again, Ophelia lit her lamp
and opened the large book on her desk. Its Moroccan leather cover sighed as she
opened it, smiling about the title: 1001 Arabian Knights.
She hadn't caught the irony of that altered name right away, but the
contents of this heavily embellished book had shocked her out of her stupor from
burying Henry, just last week. James would argue that she shouldn't have been
snooping in her husband's study, but this was her house now.
It wasn't her fault that she'd discovered Henry's secret life.
And his secret lovers.
And a world of sensual delights these claret leather covers had
hidden from her unsuspecting eyes during her entire marriage to Henry Leeds.
As she opened the ponderous volume now, Ophelia was pleased that the
pain--the shock--of these discoveries had evolved into curiosity. Fascination.
Longing.
She wanted what Henry had. She wanted to romp with those knights--in
a slightly different way than her husband had.
Photographs tucked inside the back cover told much of the tale: the
Scheherezade, a wondrously appointed ship--listed in Henry's ledgers as
part of his lumbering fleet--had transported him, and his Board members and
friends, to a world of revelry and delight like she had never known.
But she was about to go there.
She was about to take charge not only of Henry's business, but his
businessmen, as well. She, Ophelia Leeds, now owned the multimillion dollar
Leeds Lumber Company, and she would use the Scheherezade as
transport to her own brave new world of sensuality and bliss.
Lord, when had she ever known bliss?!
As Ophelia studied the faces, she recognized James and Henry, and
Erroll Barrymore the accountant, and a few others. Envy surged through her body.
Here they all were, arm-in-arm, wearing elaborate Arabian costumes:
tasseled fezzes, embroidered vests, and jewel-encrusted caftans that made their
harem fantasy real. They dressed for the parts they played; they became swaggering sheiks and saber-swinging sultans as they sailed the Puget
Sound during these forays.
And then there were the ladies. A tinted portrait showed Yen Sin, a
Chinese girl with almond eyes and raven hair, and another woman who appeared
more demure behind her veils--Lady Jane, she went by. Esmeralda piqued her
curiosity, too: the Gypsy dancer didn't hail from the original Arabian
Nights, but with her flowing red hair and bangles and tambourine, she fit
right in with the others.
Ophelia had read some very revealing information about these three,
and she needed to know more.
For Henry, ever the journalist and recorder, had written everything
down. He'd listed each man's Arabian name--and of course, he was Sinbad, the
legendary voyager, while James became Aladdin, who made the magic happen. She'd
read their accounts of sexual encounters and raucous games; menus of their
sumptuous meals.
Ophelia had also read the ledger, which showed how one tenth of
Leeds Lumber profits had been systematically diverted into this floating
pleasure palace, named for the harem wife doomed to die if she didn't entertain
her husband. So clever Scheherezade told him story after story, night after
night.
Just like Henry had told her.
"Tonight's my meeting of the Oregon Lumberman's Association. It'll
be long and tedious, so don't wait up."
"I must go to Seattle for new saws and supplies. I'll see you in a
few days, my sweet."
"I'll be away for the week, visiting all of my mills, Ophelia, dear.
I'm taking James along, of course, but you and Fanny will be fine until we
return."
And she and Fanny Gault, her maid, were about to become a whole lot
finer. A lot more adventurous and outrageous and alive!
Because they were about to set sail aboard the
Scheherezade for their own adventures--with those Arabian knights! But she would be writing the new script!
Ophelia grinned, shifting in her chair from the excitement of it.
Then she paused to listen.
Yes, the lovers were directly above her in Fanny's room. The bed was
rocking in that unmistakable rhythm . . . that elemental heartbeat that thrummed
through her veins as she longed for release.
It was time. She was about to embark upon the most exciting journey
of her life--right after she went upstairs to confront those lovers.
And join them.
Ophelia glanced at her nakedness in the mirror, put on a brave
smile, and then padded up the stairs with Henry's journal tucked under her arm.
#
Through the keyhole, they looked so beautiful together: James with
his long, lean body curled around Fanny's lush backside, fondling her pert
breasts while he pumped in and out of her. Her serving girl looked ecstatic,
arching her back to complete their lovers' circle.
As Ophelia watched her maid's head fall onto James's
shoulder--watched the young couple kiss with a heat she longed to feel--her
insides tightened. It was wicked to spy on them this way, but it was her house,
wasn't it? They were her employees, were they not?
And if she walked in on them, what could they do?
But she preferred to watch them first, stroking her envy and her
hunger the way James was stroking Fanny's passage. In and out, building up for a
climax all the more explosive because they had to be quiet. Even so, their moans
were growing louder, as was the bumping of the bed against the wall.
Pohl's loose, sorrel curls shimmied in the candlelight. The flex of
that muscle where his thigh joined his hip teased at Ophelia. By leaning forward
to peer though the keyhole, she put herself into the same position Fanny had
assumed, with her ass up in the air and her puss gaping open . . . waiting to be
filled . . . wet with anticipation. Fanny was gripping the iron bed head,
grimacing and grunting until Ophelia could feel the heat and adrenaline and need her maid was experiencing.
"Oh, James . . . James, please!" she sighed.
Ophelia moaned, clenching down below.
The couple stopped dead still, listening.
Nipping her lip against even the escape of air, Ophelia prayed they
couldn't see her eye through the keyhole.
"What was that?" Fanny gasped.
"Just the house settling. Just the whistle of the wind," James
assured her. "Ophelia's asleep. Her light was out when I came up."
"Maybe we should stop, before we wake--"
"And maybe I should just turn you over and throw you down on the
bed," the young man teased, doing what he was describing to her. "And maybe I
should just kiss you senseless, while I thrust so far into your tight little
cunt that you can't possibly let me go!"
Fanny giggled, complying by landing flat on her back. Her legs
spread wide, welcoming him.
And what a man to welcome! James wasn't hugely endowed, but he was
agile. He loved his fun, even if he'd never shown any inclination to marry Fanny
after all the years they'd been tiptoeing around, thinking she and Henry were
oblivious to their trysts.
Ophelia watched the head of his cock pause at Fanny's opening. Her
insides quivered for that very sort of attention.
James slipped inside, lifting Fanny's hips to his so her knees fell
apart and he was fully extended inside her.
Ophelia could stand it no more.
Quietly, she twisted the knob. Closed her eyes against the final
caution that told her to go back downstairs--to leave all these secrets alone!
But her
heart and her hand propelled her into Fanny's room, and into the dare she was
about to take.Top of Page |
Rich
young widow, Ophelia Leeds, inherits her husband's Oregon lumber empire in the
late 1800's and discovers his ship, the Scheherazade, is actually a floating
pleasure palace! Leave it to Ophelia to not only take over the lumber dynasty
but to create a male harem of lumberjacks!!
