Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 10

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 6 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-5.
Thank you for stopping by.

EPISODE 6

Laura smoothed out a piece of paper she brought from home. It was the list of everything happening during her time in NYC. At least the stuff on the Upper West Side. Tonight there’d be carolers. Saturday was the Christmas sing-along at the West Side Presbyterian Church.

This morning, she’d be meeting Sean McGinty for breakfast. He’d be at the bar, but promised to take her somewhere nice.She’d showered and dressed in a red velour dress. One glance in the mirror and she’d swear she was pregnant. It was the cut of the dress, the Empire waist. She shook her head, that was the style and they weren’t selling much else. She zipped up black suede boots that came to the knee. A red print chiffon scarf slung around her neck hid a bit of cleavage. Women like her, with slightly larger breasts, often showed more than they wanted to in today’s dresses. She applied light makeup, fluffed her hair one more time and ventured out into the crisp morning air.

The sun was hiding behind gray clouds. Bright lights on Columbus Avenue set a festive mood and she found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock as she strolled down the street. The bar was closed, but she saw Sean inside, setting up. He came to the door, took her hand, and kissed her palm, making her giggle.“You’re lookin’ lovelier than ever, Miss Laura.”“Thank you, Sean. Where are we going?”“A little place on 83rd.” He shrugged on a jacket and laced his fingers with hers. Le Salon du Monde has a pretty sign in pink and white. They descended four steps into the cozy eatery. Pretty, square tables covered in decorative ceramic tile in flower patterns dotted the little space. They were the only patrons at eight in the morning. “Chocolat or Café?” The waiter asked. “Oh, chocolat, s’il vous plaȋt.”“Coffee for me,” Sean said. The waiter smiled and left. Feeling reckless, Laura ordered chocolate waffles with strawberry butter.”“Where the hell is the bacon and eggs?” Sean asked, turning the menu from front to back. “I think a bacon omelet is the closest you’ll get,” she pointed out. “Pretty snobby here, aren’t they?”“I think it’s charming.”“And romantic?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Laura felt color suffuse her cheeks. Obviously Sean had more than breakfast on his mind. But how did she feel? Did she come to CW Banley’s house to have an affair with Sean? He took her hand. “How’ve you been?”“Fine. Looking forward to Christmas in the City.”“I’ve been thinking about you. Haven’t met one as pretty or as chatty as you.”“Do I talk too much?” Her hand flew to her mouth.“Not at all. Don’t misunderstand. I like what you have to say. You don’t talk about stupid celebrities and crap like that.”“Thanks,” she cast her gaze to the table top. Sean was turning up the heat. Well, was she going to have an affair with him? And if so, where? Certainly not in CW Banley’s bed. A giggle escaped her throat at the thought of what the old gentleman would think if he knew. “Did I cross your mind at all? Maybe once or twice since last year?” He was now caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.“Why do you think I came back?”
Hell, she wasn’t going to decide about having a fling with Sean on an empty stomach, that was for sure. She sat back and gazed at the twinkle in his eye. As he was about to speak, the food arrived. Soon she’d be full with no excuse left to avoid Sean’s intentions.
EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.

What was a pretty girl, like her, doing spending the holidays alone in New York City? Why wasn’t she married with children? Of course, it was none of his business. He needed to stay focused on setting up deals for the coming year and not get distracted by some mysterious woman living in his home. Easier said than done.On his last day in Paris, Craig and George dined in their suite.

“I just want to check and make sure the house is okay.”“I’m sure Miss Fleming would notify Maeve, if there was a problem,” George said.“Humor me,” Craig said, touching the app on his cell with a shaky finger. The first room up was the living room. He gasped. Miss Fleming had gone above and beyond. The tree was splendid. Red and white lights twinkled, highlighting gold and white balls. Special ornaments were placed randomly, drawing the eye up and down. “It’s beautiful,” he muttered.“What? Her?”“No. The tree.”“Oh. Have you seen her?” George threw the question out casually, focusing his attention on his food. Caught off guard, Craig flushed, heat rocketing to his face. Tongue-tied, he stared at his wine glass. The silence drew George’s attention. “What? Cat got your tongue?”Still unable to face his companion, Craig glanced out the window. “Oh no. Oh my God! You have seen her, haven’t you?” The younger man nodded, still looking away. “Yes. All of her.”George bolted out of his chair. “What? What are you saying?”“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know she was getting ready for bed,” Craig pleaded.“You mean you watched her disrobe?”Craig nodded. “Oh, lordy. That’s a crime, isn’t it?”“Not if it’s your own home, I don’t think. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”“How many times have you watched her undress?” George cocked an eyebrow“Once! Just once! I swear.”“A likely story,” the older man picked up his wine glass.“Honest, George. I wouldn’t lie to you. I will admit I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I mean that’s too low, even for me.”“Yes, even for you.”“What do you mean?”“Ah, it’s the frat boy in you.”“Here she comes. She’s dressed. You can look.”“How old is she?”“Maybe thirty?” Hard to tell. The picture is grainy.”“Damn. Too young for me,” George said, frowning.“Damn right. But perfect for me. Except she’s there and I’m here.”The two men watched Laura place swag over the mantle. The fire burned beneath. She fanned herself with her hand, then reached for the hem of her sweater.“Craig! Shut it off!”But Laura pulled the sweater over her head quickly. Craig let out a breath when he saw she had a T-shirt on underneath. “Oh, thank God,” George said.“Scared you, huh?” Craig snickered. George took a healthy drink and sat back. “You can shut that off now.”“I wonder what she sounds like. Her voice?”“Call her, why don’t you?”“I don’t have her phone number.”“Call her on your landline.”“She’ll never pick up.”“Chicken?” George cocked an eyebrow. Of course he was, but he’d never admit it. Besides, what would he say? Gee, you look great naked on camera? Or how about, I thought you were an old hag, and am shocked to find out you’re young and pretty? Uh, no. “What could I say? And if I did call and scare her off, then the house’ll be vacant and Jasper’ll starve.”“Oh, right, right. Good excuse. Quick thinking. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay. I would be, too.” George laughed and drained his glass.

Come back tomorrow for Episode 6.

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EPISODE 4
Laura padded downstairs in her flimsy nightgown and silk robe. The house was warm enough so that she didn’t need the flannel she wore at home. Jasper was right behind her. She opened a can of food for him and put on coffee. Last year, it had taken three days to figure out Mr. Banley’s fancy coffeemaker. Soon the delicious aroma of fresh coffee was in the air.She fried up two eggs and toasted two pieces of whole wheat bread. Maeve always made sure there was breakfast fare in the fridge, and a container of her famous stew in the freezer.

Sitting at the kitchen table in the company of Jasper, who was cleaning himself after his meal, she gazed out the window. Many of the townhouses on 82nd Street had decorations in the back. A few Christmas trees were visible through glass doors and big windows.The kitchen was spacious for New York City and well-equipped. She wondered why. She’d read about Mr. Banley, an older bachelor. Why would he have every modern convenience in his kitchen? Maybe because he wanted all the luxury money could buy? He was certainly rich enough. She shrugged. So much the better for her. Using a top-of-the-line food processor for her cookie dough made life easier. She made a list of places to visit. Of course, the tree in Rockefeller Center and the windows at Lord & Taylor, and a stroll down Fifth Avenue, if it wasn’t too cold. Then there were the Christmas trees in the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum. Mr. Banley had left his membership cards on the bureau in her room.

Tonight dinner at McGinty’s Bar & Grill on Amsterdam. She needed to call a few friends she’d made on her forays into New York to house sit. When she finished eating, she cleaned up and hit the shower. Dressed in fleece pants and a down jacket, she read the instructions for the security system one more time before locking up. She memorized the code straight away.Of course with a home as grand as this, loaded with priceless antiques and original artwork, Mr. Banley needed security. She wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. She shrugged. Have the alarm on the front door made sense and, being there alone, she enjoyed the new feeling of safety. As she walked to the bus across the street, she wondered if Sean, the bartender at McGinty’s, would remember her from last year. She hoped he did. With his smiling blue eyes, ready wit, and dark hair he was a handsome edition to the friendly eatery.
Of course, she couldn’t bring him home or anything like that. Not that she’d planned to sleep with him. I mean, she hardly knew him. But if things did heat up while she was there, she’d have to go to his place. No guests or strangers of any kind were to be allowed in the house. That was rule number one. She’d not break it out of respect. But if she did, who would know?

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EPISODE 3

Ritz Hotel, 15 Place Vendôme, Paris, 4 a.m.
Craig Watson Banley, phone in hand, perched on a sofa in his hotel suite, sipping fine hot chocolate and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep.

“I suppose I should check to make sure my house-sitter arrived. How do I access that security crap, George?”Bathrobe sashed, George Manfred, Craig’s indispensable assistant and father substitute, joined his boss. He was accustomed to keeping the young man company, even at odd hours.
“It’s supposed to be on your cell. Let me see. I think we have to add the app.” George divested the thirty-five-year-old of his cell and fiddled with it like a master. Craig chuckled.“People the office would laugh if they could see that you are more proficient with this fucking phone than I am.”George chuckled, but continued to work his magic. “There! We have the Safehouse Security app installed. Now, let’s see. We have to find your house. We need a password. Want to use the usual?”“Jasper? Yeah, sure.” Craig pushed to his feet and strolled to the window. Paris in December was a charming place. But then Paris in any season was breath-taking. Craig wondered what it would be like to be there with a beautiful woman instead of old George? He sighed. Not happening this year, maybe not next either. In fact, there was no special woman in the foreseeable future. Maybe if his dotty old uncle decided to stop playing house in the mountains of Colorado with young women, Craig could have a life. Uncle Chet, Chester William Banley, had had enough of business. Now sex, eating, and drinking were his major pastimes. Craig wished he had stock in the company that made Viagra. While Uncle Chet stepped off the business merry-go-round, he handed the reins to his multinational businesses to his favorite nephew –in fact, his only nephew, Craig. The old bachelor had kept the family fortunes alive for forty years. Now he’d decided to have the life he’d missed. How could Craig blame him? “Got it! Here you go,” George said. Craig joined him and listened while the older man explained how to access the new security system installed in his New York City townhouse. A broken window and a theft had convinced the young billionaire to install security, including placing tiny cameras everywhere. Craig sat back and fiddled with his cell. “Let’s see. Hmm. It should show me someplace if anyone’s been through the front door. Hold it! Whoa! Yeah. I see.” A fuzzy picture of a person from the top showed on the screen.” He frowned. “I guess that’s Laura Fleming.”“Did you tell Miss Fleming about the cameras?”“Nope. Security doesn’t work if everyone knows about it.”“You expect her to steal from you? She’s been minding the house for three years now. And nothing’s gone missing, has it?”“No, but you can’t be too careful. These old biddies with no life. Who knows what they’ll do?”“If you felt that way, why’d you hire her again?”Craig shrugged. “Guess it’s the cookies and stuff she leaves behind.”“You mean the only Christmas present you get from someone who doesn’t have to give you one?”“George.”“That was unkind. Still. I don’t think you’re being quite fair.”“Success isn’t built on fair.”“I suppose not. I’ve got email to check. See you later,” George said, heading for his room.Craig knit his brows. He’d picked up on George’s disapproval. The young man took another sip of chocolate, then scrolled through boring film of his house. As night came, unoccupied rooms appeared black. He was just about to shut it off, when a room with brilliant illumination popped up. It was Miss Fleming’s bedroom.

He loved that room, all white, and clean –elegant, actually. The camera picked up the fire in the fireplace, the bed –there were wrapped presents there. And the tree. She had already decorated the mantle and the tree. As always, it was exquisite. For an old lady, she had damn good taste, he had to admit that.Then there was movement. Holy Hell! A woman appeared on the screen, and she was taking her clothes off. Getting ready for bed, he assumed. Geez, a flush of embat rrassment heated his face. He should turn that off right away. But he couldn’t. Long dark hair dipped below her shoulders as delicate hands lifted her sweater. It was like a slow, private striptease. Blood pumped to his groin. Shut it off. Shut it off! But he couldn’t. George would kill him, but he was glued to the erotic scene unfolding in front of his eyes. She unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. Only wearing a lacy red bra and matching panties, she stopped to fold her clothes. If that was Laura Fleming, she was no old biddy! He prayed she’d come back into view. As if she’d heard him, she returned with a nightgown in one hand. She easily unhooked the bra and stepped out of the panties. Craig could hardly breathe. Even the twitching between his legs couldn’t distract him.
She stretched and did a few bending exercises before slipping the gown over her head. The woman had a body to die for. She’d been coming to his house for three years and he had had no idea. George should get a bonus for suggesting installing the security system.

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EPISODE 2

Laura climbed the stairs to a small room facing the street. It was only big enough for a leather loveseat, wing chair, and small, round table. Mr. Banley had a little Christmas tree in the corner. There were two more trees, a large one in the living room and a small one in her bedroom. C.W. Banley expected her to decorate each tree. A tub of ornaments and lights sat next to a box of candles. He had left New York early in December and delighted in returning to a home decorated for the holiday. Laura loved the task, having the freedom to place exquisite pieces wherever she wanted. After heating the flue and lighting the fire, she eased back in the seat and opened the envelope with her instructions. As she read, she sipped on the fine chocolate to warm her bones and nibbled on the scone. While thinking about which tree to tackle first, her gaze rested on a photograph. It was of C.W. and his nephew. The white-haired gentleman was handsome, distinguished might better describe his looks. The strong family resemblance in his nephew struck her. Two good-looking men. She wonJdered if she’d ever meet C.W. and guessed probably not.Opening her phone, she played holiday music, starting with Carol of the Bells. She surveyed the tree and opened the tub, then fished out the strings of lights. Humming along with Nat King Cole, she listened for the crackle of the logs and breathed in the strong, fresh scent of pine.

This was a traditional Christmas, her traditional Christmas, even if she celebrated it alone. Actually, not quite alone, Jasper, a male, orange tabby cat, scampered into the room. He rubbed against her legs, in greeting, then hopped up on the loveseat and curled up to watch her work.
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EPISODE 1
Laura Fleming’s pulse kicked up as the bus approached the Lincoln Tunnel. Something magical happened whenever she crossed over from upstate onto Manhattan island. And it being a week before Christmas only made it more fantastic. The Port Authority Bus Terminal was as bloated with people as usual at Christmas. Mr. C. W. Banley had arranged for a car to pick her up. She was the hired help, the housesitter paid to keep his majestic townhouse occupied and to care for his cat while he traveled on business over the holidays.

This was Laura’s third year housesitting for C.W., as she affectionately referred to him –but never to his face. In fact, she’d never met him. What mattered was her chance to step into the ultimate Christmas fantasy, occupying a grand townhouse on West 81st Street for three delicious weeks.A man in a livery outfit stood on the crowded sidewalk, holding a sign that read Laura Fleming. She approached him, vouched for her identity and slid into the comfortable vehicle. He closed the door and they were off, wending their way through the dense, holiday traffic. “First time in the City?” He asked, while they waited at a stop light.“Oh, no. I’ve been coming at the holidays for several years.”“It’s a beautiful, if crowded, time to be here.”“I love it. I live in the country. During the winter, I get cabin fever with all the snow and ice.”“You own a place here, too?”She laughed, her light brown hair swinging with the motion. “Oh, no. I could never afford that. I’m the house-sitter.”“Now that’s a great gig!”“You bet it is,” she agreed. The chauffeur maneuvered his way through the congested avenue. Laura looked out the window. All the restaurants and even the delis had strings of Christmas lights. She raised her gaze to the apartment buildings and spied many with Christmas lights in the windows, or elaborately decorated trees, visible from the street.

He pulled up to the gorgeous, Neo-Renaissance townhouse. The driver set her small suitcase on the sidewalk. He refused a tip, saying he’d already been paid. Laura gazed at the beautiful cream colored building with windows lined in black. A large, circular, black, wrought iron staircase beckoned her. The winter sky was turning teal blue as the sun began to set. She climbed the steps to the large, carved wooden door. A wreath of evergreens, red berries and pine cones hung there, welcoming her. The sharp wind penetrated her coat, making her shiver. She retrieved the key from under the mat and unlocked the door. Anxious to get to the antique pot of hot chocolate Maeve, the housekeeper, always left for her on the little wooden table by the fireplace in the study, Laura wondered if there would be a chocolate croissant or a scone waiting, too. She licked her lips as she crossed the threshold into a luxury she could only dream about.

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Published on December 09, 2016 03:28

THE HOUSE-SITTER'S CHRISTMAS - EPISODES 1 - 5 #romance #Christmas

Welcome to my continuing story. Scroll down for episodes 1-4.
Thank you for stopping by.

EPISODE 5
Craig had not checked on Laura again. He and George put their heads together to prepare for their meetings in Turkey, Italy and Sweden. After his wife died, and his children scattered, George hadn’t minded missing Christmas. Craig had offered him a generous bonus for traveling with him. The young C.W. hadn’t forgotten about the security system and the luscious Miss Fleming. He’d made sure to be too busy, and then too tired, to spy on her again. Guilt and curiosity nagged at him. He needed to see her again, but dressed, of course.