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"Helping Out" (closed)

West Estate
Noon, Thursday, March 27

(OOC: Continued from here)

Matt West sat at the kitchen talking with Bill. Having skipped breakfast he ended up wolfing down the food left out for him. It had indeed been cold when he arrived but was still more delicious than any meal he'd made for himself. He made a mental note to thank Rosie for her cooking and to thank God for Rosie. After he'd finished the food, Matt and Bill started talking about nothing in particular but their conversation quickly turned to reminiscing and laughing about the past, especially Matt's parents. Their conversation was cut short as they heard someone coming down the stairs. Lyra came bouncing around the corner in an outfit that Matt hadn't yet seen and the sight caused his brain to briefly flatline. Matt thought she looked gorgeous in the outfit, but then again Matt thought she'd probably look beautiful in rags. Matt stared at her, oblivious to everything else until he felt Bill tap him on the arm. Looking at the man, Matt realized what Bill wanted from him.

"Good," Matt said, feeling a little tongue-tied, "Lyra good. Uh, I mean you look good. Great even." Matt suddenly felt self-conscious at his inability to string together a complete sentence. When Bill offered him chance to go on the supply run Matt jumped at the chance to spend some time out of the house with Lyra and hopefully redeem his making a complete fool of himself. Before he knew it was standing in front of an old truck, a mug of apple juice in his hands. Matt wondered if the truck would even make it out of town, let alone to Carlson Creek.

"It's not the old piece of junk that it appears to be," Lyra told Matt as they climbed into the truck. As Lyra explained all the work that had gone into the truck, Matt realized that all his worries were unfounded. He should have known Lyra and Bill weren't going to be running around using a truck that was a hunk of junk. Matt liked the truck; it had a lot of character and really leaned into the small time farmer angle that the Estate had turned into. It was also comfortable and rode smooth. Matt just worried that if they ever did start really developing the estate then they would probably need something with a little more capacity. Matt's musings were cut short as Lyra took a sharp turn out of the drive and Matt ended up sliding across the seat and right into Lyra. He pressed right up against her, almost sliding into her lap. Matt enjoyed the feeling her softness and warmth up against him but he quickly apologized and slipped back over to the other side of the truck. He looked around for a seat belt but couldn't find one in the vintage vehicle.

Lyra laughed at the situation, telling Matt, "You have to be used to the manual steering, or you can't take a turn like that that fast." As they continued their journey Lyra talked about what had happened to the town and the people in it. Each explanation and each new person she discussed brought a little bit more guilt to Matt's mind. Matt knew that Lyra had no clue of his role in how it all went down and couldn't know how it would affect him. He even remembered the Kramer's when she pointed out where they're house should have been. He wondered how much it would cost to rebuild it; he wondered how much it would cost each to rebuild the whole town. He had no clue, but he did know it was a lot more than he had.

Lyra took another sharp turn onto the main highway running north out of town, this time slamming Matt into the car door. She looked over to him, smiled, and asked, "So, what're you going to do here in Toland?"

"At this point, I'm not sure," Matt responded, staring out at the passing trees while taking a moment to think, "At first I just came back to Toland to get away from, well, everything back east. I just needed some peace and quiet to think and process how I felt. After I first got here, I honestly thought I wouldn't be sticking around for long. I thought Toland had nothing but ghosts of the past left for me. Now I'm not sure. I feel like there's a chance I could really make this place my home and make a difference. I couldn't fix everything but maybe help out in my own small way." Matt about the enormity of the task of what it would it take to fix Toland, and what the town's response might be to his pitiful attempts to make amends. "Or then again maybe not. For now I guess I'm just here to find myself again. To figure out who I am and what I want."

"But what about you?" Matt asked, turning back to look at Lyra, "What is it that you want? Surely a girl as smart and pretty as you would want more from life then just helping Bill take care of someone else's old house? Even if you're just there for Bill, sad as it is to say, he's not going to live forever. Or what if the owner were to show up one day and just kick you to the curb? Surely you have dreams of your own?"

Matt listened to her answer and more as they drove on toward Carlson Creek. Matt answered the questions she asked and occasionally added input of his own, but he was more than happy to just listen to her ramble on about anything as they made their trip. As they finally reached Carlson Creek, Matt finally saw other people walking around town. Men and women milling about; shopping, working or just loitering. It was the way he remembered Toland being back when he was young. He saw a young man walking down the street next to them and a question came to his mind.

"So," he began, turning to Lyra, "Is there a guy out there I should be worried about seeing us alone togeth.." His question was cut off as she made another sharp turn, causing him to slide again. This time he was ready for it and set a hand down to help catch himself. While he did slip right up next to her, his quick thinking had stopped himself for completely sliding into her like before. Instead he found himself holding her bare thigh while being close enough to smell the floral scent of her shampoo. He was momentarily entranced by the feeling of her soft skin in his hand, the smell of her hair, and the closeness of her face to his. He came to his senses after he subconsciously gave her thigh a squeeze and he let her go to slide back to his side of the truck.

"I'm sorry," he said, "That was," how should he even describe what happened? Innapropriate? A mistake? Wrong? Hot? "Not what I meant to do. How far away are we from our first destination again?"
 
On River Barge Road north to Carlson Creek
Noon, Thursday, March 27

(OOC: Continued from here.)

As she talked about Toland and its people, Lyra occasionally glanced toward Matt West -- aka Adam Smith -- as would any participant of a conversation. She thought she saw something in his expressions and body language that might deserve an 'Is everything alright?' inquiry from her. He seemed much more contemplative or perhaps even solemn about what she was saying. She didn't ask, though; if he had something more he wanted to say on those topics, he'd do so in his own time.

When she asked for more on what he planned to do with his time in Toland, Matt expressed uncertainty. That actually didn't surprise Lyra as there wasn't as much to do here as there had been in the past. Even today -- 5 years after COVID, 12 years after the hedge fund, and 17 years after the real estate collapse -- businesses continued to close their doors on a regular basis. Just this past week, they'd lost Toland's last independent Insurance Agent, who'd moved to Magnus; a couple of weeks before that, they'd lost both a company that made archery parts for a larger company in Capital City and the City's last full-service auto repair shop.

"I've never been to the east coast," she said when Matt talked about needing to get away from that region for some peace and quiet. "I have a bucket list of things I want to see someday, and some of them are back east. But, as far as the big cities go, not really interested. So much noise ... so many people."

"I thought Toland had nothing but ghosts of the past left for me," he told her. "Now I'm not sure. I feel like there's a chance I could really make this place my home and make a difference."

Lyra couldn't help but smile a bit at this. She found Matt to be very attractive, and -- even though she didn't know him truly -- she could see something in him that spoke of confidence and success. Oh, she wasn't the type to fall for a man simply because he could provide her the better things in life; she was no gold digger. But she despised men who just trudged through life without a destination or goal.

As if Matt was reading her mind, he continued, "I couldn't fix everything but maybe help out in my own small way."

Lyra wondered if he meant he had money to invest here, talents to put to work, or both. She really wanted to know more about him, but she'd been raised not to delve into people's private affairs unless it seemed as though they invited such prying. Matt hadn't shown that to Lyra yet.

"For now, I guess I'm just here to find myself again," Matt said. "To figure out who I am and what I want."

"Well, there's no better way to find yourself here," Lyra joked, giggling softly. "There isn't much else to do here except look for yourself."

"But what about you?" Matt asked. "What is it that you want?"

He called her smart and pretty, to which Lyra said, "Well, thank you, kind sir." It was a line she'd heard spoken in some movie a while back, although she couldn't recall which it might have been.

He spoke of Lyra surely wanting more than simply caring for Bill and someone else's house -- his house, though, Lyra didn't know that -- and said, "Even if you're just there for Bill, sad as it is to say, he's not going to live forever. Or what if the owner were to show up one day and just kick you to the curb? Surely you have dreams of your own?"

"Well, first off, Bill is going to live forever," Lyra responded, laughing. "That old goat is stronger than he appears."

She didn't actually believe that, but she refused to consider any other option. When she was 13 years old, her father had died in an industrial accident, a death for which Lyra had been denied the details. Bill had invited Lyra and her mother to live with them because -- as Lyra would only later find out -- her mother was terminally ill; she would die less than a year after Lyra's father had. Essentially, Grampa Bill was all the family Lyra had, and to be without him simply wasn't acceptable.

It was going to be a major shock to her when, in less than a month, Lyra would lose him like she had her parents.

Regarding Matt's question about the owner of the West Estate returning and kicking her to the curb, Lyra said, "Well, that's something that Grampa Bill has been preparing me for years." She glanced Matt's direction with a serious expression, surprised with herself that she was going to tell him. But she went on, "For years, the owner of the estate has supported the property's maintenance, upkeep, taxes, and so on. It was more money than was necessary, really. He -- the owner -- has always been generous to Grampa.

"And Grampa has been generous to me," Lyra continued after a moment of reconsidering saying this out loud; she'd never told anyone what she about to tell this stranger. "For the work I've put in, both taking care of him and taking care of the property, Bill has set aside a bit of the annual payment to the West Family Estate Trust Fund for me specifically.

"I didn't know anything about it until after Lorna's death," she told Matt. "I guess maybe he was afraid I wouldn't know, and the money would be forgotten." She looked to Matt with a knowing smile, then looking back to the road said, "There's almost $80,000 sitting in a fund for me that I can access upon his death."

She laughed, saying, "He joked with me when he told me about it that it wasn't permission to knock him off. I told him that I'd wait until there was more in it than that. He wasn't sure whether I was kidding or not, but we got a laugh out of it." With a more sincere, solemn tone, Lyra continued, "I guess he just wanted to make sure I was going to be okay when he was gone."

She felt a tear welling up in her right eye and did her best to casually wipe it away before Matt saw it. Lyra had never liked people -- particularly strangers, which Adam still was -- seeing her wear her heart upon her sleeve.

As they entered Carlson Creek, he asked, "So, ... is there a guy out there I should be worried about seeing us alone togeth.."

He didn't get his answer as he asked it just as Lyra took a hard right and sent him sliding across the seat at her again. She laughed at first, then felt his hand upon her thigh just below the lower hem of her dress just inches from her crotch. He just sort of froze in place a moment, causing Lyra to smirk devilishly as she considered asking him something lewd. She refrained, though, giving him time to slide back to his side of the truck.

"I'm sorry," he said, "That was ... not what I meant to do."

"It wouldn't happen if I got seat belts installed," she said, giggling at his reaction to having felt her up.

"How far away are we from our first destination again?" he asked.

Lyra pointed toward a building a block ahead and across the road. "Not far," she told him. Seconds later, she pulled up into the lot, killed the engine, and tossed Matt the keys to the truck. "Why don't you drive back home. That'll give me a chance to eat. I always get fast food before I head home."

As they curled around the truck's back end to head for the hardware store's entrance, Lyra answered Matt's last question. "No. There's isn't a guy who you have to worry about seeing us together."

She could have expanded on that but didn't; Lyra hadn't had a significant other since her second year at University almost 5 years ago when she was still just 18 years old. Lyra had always excelled in her schooling: she'd graduated high school at just 17, and on a full ride to Oregon State University, she completed two bachelor's degrees and a master's in husbandry in just 4 years. Her areas of study had been grape vineyards, fruit trees, and general organic studies, with a goal of turning the West Family Estate into a center of study for others through WWOLF, World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms.

But with Lorna's death, Bill's illness, and -- obviously -- the ultimate return of the property's owner, Lyra's dreams were likely not going to happen there. Still, she had her trust fund, so, maybe she'd be able to lease a piece of property in or near Toland one day and fulfill what she considered her destiny.
 
Carlson Creek
2PM, Thursday, March 27

(OOC: Continued from here)

"And that's the last of the supplies," Matt said as he threw the last of the bags of emu feed into the back of the truck. Leaning against the side of the truck, he turned back to look at Lyra, "Please tell me that actually is all the supplies. Don't say you forgot that we've got to pick up a dozen more bags of feed somewhere across town." When she gave her giggling confirmation that they were in fact done for the day, Matt gave a relieved sigh before closing the tailgate. Pulling out the keys he gestured to the truck, "Your carriage awaits, fair maiden. Let us away before it turns back into a pumpkin. I believe you said there was a feast waiting for us?" They got back into the truck and Matt started driving, following Lyra's directions.

The truck was still a little tricky for Matt to drive but he was quickly getting the hang of it. Matt had gained a little experience with the truck as they'd spent a little over hour or so driving to a few locations to pick up the needed supplies. As they had been going through were going through town, Lyra pointed out various landmarks that meant something to her. The local schools where the Toland kids spent spent four days a week. The Carlson Fun Center, an activity center with everything from an arcade to laser tag. The local movie theater; the closest one around since Toland's little theater had closed down almost five years ago. Matt had been to Carlson Creek a fair bit in his youth so he had been to most of the locations she pointed out but he found her excitement as a tour guide enjoyable so he kept quiet. Where Toland was definitely worse off than it was when he had left, Carlson Creek seemed to be doing just fine. If anything it seemed like it might be a little busier than it had been. He didn't know how much of that was the city absorbing much of Toland's business and how much was just general growth; he was just glad to see that at least this city was doing well.

Lyra eventually had him pull into a drive-thru for a local fast food restaraunt that he didn't actually recognize. When they pulled up to the menu, she leaned over him and out the window to order for both of them. The closeness of her body to his and the sight of her arched back in his face made him think of the feeling of her thigh in his hand. He thought about reaching his hand up and getting another good handful, maybe slip his hand a little higher this time and get a good feel of her ass. Follow that up with a good spank; it would definitely make it interesting for her to order. He wondered if she was even wearing underwear. He hadn't felt any before but his hand hadn't gone far enough to be sure. He also didn't know if it would be more erotic if she wasn't. A nice pair of panties had their own appeal. She eventually pulled back into the truck and Matt snapped out of his daydreaming. Once he saw her smiling face he felt a little guilty about so freely fantasizing about her. But then again, maybe she wanted him to think of her that way? Matt doubted it, he was almost a complete stranger and considerably older than her.

After they got they're food Matt pulled his burger out of the bag and took a bite. "No wonder you insisted on coming here," Matt said after he'd enjoyed and swallowed the bite, "This stuffs better than sex. I mean, it's not, but it might be the best damn burger I've ever had." He took another bite before setting the burger down and driving out of the parking lot. "We should probably get going though. I'll finish it up once were back on the highway."
 
Carlson Creek
2PM, Thursday, March 27

(Continued from post above.)

Lyra had somewhat taken advantage of Matt's company by stopping and shopping at a few more locations across Carlson Creek than those on which she'd originally planned. And yes, she took advantage of his muscle and gentlemanly ways by allowing him to handle the heavier purchases as well. He didn't seem to mind, and she always thanked him afterward, so, no harm done.

"Please tell me that actually is all the supplies," he said after the fourth stop that she'd said was the last one. "Don't say you forgot that we've got to pick up a dozen more bags of feed somewhere across town."

"Nope, we're finally done," she told him with a big smile followed by a soft giggle. She gestured as would a girl scout or boy scout or some kind of scout, adding, "Promise."

"Your carriage awaits, fair maiden," he joked as he slammed the tailgate closed for the last time. "Let us away before it turns back into a pumpkin."

"I think you mean freckled maiden," Lyra said, poking fun at her face's thick gathering of orange-red splotches. "And do you have any idea how much a pumpkin the size of this truck would fetch?"

He mentioned the feast she'd been yearning for the last two hours, to which she said, "Out the parking lot to the left, one block, and it's on the right."

The fast-food restaurant was both new and old at the same time. The building was new, having been built just three years ago, but the menu, cooking methods, and even the man who ran it were all decades old. The Shake Shack was owned by Marvin Hammer, who'd lived in Toland County since his birth 66 years ago. He'd once outright owned the Burger Barn on Highway 90 in Toland for decades, but after a kitchen fire did some serious damage in the 2000s and his insurance company said he wasn't covered for the bulk of the cost, he'd borrowed money from the non-profit Toland Corporation Small Business Assistance Program.

When the Robert Richardson Fund took over TCI -- which, of course, owned TCSBAP -- one of the first things they did was call in all the loans. Marvin hadn't had the money, and six days later the Sheriff's Department slapped a sticker on the door of The Burger Barn ordering it closed.

Marvin's life had been cooking greasy and fatty foods with love, so he'd taken on the lease of The Shake Shack when its owner got crushed by the COVID shutdown in 2020. He didn't own the building or even the business name, but the burger, fries, and shakes were all his.

When they got to the window, a female voice from inside called out with a loud, playful voice, "Lyra, you red-headed stepchild bitch!"

Lyra recognized the voice, of course, and in an instant, she had leapt up from her side of the truck's bench seat and practically flew across the rig, stretching out over Matt as she hung out of the window as far as she could without falling out to the pavement. She hollered back to the young beauty inside, "Maggie, you back-alley whore!"

The two women screamed at each other with great joy, then -- as Maggie hung out her own window -- hugged as best as they could considering the situation; behind her, Lyra's ass was right in front of Matt's face for much of the moment that followed as the two excited young women went on about how long it had been, what each had been doing, and when they were going to see each other again.

Eventually, when the gray-haired and wrinkled Marvin came to the window to wave to the redhead and hand the raven-haired beauty the paper sack of food and drinks, Lyra backed up to sit with her haunches on her ankles as she gestured Maggie's attention to Matt and said, "This is Adam."

"Hey, Adam," Maggie called out, leaning forward again to offer her hand. She looked to her friend and asked, "New beau?"

Lyra laughed, then said, "If only. Grampa Bill would be tickled to finally have me hooked up with a great guy, wouldn't he?"

The two laughed together as Maggie handed over the big bag of burgers, shakes, fries, and all the necessaries that came with the meal. Maggie asked about Bill, and Lyra did her best not to sound too down about the old man.

The car behind the International Harvester honked its horn, and without hesitation, Maggie stuck her head out and hollered, "Really...? You know I make the food you're going to put in your mouth, right?"

Lyra laughed, told her friend that she and Adam needed to git anyway, then shared another profanity-laced farewell before they pulled away from the window. Before they left the lot, Matt took a bite of his burger, and Lyra saw the pure joy in his face. He complimented, "No wonder you insisted on coming here. This stuff's better than sex."

Lyra laughed, accidentally spitting part of her bun across the truck before laughing again. Matt corrected, "I mean, it's not, but it might be the best damn burger I've ever had."

"Marvin -- he's the old guy you saw -- he was a legend in Toland when I was a little girl," Lyra said as she stuffed fries in her mouth. "He bought almost everything local: the meat for the burgers, the potatoes for the fries, the vegetables for the burgers, when they were in season, of course."

She bit into her burger, made a face not unlike the one Matt had, and continued even as she was still chewing, "He always wanted to build a massive greenhouse operation that would grow organic vegetables for the burgers right here in Toland County. He figured he could replace about a third of what he bought from California or Mexico or wherever it all came from with stuff grown right here. He had a plan and everything, even an investor."

Lyra showed a sudden burst in excitement, continuing, "Oh! It was Winston West, the guy who owned the West Estate. They'd mapped out how to do it all: location, building cost, operating budget, everything." She got solemn all of a sudden, continuing, "But Mister West died. Heart attack, I think. I went to his funeral. It was my first one. I spent most of it running around the cemetery, reading the gravestones and picking dandelions and putting them on the ones for the kids. Oh, and I met his son. Winston West's son. Shook his hand. I remember he was sad but handsome."

She pictured the day in her mind a moment without realizing that the young man she'd met back then was the older man currently driving her Grampa's truck. She continued, "I was, what, 11? 2013 ... just before Richardson came in and fucked--"

Lyra went silent, her eyes widening in shock at what she'd said. "I'm so sorry, really. I don't talk like that, really. I mean, sure, with Maggie. But..."

She chewed up the rest of the food in her mouth, then went on, "Anyway, Marvin and Mister West are the reason I've always wanted to turn the West Estate into a WWOOF site. That's World Wide Opportunities for Organic Farming. Bill and Lorna and I were working on the idea ... but ... then she died. Grampa Bill said it probably wasn't ever going to happen because it was a money loser. They guesstimated that it would cost about 20% more to grow the food than they were spending on shipping it in."

"We should probably get going," Matt said after taking another big bite of the burger. "I'll finish it up once were back on the highway."

They headed south toward Toland, and after a few miles and a few more bites of her own, Lyra moved over to the center of the bench seat, lifted the driver's burger to his mouth, and laughed. "For taking such good care of me today, Adam. I wouldn't want your burger to get cold before you had a chance to finish it."

She would feed him as much of his burger, fries, and shake as he wanted on the way back home. When he'd had enough, Lyra scooted back to her seat but sat with her back to the door, watching Matt. They chatted about the shopping they'd done and how some of the tools, supplies, and equipment were going to be used, and more.

Then, after a lull in the conversation, Lyra looked past Matt, through his window toward the east, toward the mountain range on the far side of the Vizcaino River. "Saturday mornings, Grampa Bill and Lorna and I used to go out to the Red Bluff Reservoir and fish or swim or water ski or whatever the time of the year permitted. Lorna's gone, obviously, and Bill ... well, he doesn't like to leave the estate much anymore. He's a home body."

She sucked on her milkshake straw, then asked, "Would you go out there with me Saturday?" Then, with a wicked smirk, she said, "If it's warm like it's supposed to be, you might even get to see me in a bikini."
 
The Modern Hotel
2pm, Friday, March 28, 2025

The activity inside The Modern Hotel was unbelievable, and the work was only beginning:
  • Under Mark Zane's supervision, there were 8 laborers working on the lobby alone. They were reinstalling the bandstand, which had been taken to the basement in parts, and building what new things would be needed for providing music; they were reinstalling waist-high decorative walls that had once separated the main lobby from such things as the gift shop and tourist info booth; they were building from scratch walls that would give some privacy to the beauty salon and barber shop; and so much more.
  • Another 6 workers under the supervision of Maxine herself were moving in new mattresses and other furnishings from one delivery truck and taking out the old mattresses and such to another recycling truck.
  • Outside of the hotel, another 6 workers were pressure washing, picking up trash and leaves left over from Autumn, and performing other beautifications to the hotel's exterior.
  • And last but not least, six women and four children -- Fridays weren't a school day for Tolanders -- were manning a makeshift food stand in one corner, feeding and caffeinating the workers with food, drinks, and snacks from all three of Toland's operating food establishments: Roxanne's, The Sunrise, and The Convenience Store.
  • And all of this was being done by Tolanders to ensure that Viola's money went to locals.
Viola was trying to stay out of the way as much as she could, watching from the sidelines and only involving herself with Mark came to her with questions or clarifications. It was actually Maxine who was more involved than her young blonde resident and benefactor; the old proprietress remembered everything about how the lobby had looked in the past, everything that had or hadn't worked back then, and everything that over the years she'd told herself If I had this to do over again, I would...

Zandar Akaru showed up precisely at 2 o'clock as Viola had asked. She waved him her way, asked if he needed anything to eat or drink. Once that was settled, she took him over to the once again operating North Wing elevator. The South Wing lift wasn't operational, but that wasn't a problem as Viola had a big, progressive plan for it.

They rode the elevator to the third floor, where Viola stepped out, turned left, took a couple of steps, turned left again, and passed through the double set of French Doors out onto the Terrace. She told Zandar as they stepped out onto the leave and debris covered terrace, "It's rather sad looking now, but I've been told it was once very spectacular."

Viola spoke again about how it had once supported small trees, arborvitae hedges, roses, rhododendrons, azaleas, and more. She gestured to where seating would be placed for weddings and celebrations, then pointed out where she wanted the new fountain and cascading waterfall.

"Will you need to do some structural work on the 2nd floor, for the additional weight?" she asked. "Maxine has told me that whatever you need regarding restricting access to the other floors is totally up to you."

As they'd been talking, Viola had been leading Zandar south across the terrace toward the South Wing's northside wall. Just like the wall behind them, this one featured a set of double French doors that accessed that Wing's 3rd floor interior. In the middle of the structure, rising above them another 10 feet, were the workings of the South Wing's elevator.

"I've talked to the company that services the elevators," Viola explained. "They were coming next week to repair and inspect the elevator ... but I have a better idea. More expensive ... but they say it's totally doable."

She walked to the wall, directly opposite of where the elevator sat beyond it. Turning to face Zandar and the Terrace, Viola stretched her arms out to each side. "Right here, we're going to put in an opening to the elevator. The Elevator Company says that the current elevator car was actually built with an option for doors that open in both directions. They can update the current car in one afternoon, I've been told."

Indicating a rectangular shape around her, she continued, "Because the winds up here can sometimes be an issue, we're going to put in a glass-enclosed vestibule, with a revolving door there." She pointed to the ground about 15 feet out from the elevator's future doors. Stepping forward with a hand out as if pushing the revolving door open, then stepping forward in a bit of a curved path, she finished her explanation, "You'll step out of the elevator and door, and walk right out into your new creation, a terrace that people from near and far will yearn to see ... to have their weddings on ... to have Saturday brunch on during the sunny summer days."

She looked to Zandar for signs that he could envision her vision. She smiled, asking, "Thoughts? Do you see any issues about which I'm not considering?"

Viola had seen such arrangements at hotels in New York, Chicago, Paris, and other big cities. She'd never seen anything like it in a little country town like Toland, though. After Zandar said his piece on the subject, Viola asked him to speak about the Terrace in general. She listened to him closely, asking further questions when they came to her. Then, stepping closer to him and speaking with a serious tone, she presented him with, "So, there's good news ... and there's bad news."

Pulling her purse to her front, Viola said, "Good news first." She removed an envelope thick with cash and held it out in front of her. "One hundred thousand dollars ... in addition to what I gave you last night. This is for you ... for designing, building, and completing the project within the time frame in which I need it finished. This isn't meant to hire workers, buy resources, etcetera. This is your payment. Cash in pocket. Your pocket."

She smiled wider, then said, "The bad news: I need this done by the end of June." Zandar had projected a completion day or 6 to 7 months, which put them out to late September at the earliest. She explained, "I want to host a 4th of July celebration here on this Terrace ... this completed Terrace ... on the Nation's birthday."

She stepped closer, putting the envelope within the man's reach if he chose to take it. She asked, "Can you do it, Zandar? I'll see to it that you have all the personnel and resources you need to get it done. Mark Zane -- he's The Modern's handyman -- he knows everyone in or near Toland who's ever worked in construction like this, and I'm sure that being an architect, you have a cadre of laborers from which you can pull the right people."

Viola hesitated, then with an almost desperate tone, said, "Zandar ... I need this to happen."
 
Zandar looked at Viola "I can have it done in the time frame you presented me with, I will start right now on this floor. I will need the specific plants you requested in here in 3 weeks. I will need everyone who has been in construction, masonry workers, and glass workers." As he stepped closer to her she could hear how husky his voice gotten as he smiles at her.

He brings his tools and starts marking the areas that will have pillars and aquatic as he looked over a Viola for a moment "Will you keep me company while I work on this floor?" As he finished marking off the areas that she had planned for. Zandar began cutting away the wall for the elevator opening, as he concentrated to make each cut precisely and flawless. Lifting the pieces of the wall his muscles in his arms and shoulders could clearly be seen by Viola. Laying the pieces to the side,continued to work as the elevator opening begin to take shape.

Three hours after he started his work the room slowly begun to change to what Viola had envisioned for the Modern. Sweat was outing from Zandar's head as he pressed forward to meet the deadline for the 4Th of July celebration, not taking a break he kept working the walls until it was to Viola's satisfaction as he moved to the next step of her plan. It was around 7 pm when his stomach grumbled as he ignored as he too focused on the job and task given to him.
 
The Modern Hotel
3pm, Friday, March 28, 2025

(OOC thread)

"I can have it done in the time frame you presented me with," Zandar told Viola when she cut his time on the job to half of what he'd estimated it would take. "I will start right now on this floor."

Her smile showed her delight, but she thanked him verbally anyway. He spoke about the plans and needed crew, Viola told Zandar, "Anything you need."

"Will you keep me company while I work on this floor?" he asked.

"I would if I could, Zandar," she told him, adding levity to her continued response, "but I have places to be, people to see, and things to do."

She returned to the lobby, conferred with Mark and Maxine, then headed out to the curb where her new car was parked. Viola hadn't wanted to draw too much undue attention to herself through her choice of vehicle yet also wanted to ride in style, so instead of something brand new and exotic, she settled for a 2018 Jaguar XJ sedan. Settled for, she thought to herself as she slipped in behind the wheel. It wasn't the Maserati that her father had bought her for her 19th birthday or even the Ferrari she'd bought herself for her 21st, but it certainly wasn't a Ford Pinto or Geo Tracker, both of which she'd seen Tolanders driving since her arrival in their town.

She checked the time, realized that she had barely enough time to take care of a badly needed task, and hurried away from the Hotel. She headed south on Main, passed over the Cental-Western train tracks, and hung a right onto Highway 90. (Map) Viola wasn't paying enough attention as she pushed the accelerator toward the floor, sending the car quickly up towards 50-mph while still in a 35-mph zone.

And suddenly, there was the Sheriff's Department Interceptor. Viola lifted her foot from the gas pedal, checking her rear-view mirror ... and ... Fuck, here he comes. By he Viola meant Toland's resident Deputy, Connor Evans.

(OOC: This interaction continues in a 1x1 thread called "Speed Demon". Once that 1x1 concludes, a link at the end will bring you right back here.)
 
On River Barge Road South to Toland
2:15 PM, Thursday, March 27

(Continued From here)

"Oh! It was Winston West, the guy who owned the West Estate. They'd mapped out how to do it all: location, building cost, operating budget, everything." When Lyra had mentioned the name Marvin, it brought a tingle of recognition to the back of of Matt's mind; the second time it had happened in the last few days. He tried to remember where he'd heard that name in relation to Toland. When she mentioned his father, it all came back to him. The Burger Barn. That's where he knew that name. He'd eaten there some growing up, but not a lot. Fast food is not something you tend to indulge in much when you were rich enough to have some cook for you whenever you wanted. He mostly remembered that The Burger Barn was one of several pet projects that his father had been obsessed with back before his death. One of several projects that he'd tried to use to help shore up Toland and secure the town's future. The exact opposite of what Matt had done.

When Lyra mentioned meeting him at his father's funeral, Matt was surprised that she even remembered him. For him the day was deeply emotional and that made almost every detail etched firmly in his brain, but for her it would have been just another funeral. He chuckled to himself when said he'd been handsome. He always saw himself at the time as a baby faced, gangly, dork who had yet to come into his own. He thought about asking her if she found him more attractive than his younger self, but decided another time might be better.

"I was, what, 11? 2013 ... just before Richardson came in and fucked--" Lyra continued her rambling before she cut herself off, "I'm so sorry, really. I don't talk like that, really. I mean, sure, with Maggie. But..."

Matt let out a hearty laugh at her attempts to apologize. "I've been through middle school, Lyra," he said through his mirth, "I've heard my fair share of profanity. There are plenty of New Yorker's who can't hardly exhale without a couple of obscenities crossing their lips. Besides, I'd met a fair few models and wannabe actresses that would act all cute and innocent in public or when a camera was on them but as soon as you got them in private, they'd swear like a sailor and say and do things that would make the saltiest sea dog blush. Besides, Richardson is an absolute fucker that deserves to be fucked with a rusty pole, or whatever nasty shit that karma can throw at him."

Richardson, that was the name of the man he'd sold the company too. He'd tried to desperately keep that period out of his mind, he couldn't even the man's name. Even after he'd met him a couple of times after the sale. Once at a charity fund-raiser and once at a photo-shoot for a project that Richardson was tangentially involved in. Matt felt shivers run up and down his spine remembering the look that Richardson had as he'd stared at all the young models; models young enough to have been his daughter. Richardson really didn't need to have been there so Matt was pretty sure he was there less for business than pleasure. Of course Matt couldn't blame him too much. He'd been there to support Christina in her first big modeling and had not only ogled a few of the girls himself, but also thoroughly enjoyed himself when Christie and one of her model friends had setup a little 'post big-break' celebration afterwards.

"I knew some people back, in my old life," Matt responded, after she'd finished talking about the ideas for the estate, "that would be willing to pay through the nose for the 'all-natural, organic, locally sourced' stuff. I'm guessing there isn't much demand out here for that kind of thing. People barely making ends meet, if at all. No extra money for those kind of luxuries."

When she offered to feed him, he almost turned her down, but the smell of the food was making his stomach growl and he loved having her close. Of course, she couldn't just feed it to him straight, she had to make a little game of it. Matt didn't mind playing along as long as all of it made it into his belly and not on his shirt. He was little disappointed when the bag was empty and she slipped back to her side of the cab. Afterwards she stared out the window and Matt took occasional glances at her, starting to see her in a new light.

Without looking back, Lyra broke the silence, "Saturday mornings, Grampa Bill and Lorna and I used to go out to the Red Bluff Reservoir and fish or swim or water ski or whatever the time of the year permitted." Lorna's gone, obviously, and Bill ... well, he doesn't like to leave the estate much anymore. He's a home body. Would you go out there with me Saturday?" She turned back to him with mischievous grin, "If it's warm like it's supposed to be, you might even get to see me in a bikini."

At the mention of a bikini Matt's heart skipped a beat as blood rushed away from his head. Spending a day with a bikini-clad Lyra, away from it all? Sounded just like what the doctor ordered. Then he realized one little issue.

"I'd love to spend the morning with you on Saturday," he responded, "but we probably should have spent more time in Carlson Creek then, because I didn't bring any swimming trunks with me and I'm assuming that finding swimming suits in Toland on such short notice would probably be a long-shot. Unless you want me swim naked, then I'm going to have to head back later this week or else I'm going to stay out of the water." As they approached Toland they talked about their plans for Saturday: a little fishing, some swimming, maybe a short hike around the reservoir.

As they were pullling back into Toland area, Matt found himself driving up to the same turn that Lyra had slammed him into the car door with. Feeling confident in his driving now and looking for some payback, he took that turn fast and hard himself. Matt was never sure if she really was taken by surprise or if she let it happen but she ended up sliding all the way across the seat and into his lap. He took a look down at her sitting there and he let out a chuckle.

"If you wanted to be in the driver seat that badly, you could have just asked. I'd gladly let you finish the drive home. Otherwise, you better prepare yourself because we've got more hard turn to go."
 
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On River Barge Road, heading south toward Toland
2:30 PM, Thursday, March 27, 2025

(Continued From the post above.)

Lyra thought maybe she saw something in Matt's reaction when she mentioned his father by name. Of course, she had no idea that Adam Smith was actually Matthew West, so she couldn't know that Winston West was Adam's father. She also thought she saw a reaction from him when she mentioned his father's funeral. Again: no understanding on Lyra's part.

"There you go again," she cut him off when he again mentioned models and actresses. "So, you're either wanting me to think that you attract hot chicks from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition or tall, leggy women with boosted bosoms strolling down the catwalk. What gives?"

Lyra had no idea that Matt had been married, let alone married to a former -- or was it current? -- New York fashion model. She didn't know if he would actually answer the question or not, but this was twice he'd said something about it, so he was either fishing for her to ask or -- and this would horrify Lyra -- he had had some sort of relationship or friendship with such a woman and it had gone horribly wrong, which was why he'd accidentally mentioned it but never expanded.

Matt went on talking about people and their profanity, then mentioned Robert Richardson -- Viola's father! It was absolutely crazy that he was talking about her own, scheming, evil dad ... and several times over the last couple of days, she had spoken ill about the man who'd sold out to her father's hedge fund ... without knowing that that man had been Matt! How ... fucking ... ironic that neither of them knew all this.

He talked about how people back east would spend gobs of money on organic but that out here that wasn't likely. She responded, "Yeah, I know. It's not a money-making proposition. Old Winston and Marvin, though ... they knew it was going to cost more than it saved, but neither of them cared. They'd lose about a dime a burger, they'd figured out. Maybe a bit more. But they'd decided that it would be worth it."

She shrugged, saying, "That's moot, though. The Burger Barn is closed. Winston West is dead. Whatever."

Viola started feeding Matt his burger, swapping between it and some of the fries and the occasional drink of his shake. After a bit, she began teasing him with a waving fry, then laughing when he'd bite for it and miss. He warned her not to decorate his shirt with the drippings, which only led her to tease him with that, too.

At one point, he jerked the steering wheel a bit; Lyra didn't see whether he'd crossed the yellow line or something had stepped out on the road or what. All she knew was that the ketchup she'd put on the fry she was feeding him got all over his cheek, leading her to laugh and say, "Not my fault! You're driving!"

She looked for the napkins, but they were in the bag which had fallen to the passenger side floorboard. Instead, Lyra ran her fingertip across Matt's cheek, wiping up the red stuff. She offered the fingertip for his own dining pleasure, then -- realizing how forward and even lewd that might look -- she stuck the fingertip in her own mouth, sucking the ketchup off.

But even that was a bit lewd, leading Lyra to laugh and blush -- and redheads with freckles blush! She was suddenly feeling very self-conscious about her proximity to Matt and slid back over to her seat. She once again sat with her back to the door, though, this time with her knees bent and up in front of her.

At her invitation to go with her to the lake, Matt made note of him not having a swimsuit for the lake. He said, "Unless you want me swim naked..."

"Suit, no suit, it's all up to you," Lyra said, immediately laughing and blushing yet again. "I gotta tell you, though, Red Bluff doesn't have a nude beach, so, you'll likely be making the acquaintance of Connor Evans. He's our local Sheriff's Deputy."

Lyra very nearly told Matt that she'd once dated Connor; he'd been her first and only lover, and while she'd thought that they were destined for marriage, it didn't work out that way. They were still friends and friendly, but romantically, they were now lightyears apart from ever being one again.

"I guess that if you want to see me in a swimming suit," Lyra teased, "you'll have to make another trip back to Carlson Creek."

Just about then -- and possibly as a result of her teasing, though she couldn't know for sure -- Matt took that same sharp corner that she'd taken on the way out of Toland, sending her across the bench seat. She'd just taken her cell phone out of the purse lying in the floorboard, so she hadn't had her right hand free to grab on. The left hand, though, grasped quickly at the top of the bench seat, the result of which was her spinning on her bum to her right ... and ending up practically in Matt's lap, wedged between him and the steering wheel of which he'd somehow managed to keep control.

Lyra cried out in surprise initially, then finding herself essentially in his arms and face to face with him, she blushed yet again! She just stared him in the face as his own eyes shifted back and forth between her and the road. She knew she needed to return to her seat, for safety, but she couldn't force herself to leave his accidental embrace.

"If you wanted to be in the driver seat that badly," Matt teased, "you could have just asked."

"I almost lost my phone out the window, you goof," she said, trying but failing to seem mad. A smile forced her lips wide, despite her attempts at controlling it.

"I'd gladly let you finish the drive home," he continued. "Otherwise, you better prepare yourself because we've got more hard turns to go."
Lyra smiled even wider, then crawled out of Matt's lap and scooted back to the passenger door. She was still smiling as she said, "If I'm going to let you drive in the future, I'm going to have to put those seatbelts in, aren't I?"

They finally arrived at the driveway's entrance, and Lyra said quickly, "Stop!" When the truck skidded to a halt, she explained, "I have to swing a gate to let the alpacas move to the other field. Take the truck up to the house, and I'll be up there in a bit to help unload."

Smiling, she scooted back over toward Matt on her hands and knees; the yellow sundress's front drooped just enough to reveal the cleavage of her firm, unbridled B-cups as she reached a finger toward him and ran the tip across his cheek near his ear. She pulled it back, showing another spot of red. "Ketchup. Didn't see it the first time."

Then, looking Matt directly in the eyes with a meaningful expression, she licked her lips, turned the fingertip toward her mouth as if about to once again eat what had been stuck to his face -- then plopped the dot of condiment on the end of Matt's nose.

Laughing -- almost cackling -- Lyra threw open the door and leapt out; the back of her dress caught the edge of the seat, revealing for just an instance that she was wearing a black thong. Once with her feet on the ground, she threw the door shut and danced her way out to the field to take care of another chore. But she turned to look back at Matt, smiling and giggling like a school girl.
 
Zandar continued to work on the walls removing them and rebuilding them as he smiled seeing the new life that he was putting into the Modeen. As he looked at his watch seeing he been working nonstop for fours hours already as he continued with Viola's designs. Slowly the room begin to take whole new shape of its own. The rooms now completely bare and rebuilt, he finally stopped working as he called for Viola.

He waited for Viola to show her the progress he was made me looked at the room that will house different trees and plants, he quickly thought of connecting the aquaduct,fountain, and sauna all in piece to save little time. He smiled his thoughts of Viola in a bikini inside the sauna once it has been completed. Wondered if she even had dinner yet as he was thought invite her to his place.
 
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The Modern Hotel
5:45 pm, Friday, March 28, 2025

(OOC: Take note that this is occurring on Friday, where some of the posts above are still on Thursday. I'm sure you all can handle it, can't you?)

By the time Viola got back to her new home, the work in the lobby had ceased and the workers had scattered back to their homes. She'd left an envelope full of cash with Maxine, and when she stepped out from her living quarters and told everyone to go home, she handed each one of the workers three $100 bills and asked if they'd be back the upcoming Monday. Without fail, each of them had responded with some version of Hell, yeah.

Viola showered, changed, did her face and hair, and headed down to Maxine's private residential area behind the lobby. The dinner party was smaller than normal; Claudia was out on a date, and Maxine hadn't invited any other females tonight, so the balance of the group was whichever of the men decided on a free and delicious meal.

The conversation was lively; there was a lot about which to talk: the renovation of The Modern Hotel, the restoration of The Black Hole, the grants for the Fire Department and Parks & Rec -- which Viola was surprised to find out was already public knowledge -- and so much more.

After they finished dessert and did the dishes, Viola headed upstairs again just to check her face, then headed for The Black Hole. Viola donned another outfit that Marjorie Keen had put together for her; it was simple, just a blouse, jeans, and heels that had just arrived this morning, but during the evening to come, when men -- and even women -- got an eyeful of her, they seemed to readily approve.

The Black Hole was hopping this night; word was getting around that the tavern was experiencing more than a renovation: it was a rebirth. (OOC: I'm not going to describe it. That's for "Vance".) As she entered and headed for the bar, Viola looked around and found all the familiar faces, as well as close to another 30 patrons. This pleased her, as she hadn't seen this many people in the tavern over the previous 7 nights combined.

Notable attendees were Maxine, of course, seeing how the party was for her; Connor Evans, for whom Viola had promised the first dance, and Leonard Hughes, who'd done more in one day toward the creation of a new terrace than Viola had imagined.
 
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Zandar Akaru was looking around at the many people at the Black Hole as he noticed Viola and her outfit was stunnimg. He gently gave her a wave, as he found a chair near the bar as he sat down sipping his drink. As he let a deep breath feeling the day accomplishments to Modern Hotel , he noticed a cute brunette sitting next to him as he offers her a friendly smile. Noticing she was well toned and her body was that of a yoga instructor.

As the party continued on he would take to the woman next to him for a little while as he excused himself to talk to Viola and ask what she thought of his planning so far to the Modern Hotel. He approached Viola he smiled at her "Your outfit looks simply amazing Viola. Who are the rest the patrons at the bar"? As he sipped his drink and as he felt the woman at the bar checking him out.
 
The Black Hole Tavern (OOC thread)
Friday night, March 28

Vance Littleton never saw this many people in his tavern unless someone was throwing a party, and even then, the crowd was rarely this big. When he saw Viola Dean come in looking as hot as ever, Vance waved her over, held his hands out in a Look at this! gesture, and told her, "You did this!"

They chatted about the obvious changes in the tavern, including the fancy jukebox, the first of two pool tables that were coming, the shuffleboard table, the electronic and cork dartboards both, and a wall of pinball machines, each of which had a person playing at it and at least one more waiting.

"I set the slot controls to twenty-five cents a game," he said about the pinball machines. "Anywhere else it's up to a buck."

He pointed to a big hand painted sign on the wall above the pinball machines that read:

FREE PLAY
Pinball Wizard Tournament
Winter Festival Weekend
Under 21: Friday, April 4th, starting at noon
21 and over: Saturday, April 5th, starting at 7pm
Top Three Scores Paid
1st - $500
2nd - $300
3rd - $100​

"Charlie Reed painted that for me," Vance explained, pointing to the teen's initial in the lower right corner of the banner. "He's painting one for the pool tournament the following weekend, too."

He looked over his shoulder as one of the newly hired waitresses came shooting out of the kitchen with baskets of fries. "The inspector was here this morning and signed the permit for the cookers. We've got chicken, fish, burgers ... fries, jo-jo's, deep fried mozzarella sticks. I'll have a full menu up and running before the Winter Festival starts Friday."

A patron waggled his empty beer stein a couple of seats away, getting an acknowledgement from the tavern's owner. As Vance grabbed a clean mug and filled it from the tap, he continued, raising his voice to battle the classic rock coming from speakers in ever corner of the establishment, "Two of my former barmaids are here tonight. Two others have asked for hours. I'll probably start them next week."

He gave the man his fresh beer, then returned to his benefactor. "I'm not the kind of man who typically gushes to people about the wondrous things they've done for me, Viola. But if it wouldn't blow my whole Big Tough Guy persona, I'd crawl over the bar, take you into my arms, and cry on your shoulder with joy. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Another patron called out for shots, and Vance waved his waitress to the table to take care of the order. Vance looked over Viola's shoulder at the corner where the beautiful blonde's normal table that sat 4 had been replaced with one meant for 6-10, depending on how tightly you wanted to squeeze in.

"They brought Maxine in about half an hour ago," he told her. "There were literally carrying her on their shoulders, two offering shoulders and two in behind because she kept screaming that they were going to drop her. It was hilarious, but they got her here just fine."

As he filled another beer stein, Vance continued, "They brought a cake, and Dick over at Roxanne's brought two huge tubs of ice cream, Vanilla and Rocky Road. Personally, I would have selected Strawberry Shortcake, but that's just me."

He waved that direction to confirm the waves coming from there for Viola's company. "I guess they're wanting you to join." He leaned closer, asking, "Hey, is that Zandar Akura?"

Viola confirmed. "Is he working on The Modern? I heard there were, what, 20 guys and girls over there today?" He pointed here and there to men and women spending their hard-earned money. "They say shit rolls downhill, but cash money rolls from you to me. I have to say, Viola ... thanks again."

He watched the sexy blonde, particularly her ass, make its way over to the corner. Then it was back to work again.
 
The Black Hole
Friday, 7pm

Connor Evans was the last of the invited guests to arrive at the tavern. He'd been held up by a neighbor who refused to understand that when the Deputy's shift ended, he didn't want to hear their problems unless it involved a dead adult, a missing child, or a firearm. Almost everything else could wait until the Swing Shift Deputy arrived.

He entered The Black Hole wearing jeans and a western style plaid shirt. He caught the expression on Viola Dean's face when she saw him, and only after he'd reached the table full of good friends and acquaintances did he realize that the beauty had never seen him out of his Sheriff's uniform. Viola, of course, was looking as hot as ever in tight fitting blouse that showed off her delicious bosom and a pair of even-tighter-fitting jeans that looked more painted on than worn.

He held his arms out, did a little spin for her, and said humorously, "No, my closet isn't filled with just blue uniforms."

Someone poured him a tall beer as he took out a sealed card and offered it out, saying, "Maxine, happy birthday. There's a little something in there for you."

She misunderstood and thought Connor meant money. He laughed as she opened the envelope, opened the card, and found old black-and-white photographs inside. He explained, "Gramps found those in a box in the attic a couple of days ago. We think they might have been his grandfather's. Thought you might like them. Maybe put them up in the lobby after you get done with your renovation."

The collection of over two dozen photos, all taken in front of The Modern, but dating from way back during the first years of the 1900s up to as late as the Vietnam War era. "That one there, that's Gramps, the day before he flew out for his 2nd tour in Nam."

The pictures floated around the table for several minutes until they were finally gathered up and slipped back into the card and envelope. Connor slipped through the crowd to hover over the old woman and get a kiss on the cheek from her. He moved out for some space, then looked to Viola, asking, "So, did you save that first dance for me like you promised?"

She got up just as a slow song started playing on the juke box. He offered her a hand, led her out to the floor on which half a dozen other couples were either already on or heading to, and turned back to her. He offered the more proper hand positions of his right hand just on her hip and his left up in the air. If she chose something a bit more intimate (as in her hands on his neck or shoulders and both of his on her hips), he wouldn't refuse it.

"So, no speeding ticket, I hear?" he asked, smiling devilishly. "I assume you made it to the bank on time."

(OOC: Okay, we're taking this conversation back to the 1x1 so that we can trade a bunch of short posts without clogging up the main IC. The very first post of this portion of the 1x1 is an exact copy of this post, so you don't have to read it all over again if you don't want to. This link gets you there.)
 
Zandar Akura watched everyone paying the pinball machines and spending there money as he looks over at Vance Littleton "Excuse me but I like to buy the redhead woman at the bar a drink. What ever she wants is on me. I like a burger with onion rings as well." As he placed a $ 100 dollar bill as he smiled "Keep the rest as tip." As he finished his drink and smiles at the redhead woman. He looked at all the food being cooked and brought out to the patrons. The good smelled wonderful.

He made his way to the pinball machine as he laced coins into it and started playing his fingers, rapidly hitting the buttons as he watched the ball bouncing around and hearing the sound of the points adding up to his score. As he kept playing patiently waiting on his order. The people was laughing and enjoying the atmosphere in the Black Tavern. He forgot was it was like to just let loose and enjoy the night life.
 
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The West Estate
Shortly before sunset, Thursday, March 27, 2025

(OOC: Loosely following this)

As the sun reached closer to the horizon, Matt sat next to the pool on the grounds, staring out at the water and occasionally tossing a pebble into the pool. Each pebble splashed into the water with a soft plunk and sent ripples racing across the pond. Matt's whole focus was on the world in his head that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him.

"Did you know that this pool was a built by your grandmother Edith?" Bill's voice cut through the silence and caused Matt to turn. The old man stood a few yards away from Matt and held a briefcase in one of his hands. "Or it was at least planned and built on her orders. She didn't actually do any of the construction herself."

"I never really knew granma Edith," Matt responded, turning back to the pond, "I remember her, barely, but I was only seven when she passed. Everyone that had met her had only positive things to say."

"That's probably because they were afraid of the old bat," Bill said with a chuckle, "even after she'd past. The woman was a spitfire. Never afraid to speak her mind, no matter how people might react and she always had something to say; on every subject. She had the pond built to help her unwind and relax. Not to dissimilar to what you're doing now. She was always wound up bysome project or another and she always had a way of bulldozing through whatever got in her way. The only one could ever hold her back was your granddad. She'd always listen to him; didn't always take his advice though."

"Arthur West. Now that was a great man. Not always a good man but an incredibly capable on,"Bill continued, getting a little starry eyed as he reminisced, "Always the center of attention and he understood how to make an impression. He could always spin people around to the point that they would do whatever he wanted and they thought it was all their idea to begin with. He was ruthless when it came to business but he definitely had a soft side. He's the one who first hired me on here as the groundskeeper, shortly after I'd come home from the war."

Matt turned back to the older man and briefly looked down at the briefcase. "It's a nice history lesson but I assume you came out here to do more than reminisce. That briefcase doesn't seem light and hate to make you hold it for long."

"I've worked almost fifty years as the estate's caretaker and worked under three generation of the West family," Bill continued almost as if he hadn't heard Matt, "The property has been in the West family's hands even longer than that. When you ran away from here, I understood why you did it but I always assumed you'd come back. Every year that you didn't return, I lost a little more hope. Lorna never did, and she kept my fire going. Up until the day she passed from my life. After that, I pretty much gave up on you ever coming back. I despaired at the thought of the house passing to some rich asshole that didn't truly understand what he'd just acquired." The old man seemed to wipe a tear from his eye as he continued, "I guess Lorna was right though, as she almost always was.

"When you had just got here and started talking about selling the house and leaving again, it nearly broke this old man's heart," Bill rambled on, before turning his full attention to Matt, staring deep in his soul. "Please don't leave. The West's are an institution here in Toland and this place is your home. If you sell this place, I'm sure that they'll love it, but I'm sure that they won't appreciate it as much as someone who is part of the legacy of this place. So I ask you, as this places caretaker and a friend; please, make this your home, have a kid, or two, or many, and continue the legacy of this home."

Matt silence at what Bill had just said. A lump built in his throat and his words couldn't come out.

"Oh, and about that," Bill said, suddenly full of mirth, "How did the date go? Lyra seemed in a good spirits, so it couldn't have gone too poorly."

"D-d-date?" Mat sputtered as he got to his feet, "That wasn't a date, I just went to help her pick up supplies. Everything was perfrctly platonic. I'm not trying to date your goddaughter."

"Really?" came Bill's smirking response, "Why not? She's not your type? Not good enough for the great Matt West? If you say she's not pretty enough I'd start questioning the team you play on. Honestly, I know you find her attractive. I've seen the way the two of you look at each other. Honestly, the two of you alone together on the trip to Carlson Creek, getting food together and being close in the truck cab, I honestly expected the two of you to be all over each other."

"Wait," Matt said incredulously, "You want me to date Lyra? You don't find anything about that weird?"

"Of course I want to see you two together," Bill replied, "I've been trying to push you two together since the day you arrived. What kind of godfather would I be if I didn't want my goddaughter to be with the best man he knew? The only thing that I find weird is that someone was too thick to figure out what was going on. I can't make you love each other, but Lyra is going to need all the help she can get. At least you can try, and if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out."

They sat in silence for a time before Matt quietly broke it, "I like Lyra, a lot. She's smart and funny and kind. And not to mention super attractive. But I don't know. After everything that Christie put me through, I don't know if I'm ready to leave myself vulnerable like again, at least not yet." Matt held up his hand to silence any coming dissent, "I know; Lyra's not like that, but it isn't something coming from my brain, but my heart. Maybe in time."

"Go at your own pace," Bill said with a nod, "But just give it a chance. And don't you dare break her heart, or I will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"On to other important business," Bill said, putting the briefcase in Matt's hands, "I thought it was about time I gave you this." Matt opened it and found it full of notebooks and papers. As Matt dug through the papers he found that the papers were maps, diagrams, drawings, and handwritten notes. He recognized his father's handwriting on most of them.

"What is it?" Matt asked, looking back at Bill.

"Your father's 'playbook'" was Bill's response, "His ideas, plans, and contingencies for helping Toland. I'm sure some of them are uselessly out of date, but I'm sure some could still useful. Remember, your legacy is more than just this house; it's tied to all of Toland. And this is the legacy your father left for you." Bill turned to leave nut shouted back, "Use it, don't use it. It's up to you. But I'd ask you to at least read through it."

Matt was left alone again as he thumbed through pages. A breeze picked up and blew a couple of pages out of the case. After he picked up the papers, he set out to the sunroom to go over the papers by the light of the setting sun.
 
The West Estate
Shortly before sunset, Thursday, March 27, 2025

(Continues from above post. Remember, this is Thursday, not Friday.)

Lyra was still wearing the yellow dress and weaved hat she'd worn to Carlson Creek as she came up from the south field after feeding the emus. She needed to change into something different -- there were dozens, maybe even hundreds of little burrs stuck to the fabric -- but if she took the time, she'd be late to watching the sunset from the Sun Room.

When she got there, she found Matt sitting back in one of the chaise lounges, surrounded by spiral and composition notebooks, loose papers, maps, diagrams, drawings, and handwritten notes. There was a briefcase on the floor near him that she recognized but had never seen opened; she'd never heard the term playbook in regard to either the case or what might have been inside it.

She stood there for the longest moment, mesmerized by how mesmerized Matt seemed to be by the collection. The sun was just beginning to touch the horizon -- the mountain range on the far side of Capital City -- and Lyra wanted to announce herself and come sit with Matt.

But as the illumination from beyond the glass began to change, the man looked up to watch it, and again Lyra found herself mesmerized by his reaction to it. This time of the year, with the sun falling right between two of the distant range's tallest peaks, it took exactly 3 minutes, 30 seconds for the sun to fully disappear. Lyra stood there in silence, simply watching the man.

It was at that very moment in time, as she watched him watch the sunset, that Lyra decided that she was falling in love with Adam Smith. Of course, she wasn't falling for Adam Smith because there was no such person. But she wouldn't learn that for a while -- days, weeks, months? Who could know now?

Still, even when she did learn, she would know that this was the moment. The only question someone in the know might ask was Will you still be in love with Matt West as you found yourself with Adam Smith? Again, who could know now?

Something deeper in the house made a sound, and Matt turned to find Lyra standing there, watching him. She smiled and asked about the sunset, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She entered the Sun Room deeper, dropped onto a lounger not covered in whatever this was, and -- as one might expect -- asked, "What's all this?"

He would explain or not, as he saw fit. And when he did -- or didn't -- she would sit there with the hem of her dress pulled up to her thighs as she picked burrs out of the fabric and dropped them into a little pile on the chaise. She tried to be careful to keep her private area private, but occasionally her tugs on the dress gave Matt a quick glance of the front of her black thongs between the fabric and her thighs.

And all the time she was doing this, Lyra was fantasizing just taking the dress off -- as well as her thong and bra -- and crawling into Adam Smith's lap. Thinking such things made her smile and blush, twice that she counted. It had been a long time since she'd been with a man, that man having been Sheriff's Deputy Connor Evans. Connor hadn't been just Lyra's last lover; he'd been her first lover, too.

They'd had sort of a long-distance relationship: he'd been here providing the City and County of Toland with law and order, and Lyra had been going to school at Oregon State University. They'd made it work for almost a full year, getting together any time she could get home on break and a couple of times when he'd flown out west to spend some time with her.

But the distance and time apart had been distracting, and Lyra hadn't been able to handle it. And besides, she felt like she was keeping Connor from beginning and maintaining a real relationship back here. They'd broken up amiably, and to this day were still very close friends.

She hadn't had any interest in men her remaining time at OS, though -- and she would never tell Grampa Bill or even Connor this -- she had had a little bit of a thing with a fellow female classmate, mostly just to see what it was all about. She'd enjoyed it -- how did Katy Perry put it, Kissing a Girl? -- but it hadn't really been her thing.

It had been almost two years since she'd last laid with Connor. She hadn't had an interest in any man she knew here in Toland since returning.

Until now.
 
The West Estate
Shortly before sunset, Thursday, March 27, 2025

(Continued from here)

Matt had spent fair bit of time sitting on a chaise lounge in the sun room pouring over over his father's 'playbook.' He'd started out by sorting the papers into categories, base on what the document was and how relevant it was to the current situation. Many of them were talking about how to best leverage the assets of Toland Timber; assets that were shut down and sold off years ago. Others, like ideas to utilize the area's natural resources, were timeless. Most were somewhere in between. Matt eventually got caught up in reading his father's notes; hearing each of the words in his father's voice. He found that his father's way of writing wasn't all that different to his way of speaking; he'd be super focused on one idea, breaking it down in detail, before becoming derailed in writing down some tangent.

Matt was caught up in the father's words, oblivious to the rest of the world until the sun had set to the point it was fully in his eyes. He stared out towards the sun as it set between two peaks at the horizon. It wasn't the first time he'd sat in this very room and watched the sunset behind the mountains. He had frequently spent evenings curled up with his mother as they watched the sunset. He'd also brought a couple of high school girlfriends up to the house to watch the sunset. Somehow he knew this wouldn't be his last time watching the sunset here, either.

As the day came to a close, he thought about how it began with him moping about his room, miserably thinking about the past. Then he'd opened up the trunk and found the lost treasures of his past. After that was the trip with Lyra to Carlson Creek. Last was his conversation with Bill and the gift of the 'playbook.' So much had happened in one day, so much had changed. It hadn't even been a week since he'd arrived back in Toland and yet in that time the whole world had seemed to change. His life had been left in shambles and he only now felt like all the pieces were fitting back together. With the help of Max, Bill, and most recently Lyra, Matt finally felt like his he was really finding a home here in Toland. At the moment though, he just wished Lyra was here with him, watching the sunset as he held her in his arms.

As if a genie had heard his heart's wish, there was a noise from somewhere in the house and Matt turned towards it, only to see Lyra standing in the doorway, their eyes met as soon as he looked at her. She smiled and him and asked, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said, not taking his eyes off her as he responded, "One of the most gorgeous sights I've ever had the privilege of seeing. It's the perfect way to end a day like this." As she moved deeper into the room, Matt hoped that she would take a seat by him on the lounger, or better yet his lap. She instead chose to sit on another lounger free of papers. "What's all this?" she continued, gesturing to the piles of papers scattered near him.

"A project that Bill asked me to look at," as he talked to her she began to pick something out of her dress, and with the way she was sitting her movements would give him an occasional peak at the black thong she had underneath. He found the sight, with the way her dark underwear contrasted with her pale skin and the yellow her dress, incredibly striking and arousing. He fantasized about her pulling her dress up to give him a good look before sauntering over and plopping down on his lap.

"Bill wanted me to take a look at all of this because he knew I had some level of experience and expertise connected to all of this," his words came out a little slow because his fantasy Lyra was grinding her thong against his cock, slowly making the small piece of clothing wet with their juices. Outside of fantasy, his cock had sprung to life and was painfully pushing against his jeans. He shifted in his seat, adjusting his pants to more comfortable fit his growing length. He hoped she hadn't noticed him staring or the growth in his pants, but based on the blush he saw on her face, he thought she probably had.

"It has something to do with the previous owner and his plans for this place and town," he turned away from her to look back at the sunset when fantasy Lyra had pushed her thong to the side and started to ride him. "But that's not important now. I'd only just started going through it all and right now I just want to enjoy the sunset with you."

"I'm sorry I took the best seat from you," he said as removed the papers from the rest of his lounger, "Lets just sit and watch this lovely day end together."
 
The West House Sun Room
Sunset, Thursday, March 27, 2025

(OOC: Still Thursday.)

Matt explained the things spread all around him as Lyra continued picking the burrs from her dress. He spoke of his experience and expertise and wondered what that entailed. She should have asked, of course; that was the polite thing to do. But she'd already decided -- wrongly or rightly, she didn't know -- that Adam Smith had things in his past that he would and should only reveal to her when it was time. She'd let him open up to her; that was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

"It has something to do with the previous owner and his plans for this place and town," he continued.

This piqued Lyra's interest as much as Matt and his past did. She didn't know much about the West Family; she'd heard rumors for years that they'd had something to do with the collapse of Toland, but she'd mostly ignored them. Lyra didn't believe such things unless she'd actually seen them with her own eyes, and she'd been barely a teenager when RRF bought TCI and brought it and the town to its knees. What had she been doing at 13? Flirting with or being flirted with by boys, of course.

"But that's not important now," he said about the previous estate's owner, who, of course, had been his father but about whom Lyra was unaware.

She cut into his sad talk, saying, "No! That's not true." She hesitated; she'd interrupted him without really knowing what she was going to say. She considered her words, then said, "It is important." She gestured a waggling finger toward the papers, saying, "This was obviously important to the guy who put it all together. And I can see in your face, Adam, that you think it's important, too."

He smiled to her, then switched to, "...right now I just want to enjoy the sunset with you. I'm sorry I took the best seat from you."

Lyra smoothed her dress's hem and just about stood to sit on the lounger with Matt, reclaiming the best seat in the house for reasons other than simply facing the sunset. A chill ran up her back, causing her to tremble and giggle as goosebumps exploded up and down her arms and legs. Thinking he likely say them, Lyra told Matt, "Chill. Gets cold as soon as the sun disappears."

"Let's just sit and watch this lovely day end together," he told her.

"Sure, okay," she said with a soft tone and a smile.

She didn't turn to look at the setting sun, though; her gaze continued to shift between Matt and -- when he would look back at her -- down to her dress. Lyra realized that heart was pounding faster with excitement -- sexual excitement -- and that if she didn't get away from Matt soon, she was going to hop up and hop him.

Then she flinched and let out a bit of a shocked squeal as Rosie said from the Sun Room's entrance, "I'm leaving." The housekeeper/cook/caregiver/angel laughed, apologizing, "Sorry, Lyra, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't!" the beautiful redhead lied. She hopped up, heading for the door before stopping suddenly and looking back to Matt. "I, um ... I need to go ... check on Bill ... before Rosie splits. I'll, um..."

She wanted to say she'd be back, but she knew that if she returned, she'd take her clothes off, then his, and satisfy a need that had been building almost from the moment she'd first seen him on the home's front steps days earlier. Lyra suddenly just spun and disappeared through the door, her now bare feet heard patting down the hallway's tile at a quick pace.

Rosie looked to Matt, smiled tentatively, then informed him of something that the girl might or might not want Matt to know yet. "She likes you, Mister Smith. But..." She hesitated a moment, considering not just her words but her place in this conversation. "Lyra's ... well, she's still a girl in some respects. I don't mean that she's ... naive. She's just ... inexperienced."

The housekeeper knew of Lyra's nearly two-year long relationship with the decade-older Deputy Connor Evans, of course. The two of them had talked in detail about the affair, like a couple of teenage BFFs. As far as that went, probably everyone in Toland had known about the couple, despite their relationship having been a long-distance one while Lyra had been a student at Oregon State University and Connor had been as he was now a Law Enforcement Officer in their hometown.

Oh, it wasn't as if either of them had talked about their relationship like Lyra and Rosie had. Actually, did Rosie know whether or not Connor had told his buddies about the sexy young redhead with whom he was bumping uglies? She couldn't know for certain, but she had then and still doubted it now. Connor Evans was an honorable man and protector of those he cared about.

To Rosie's best knowledge, Lyra hadn't been with a man since Connor. The girl spent nearly every minute on the Estate or in the truck running errands related to its operation. When would she have found the time and privacy to open her legs to a new man?

"She's only ever been in love once before," Rosie went on, knowing that she was most definitely telling Matt more than Lyra would prefer. She shrugged softly, thinking she should probably shut her trap. She looked to the distant mountain range, now a deep black silhouette with the darkening reds and oranges above it, then back to Matt West, saying, "Goodnight, Mister Smith."
 
(OOC: This is sort of a "place holder" to show where Kyle and Anne Marie Wilson enter the story. I don't know if this post is necessary, but I wanted to put it here just in case.)
 
Late Evening
Monday, March 4, 2024
(sort of)

* a rambling introductory post that hits random-ish highlights over a six year period *​

“Hi Mom. Are you and Pops both at home?”

Anne Marie Peterson was shooting for “nonchalant” and “everything’s fine” in her tone. Of course her mother knew nonchalant and everything’s fine meant something was wrong.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No no, everything is fine. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I could drop by for a minute.”

“Dinner is in 30 minutes, why don’t you stay ….”

“No, I have a ton of work to do. I just didn’t want to be five blocks away and not stop by to say hi. See you in five minutes?”

--

“Mark, Anne Marie is coming by in a minute. She wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong.”

--

For once in her life, the speech Anne Marie rehearsed in the car for the hour-plus drive to her parents' house in Capital City was something similar to the speech that came out of her mouth.

“Mom, Dad, I can only stay a minute. You know how I hate confrontations and family drama, but I have some news you need to hear.” Deep breath. “I’m going to have a baby. As soon as I told him… uh.. told the father, he asked me to marry him. He’s a good man who wanted to do the honorable thing.”

The look in her mother’s eyes were almost too much for Anne Marie. Such disappointment – that she would get pregnant while not being married. The look in her father’s eyes were just as painful.

“I’m sorry. I’m twenty four years old. It’s not like I’m an irresponsible …”

What? An irresponsible child? Is being an irresponsible adult any better, or is it less excusable? “He’s a good Christian man who will be a wonderful husband and father.”

“Not such a good Christian man that he didn’t knock y… “ The wife’s gentle nudge with an elbow to the ribs prevented him from saying the worst possible thing. Or maybe the second worst.

“I was there, too, Daddy. A willing participant. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to Hell for it.”

The lingering silence was oh so gently broken by Dr. Peterson who asked “Who.. who is the father?”

“Kyle Wilson.”

The disappointment was even more palpable. If she was going to get knocked up, couldn’t it have been from someone more worthy? Someone they could be brag about having as a son-in-law? Kyle Wilson’s family wasn’t exactly Toland royalty.

“This is one of those times when I could use a little loving support?”

She ended up staying for dinner, and leaving with a large bottle of pre-natal vitamins, compliments of her physician dad.

--
--

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, we just haven’t been very public about it." (A little lie they cooked up together.)

“Kyle might be going overseas for a few months, and we didn’t want to wait.” (Another little lie they cooked up together.)

“I’m sorry, Sis, you know I love you, but Kyle and I are different. We don’t want a big fancy wedding with all the trimmings. We just want to keep things simple. Last week we even thought about waking up the Justice of the Peace and having him perform the ceremony in his living room.” Only a little white lie. A week ago she didn’t know she was pregnant, but she was telling the truth about not wanting a big wedding, even if there was no rush. Of course a medium sized wedding would not have been a bad thing.

However, circumstances being what they were, the plan was to marry as soon as possible, so it was feasible that she got pregnant on their wedding night.

--
--

Six years later, Anne Marie (Peterson) Wilson was looking at the bowl of Mac-and-cheese on the counter, salivating as if it was a pot of gold. And she didn’t even care for Mac and cheese. As Andrew was teaching his younger brothers a game he’d just invented – something like tic-tac-toe, but the only rule was it had to be played with crayons on a bedroom wall – “Mom” was cutting up hot dog wieners into small pieces to adorn the boys’ meals.

There was a noticeable lack of green on the counter. This was not a night for Anne Marie to reenact the Battle of the Vegetables – especially when the enemy outnumbered her two to one and she herself was short on provisions. At least the baby would still eat something green out of a little jar.

She resisted the urge to scoop up and devour the five cheesy noodles that had fallen out of the pan and onto the stovetop. “No, if I’m going to cheat, it’s going to be with cheesecake, not something I don’t like.”

After the boys were tucked away in their beds, and finally asleep, Anne Marie allowed herself a few minutes to luxuriate in a tub filled with hot water and soapy suds. It wasn’t an especially big tub, but she was pleased to note that as her body was getting smaller, there seemed to be more room in the tub. Maybe someday she would have an even bigger tub, and a husband at home to share it with. But for now – any progress was a good thing.

Ironically, Anne Marie wasn’t trying to lose weight to look better. She just wanted to be healthier. Healthy enough to keep up with her children. Healthy enough to chase down John Marcus who might have run out in the middle of Highway 90 if Kyle hadn’t been there to chase him down. It wasn’t about looking good – it was about being healthy enough to be a good mommy.

Her father was no help in the weight loss department. Even though he was a Family Practice physician, the sum total of his understanding of nutrition was what he’d learned from a Cold War era USDA chart titled “The Food Pyramid”.

“If you don’t want to be fat, don’t eat fat.” That probably came straight from one of his medical school textbooks. Score one for the scientific method.

She couldn’t even tell “Doctor Dad” she was doing Keto. That would be like telling your financial advisor you were investing all your money in lottery tickets. At any rate, it wasn’t about the scale. In fact, she’d even put hers in a box in the back of her closet. Anne Marie had already gone through the torture of weighing herself three or four or five times a day, as if a drastic change would take place at some point between noon and two o’clock. No, she used a keto test strip once a week when she was fasting, and broke out the bathroom scale on the first of every month.

==

It finally happened! She was walking home from church one Thursday afternoon, T.M. riding in a baby carrier strapped to her back, John Marcus in the jogging stroller, and Andrew tethered to her wrist, when she felt her jeans start to slide down over her hips. She was aware, of course, that her belt had been tightened to the last available notch, but she wasn’t aware of just how much less padding she had to hold everything in place. The rest of the trip home – thank goodness it was only three more blocks – were with one hand on the stroller and one clutching her belt.

Soon, she would have to shop for some new clothes. An expense she didn’t want to have to go to – they had so many more important things they needed to save their money for. At any rate, an ice pick would take care of the belt situation. It wasn’t like she was trying to win any awards for fashion.

==

March 4, 2024: Kyle will be home in a matter of hours, thank God. The last thing Anne Marie wanted to do was say “welcome home, the kids are yours, I’ll be back in a couple of days” – after all, he was working hard, making the money they needed to live on. And when he was home, he was the best possible husband and father. By the second day he would be tackling the list of “honey-do’s” she would compile while he was away. But still, it would be a welcome relief if maybe on day three he would watch the boys while she went and … hid somewhere?

Perhaps the only negative side to his return home was … the sex. It’s that thing Anne Marie never figured out about men. Oh honey, it’s been such a rough journey, always working, I just want to crash for a while, but oh yeah, since you’re here, I’d like an orgasm, please.

Doesn’t sound like you’re that tired to me.

But for Anne Marie, she would gladly give him all the orgasms he wants and practically any way he wants, if he just wouldn’t ask for … that.

That thing that he likes that makes her feel, at best, like someone auditioning for a role in a play she doesn’t want to be in – and at worst, a prostitute.

And then when he does want to ask, he can’t even say it. He hems and haws and beats around the bush. “maybe … you know … if you’re in the mood … if you don’t mind … it’s been a long time since we…”

JUST FUCKING SAY IT!

It’s called “Fem-dom” you idiot! As many perverse web sites as you “suggested” I look at, you should fucking know what it’s fucking called!

“Forgive me Lord. He’s a wonderful man, a wonderful husband, and a wonderful father – and I know he does a hundred nice things for me for every one nice thing I do for him.”

But still, she just doesn’t understand the appeal.

At any rate, when she goes shopping for new clothes, she isn’t going to buy any sexy lingerie. No sense in giving him any ideas.
 
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TAKE NOTE: This post takes place a year prior to the beginning of this roleplay. It is a flashback, as is the post above that leads into this one.

Capital City National Airport
Capital City
60 miles west of the City of Toland

6am, Friday, March 28, 2024

Kyle Wilson snapped awake at something striking his foot, causing him to sit up tall quickly. He blinked his eyes clear to find that a man rushing buy to make his flight had tripped over him, nearly falling to the ground. Asshole didn't even say sorry or slow down or anything.

Kyle's flight from New Orleans had had a delayed departure of almost 4 hours because of high, potentially dangerous winds coming in off the Gulf. By the time the plan had landed in Capital City, it had already been after midnight. That time of the night, getting a taxi to Toland meant paying for the full round trip, which Kyle hadn't been about to do. He went to both his Lyft and Uber Apps, only to find out that that would cost another 50% on top of the cab.

He only had two other viable options: get a taxi to his In-Laws house, wake them up at the Witching Hour, and sleep on their couch which wasn't going to happen; or call his wife for a ride, which meant getting their three boys up and dressed, buckling them into their 2005 beater of a minivan, and driving 60 miles to the CCNA, and then back again because Kyle had forgotten to renew his driver's license last month.

Anne Marie would have come to get him in a heartbeat, Kyle knew. That was exactly why he didn't do it: she was too good a wife to him, and he could never in a million years pay her back for it. Also, the chances of her willingly do that thing with him after he'd drug her and the kids out of bed...?

No. He'd just sleep in a chair at the airport. He checked his watch, hopped up, and dragged his wheeled carryon bag toward the little MiniMac cafe for a hot breakfast and coffee. Knowing that when he got home he'd want to nap, he only sipped a bit of the coffee before tossing it into the trash.

Ten minutes later, he was loaded up in the shuttle and heading home. Kyle didn't bother calling or texting or emailing Anne Marie to update her. He'd set him cell phone up with a tracking App so that she could always check on him and guess when he might be home.

The shuttle diverted three times to drop passengers off at their own homes, then pulled right up in front of the Wilson home. Kyle thanked the driver and gave him a twenty on top of what had been charged to debit card. He told the driver, "Now, Henry, remember, if Anne asked what I tipped you, I gave you a fiver."

The man, who was also a resident of Toland, gave Kyle a head jerk and headed off for his next stop. Henry had been a close friend of Kyle's father back in the day. The two men had held various supervisory roles in Toland's Industrial Park or at Toland Lumber Company before the collapse. Now, Henry drove a shuttle van for minimum wage and tips, which typically weren't much.

Kyle approached the front door, reached out, heard a crashing sound, and began to wonder if he could call Henry back and head for the airport and Gulf again. He steeled himself, though, and again reached for the door handle, just as a woman's voice called out from behind him, "Kyle Wilson! Are you just getting home now?"

He turned to find an Angel from Heaven walking up the driveway. "Gloria, you are a sight for sore eyes." He told her about the flight delay and the uncomfortable bed-chair at the CCNA. He asked with obvious anxiety, "Please tell me you're hear to get the boys."

She laughed. "I am indeed. As soon as I got your text yesterday saying you were coming home, I arranged a playdate with my nephews. We're going to The Crystal Castle down in Magnus. Should be there long enough for you to get in a nap, a meal, and, well, you know."

Kyle laughed, saying, "You're a naughty, naughty girl, Gloria."

She pushed right by him, not bothering to knock, saying, "Well, that's why we got along so well back before you became married with children."

Kyle felt the blood rush out of his face at the reminder that once upon a time the two of them used to bump uglies. Anne Marie didn't know this, or Gloria probably wouldn't be their first choice for watching the kids when Kyle got home. He followed her inside to get mobbed by his eldest two boys, 5-year-old Andrew Kyle and 3-year-old John Marcus, while 14-month old Thomas Michael screamed and laughed in delight from his rolling chair nearby.

Kyle rolled around on the floor with them long enough to say that he'd given them enough attention for now, then handed each one of them four $5 bills (because that seemed like so much more money to them than a single $20 bill was) and told them about The Crystal Castle. Hearing that made them totally forget that they hadn't seen their father in over two weeks.

Once the boys and Gloria were out the door, Kyle held his arms out wide to his wife, saying with a tired and yet somehow romantic tone, "There's my baby. C'm'ere and let me hold you."

Kyle took Anna Marie into his strong grip and gave her a long hug, kissing her cheek, her forehead, and finally her lips. It was your typical Honey, I home from a day of work kiss, not an I've been gone for 12 workdays plus two days travel time sort of kiss. Kyle was too exhausted to get anything started between them at this point. He'd wait until he'd had a long, morning nap to make up for his night of often-interrupted head bobbing in the terminal chair.

"I need to shower," he told Anna Marie in a soft voice, already backing toward their bathroom, "then eat, then nap."

He let one of his hands slip down to cup a butt cheek, finishing, "Then, you know."

Most men coming home to their wife after two weeks away and saying you know simply meant enjoying a simple fuck or two. Maybe they'd ever care whether their mate enjoyed it, too. Anna Marie knew what her husband's you know was, though, and while he pretended that he didn't know she disliked it, he did.

He separated from her and headed for the bathroom, shedding his shirt and unbuckling his belt. He stopped to look Anna Marie up and down for a moment, then asked, "Are you losing weight still, honey? Looking good, whatever it is."

He would wait for her response if she gave one, but right now he just needed a shower. As he continued to strip and turned on the water, he called out, "And can you heat me up a couple of pop tarts. And a glass of milk? Love ya!"
 
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(A little over one year earlier)

Kyle and Anne Marie Wilson's home, Toland
8:00 am, Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Only Kyle Wilson could behave this way. Only Kyle Wilson could take a woman like Anne Marie, make her think she had married the greatest guy in the world – even make her look forward (a little bit) to the sexual favors he would no doubt want too soon after getting home, then totally infuriate her from the moment the front door opened.

It wasn’t her job to keep up with flight delays and the weather in New Orleans. It wasn’t her job to fiddle with her phone every few minutes until she saw some movement. It was over an hour drive from the airport to their house. At any point in the delay in New Orleans or the hour ride home did he not think to take five seconds out of his precious time to send her a text? One simple little fucking text???

“Forgive me, Lord.”

Not one simple little frigging text?

Maybe he was too busy talking to Gloria to think about his own wife.

And furthermore, a mother would like a little heads up before someone comes along to take her children off to eat junk food and run wild. Not that she was opposed to the idea of being childless for a few hours, but someone could have at least informed her!

And another thing. Ever since Kyle got that promotion which put him in a position to judge and critique other people, he’s gotten way too bossy. It felt like - The MAN is home. Fix me a sandwich, bitch. Maybe it wasn’t the “bossy” she minded, but the lack of appreciation for what she did while he was away. And the lack of appreciation for her feelings.

No, maybe not a lack of appreciation. A lack of respect.

Did you lose more weight for me, baby? I don’t like fucking fat girls.

That’s why he wants the roleplay? He’d rather pretend he’s with somebody else?

Anne Marie had put on a brave face, given her husband a hug, and said “It’s good to have you home.” A good wife doesn’t start bitching at her husband as soon as he walks through the door, right? As for the Pop-Tarts, they were no longer on her shopping list. No nutritional value whatsoever, and a million times more sugar than her children needed. She was going to tell Kyle there were no pop-tarts, but he wasn’t listening. While he was in the shower she popped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster and cracked two eggs into a bowl, sprinkling them with some pre-cooked crumbled sausage. While that was cooking, she poured her husband – the MAN of the house – a glass of milk.

For someone who wants to roleplay being a groveling submissive worm begging for the attention of a sexy goddess, Kyle could be a little bossy. Maybe if she asserted herself a little more …

“Here’s your breakfast. I’m not having Pop-Tarts in my kitchen. I can’t stop you from eating greasy burgers and beer batter fried onion rings while you’re away, but in my house my boys are eating healthier – all four of them.” And she’ll be damned if she’s going to put her body on display for his approval (or disapproval). Or play that silly fucking Femdom game for him. Not after this homecoming. If he wants a blow job, she’ll give him a blow job, just to shut him up, but she’ll be doing it in sweat pants and an oversized tshirt. While wearing a bra.
 
Last edited:
The West Estate
Morning, Saturday, March 29, 2025

Matt sat in the cab of the old truck, waiting for Lyra to arrive. He'd spent some time loading the truck up with things they may need on their trip to the Red Bluff Reservoir. He'd thrown in some fishing gear, a cooler with a picnic that Rosie had whipped up, and bag with towels and a change of clothes, if he needed it. That change of clothes included his pair of hiking boots, if they wanted to wander of on one of the trails near the reservoir, and his newly acquired swimsuit.

The truth was that he'd been up to the reservoir a fair bit in his youth. A trip up to the reservoir was a common occurrence for Matt, either with friends or family. His father had an expensive boat that he'd pull out occasionally and take a spin out on the lake with. His father always loved to water ski and once Matt was old enough, he took over as the one piloting the boat as his father trailed behind. Matt's favorite part was trying to push his dad's limits until he wipedout, but he never had a lot of luck with that.

Matt looked at his phone and noticed the time. Lyra was a fair bit late and Matt was a little bit worried. Being late wasn't unusual for most of the women he'd known in his life. Stephanie, his first girlfriend back in high school, was always a consistent five minutes behind schedule. His mother preferred to see her showing up late as "making an entrance." Christie always seemed to arrive at the last possible moment before she would have otherwise been in trouble. No, it wasn't that she was late that worried him. He worried that she might not show up at all; though a part of him hoped she wouldn't.

Things had been awkward between them after Thursday evening. Lyra seemed like she to wanted to avoid him and after the things Rosie had told him, he was more than happy to give her space. Meals together had been awkward, with their conversations short and controlled, always ending with Lyra quickly excusing herself to check on the emus, talk to a friend, or some other pressing excuse. When Matt had asked her if they were still on for Saturday, she assured him that she was going if he was, but now Matt wasn't so sure she was telling the truth. Rosie had suggest that Lyra was falling for him and that was likely why she was pushing him away. Matt wasn't sure what to make of that. He liked Lyra and he found her extremely attractive but he wasn't sure he was ready for another relationship. Maybe he'd been pushing things a little too fast with Lyra. She was young and he was still hurting from his divorce. Nothing wrong with a little fun but Lyra deserved more than that. And what if she did fall for him and he couldn't reciprocate? Maybe the trip was a bad idea and Lyra had the right idea not to go. Maybe they needed a little space to figure things out before they rushed of to the spend the morning with just each other.

He was drawn out of his musings as the cab door pull open, letting Lyra slide into her seat, bringing a massive smile and the warm air with her.

"Don't know why you spent all that time fussing over your makeup," Matt responded after she apologized for being late. Looking at her he knew full well that she either wasn't wearing much, if any, makeup, "As soon as you jump in the water it's all going to be gone. I don't know why you'd even wear make up when your already painfully beautiful without it." And there he was again, flirting. It seems he couldn't help himself around her.

"Well then," he said, turning his focus anywhere but her. "Shall we get going? If we wait any longer it's going to be dark by the time we get there."
 
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