Fifth Wheel

"Ungoliant," I dared to whisper her name. The mausoleum came into view and flanking either side of the main door were two stone plinths carved from native granite. The Greco-Roman pillars stood nine feet and guarded the entrance. The clever bit of the tomb's construction were the two entrances it possessed. The obvious one here allowed access to the above-ground deceased. However, grandpa had fashioned another door hidden on the other side that led below. I walked around the building and stopped short. A cardboard box was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine near the concealed door. The weather had gotten to it, deforming both the packaging and cardboard. I picked it up, and the soggy mess disintegrated in my hands, leaving only the plastic bag and its contents. If there had been a note of explanation, it perished with the box.

I opened the ziplock bag containing the flashlight and batteries. Who had left this here? I unscrewed the bottom of the electric torch and inserted the batteries. I thumbed the activation switch, and a bright precise beam shot from the business end. The urge to make lightsaber noises was tremendous, but I restrained myself. The hidden catch to open the door was always a pain in the ass to find. "Gotcha," I exclaimed as the stone door swung silently inwards. Just like the door to the hidden garden, the inset hinges glistened with oil recently applied to them. "Someone has been here too." Not many people knew about this entrance. Had Evan or Carol told the mysterious Mirabelle about this? Nah, that did not make any sense. I'm not sure Carol even knew this entrance existed.

Twelve steps led down into complete darkness. I cursed under my breath for uttering that damn name on the way over here. If ever there were a place for a giant spider to make its lair, this was it. Find the mark and get the hell out, I thought. The lack of dust on the plaques and floor alarmed me. Not only had someone oiled the hinges for the door and left the flashlight, but they had also cleaned up down here as well. Who was this enigmatic caretaker? I moved to the deepest part of this level. The man that grandpa had inherited from had been named Duncan West. There were plenty by that surname down here. As part of the legacy, my grandfather transferred generations of that family branch from New England to here. The crypt held over fifty members of the West lineage.

"There you are," I exclaimed as the beam illuminated the last resting place of Malcolm West. "I was right." Just above the name was etched the same odd sigil I had discovered in the garden. The queer asymmetrical leaf-like design marked his grave and perhaps the clue to the next sign. "Okay, I am here now what?" Which way am I supposed to go? "Ugh, I am an idiot. West, I have to go west from here." I created a mental map and placed my back on the plaque to get an accurate start to the following location. I leaned back as I worked out what was west of the tomb. The sound of stone grinding against stone caused me to jump. I spun and shined my light on Malcolm's resting place. There was a gap at the top of the plaque between his coffin and the one above it. I peered inside and spotted the secreted treasure. The cleverly constructed niche was large enough to house a small metal box. It was tarnished silver with an antique clasp holding the lid in place. "Is this considered graverobbing? Nah, if Malcolm did not want anyone to find it, he wouldn't have hidden it there. No harm in taking a look. I can always put it back." I reassured myself. Grandpa had gone to great lengths to conceal this portion of the mystery.

I began reaching into the crack when I imagined the damn thing snapping shut and cutting off fingers or, hell, my whole hand. Coward, I thought but found the courage to retrieve the box and step back before the mechanism closed again. The container was a work of art in its own right, and the lid bore the same leaf design as the plaque. The clasp proved a bit of a challenge to release. I used the blade of my folding knife to pry it open. A few deep breaths later, I lifted the top to reveal a thin flat rectangle of polished metal. To break up the monotony were three raised ridges; two of the three were at either end of the item. The third set was off-center of the nine-inch long, two-inch-wide, and one-inch thick object. I said something since I had no idea what it was, so I removed it from the box and examined the surface. It must be high-grade steel, but then I looked at the date of Malcolm's death, 1764. Just over two hundred years ago, did they even have this kind of metal back then?

"What have we here?" I asked. The reverse side of the object bore a very impressive-looking astronomical image. As I thought of it, the 'Solar Star' combined a sun with wave-shaped corona, and overlaying that was an eight-rayed star. The thin lines and quality of the design defied logic. There is no way someone carved this design. The Solar Star stamp was shallow, yet the lines forming it were the width of a human hair. The mystery's last and most confounding part was the utter lack of seams, rivets, screws, or signs of being assembled. It must be a solid piece of metal. If so, the smooth surface showed no signs of the molding process. Frustrated, I slipped it into my back pocket for now. I returned the box to its resting place. I tossed it into the gap, and the moment it touched the bottom of the hidden space, the lid snapped shut. The loud resounding clang made my ears ring and my heart race. I clutched my hand to my chest, imagining if I had placed it into the gap and pulled back missing fingers or a stump instead. "When it opened, there must be a spring mechanism activated with all that tension on its springs. When the box hit the pressure plate, it triggered the trap. Building a better mousetrap. That was a near miss."

I patted my back pocket and turned to leave. My foot struck something and sent it flying into the darkness of a far corner. I aimed the flashlight into that area, and something sparkled an icy blue. I walked over and crouched carefully, still a little gun shy from the finger-eating trap I had narrowly avoided. There, on the stone floor, was a single permafrost-colored ten-sided die. But not just any ten-sider; no, it was the one that had gone missing a decade ago. My lucky D10 was back in my possession. I seized it off the ground and examined it to be sure. Yep, the chipped tip came from the time I had hurled it against the wall when it rolled a 1 when I desperately needed a ten instead. I kissed it and placed it in my front pocket for safekeeping.

"This is my lucky night," I declared joyfully. "All ten digits and my ten-sider to boot."

A flash of memory filled my thoughts, and the long-buried feelings rushed to the surface. Des, damn it, girl, why did you leave? What did I do to drive you away? I blinked away the tears and mentally shoved the unwanted feelings back where they belonged, oblivion. I closed the hidden door, found the wall that faced west, and began walking in a straight line the best I could. The distinct smell of chlorine caught my attention. I saw the lights through the bushes ahead of me. Someone had fired up the hot tub. It had begun as a fountain, but my dad converted it due to its proximity to the house. The covers lay off to the side, and its hot bubbly waters called to me. I stripped down and folded my clothes neatly before slipping into the tub's steamy embrace.

"This night keeps getting better and better," I sighed contentedly. My eyes closed. I relaxed and let the jets work my sore muscles and drive the last of the fatigue and stress away. I looked up into the night sky and remembered the good times we had experienced around that table in the basement. Des described the scene, the dull thud of dice hitting the wooden surface and the roar of delight whenever one of the fighters rolled a nat 20. "Great times," I said. "Ooh, some kind soul set you out here. Come to papa." I dried my hands and loaded my pipe. I lit up and held the aromatic smoke in my lungs before letting it go. As I smoked, I pondered what mystery my grandfather had hidden on the property. Did it involve the enigmatic West branch of the family? Had something besides coffins been shipped from the east coast? Why transplant so many bodies when they were perfectly at rest where they were? The effect of the King drove out my concerns just in time.

"May I join you?" Amber asked as she approached the hot tub. I watched her undress and noted her well-defined abs and leg muscles. She must hit the gym regularly to look that good. "You were right. We couldn't keep our hands off each other." I took another hit off the pipe and held for a ten count before releasing. "I hope you don't mind. I saw you fire up the tub and just had to come out and take advantage."

"You saw me?" I asked. Amber slid into the water opposite of me and let out a sensual sigh of relief.

"Well, I assumed it was you," she said. "I saw someone remove the covers, turn on the lights, and power up the jets."

"Is Gerald okay with you being naked out here with me?" I asked. Her reaction was automatic and expected. Amber was her own woman, and no one pulled her strings unless she wanted them tugged. "Where are the others?"

"Napping," Amber said. "We all went at it hammer and tongs. I guess my stamina is better than theirs." She paused, and I watched her expressions as she thought about how to word the next question. "Evan talks about you all the time. He gets your letters from all over the world."

"Yep, my work keeps me busy. I have enough frequent flier mileage to choke a horse."

"Evan is always vague when I ask about your career," Amber said.

"I don't have a career. I have work." I said. She seemed perplexed by my answer. "A career is a well-defined path created by others. You enter the workforce at the bottom and climb up as far as possible, depending upon your connections, work ethic, and personality. Work is just something you do or dedicate your life to that satisfies you. A career can be fun but rarely is. Work is enjoyable and has no set endgame. I prefer the latter."

"Alright, what kind of work do you do?" Amber asked.

"I think of myself as a contractor. Luckily, I have customers and patrons with deep pockets that enjoy the various services I provide."

"You make it sound like you are a gigolo."

"That is only a small fraction of my work. Though, I do love a woman with a creative mind, an enthusiastic personality, and devilishly flexible," I said. "I have played stage magician, hypnotist, escort, bridge partner, and a hundred other roles to make my clients happy."

Amber grew still and then blurted out her question. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, over a hundred women is a lot of work," Amber laughed. "I get it that you have a way with women, but damn, no one special?"

"I will answer your question, but first a little thought experiment. How do you know if you are having a good time?"

"Well, usually when a guy's prick is deep inside me, and I am on my hands and knees," Amber replied. "You are sticking out." Amber giggled at the head of my erection just above the surface of the water.

"The King strikes again. A gorgeous naked woman might have something to do with it as well," I said. "Ooh, we have company. Look over your shoulder slowly." Amber rotated her head and spotted the eyeshine from the woods. "Come on out and say hello." The black lynx tentatively poked its head out and sniffed the air. The tufts of fur at the tip of its ears marked it as a wild cat. The breed was native to Canada and far from home.

"I've never seen purple eyeshine before," Amber said. The lynx moved further out of its protective cover. The mottled inky blend of black and gunmetal grey let it hide at night effectively. Amber's full attention was on the cat. She rolled over, exposing her backside, and the primitive side of my mind urged me to take advantage of the moment. I gestured, and the lynx hopped from the ground to the hot tub wall. I sat up on the ledge and motioned for the cat to come to me. Amber watched, enthralled by the feline and then seeing me exposed completely. "Wow, Krystal wasn't lying. You are a big healthy boy." I scratched the lynx behind its ears, and Amber smiled. "Can I touch it?"

"Me or the lynx?" I asked. Amber chewed her lower lip and couldn't make up her mind. "It is okay. He is relaxed. You may never get another chance." Amber stood and approached. She gently stroked the feline, and it purred for her.

"Krystal has been telling stories, eh?"

"We got shit-faced and shared indiscretions," Amber said. "She told me how the Witch Blood had seduced her. I assumed she meant you. You are the only redhead in her circle."

"Krystal was too drunk to drive and sopping wet. It was a one-time thing."

"Regrets?"

"No, she was lonely and horny as hell. The shock of the morning after spurred her to urge my brother to make time for intimacy. I like to think I saved their marriage."

"Neat tattoo, where did you get it done? Interesting place for one too."

"I don't remember," I lied. "I came home half-naked, shit-faced, and woke to find it the following day. It took time to track down the artist and get the story out of her. It makes for interesting conversations at the pool or around a campfire."

"Can I ask you a question?" Amber asked. The lynx had tired of our presence and leaped into the shadows and vanished. "Did you seduce a nun?"

"Krystal again, no, I did not seduce a nun," I replied. "She was an abbess, well, the acting abbess since the flu had rampaged through the abbey."

"Krystal has been vocal about you and your interesting travels," Amber snickered. "You are dribbling precum, so who was she?"

Costa Del Sol: Spring 198X

My plane landed in Malaga, and I took the two-and-a-half-hour bus ride to Costa Del Sol. The jet lag was so fierce I fell asleep along the way. A gentle shaking from a woman roused me. I yawned and stammered when I saw her.

"You must be Frank," she greeted me. "You are wearing her ring." The woman pointed to the red-gold signet on my left hand. "Your apartment has been prepared. I am Callisto." It seemed to me she was as nervous as I was. Callisto's long dark hair, olive complexion, and deep blue eyes were enchanting. "I am sure you will enjoy your stay here. Everything is prepared and paid for by Lady Dominque. If you are hungry, I will be more than happy to fix something." My stomach rumbled, and she laughed. I loved the way her eyes crinkled around the corners. "Your luggage is on its way to the apartment."

The weather was perfect, and so many people milled about the seashore. Oh my god, I'm in Spain! I stood looking out over the Mediterranean Sea and felt that thrill of adventure. I removed my shoes and socks before digging my toes into the sand. Dazzling sunlight set the waves alight as they rushed towards me. The women were gorgeous, the men fit and handsome, and the children laughed as they played near the surf or built sandcastles. I followed Callisto to her apartment building. It had a bright blue exterior with balconies facing the sea. I learned soon after that I had gotten the entire top floor for the duration of my visit. Dominique had promised a splendid view and plenty of female company.

I sat in the kitchen watching Callisto cook a local dish. I could barely take my eyes off her firm round-backside.

"If he keeps staring at my ass like that, I am going to cum," Callisto muttered in her native Greek. To me, it came out clear as day. "Keep staring at my ass, and I'll show you what a real woman can do."

"I am going to make you scream," slipped my lips before I could stop it. It was neither the first nor last time this phenomenon occurred the right words at the precise right time.

"You speak Greek? I am, mmm, that look in your eyes, eat so that we may test out the brand new mattress." She forced her gaze back to the stove. "In her letter, Dominique said that you were special."

I moved to stand next to her. If I got behind her, one or both of us might get burned. I looked at her lovely features and more. The message was clear, but I would have to be patient to test the integrity of my interpretation. Callisto spoke about life in and around the town. When I asked her how long she had been part of the lifestyle, she blushed.

"I was barely out of school when an older man introduced me to it," Callisto said. "He was charming, patient yet firm. I had just lost my virginity, so much of his lessons were new to me. Like in school, I put much effort in perfecting my technique."

"I take it you never performed fellatio before you met this older man." The word fellatio blazed in my thoughts, and I added it to my vocabulary. I usually would have crudely asked if she liked giving head. Though I did like the way fellatio rolled off my tongue.

"Quite right, he put me through my paces," Callisto said. Her pride when I brought up giving head was a good sign. "The parties, oh the parties were so naughty, and so many partners in a single night. I became the center of attention, the sun, and they orbited me with such devotion." Callisto's words painted a clear picture. The older man brought her as a showpiece and handed her off to others to do with as they pleased. It was clear she enjoyed being subservient. I did, too, under the right circumstances, and I was equally accepting of being dominant.

She taste-tested the dish, and only when it met her strict standards did she serve it. We sat together, and Callisto watched me eat. I consumed the food, slowly savoring both the flavor and her anticipation. I never knew dining could be a form of foreplay.

"She sends me handsome young men to introduce to the lifestyle here," Callisto explained. "But you, oh my, you are a treat on the eyes. You speak Greek like a native, and gods, if she is right, are of heroic proportions." Callisto paused and thought about her following words carefully. "Lady Dominique called you Witch Blood. Is that because of your red hair and freckles?" I nodded since my mouth was full. "I have never made love to a redhead before."

"Dominique told me all about you," I lied. "And judging by the marks on your wrists, you enjoy the proper application of silk fiber and knot tying skills." Callisto blushed and what I had seen earlier was fact, not simply supposition. "Face up or face down?"

"That," she whimpered. "is entirely up to you."

I finished my meal, and she set the dishes and utensils in the sink. As I rose from my seat, Callisto pushed me back down. She straddled my lap, slid her arms around my neck, and kissed me. The first peck was brief and tantalizing; Callisto licked her lips and purred. I slid my fingers into her hair and pulled her head back. She let out a gasp of surprise but did not complain when I displayed my dominance. Once more, I looked at her striking features. The message was more explicit this time. I pushed her head towards me and kissed her. I snared her wrists behind her back with my free hand to make sure the message was clear. Callisto never tried to fight, and her surrender was immediate and complete. Her hips rocked forward and back, teasing us both as the kiss deepened, and I broke the contact reluctantly.

"You are so hard already," Callisto moaned. "May I touch it? Taste it?"

"Is the roof accessible?" I asked, and her eyes widened, her breath increased, and she chewed her lip. "Show me the way." I released her, and we began with a slow walk up the steps, but soon we were racing to the top of the building. Callisto threw herself into my embrace, and the kiss became a flurry of tugging and fumbling as we undressed the other. I regarded the older woman with unabashed lust, and Callisto whistled when she spied my erection.