Sari's Bargain

Chapter 1. Meeting Sari

“There is someone I would like you to meet, David.”

Father had walked into my study looking like the cat that had just found the cream.

I followed him into the library and as we entered a young woman rose from an armchair.

To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. She was tall, perhaps five feet nine or ten. Her figure was superb except that she looked a little top heavy since she had large full breasts. From her narrow waist her hips broadened out gently and below were long shapely legs.

There sprang to mind a picture of a Greek goddess I had once seen, and this thought was enhanced by the classic beauty of her face.

Her chestnut coloured hair tumbled in seemingly careless abandon to cascade over her shoulders in shining waves. Glittering green eyes looked at me and there was something in them that fleetingly looked like a moment of startled recognition, as if she knew me, which I was sure she did not. Then a shutter seemed to drop down over her yes. She still looked at me, but it was if she did not see me.

I was riveted by her beauty. “She’s one of the loveliest women I have ever seen,” I thought. I mentally corrected myself. She was clearly no more than twenty four of five, just a year or so older than I was. She might better be described as a girl. There was a twinge of desire in my groin.

I wondered what she was doing here and for a moment considered humorously if father had bought her for me like families did back in the past; like paying a bride price. “Perhaps she belongs to some wealthy family with whom my father wants to have ongoing business connections.”

I had to stop myself laughing at the thought of father buying me a wife but my imagination roamed further. “Perhaps he’s bought her as a concubine for me – or himself.”

My fantasies were brought to a halt as father went on; “This is Sari Mikowski,” Sari, my son David.”

“Hello,” she said her voice a soft contralto that even in that one word revealed the accent of one whose native tongue was not English. Her eyes still looked through or past me and the voice matched her eyes, being distant and vague. I began to wonder if she was some sort of beautiful imbecile who was not quite with us.

She made no attempt to extend her hand for me to shake.

I remembered the flash of seeming recognition I had seen in her eyes a moment before and decided she was not imbecilic, yet there was something strange about her. There was a coldness and remoteness. Those eyes that did not see; a frigid stance which seemed to say, “I am untouchable”.

The word hauteur came to mind. She looked rather like those models on the catwalk with that frozen look of disdain on their faces that some assume as they strut arrogantly, displaying the latest creation.

Not sure how to respond to the frozen response my father’s introduction had elicited I followed her lead and said simply, “Hello.” I also failed to extend my hand.

I thought Sari was a name matching in beauty the one who bore it, but in my head I found my own name for her; “Ice Maiden.”

There was silence for a moment, and then my father said rather pompously, “Sari and I are to be married.”

I thought I might have misheard so I said, “What did you say, father?”

Impatiently he replied, “We are going to be married.”

That really focused me. Until that introduction I had never met or even heard of Sari. That my father was to remarry might not have altogether surprised me. Mother had been dead six years and there was no reason why he should not have sought female companionship, but someone who was approaching forty years his junior!

Then a wave of horror swept over me; “My God, I would have a stepmother about one year older than me.”

“Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” father asked, in a voice that he might use when intimidating some quailing witness in court.

What the hell did he expect? He brings in a stunningly beautiful Ice Maiden, announces they are to be married, and expects me to applaud!

I wanted to say, “Don’t be so ridiculous. Who do you think you are, Don Juan?” Instead, and knowing what was good for me, I managed to choke out, “Of course, congratulations.”

The Ice Maiden seemed to lose whatever slight interest she might have had in me and turning to father and putting her hand on his sleeve said, “Darling, you did say we were going to eat in that lovely restaurant we saw the other day…”

“So,” I thought, “Ice Maiden is able to string a connected sentence together.”

“Ah, yes. Time to go I suppose.” Father nodded briefly to me, placed his hand on Ice Maiden’s elbow and they left. The Ice Maiden did not even nod to me. I think I had ceased to exist for her. I was rejected as beneath her notice.

Chapter 2. A Recalcitrant Son

They left behind a thoroughly disorientated David.

I returned to my study, asking myself, “What’s the old man up to? Has he got horny in his old age? Perhaps he wants a decorative female to parade around and sit at table during his dinner parties?” Then another thought struck me; “Good God, he’s going to try and replace me!”

You see, I was one prize disappointment to father. He was an eminent barrister renowned for his ability to make the most scrupulously truthful witness look like an arch liar. Ours was a family of barristers who had made a fortune winning unwinnable cases for wealthy clients.

It was without question that I should follow in the family tradition. At least, it had been unquestionable until the time came for me to enter university, when I announced I would study medicine.

Father, my uncles and no doubt grandfather and great grandfather had they been alive, were horrified. They constituted the legal firm of Brook, Brook, Brook, Brook and Parsons. In case you are interested, Parsons is my father’s sister’s husband.

As I became more recalcitrant they became more adamant in their demand that I “Stop being such a stupid sod”, and follow the family tradition.

Had mother still been alive she would no doubt have sided with me, as she frequently had when alive, often sheltering me from my hectoring father. She was one of, if not the only, person who could bring father to heel. “Do stop trying to be so intimidating George, “she would say, “you’re not in the courtroom now.”

That would bring father down to a muttering but compliant level, such was mother’s influence with him.

My only defence against father and uncles was stubbornness. I can’t say they eventually relented, indeed, they used all their courtroom skills plus bribery to try and change my mind, but finally they accepted the verdict and retired from the struggle still complaining and threatening.

So that was it, I conjectured; the beautiful bride to be was to bring forth a new male heir. But why, I wondered had a girl like that accepted a man my father’s age?

I tried to be objective. For his age father was still a handsome man; he had an aristocratic appearance and with the timbre of his baritone voice he sounded impressive. Above all, he was rich, well connected and powerful. So, I decided, the bargain had been struck; child bearing in exchange for security and status.

I suppose I might as well admit that while mother was alive, and right up until my stand about studying medicine, I had been somewhat cosseted and spoilt, as befitted one who was to take his place in the family law firm.

Once I had won the case for medicine father seemed to lose interest in me. The bonds of affection between us had always been tenuous, his interest in me being little more than one to carry on the family traditions in legal practice. Of course, I still got the benefits of the family wealth. My father could not “let a son of his go around like a pauper,” but he began to become almost a stranger to me.

Looked at objectively I suppose like Ice Maiden I had made my bargain as well. I accepted his lack of affection for the sake of being supported through my medical course. I could have left the family home and entered a university college or taken rooms somewhere; instead I settled for the comfortable environment that only demanded that I keep out of father’s hair.

I gave a sardonic laugh. “I suppose that makes both me and the girl whores in our own way.”

Thus I came to the conclusion that father was marrying Ice Maiden in the hope of producing another son who would follow in his legal footsteps. Of course, he might not be alive to see that hoped for outcome as he would be well into his sixties if and when such a son was born. He would need to live until he was nearly ninety to witness the boy’s entry into the law practice.

Another thought occurred to me. My father was a very chauvinistic male, what if the child was a girl? Would he like Henry the Eighth dispose of his fair bride? I had a chuckle at that thought.

Having demonstrated my independence about studying medicine, I fully intended to continue that independence once I had graduated. I would cease to be financially dependent on the family, and make my own way. The anticipated brother or sister could have their share of family goodies, and welcome, but graduation was still some way ahead for me so, I decided, “I’ll keep my head down below the trench line for the time being.”

Chapter 3. The Wedding

The one aspect of the upcoming marriage that did trouble me was the stepmother aspect. How was I to cope with a beautiful if icy stepmother? It seemed faintly ridiculous to have a stepmother more or less my own age. “Still,” I thought, “needs must. I’ll have to deal with it as best I can. Perhaps Ice Maiden might melt a little.”

As it turned out, Ice Maiden did remain frozen, which was just as well, as well I thought.

The wedding was to take place a couple of months after I was first introduced to Ice Maiden, never the less, all the formalities had to be gone through. There had to be an engagement, and my father’s engagement gift to Sari was a magnificent diamond ring plus a Jaguar car. His wedding present to her was an exceedingly expensive motor launch, and he probably saw as an added bonus himself as her husband.

For the wedding he managed to get a tame bishop to conduct the ceremony in the city cathedral. I vaguely recalled grandfather having defended the cleric on a paedophile charge some years before.

The congregation was made up of legal colleagues, family members which was much the same thing, their womenfolk and politicians to whom favours had been done or from whom they had been received.

There was no one there at the ceremony or the reception who were real friends of my father. My father had often espoused the view that one did not really have friends, only people who could “do you favours.”

Ice Maiden did seem to have a few friends present but they were all about her own age. With them I saw Ice Maiden show some signs of animation for a change. It did strike me as odd, however, that she seemed to have no relatives present.

I did have a friend with me, Sylvia, but even in our case we were also currently bound by favours. It seems to run in the family this exchange of favours business. The favours uniting Sylvia and I were exchanged in bed.

Sylvia was a fellow medical student and my current bed companion. We were not in love or anything like that, and the relationship was one of exchange. Neither of us sought anything long term either with each other or anybody else. We had sexual needs, and we satisfied them with each other – for the time being.

I seemed to have no problem in getting girls for sexual gratification, but I did have a rule that stated, “Only one girl at a time.” Sylvia and I had been serving each other for about six months at the time of the wedding.

My father, conservative in most things, was at least a liberal with regard to my sexual needs. When it became obvious that I was good and ready to begin sexual activity, he spoke to me, or rather, he gave a speech, in which he announced that although he wouldn’t actually find sex partners for me, should I find some for myself, I was “welcome to bring them home for the night”.

Having a generous allowance plus a BMW and access to a ski boat, I had little difficulty in finding girls to gratify me, much to the chagrin of my fellow male students and those girls who missed out on me.

Did I hear you say, “Arrogant young bugger”? Not really because I am only telling the truth. Money seems to buy most things, except one. If you don’t know what that one thing is, then you must wait to find out.

It was at the wedding reception that Sari met Sylvia for the first time. Sari’s sparkling green eyes seemed to sweep over Sylvia; her lips curved in a faint mocking smile; she murmured, “How do you do,” and moved on.

Sylvia stared after her for a moment then turned to me and said, “Bloody frosty bitch isn’t she?”

I shrugged and said, “Careful, sweetheart, that’s my stepmother you’re talking about.”

We both burst out laughing.

During the course of the reception I noticed that Sylvia was not the only one to be the object of Sari’s disdain. She seemed to shower her frost over everyone except father, whom she treated with exaggerated and rather embarrassing affection, and her few friends present with whom she actually laughed.

Sylvia nudged me in the ribs and asked, “How’s it going to be, having a sexy stepmother like her around the place?”

I tried to laugh that one off saying, “Getting my prick inside that one would be like entering an ice box”. Never the less Sylvia had added to certain thoughts lurking in my head.

For all her coldness Sari was very physically desirable. If proof was needed for that, one had only to see the lustful looks in the eyes of the men, young and old, at the reception. Also, by an equal and opposite reaction, one only needed to look at the anger and spite in the eyes of their female companions.

I hastily tucked that thought of Ice Maiden’s physical attractions into some dark recess of my mind, and as soon as all the sycophantic speeches were over and the “happy couple” sent on the way to their honeymoon, I took Sylvia to bed and endeavoured to relieve myself of lustful thoughts – for a while.

Chapter 4. Marriage Problems and a Slight Thaw

While the honeymoon couple were away life got back into its routine of study and bedding Sylvia. During this time I wondered if Ice Maiden would eventually drop her detached attitude and become more sociable.

I had thought that once safely married and secure, Sari might warm up a little. She did not. With everyone Sari stayed at a distance. We had two servants, a cook, Josie, and Lisa whom we described as our “Housekeeper.” Neither of them actually lived in our house, Josie being married and Lisa having a small cottage of her own. Ice Maiden treated them with the same disdain she used with everyone else except my father. The trouble with Josie and Lisa was, that they interpreted Ice Maiden’s attitude as one of contempt for their status in the house.

Lisa literally ran the house. She was a well set up woman of around fifty and at one time I did think she might have been my father’s choice as companion in his old age, which indicates the place she occupied within our household.

My father held many dinner parties, mainly attended by those from whom he sought “favours.” Seated at the meal table Ice Maiden maintained her distant attitude. At times it was almost as if she was not there, mentally and emotionally speaking. Physically it was another story. The men still clearly lusted for her, and the women hated her.

With me she remained equally reserved although I was told to call her “Sari” and I, of course, was “David.” To my great relief she made no attempt to play the substitute mother to me. Had she done so it would have been both embarrassing and ludicrous.

For some time Ice Maiden and father continued their displays of affection, my father calling her “Pet” and “Darling,” holding her hand or stroking her. Sari reciprocated calling him, “Sweetheart” and “Dearest.” It was all very doting and to me slightly nauseating.

It was around twelve months after their marriage I began to notice a fall off in this connubial bliss. Father seemed to be less uxorious and Ice Maiden referred to him as “George”, having dropped the endearments.

I took little notice of this, assuming it was the fall off that seems to occur in most marriages when the first blossoming has faded. I confess that I based this on my own experience, which although not marital, did indicate to me that six to twelve months was as long as I lusted for any one female.

Two years went by. I was well into my medical course, and socially speaking I had passed beyond Sylvia to Stacy and from Stacy to Tania and was currently enjoying Rosemary.

Ice Maiden seemed to have thawed a little in relation to me. At the same time I noticed that she and father were starting to snap at each other ever more frequently. I gathered that as some of the warmth between stepmother and father diminished stepson became the doubtful beneficiary of Ice Maiden’s need for an ally in the house.

It is said that “familiarity breeds contempt.” Living in the same house as Ice Maiden might have meant that as I got used to her just being around, I would no longer have unfilial thoughts about her. I must admit to you, it was not so. At times Sari made it very difficult not to have prurient thoughts about her. To see such a physically attractive woman floating around the house and at times glimpsing her in minimal underwear or scanty casual garments did nothing to keep the hardening of my manhood at bay.

I suppose I should have been grateful that she kept me at double arms length most of the time. Had she been overly affectionate or physically demonstrative, I think my life would have been one great hell of sexual hunger for her.

As it was, I set up my own defensive barrier. I avoided her whenever possible; made excuses for not eating with father and Ice Maiden, taking my meals in the kitchen early with Lisa and Josie before they left for the night, and whose conversation I found more stimulating than that which took place in the dining room.

As for that dining room conversation; it consisted mainly of my father going on about his latest legal victories to which Sari made appropriate noises of admiration. Alternatively they might engage in one of their ever more frequent tiffs, or would sit in silent hostility. When I did join them for a meal anything I had to say seemed to skate past them.

I longed for the time when I would qualify and could leave home and begin my professional life. That way I should be independent and away from the tantalizing Sari.

Sari was becoming a real itch in my groin. In addition, I began to feel an intense envy towards my father as images of him laying Sari came floating into my consciousness.

Life was made even more difficult when Ice Maiden began the slight melting process. She actually started to make the odd enquiry about my studies. I suppose this was a safe topic, but it did seem to indicate that she was reaching out just a little.

When responding to her queries about my studies, she also opened up a fraction about her own academic life. I had earlier considered whether all the remoteness on her part might be a cover up for her lack of intelligence. When I learned that she was an honours graduate in classical studies at a university in her country of origin I had to review that view of her. “My God,” I thought, “there is a brain under that ice. Who knows, I might even find a human being in there.”

So things tramped along with father and Ice Maiden getting ever more irritable with each other, and my existence being acknowledged by my frosty but now slightly unfreezing stepmother.

I tried to puzzle out what the real problem was between father and Ice Maiden. It was always over very petty matters that led me to suspect there was more to it. I was due to find out.