A Study in Satin

by Tigger

 

Part III: Dum Vivimus Vivamus!

Chapter 6: House Hunting

 

The classic German cuckoo clock was announcing one thirty when Irene and Sherla were shown into the office of Herr Rudolph Kreuger, estate agent.

"Good afternoon, Frau Huxley," he said bowing over Irene's hand, "And to you, Fraulein," he repeated over Sherla's. "I understand from the introductory letter you sent me that you are looking for a mountain retreat? Would this be a warm-weather residence or might you wish to avail yourself of it year-round?"

Irene rewarded him with a brilliant smile as she slipped off her gloves.. "My husband and son are avid sportsmen, Herr Kreuger, and thoroughly enjoy skiing and hunting in the winter. I should think we must start with the idea of a year-round establishment."

The door behind them opened and a tall, well made young man entered. "Ah, my son joins us. Frau Huxley, Fraulein Huxley, may I present my first-born son, Hans-Peter Kreuger who has just finished at the university in Zurich and returns to join his proud papa in the family business."

Irene offered her hand and murmured a greeting. Sherla, however, recalling her role as the family flirt, made a show of slowly pulling her glove from the hand she languidly offered the suddenly flustered scion. Recovering, he all but snatched at the proffered hand to kiss it. "Ah, Herr Kreuger, it is easy to see why you are so proud to have such a fine . . . upstanding young man as your son," she purred, delighting in the crimson blush that vividly colored the young man's fair features.

"Yes, indeed," the older man replied, well pleased with the compliment. "Hans, help the ladies with their cloaks so that we may be about our business. Perhaps, Frau Huxley, after I am better aware of your requirements, I will be able to arrange to show you some suitable properties. I am sure we have precisely what you are looking for, but I may have to contact the current residents first. If we have nothing to show you today, Hans will take you and the Fraulein on a tour by sleigh of our locality, so that you better see what we have to offer you in the way of scenery and such."

"Excellent," Irene said grandly. "I am afraid we have all become quite frustrated, cooped up as we were in the hotel these past few days. A drive in the country would be quite lovely."

Hans helped Irene from her cloak first, but almost dropped both cloaks when he helped Sherla. She was dressed in a tight rose-colored daygown, but one with an entirely too boldly cut neckline. Poor Hans visibly gawked at the beautifully displayed mounds before managing to recall himself to his tasks. "May I.. may I offer you coffee, or tea? Perhaps some chocolate."

"Oh, some of your lovely, RICH Swiss chocolate for me, please. I just love the taste and texture of it," Sherla said in a husky voice,. "So thick and . . . hot."

"CHERYL!" Irene ordered.

With a teasing, lingering smile for the stunned Hans, Sherla slowly turned her attention to her "Mother". "But Momma, I was just telling Hans-Peter how I like my, um, chocolate," she protested innocently, an effect totally undermined when the tip of her pink tongue slid slowly over her shining lips.

"Indeed? I think you would have been better off to have chosen tea instead of chocolate. More calming to the soul," Irene said sternly, although her eyes glinted with amusement and approval that neither of the men could see or would have understood. "Perhaps you would prefer to go warm yourself by the fire and drink your chocolate while Herr Kreuger and I see to business?"

With an exaggerated sigh, Sherla agreed. She stood slowly, bending just a little too far as she rose so that both Kreugers were gifted with a glimpse of her bosom.

Shaking her head in evident dismay, Irene turned her attention to the elder Kreuger. She was pleased to note that even he had a somewhat dazed look on his face as he followed Sherla's floating gait. "She is going through a difficult time, learning to deal with the demands of her impending womanhood," Irene said apologetically. "I am sorry if she upset your son."

"Oh," the estate manager said, "Oh, don't worry about it. She is a lovely young woman. 'Do the lad good to learn how to do the pretty with such a .. . . vivacious young girl. Now, tell me what it is you are looking for in a house?"

~-----------------~

The Irene's discussions with the estate agent took approximately an hour whereupon the two women found themselves in front of the office, waiting while Hans-Peter collected their conveyance.

"Sherla!" Irene hissed into the girl's ear. "You are laying it on a bit too thick. Do you want him to take you to bed? Because, as brazenly as you are teasing him, he may show up to do just that tonight - and think he's been invited!"

Shocked at Irene's words, Sherla felt heat flash to her cheeks. "But you TOLD me to flirt with him!?!?"

"Flirt," Irene said, "not SEDUCE. You might get away with behavior like that in a London or Paris ballroom, here in the country such things may not be interpreted as mere flirtation. My god, girl . . . hot and thick? If you were Hans-Peter, what sort of woman would YOU think would talk like that? Lord above, he must think I am the proprietrix of a bordello and that you are my latest virgin for sacrificial auction."

"DAMN," Sherla cursed. "So NOW what do I do?"

A teasing smirk lit Irene's face. "Depends on whether you want to seduce him or not, dear. He is rather good looking."

"IRENE!" Sherla squealed, stamping her tiny foot on the slush-covered pavement and barely missing spraying them both in the dirty, partially frozen water. "I don't care how much better looking he is than Lafayette's however-many times removed nephew. *I* am in love with Katrina, and you blasted well know it!"

"Do I?" the older woman asked, one finely arched brow raised beneath her bonnet's veil. *but you did notice that young Hans is an exceptionally handsome man. How very difficult this all must be for poor Sherlock.* "Perhaps I do, but I did wonder if you knew it. This is the first time I have heard you admit it - in quite those words, at any rate."

"Well, I do," Sherla grumbled, "and for YOUR information, I HAVE acknowledged it."

"Where, might I ask? And to whom?"

"In my diary," Sherla replied, her voice barely audible, "And to myself."

"I think that Katrina would very much like to hear those words, Sherla, for I know that she loves you as well."

"Is the saying so very important?"

"Only a man would ask that question and mean it. I think you are woman enough to know the answer," Irene said airily. "Ah, here comes the sleigh."

"Irene! What do I do about Hans-Peter."

Irene shrugged. "Behave like any other flighty young girl barely out of the school room. Go all sweet and shy on him. After your blunt offers of but an hour ago, you will thoroughly confuse and fluster him."

"Sweet and submissive?" Sherla's face had that "just bit into a lemon" look on her face. "To a young pup like him?"

"Well, if you aren't actress enough to manage it," Irene said, a look of extreme worry on her face, "Perhaps you ought to slap his face hard the first time he makes a tentative move on you. You'll soon be known throughout the area as a nasty tease, which in turn will make your work here more difficult, but. . "

"ACTRESS ENOUGH?" Sherla sputtered, "Just watch me!" she snarled as she spun to greet their guide with a sweet, if reticent smile.

*Of course I will, darling. And now that you are trying to show me how skilled you are, I won't have to worry about you or Katrina shooting this young man some dark night when he intrudes on your. . . loving.*

~-----------------~

Fortunately, young Kreuger was a natural gentleman, and after the first few times Sherla gave him a nervous smile and retreated from his tentative overtures, his better instincts took hold. Shortly after they'd begun their tour, Hans-Peter was alternately teasing and flattering Sherla, and giving back as good as and sometimes better than he got.

*I wouldn't doubt that Hans has at least one younger sister at home, for he has read Sherla perfectly. His father does have much to be proud of in this one. If Sherla and Katrina were not already as close to soul-mates as makes no difference, I don't think I would mind having this one pay court to my little detective. Although I WOULD insist all visits began and ended by way of the front door, and not Sherla's bed chamber window,* Irene thought as she watched the two banter and flirt.

As for Sherla, she had been almost rocked by a couple of unexpected surprises as they whooshed through the purity and silence of the snow-covered alpine countryside. Hans-Peter's more courtly attentions were affecting her in a most unexpected manner. She found she rather liked the fellow, and he was, she had to admit, very easy on her eyes. She especially liked the more genial verbal sparring game they had fallen into once he took her rather inexperienced hints that she wasn't really offering him her favors. He had the most delightful smile, especially when he was about to tease her fiercely about some thing or another.

In the middle of Sherla's ruminations, the sleigh began to slow and finally skidded to a stop. "Come, Frau Huxley, Fraulein Cheryl. I will show you one of the properties that my father will take you to visit tomorrow."

With studied ease, Hans-Peter handed Irene down from her seat and then proffered his hand to Sherla. Smiling, Sherla took his hand and was rather surprised by the controlled strength she felt in his gentle grip. When she was on the ground, he let the grip linger just a heartbeat longer than was necessary before slipping his hand to the middle of her back to guide her through the snow toward a small overlook. Fortunately, the winds had blown most of the heavier snow off the promontory for they had no difficulty moving through what accumulation remained.

Sherla was all-too-aware of the strong hand in her back, and of a queer tightness in her belly, and was surprised to find that her nipples suddenly felt quite stiff and were chafing against the cotton of her chemise. *Confound it, this is the way I feel with Katrina before we. . .before we make love. But. . .but. . he's a man!*

"As you can see, Frau Huxley, this is a very nice setting. The house is well protected from the prevailing winds down there," Hans-Peter again broke in on Sherla's thoughts, "And with a good deal of open land for skiing and other such activities."

Irene scanned the location. "It is very nice, but we did so hope for a higher setting relative to the surroundings. . . . for the view, you know."

Hans-Peter nodded. "So my father told me, however most folks around here build against the elements, particularly the snow and the wind. Building houses on high ground is very expensive since they must be far more strongly built without trees and higher ground nearby to blunt nature's wrath. In fact, the only one we've had was the one Father told you about earlier - the one we leased a while before you arrived in town. Most locals avoid such arrangements because they know the weather and the expense of maintaining such an establishment."

Nodding, Irene turned back toward the sleigh with Sherla and Hans-Peter following. He gently urged a stray curl of Sherla's dark hair back under her bonnet just before helping her into the sleigh. Without a word, Hans-Peter bundled the sleigh-blanket about the ladies, took the reins and whistled for the horses to step out for the journey back to their hotel.

"Tell me, Hans-Peter," Irene asked once they were nearly back to the main town. "Some friends of ours indicated that they were also coming up here to find a Swiss residence. Have you dealt with any English folk?"

He gave it some thought before shaking his head. "No Frau Huxley," and then he reconsidered, "At least, no English persons that a lady like you would be acquainted with. In fact, the only English person to come here recently isn't anyone a lady like you would want to know."

"Oh really?" Irene replied, managing to affect an air of disinterest only by grace of her years of acting experience.

"Yes, Frau Huxley," Hans-Peter continued into the break Irene had purposely left in the conversation. "Big brute of a fellow. At least, I think he was English. Spoke no French or German, yet his English was, well, barely understandable. In fact, he is the one who bespoke the property I told you about earlier. . the one that would have met your stated requirements so admirably."

"Oh? Where was that property, if you will excuse my curiosity?"

"Oh, a few kilometers from a lovely village called Rosenlaui which is near Meringen. Beautiful country up there. Some of the most majestic falls you've ever seen. You should make time to go up there and see them once the weather breaks."

Irene spared a moment to look at Sherla who had gone very still, her eyes hard. *Well, darling, perhaps we now know where to look.* "Tell me, Hans-Peter," Irene said. "Is there any chance that property near. . .what was it you called the place? Oh, yes, Rosenlaui. . .Is there any chance that property may become available again?"

Hans-Peter considered that question as he turned onto the lane that led to Herr Schmidt's hotel. "Well, as I recall, the lease was a relatively short one - six months, I think. The tenant was unsure that he wished to take on such a large estate for any longer time and rented it as an experiment."

"An experiment??" Sherla chimed in. "Were those his exact words?"

Surprised by the sudden vehemence from the girl, Hans-Peter finally managed a smile. "You know," he mused, "Those WERE his words. Odd that I would remember them, but the word seemed so. . . out of character for such an otherwise not-well-spoken person. Ah. . here we are, ladies. Now, my father will send you a note to let you know when I will be coming to fetch you tomorrow for any scheduled house tours he has arranged for you."

Helping the women down, he escorted them to the door of the hotel where he bowed over each of their hands, tipped his hat, and then left.

"A most delightful young man," Irene said, once they were inside their rooms and had divested themselves of their coats, gloves and bonnets.

"Yes," Sherla murmured, somewhat distractedly. "He was, was he not?" She shook herself and scanned the room for signs of Katrina. *Drat it, where IS the girl?!?* she fumed before she spotted the envelope above the hearth. Snatching it up, she tore it open and read the enclosed letter. "Gone to play with Erich at the station house. Be home by supper. Love, K."

"Well, I for one, could use a bit of a lie-down," Irene said. "What are your plans for the remainder of the afternoon?"

"I think I shall go lie down as well, Maman-Irene," Sherla said, a contemplative look on her face. "Rest well, Maman."

"You, too, dear." *Although I suspect our handsome young Hansel has given you a great deal to think upon before you will be able to relax enough to rest.*

~----------------~

Katrina crept toward the room she shared with Sherla. Irene's note had indicated that they had gone to bed to take a nap after their sleigh tour of the area. Katrina could use a bit of rest herself. Keeping up with a real twelve year old boy - one who was used to this thin mountain air - when one was in truth a nearly twenty year old woman had exhausted her.

*At least tomorrow, the number of hours of this hard work called 'play' will ease up. Erich told me that since the snow is mostly dealt with now, the school he attends will be opening again. He'll spend most of the day in school and I can spend most of MY day building up my strength. Thank goodness that Sherla anticipated the "where do you go to school?" question so that I had the answer that my "tutor" would be joining us once we had our own house to live in.*

Silently, she stripped out of her hated boy-clothes in the small water closet and then slipped into the bed chamber. The bed was rumpled, but there was no sign of Sherla in it. *Now where has she gone off too?*

Suddenly, small, but surprisingly strong hands and arms wrapped around Katrina, and half carried, half flipped her to the soft featherbed. "Got you!" Sherla crowed before teasingly clamping her small teeth on to Katrina's sensitive neck.

Katrina spun in her lover's arms and saw the rosy cheeks, the fiery eyes and full, moist lips and knew that Sherla was highly aroused. Taking the initiative, she rolled on top of her lover and kissed her thoroughly. Then she felt the rigid hardness that was poking into her belly. Reaching down, she took the godemiche in her hands and smiled at Sherla. "I thought it was my turn to "act boyish", my love.

Excited nearly beyond reason, Sherla squirmed beneath Katrina, her intent clear as she tried to shuck out of the special drawers. "Well, then do so, curse it!" she hissed. "Better yet, act MANNISH, but for god's sake, ACT!"

With languid and catlike grace, Katrina picked up the discarded item and rose from the bed. She positioned herself so that Sherla had a clear view of her, and extended one pointed toe into one leg of the garment. Slowly, sensuously, she drew up on the top of the drawers until it was nearly mid thigh before repeating the motions with her other leg. If anything, she was even slower raising it to her waist and lacing it on tightly, all the while shooting fiery, passionate looks at her lover that nearly had Sherla jibbering in need.

"Get OVER here and make LOVE to me NOW!" Sherla growled.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love," Katrina purred, slinking onto the bed.

"God, but I love you," Sherla moaned just before Katrina's lips closed over Sherla's own.

 

 

 

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