I Am The Puppet Master Chapter Two: Daedalus Demands.
Introduction:
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I was somewhere between sweating bullets and shitting bricks. How? I asked myself. How had my grandad known about this? Only today I had discovered that I had the power to control others bodies, make them act or do whatever I wanted. It wasn’t like he had heard it from anyone else, I hadn’t had time to tell anyone, not that I would, the last thing I wanted was to be locked up and used as some guineapig for the government to experiment on. Maybe that was it, I thought as I paced back and forward across the living room. Maybe this was an experiment, like my grandad had done something to me or even my mum, which would explain why she never spoke to him, so the reason he knew was because he had caused this.
He had asked me to come over to his place this afternoon to talk; I doubted that this was some sort of a birthday chat or anything quite so friendly. In fact I was quite certain that he wanted to know more about what was happening to me. Well fine then, I thought as I changed and tugged on my boots, if he wanted to know what was happening I’d tell him. My grandad had always been a pretty decent bloke and I was pretty sure that he wouldn’t try anything funny. And if he did, well, I might just have to demonstrate to him just what I was capable of.
I walked out into the chilly afternoon air and started towards my grandad’s house. It was only about five kilometres or so away but there were a few short cuts that cut it down a bit, that is if you weren’t afraid of getting caught sneaking through someone’s back yard. The sky was dark with clouds overhead and the wind had that extra bite to it that made sure you knew winter was on its way. Night was threating to fall early as I trudged through a soggy park near a soon to overflow creak and wondered just where all this was going. Would I get to by grandads place to be greeted by the old man who had taught me to us a crossbow when I was five, or would there be groups of armed guards waiting to drag me off to the Australian version of Area 51? I figured that I’d just have to wait and see.
What I got was quite different from anything I had expected. Being a pensioner my grandad lived in a small house on a quiet street surrounded by a lot of other pensioners. When I arrived there was a big black limo parked out the front as if waiting for me. It looked like that kind of thing that a foreign dignitary might ride around, the windows were tinted black and I could hear no noise from inside. I skirted around the car and walked up to the door of my grandads house, the grass was green and looked as if it had been trimmed with a slide ruler and the door had a heavy brass knocker on it.
As I lifted the knocker I heard the car door open behind me, I turned around, expecting to see some big buff security guard type fellow. Instead I was greeted with the image of and beautiful woman, she would have in her mid-thirties but that was only a guess based on the lines creeping in around the corners of her mouth. She was dress from the waist down in knee high black boot, black stockings and a ruffled mini-skirt that was, you guessed it, black. From the waist up however she wore a suit type jacket, shades and a chafers cap all of which were the same tone of black. I got the impression that she was not intending to hurt me, not because I thought that I could take her since she was a girl, but more by that fact that she move a sort of restrained power. She looked gentle enough that she would step to the side to avoid squashing a bug, but at the same time could have walked through a brick wall; I wasn’t scared of her simply because I could tell that if she had wanted to hurt me she already would have and I wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“You are Damien, no?” she asked in a thick Eastern-European accent.
“Yeah,” I answered, not wanting to seem rude to such an obviously dangerous woman.
“My name in Bianca,” she said, extending a hand and smiling ever so slightly, as if she didn’t get much practise. “I am friend of you grand-father’s. He ask me to bring you to him.”
Without waiting for a response she turned and walked back to the limo. I followed, admittedly looking at her ass swaying as she walked, and hopped in the back of the car. I had never been in a limo before so I assumed that I was supposed to sit in the back like some kid, but the moment I was there I had no misgivings about the situation. The back seat was thick black leather; there was a minibar and a window through to the drives seat where I could see Bianca sliding in behind the wheel. I checked and grabbed a can of bourbon and cola from the little fridge as the car rolled down the road.
We drove in complete silence for some time, I sipped on my drink (Bianca didn’t seem to care that I was a minor drinking bourbon, which just made me like more) and watched as we drove out of the city and toward the green countryside. I have never been a fan of awkward silences; I don’t think that anyone really is, so I sort of squat walked my way to the front of the limo so I could speak with Bianca.
“So how do you know my grandad?” I asked as casually as I could, despite everything I was still a seventeen year old guy and as such had a little bit of difficulty talking to hot women.
“We worked together,” she said, not taking her eyes off the road “Long time ago now.”
“Cool,” was all I could think to say, “Is there a radio here? I mean do you have any music to listen to?”
Once more I saw her smile that stiff smile of hers and she turned slightly in her seat. “Da, I have music, what you like?”
“Oh,” I said a bit stumped, my hormones kicking in because of her accent if nothing else. “Whatever you’re into.”
Again she didn’t actually say anything, just reached forward and hit a couple of buttons on the stereo. Moments later I was greeted by the immortal rifts of Jonna Jett and Lita Ford blasting from what had to be a dozen speakers.
“Aw sweet,” I said, nodding my head as a general reaction to rock ‘n’ roll “I love ‘The Runaways’”.
“You look a little young to remember them,” she said, looking curiously at me.
“I just love classic rock, like 70’s and stuff,” I replied “I’m a big Def Leppard fan to tell the truth.”
“I have to say I love Gun’s and Roses myself,” replied Bianca, and I saw the tiniest bit of blushing creep into her checks.
From there on we talked music, we were both rock fans although she seemed to know a lot more than I did, and the kilometres just slipped away. I barely even noticed when we pulled off the road onto a long drive way, mostly because it was paved with asphalt, and continued along between groves of oak trees. Bianca was just regaling me with a story about how she had once met Ozzy Osbourne when the limo pulled to a halt. I was more than a little surprised to find us parked in front of a large gothic style manor house. It looked like it had fallen right out of some old horror novel; all that was missing was the creepy old butler and a raven calling from the distance.
“Here we are,” said Bianca, she seemed to have warmed up quite a bit since our initial encounter. I climbed out of the passenger’s door, it was harder than I thought, given that I may have pilfered one or two more drinks from the mini bar, and stood on the paved driveway, looking up at the house in awe.
“Your grandfather is waiting for us inside,” she said, touching my shoulder gentle so I that moved towards the carved wooden doors almost involuntarily. We walked up the stone steps as the manor towered over us, there was no creepy butler to open the door for us, the doors simply opened on their own, which was a little more creepy.
Inside was almost exactly how you would have pictured it to be, the entrance hall was dominated by a large ornamental stair case that wound its way up to the next floor. There were several doors leading off from the main room, the thick red carpet underfoot and bright chandelier overhead gave the entire space a feeling of posh class and rich sophistication that I was not at all used to. The two of us ascended the staircase to the next landing and I followed Bianca along the hallway to yet another heavy wooden door. Beyond this one was a sort of study, complete with big cushy arm chairs, floor to ceiling bookcases, ancient looking oil based paintings and a merry fire cracking in the grill.
“Wait here,” said Bianca “he will be with you shortly.” And with that she turned and walked out the door, leaving me along in a room that reminded me of something out of a Scooby-doo cartoon. I looked around at the shelves that were packed to bursting with books of every kind imaginable; there was everything from glossy textbooks that hadn’t even had time there to collect dust all the way down to ones that looked as if they had been printed at the same time as the Dead Sea scrolls. The paintings were just as varied, some shone as if they had been completed just hours ago and others seemed beyond antiquated. One in particular caught my eye; it was of a tall man with a thick dark beard dressed in chain mail and carrying a long sword at his side. Behind him was what could only be described as a medieval holiday poster, a large castle stood on the edge of a shimmering lake surrounded by thick green forests. There was something a little off about his appearance though, his eyes seemed to have been painted brighter then the sun in the back ground and the way he stood was, I don’t really know how to put it, it just seemed a little off.
“Your ancestor, Sir Fredric de Thatras,” came a voice from behind me. I jumped about my own height and spun around in a rather undignified way, so absorbed had I been in the painting that I had completely failed to hear anyone enter the room. I turned to see the wrinkled face, blue eyes, grey hair and thin form of my grandfather stand behind me.
“Don’t do that gramps,” I said reaching out and hugging the old guy, “you scared ten years growth out of me.”
“Well you’re still young,” he said patting me on the back the way grandfathers do “ten years less shouldn’t really be a problem for you.”
“Seriously though,” I said taking a step back to better look at him. “What’s this all about? I mean the house, the limo, the hot European driver. Did I fall asleep for a few years or something?”
My grandad chuckled to himself and turned to one of the chairs in the middle of the room. “Yes, Bianca can be a bit, well, different to what your used to.” he said, sitting back in one of the red velvety chairs. “Come Damien, sit, we have much to talk about.”
I parked myself in the chair that sat on a right angle to his as he poured us both glasses of something from the decanter on the armrest table. I think it was scotch but being seventeen at the time I was no real cognisor; we clinked our glasses together and drank, the taste was smooth and rich and had just a hint of oak to it.
“That’s really good,” I said, setting down my glass and turning back to my grandfather.
“Thirty-two year old Black Highlander,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “I bought that bottle back when you mother first told me she was pregnant with you. It was fifteen years old and I’ve held on to it for the last seventeen years, waiting for your birthday. But enough of that, I assume you have a few questions for me?”
“More than just a few,” I said, thinking back over the events of the last day. “Like how is that I can make people do whatever I want just by thinking it? What is it? Why is it happening now? What is this place? And how is it that you seemed to know all about this at the same time I did?”
I felt a little exhausted after saying all that and found my heart beating like I’d just run a marathon. I was anxious to find out what my grandfather knew, if anyone had any idea about what was going on with me it would be him. I knew it.
“Well in the words of Julie Andrews,” he said, picking up his glass and taking another sip, “We’ll start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start. In the year 1158 your ancestor, Sir Fredric de Thatras, the man you saw in the panting behind you, found that he had a most extraordinary gift. In his journals he wrote that after his seventeenth birthday he found he could control people like puppets on a string. With the rest of his family having died of the plague when he was a boy he had no one whom he could ask about his new ability.”
“But if he was a knight,” I asked “Wouldn’t he have had like, servants and stuff that had worked for his family and who could have told him?”
“Well you see Francis was not born a knight,” said my grandfather, not seeming to worry about my interruption. “He was born to a family of farmers and when they died he continued working their land as best he could on his own. Because of this we have no idea if he was the first of us with this gift, or if he was simply the next link in the chain going back even further. He practised in secret for many years, honing his skills until the day came when his village was attacked by an invading army. He along stood against them and, using his powers he was able to turn them away and save the village and the surrounding countryside. Some people accused him of witch craft but the ruling nobleman saw what potential there was in a person such as him. As a reward for what he had done, and in exchange for his services, the noble gave him title and land, which was how he became ‘Sir’ as opposed to ‘Mr’”.
“And that’s how all this started?” I asked, taking another swing of scotch.
“As far as we know,” said grandad, reaching over and topping up both our glasses. “Like I said we don’t know if Francis was the first of our kind or if he was just another link in the chain. What we do know is that every son of his develops these abilities on their seventeenth birthday.”
“Just the sons?” I asked, taking another sip of scotch. “What about the daughters?”
“That’s a little more complicated,” smiled grandad, “Whereas every son in our blood line ends up with these powers, only some of the daughter end up with, well, something different. But that’s not important right now.”
“Well don’t get me wrong the gramps,” I said. “I love coming over, drinking scotch and talking about family history with you. But I still gotta ask where here is and why all the cloak and dagger stuff? I thought you lived in some little unit not a bloody great manor house, not that I’m complaining mind, this place rocks.”
“Well the reason I never told you where I actually lived was because I’m quite sure you would have asked all those questions much earlier, back when you would have been too young to really understand all this.”
“Fair enough,” I said “and you think I’m old enough now?”
“Mate your seventeen,” he said, still smiling as if this was all one big party for him “back in my day that made you old enough to do just about anything.”
He got up and walked over to the one of the paintings, this one showing a man somewhat like him, but wearing something along the lines of a British World War One uniform.
“I worked for a special division of the Australian government during the cold war. My, how would you say, unique gifts proved very useful against the USSR. When the soviets started waving the white flag the entire department was disbanded, I got some pretty hefty compensation out of it plus a seven figure a year retirement pension.”
He turned back to face me, his eyes alight again, like there was fire in his brain shining through. I had never seen him so excited about anything before, now that really got my attention.
“The reason I brought you here is so that I can teach you how to use your new powers, how to master them.”
“Well no offence gramps,” I said, trying to be as polite about this as I could, “but I seem to be doing okay getting my head around this on my own, I just need some more practise.”
At this my grandad laughed again, like I had just said something profoundly foolish. “You think that getting one girl to stand still while you have your way with her is really all you can do with this? There is so much more I can teach you, things that my father taught me and his grandfather, skills that would take a lifetime to figure out on your own. But with my tutorage you will be able to master them in a significantly shorter space of time. And before you ask, yes, it is important that you learn how to control these abilities. If you don’t get a handle on them then they could tear you apart, just like they did to my uncle. He didn’t want to train with me and our father and as a result he was driven mad by the things he did that he had never meant to do.”
He said all this in a manner that reminded me of a drama class I had once take, like it was something he had thought about a lot over the years. I could see the pain he felt about what had happened to his brother, my instincts told me that he was on the level. It wasn’t so much about him being my grandfather, I learned a long time ago that blood only gets you so far, trust you have to earn. No it was more that I could tell that he wasn’t lying to me, not that I was any kind of new power of mine, it just something I’ve always been good at.
“Gramps,” I said as I stood up and walked over to him “you had me at thirty two year old scotch.”
Despite the fact that he still looked worried, half lost in memories; he still smiled the grandfatherly smile and patted me on the shoulder.
“I was hoping you’d be on board,” he said, now seemingly to absentmindedly peruse the numerous bookshelves. “To be honest, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but you have often come across to me as a bit of a jerk.”
Okay, I’m the first to admit that I have a kind of ‘screw you attitude’ but so far it had seemed to work for me. It wasn’t he kind of thing you’d often heard coming from and elderly relative.
“Under any other circumstances it wouldn’t really worry me, but the first thing you need to learn is that with these powers comes the necessity to use them properly. Start doing whatever you please to whoever you please and you’re on a slippery slope to ending up as something that no one in their right mind wants to be.”
“’With great power comes great responsibility’” I said, to which my grandfather nodded as if I had not only said something profound but also original, guess he never saw ‘Spiderman’.
“Well I suppose we should get started then,” he said, suddenly all crisp and businesslike, so much like a school teacher that it alarmed me a little. “When I was your age I was, as I suspect most boys are, obsessed with the topic of sex.”
“Okay then.” I said, not quite sure where this was going but still a little put off by having this conversation with my grandfather.
“So I have decided that the best way to teach you is to give you the proper motivation.” With that he walked over to the oak doors and dramatically threw them open. Beyond was something that at first glance seemed to be part office part bedroom. However that was not what caught my eye first, or second or third for that matter. All of these stages of noticing were taken up by the gorgeous woman sitting on the end of the magnificent four poster bed. She was wearing a silk robe that clung to her body in all the right ways; the curves of her frame looked as if they had been sculpted with painstaking care by an artist who was obsessed with creating the perfect woman. Her face could only really be described as angelic, deep blue eyes framed by a thousand cubic meters of loose yourself in it blond hair, I would have guessed her age at being not much more then nineteen at the most, however it was impossible to tell with such a timeless beauty as her.
“This is Natasha,” then too her he said. “My dear, this is my grandson Damien, the one I was telling you about.”
She smiled a smile that would have been worth more than this house and everything in it. Then she got up, strode across the room and without saying a word simply grabbed me around the waist leaned in and kissed me with a passion that I had never imagined could exist in the real world. Out of reflex I kissed her back, our tongues intertwining as I felt the warmth of her boy against mine and the rasping sound of the two of us breathing through our noses. As quickly as it had begun she stopped; pulling back and gliding with a dancers grace back to the bed, where she sat down and continued to smile at me.
I turned to the side and beckoned my grandfather to come closer. I didn’t really know how to phrase my next question, and to be honest it was kind of an awkward one.
“Did you, um, you know, were you the one that,” I ran my hand across my mouth that still tasted of that sweet flavour women always leave behind. “Did you make her do that?”
Once again he chuckled to himself, as if enjoying some sort of private joke. “No that was all her son. You see I found Natasha there in a juvenile detention centre a few years ago, you should have seen her then, she was quite wild.”
“Well, there’s not really anything wrong with girls who a little bit wild.” I said, remembering a nigh I had bullshitted my way past the bouncers at a nearby pub.
“There is when they try and shank you just because you said that they didn’t need cuffs in the visiting room,” he retorted. “I pulled a few strings and got her out of there and trained her to be a better person.”
A wonderful notion suddenly blossomed forth in my mind, could I do this to, did my powers extend beyond simple control of their bodies?
“Well how did you do it?” I asked cautiously, hoping to get the answer I wanted.
“There’s a song from a few years ago, I forget what it’s called, but one of the lines in it is ‘Free you mind and your ass will follow’. That’s what I did to dear Natasha over there.”
“I’m not quite following,” I said “is this a part of our power?”
“Yes and no,” he said, being infuriatingly cryptic “what we can do is scientifically referred to as ‘Direct Motor Control’. In short it means that we are able to exert our own will over the parts of a person’s brain that are responsible for the way that their body moves. Their mind is free to do and think as it wishes but their body is under our control.”
I glanced over at Natasha, still sitting on the bed in her silk robe, an image of beauty, innocents and lust all at once. I remembered the way that Fiona had acted when she and I were alone in the bathroom; the way her body had been ridged but totally under my control while I saw her eyes dart back and forth in a frantic state of terror. I looked into the deep blue eyes of Fiona and saw her to be totally calm and relaxed, as if she were sitting at a party with some friends and completely at ease with what was happening.
“I still don’t get it gramps,” I said, now genuinely confused as to the situation.
“All in good time my boy,” he said turning towards the door “all in good time. For now I will leave you and Natasha to get, better acquainted,”
“And by better acquainted you mean…?” I asked as he pulled the doors open and walked back into the study.
“Grandson of mine,” he said turning to close the doors behind him “if I am to be your teacher in our ways, then she will be your…practise partner.” And with that he was gone, the heavy oak doors closing shut behind him with a soft ‘thunk’, leaving me alone with the single most beautiful girl I have ever seen.
I turned to see that Natasha had risen from the bed and moved across the room without so much as a footfall being heard by me. It took me a moment, or maybe my brain was working a little slower than usually due to the large amount of information that I had absorbed in the last short while, to notice that she had shed he silk robe and was standing before me completely naked. He unclad form was almost too much for me to take; if the way she was before had been angelic, then seeing her there in all her glory was almost demonic in what it did to me. Her skin was creamy white tanned so slightly that you really had to look to notice it, and boy was I looking. Her legs were long, slender and looked like the pillars of heaven itself, thought they supported something that would have made even the greatest pleasures of paradise look unappealing. Her breasts were that perfect balance between big and firm; they were what guys refer to as the ‘slightly more than a handful’ and looked soft as the silk gown she had been wearing.
She smiled that million dollar smile at me again and reached out to take my hand. As out skin touched I felt about a thousand volts go through me and she turned and led me back towards the enormous four poster bed. I was a little confused as to what I was supposed to do, I mean, I knew what it was that I wanted to do and how to do it. It was just that I didn’t feel the need to use my powers on Natasha, nor did it appear that I needed to seduce her. Both these things kind of took something away from the experience, like I was just being handed the prize without needing to win it first and that made it seem kind of, I don’t know, empty.
I sat down on the bed and looked over at her doing the same, her movements so liquid and graceful that I felt I was looking as a cat in human form, if that makes any sense. I was still in the adolescent phase of finding it difficult to talk to girls, so it was that faced with such an unparalleled beauty, who appeared to be offering herself to me, I felt my hands shaking and sweat break out all across my brow. I tried to think of something to say, I know it seemed weird that I should want to talk instead of just shag like I had with Fiona. I felt like I needed to make some sort of a connection with this girl before I went to bed with her. With Fiona the connection had been that I was forcing my will upon her, it had been more about the power that I felt then the pleasure. Here it was as if I had to come up with some reason as to why I was doing this, something beyond the primal urge that every man feels.
“So is what he said true?” I asked, trying to look her in the eye as I was speaking instead of at her breasts and feeling as though my neck was going to snap in the process. “About that you were in jail and he got you out?”
She turned towards the wall, what I could see of her face took on a distant faraway look; it was like she was trying to recall something from a dream, maybe that was how it seemed to her.
“I recall that I was imprisoned for a time,” she said “I did something’s which I am not proud of.” Again it took a moment for my brain to fully process this; her voice was as magnificently beautiful as the rest of her, something between a breeze blowing through the willow trees and water running over smooth rocks in a creek.
“Then your grandfather Tomias came and took us away from there,” she turned around to look at back at me. “He taught me how to be a better person, it took a long time but he never gave up on any of us. He said that we were going to help him teach you how to be a better person.”
Once again she leaned in and kissed me, all thought I had had of trying to get to know her evaporated like water on a hot plate. I felt my self getting hard as she gently but forcefully pushed me backwards until I was lying across the bed with her on top of me. I could feel the warmth from her pussy as out middles ground together and our kissing became even more passionate.
We were lying on our sides on the bed, our hands exploring each other’s bodies while our tongues explored each other’s mouths. Slowly she broke off the kiss and leaned back unbuttoning my shirt while I ran my hands over her skin as soft as silk. As soon as my shirt was off she slid down to my waist and unbuckled my belt and fly with a single flick of her dainty wrist. Her hand slipped inside my boxers and grasped my now rock had dick; she slid further down the bed and I rolled on my back letting my dick stand out in front of me like a flag pole. Natasha wasted no time in parting her luscious lips and slipping her mouth over my membrane. I marvelled at just how different it was getting a blow job from a girl who was much more, how can I put it, willing. I felt myself completely relax as her mouth worked its magic on my loins, she was slowly swallowing more and more of me until her nose was nestled in my pubic hair. I could feel her throat working itself around the head of my prick, her uvula was rubbing back and forth across the head of my dick and I was amazed by the fact that she wasn’t chocking. She swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor so that she was kneeling, all without dislodging my dick from her mouth. I automatically sat up and groaned in my throat as she reached up and cupped my balls in the palm of her smooth hands.
Her head started bobbing up and down on my lap, I could feel her nipples rubbing back and forth on my knee caps and let me tell you they were getting hard as rocks.
Even though I had shagged Fiona just that afternoon I could still feel myself close to cumming. It’s not as if I’m quick on the draw, if anything this girl had such amazing cock sucking skills that she probably could have gotten a porn star off in about thirty seconds. I guess her skills involved being able to tell when a guy was getting near his big finale. She slowly rose up off the floor and crawled up my body, rubbing every inch of herself on my dick as she did so. I leaned down and buried my face in her ample cleavage, breathing in the deep musky aroma of her body. She began rocking her hips around on my cock, just enough so that I could feel the heat from her shaven pussy up and down my shaft. She seemed to be going out of her way just to drive me wild with desire and it was working. I reached my arms around her in a bear hug and rolled over her so that I was now on top. She groaned at this and looked up me with a sort of cheeky smile. I wriggled down just a little and positioned myself in front of her dripping pussy, however before I was able to do anything Natasha threw herself forward and impaled herself in my prick. We both groaned together as I slide all the way into her, Natasha’s back arched and I curled forward to take one of her nipples in my mouth. It was hard as a diamond and she gasped as I sucked on her like a cigarette, out of instinct I started slowly thrusting my hips into her and at the same time I could feel her pushing back against me.
“Oh,” she moaned into my ear, as I was thrusting into her she began gyrating her hips in a circle around me. “Oh that feels so good. You can step it up a notch if you want,” she continued, lifting my head up so I was looking her in the eye, “I’m not a wuss.”
We both smiled at each other and I drew myself almost all the way out before slamming the old boy home again with enough force to slide her forward on the bed sheets. She gasped and her eyes flew open as wide a saucer, I threw myself in to her again and again and the sounds she made began to grow in volume. The bed was rocking below us, I suspected that the wooden frame would have been creaking but I wouldn’t have heard it over Natasha.
“OH, OH, OH!” she wailed beneath me, her hands running up and down my back and finger nails digging in ever so slightly. “Don’t stop fucking me, come on don’t stop!”
To be honest I had no real intention of stopping, I doubt I could have even if I wanted too. I reached under her shoulders and lifted her up so that I was on my knees and she was on my lap. She shook her hair back out of her eyes and began bouncing on my cock, her tits were pressed into my own chest and I reached down to hold her firm ass and keep her right where she was. The sensation of touching every womanly part of her body was what it took to send me over the edge. My cock convulsed and I shot my load right up inside her; at the same time Natasha froze, threw her head back and screamed up at the canopy over our head. Her pussy clamped down over me as we came together. Orgasm ripped through the both of us, her whole body was ridged as a board for a moment until the pair of us went limp together.
I fell to the side still entwined with Natasha, we were both breathing heavily as we rolled apart and lay next to each other. I looked over at her, still as unbelievably beautiful as ever and suddenly felt extremely tired. I guess a combination of excitement, stress and possibly even the use of my new power was enough to leave me exhausted. I could see that Natasha was just as tired as I was so I reached up and grabbed a few pillows from the pile at the top of the bed and arranged them around us. I dragged one of the heavy blankets over us and felt her role onto her side and cuddle up next to me as we both drifted off into a deep sleep.
I awoke the next morning in the elegant four poster bed, Natasha still lying snuggled up next to me, blissfully asleep. I slide across the bed, trying not to wake her and made my way over to a small door off to the side of the room. Just as I had guessed it was ensuite bathroom, all glittering tiles and shining white lights. I showered under a head that was about the size of a pizza dish and dressed in a fluffy white robe. When I re-entered the bedroom I saw that Natasha was gone, the bed was ruffled and I could have sworn I could hear her footsteps disappearing down the corridor. I decided to have a poke around my new surroundings, to see what I had gotten myself into. On the other side of the room was a similar door that I hadn’t noticed before, when I opened it I found myself in a large walk in wardrobe. I had never really been one for dressing up, all the cloths I would normally wear would have been able to fit into a single draw all on their own. All the cloths were in my size, along with boots and even a few hats to match, not terribly concerned by how I was dressed at the moment I snagged a set of jeans and t-shirt off the rack nearest to the door along with a pair of lace up boots. I emerged from the closet and made my way into the study where my grandfather and I had talked the night before, hoping to find the old man and at the very least thank him for what he had done so far.
I didn’t have to go very far to find him, he was there in the study waiting for me, wearing a Huey Heffner style robe and sipping from a cup of coffee. He looked over at me and smiled, not in the grandfatherly way, more like a mate would.
“Have a good night did you?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
“Well yeah,” I said, settling in to the chair opposite him “Natasha was quite, um, how you can say…”
“A full blown hellcat?” prompted my grandpa, smiling again.
“I was going to say a bit on the wild side, but yeah.” We both looked at each other then burst out laughing; it was one of those occasions where, I guess, all you can do is laugh.
“Well I hope she didn’t wear you out too much,” he said, standing up and straightening his robe. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
“Shouldn’t I be getting home?” I asked, “I mean my parents might be getting a little bit worried about me by now.”
“Don’t worry about that,” replied my grandfather “I called your mother last night. She wasn’t too happy, but she agreed to let you stay with me for a while.”
If he hadn’t been wearing the thin robe I would have hugged him, but, well you know, I don’t ‘go’ that way.
“Well that was pretty good of you,” I said. “The thing is that the other day you mentioned training, when you say ‘training’ what exactly are we going to be doing?”
“Many things,” he said simply, his eyes once again alight with an inner spark. “So many things.”
To Be Continued…
