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30
Reverend Mother
“Jasmine” by smmartynenko, ID411986251 licensed from Shutterstock.com.
Background by Lakeview Images, ID141290857 licensed from Shutterstock.com.
“SOMEONE HAD FUN TODAY,” Ronda said when she joined me in the darkroom.
“Darling, you would not believe it!” I said enthusiastically. “Wait until you see these photos!”
“I could tell you were having fun by the way you had your hands all over her. Did she suck you?”
“Um… Oh. Yeah, she did. I guess that was fun, too.”
“You guess?”
“I love getting a model so worked up that she needs release and wants me to touch her,” I sighed. “But I really don’t care if she gets me off. You know?”
“No, I didn’t know. I thought the fun was in having a new conquest you could stick your dick into,” she said. Uh oh.
“Honey? You know it’s never been about that. I just want them so turned on and in tune with me that I get a great photo. Are you upset?”
“Um… Not really, I guess. We’ve all accepted that you are intimate with nearly all your models. It’s just that we haven’t seen it in a while. It was a surprise that an actress could step into the studio and you’d have her naked and in your hands in record time. That whole session only lasted an hour and a half. You could have taken her to the darkroom and screwed her lights out.”
“I didn’t want to screw her,” I said. I plopped down on the chair in the darkroom and Ronda sat on my lap. She kissed me.
“Saving that for your lovers?”
“My lovers. My wives are all I really want for a sexual relationship. Oh, I know you’ll remind me of Adrienne and of Jane. Even with Anita, it was almost like taking care of unfinished business from while she was here in Stratford. I had no desire at all to bring her home. I could just see red flags all over when we were finished. I might have been a little more intense in punishing Adrienne for it.”
“That won’t prevent her from setting something up again,” Ronda laughed. “She might be making a list. I guess working with you for the past nine months has given me a different view of your work. I see you in a professional situation taking photos almost every day and it’s so different than it was today.”
“I agree. Today was all about why I really love photography. I haven’t taken more than half a dozen Attic Allure photos in the eighteen months we’ve been working for the State Department. I just point the camera and click. Absolutely anyone could be taking the photos while we’re on the road.”
“You’ve always gotten good photos of the ambassadors. You talk them into interesting poses. You hand them props from their desks. It was a great photo when you had the ambassador to Romania contemplating the globe as he touched it.”
“Um… How do you know? Do you realize I’ve taken miles of film at embassies in the past two years? I haven’t seen a single photo. We take the film to a courier and he delivers it to Washington. For all I know, they haven’t even processed it,” I said. I was a little petulant, but I couldn’t stop. “I install Polaroid cameras in the chanceries and teach technicians how to use them. Do you think any of those techs has taken a single artistic photo? They take a face shot of a person against a white background, laminate it to a green book, and hand it off. I’m not sure they even look to see if the photo turned out.”
“You really miss this,” Ronda said. “I’m so sorry, Nate.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s just that a session like today—or even the session with Patricia we did on Saturday—feels right. It’s what I went to college for. I keep thinking that somewhere along the line I’ll truly get a masterpiece. I’ll have one photo that is actually worth the money my patrons invested. What some of them have paid for my images. That’s not going to happen when I’m traveling around the world locked into embassies and consulates. Taking pictures of security options and problems is important—I don’t doubt that. But it isn’t Attic Allure.”
“I won’t ask you to extend your time at State,” she said. “I wanted to, but I see how important this is. I’m afraid I’ll be out there alone.”
I let her words sink in and found tears in my eyes.
“Oh, Ronda! Please don’t break up with us. If traveling is what it takes to keep our family together, I’ll do it forever.”
“We can’t ask each other to be what we aren’t. And once the installations are finished, my traveling days may be over. I’ll get a nice comfy office job in Chicago and come home each night to my wonderful family.” She kissed me again. “Now let’s get some film developed so we can show our lovers what a brilliant artist you are.”
I kissed her desperately, and we began to loosen our clothes. Oh, I got film into the tanks to process and I printed proofs, but Ronda had worked with me in the darkroom enough that she knew when I could be enticed to kiss and pet while things developed. And eventually, we made love, like we’d done so many times in the darkroom.
The 4x5 transparencies of Patricia and Deirdre arrived Tuesday morning and Dave called me to let me know they were in. I went down and spent some time with him, looking at the photos and picking up my supplies that I’d ordered the previous week.
“You know, Nate, you could be processing and printing color negatives. I know you like using the Ektachrome and Cibachrome method, but color processing is coming into reach of the private lab. A couple of years ago, Kodak released a new process called C41. We’re getting great results with Kodacolor film,” Dave said.
“I always felt there was too much problem with color processing to get into it,” I said. “And the chemicals are still pretty toxic, need to be at just the right temperature, and are hard to dispose of.”
“All true in the old process. Here’s a brochure on the new stuff. I’d be happy to process a roll for you and look at the results. If you like what we come up with, I’ll help you set up your darkroom.”
“Thanks, Dave. Darn! This stuff came out just when I was graduating from college. I’ll bet the school is all over color processing now. I might have to go back to college.”
“Well, these transparencies you brought in are stellar work. I hope you do well with them.”
I showed the girls the transparencies and we chose a photo of Patricia and one of Deirdre to print. Anna joined me in the darkroom for a while.
“You want to retire from the State Department now?” Anna asked. Of course, if I told Ronda how I felt the other wives would know shortly.
“I have another eight-month tour of duty before I can retire,” I sighed. “But you’re right. I don’t want to keep working there like I’ve been. It’s been a great opportunity to travel, though we don’t see that much of each place. I don’t see enough of you and Patricia and the girls. And I’m not taking photos like these.”
I shut down the lights and slid the Cibachrome paper into the enlarger. Anna knew exactly how much time I needed for each step of the process and kept me busy between. Before long, I had two nice Cibachrome prints and Anna had a pussy full of my come.
“I’m sold,” Jasmine said when she came in for her appointment on Wednesday. Invalid was dark that night, and she hadn’t begun rehearsals for King John yet. “If you can get me a photo like these, I’m yours to do whatever as you please.”
“Was that a line from a play?” I asked.
“No. I’ve been so steeped in the script for King John that I’m talking in rhymed couplets and iambic pentameter,” Jasmine laughed. “But really, I love the concept of what you’ve done in these two. Are these paintings of John’s?”
“His students over the winter. He brings me backdrops in the spring. This batch happens to be among the best,” I said. “Let’s get you into makeup and take a nice portrait while you tell me about your role in King John.”
I led Jasmine to the dressing room and seated her as I worked on her makeup. I used a light touch for the portrait, but while I was working on her and brushing her long black hair back from her forehead, I thought she could have something far more dramatic when we got into it.
“Patricia, I’ll need a nice portrait blouse. Something black and nicely fitted to this beautiful shape,” I called to my assistant for the day. “We’ll use a light blue backdrop for the portrait.”
Patricia stuck her head in the dressing room to size up Jasmine and nodded. Like Deirdre, Jasmine had worn a simple sweatshirt and shorts, apparently expecting that I’d strip her immediately. Well, I wasn’t going to disappoint her. Patricia brought me a lovely sleeveless dress. It had a unique black leather harness that fit over one shoulder.
“I play Blanche, the king’s niece. She’s Spanish, which is why Jasmine Diaz was chosen for the role. He marries her off to the French Dauphin in order to secure a short-lived peace. They scarcely get back from the wedding when a new archbishop shows up. John refuses to recognize him as Archbishop of Canterbury, so the priest excommunicates him and calls on France to unseat him or suffer the same fate. We haven’t even consummated the marriage when Louis goes to war against England.”
“Tell me you become a virgin widow,” I said as I unzipped her sweatshirt and pulled it from her naked torso. Oh my, that was nice. “I hope you plan to let me take photos of these,” I sighed.
She pulled my hand to her chest and encouraged me to stroke it.
“Kathleen said you’d treat it well,” she whispered.
“I’ll try to capture its beauty in celluloid.”
I bent and placed a gentle kiss on each nipple, then dropped the dress over her head. She stood and I removed her shorts and sandals before dropping the dress down over her lush hips and bare pussy.
“Now, let me make some adjustments to your hair. Having it swept up does wonderful things for the framing of your face.”
“I should try that look for the play. I like it.”
“So, it sounds like there are all kinds of characters fighting for dear old England,” I said.
“I think they’ll color code the costumes so you can tell who is on which side and which ones are just wishy washy and will take whatever side is winning. Blue for England, red for France, and beige for the vast majority who don’t really care,” she said as I led her to the stage where Patricia had the backdrop ready and the stool. I positioned Jasmine and adjusted the lights, then started taking pictures.
“We could use a system like that in the US. Blue for the two percent on one side. Red for the two percent on the other side. Beige for the other ninety-six percent who don’t know what the hell is happening.”
“That’s kind of cynical.”
“I was a Vietnam War protester. I got drafted and am serving my alternative service working for the State Department. Sorry about the cynicism.”
I positioned her in another nice pose and then removed the leather shoulder harness from her right shoulder.
“Such beautiful shoulders should not be hidden,” I said as I stroked down her arms. I took another picture and then pushed one strap of the gown off her shoulder.
“I was afraid I’d spoiled the mood. Maybe you could massage my neck a little,” she said.
“Yes. I don’t want you tense,” I said, working on her shoulders. She leaned into my hands and I pushed the other strap down. I worked around to the front of her shoulders and pushed the dress below her breasts. “None of you should be hidden,” I said, stroking her nipples.
“I’m yours for the taking.”
“Hold that thought and that position,” I said, getting behind the camera. “Patricia, there’s a scene with a couple of pillars and an arch against a night sky. I think we’ll use that next.”
I led Jasmine back to the dressing room and had her sit down. I went to work on her makeup, raising her cheekbones, using a dark burgundy on her lips, and intensifying her black eyebrows. Of course, I left her topless while I worked, occasionally pausing long enough to caress her again.
“When we finish the shoot, I’d like you to remove this lipstick with your lips,” she panted.
“Whatever you want, dear.”
“This was in the props and looked like a match for that backdrop,” Patricia said, opening the door. She handed me a blue crown.
“Beautiful. See if we have a black cape or shawl. Something she can hold,” I said.
“Got ya.” Patricia was gone again.
“I thought she was one of your girlfriends,” Jasmine said. “She doesn’t mind you playing with your models?”
“We have one rule,” I said. “No sex in the studio. And I don’t date models.”
“This could be very frustrating.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
I positioned the crown and then led her back to the stage, set up with the fantasy background. It looked like you could walk through the arch into the sky. I worked with the lights a little and shot a couple of transparencies. Patricia brought me the piece of fabric I asked for.
“Perfect,” I said.
I handed Jasmine the fabric and then stepped behind her to push the dress over her hips so it fell to the floor. I spent a minute caressing her bottom and her abdomen, brushing over her pudenda.
“Now, let’s see a princess of Spain ready to take her new French husband to bed,” I said.
We tried several different poses. I don’t usually take so many 4x5 transparencies, but I couldn’t help searching for the perfect composition. And each time I shifted her, I caressed her.
“I can’t take much more of this teasing,” she said.
“I think we have what we want,” I answered.
I picked her up and carried her to the dressing room, pushing the door closed behind me. Then I made good on the promise to kiss all the lipstick from her lips. I made very sure it had been cleaned from inside her lips as well.
Jasmine was far gone, just letting me kiss and fondle her any way I wished. My hand glided down her body and found her legs parted as she sat on my lap. For a moment, I considered how good it would feel to stick my cock into her wet and hot center, but I let my fingers do the walking instead. She gasped and moaned into my mouth as she stiffened in climax.
“Oh! Are you sure there’s no sex?”
“Just what you’ve had, my dear.”
“If anyone had told me I would meet a guy and let him undress me, caress me, photograph me, and finger me in one afternoon, I’d have told them they were crazy. This whole experience has been intense. Shit! I didn’t do anything for you. I can feel you’re hard.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I loved making you feel good about our time together.”
“Oh, I feel good all right. Don’t you think I feel good?”
Before my answer had been accepted, she’d flooded my fingers again.
I ran the transparencies down to Dave to have them overnighted to London for processing. He promised he’d have them back in the morning. His motorcyclist was sitting on his bike in front of the store and took off as soon as he had the envelope. I went back to process the film.
Patricia pushed into the darkroom with me and was all over me, pulling off my clothes as she shed her own.
“Make love to me first. Then we can process film,” she said.
I found her channel open and ready for me. The passion of my wife was unparalleled.
“What came over you?”
“Like always. We watch you seduce a model and are completely caught up in the experience. I just want to feel your hands on me and feel your penis in my vagina again. I love you so much, Nate. You turn me on.”
I was glad to hear that, and glad to fulfill her desires. In fact, I picked her up and left the darkroom without having processed the film. I just carried her upstairs and took her to bed. Fortunately, Anna had the presence of mind to go to the church and pick up our daughters from daycare.
Thursday evening, Ronda and I went to see Love’s Labour’s Lost. The program notes said it was one of Shakespeare’s earliest comedies and was enjoying a refreshing resurgence in popularity. The director had chosen to set the play in the 1820s—a period I knew absolutely nothing about. It appeared the fashions featured empire waistlines for the ladies, top hats and tailcoats for the gentlemen, and a mishmash of rescued rags from other productions for the clowns and lower persons. The Festival might not know it, but they were really missing Judy’s touch.
Nonetheless, the play was funny if only for the language and play on words. You could always depend on the clowns for some lively repartee. It did require paying close attention so I didn’t miss a double meaning. And as to a happy ending… I guessed you read that into it if all the nitwits survived the year-and-a-day they had to wait in celibacy before their loves would entertain their suit.
Something about watching Shakespeare makes me talk like an Elizabethan.
Friday, I had the delightful opportunity to photograph Monique Abara. She’d played the illiterate servant girl Jaquenetta the night before. Ronda whispered to me that she’d also played one of the doctors in Imaginary Invalid. For all that her name sounded either French or African, she spoke with a decided English accent. Her dark complexion spoke to me of a burning sun. I thought she might be from one of the Caribbean islands I’d visited.
“Welcome to Attic Allure, Monique,” I said. “I loved your performance last night.”
“Thank you, Nate. We women in the cast were disappointed to find you had attended the show but didn’t come to the pub afterward. Shame on you,” she laughed. What a sweet sounding voice. It had been much harsher for her character the night before.
“I wasn’t aware we were invited,” I said. “If it hadn’t been for Kathleen taking us along after Pericles, I wouldn’t have known where to go. The location seems to have changed from last year.”
“You might not have noticed, though I would think it would be hard to miss, that there aren’t many men who come to the new location. We seem to differ in our preferred after-show entertainment. The men are still going to the café. Sometimes women, too. We aren’t being overly standoffish, but there are fewer women in the company this year than in the past two or three, I’m told.”
“I thought the shows were pretty heavily weighted toward men this year,” I said.
“I think Moliere only wrote women’s roles under duress,” she laughed. “The late-season shows have a few more women’s parts, but I’ll be just as happy when King John opens. I’m doing five or six performances a week in the Festival theatre, with roles in both Invalid and Labour. That will drop to four when King John joins the rotation.”
“You’re a hard working actress,” I said.
“Actor,” she corrected me. “Actresses are in movies. On stage we try to maintain a greater equality between men and women who act. We are all actors.”
“I’d heard the term used like that. Thank you for clarifying it for me. Let’s start in makeup, shall we?” I led her to the dressing room and she sat down—dressed much like the previous two actress… actors. I wondered if they’d had a meeting to decide what they’d wear. I started by unzipping her hoodie. Monique wore a sturdy bra with breasts that were somewhat larger than the last few I’d photographed.
“Nate, I will… I talked to Deirdre and Jasmine in great detail after the show last night. I expect to have nude photographs amidst those we get to today, but I would prefer not to have my private parts handled. I have a husband to whom I am faithful. He is very good at taking care of my physical needs.”
“Monique, the level of intimacy we arrive at is yours to control. Frankly, providing for a model’s physical needs is rather exhausting. At the same time, I expect to connect to you on a deeper level when we are shooting. Focus on me as I will be focused on you. If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I will stop immediately. I will always respect your wishes.”
“Kathleen said the same thing about you. Thank you.”
I finished working on her makeup—a tricky thing with a dark complected model. The tendency, as I was taught in my makeup class, was to overapply a base that changes her coloring, rather than staying with a translucent base and only touching things up to increase definition of her features.
“I like the choice of black undergarments,” I said. “Let’s put you in a colorful blouse for your portrait.”
I told Anna what I needed and she got me a nice bronze satin blouse with a subtle print. I slipped it onto Monique and buttoned it, leaving the top two open. I had to clip the back of the blouse to tighten it around her frame a bit. That’s a hazard of having a finite stock of clothing to dress every size woman in.
“This will be mostly head and shoulders or torso, so we’ll deal with a skirt or slacks after the first set,” I said.
She took my hand as I led her to the stool and lowered the red backdrop. I was shooting the portraits in black and white and needed to adjust the lighting several times to make sure I was showing her elegant features. I shifted her from front facing through left and right profiles. I couldn’t really shoot an over the shoulder shot because of the pins holding the blouse tight.
Once I felt we had a good selection, I took her blouse. I was careful not to touch her inappropriately as I unbuttoned it and she smiled brightly at me. We did several shots against the red and then a white backdrop before I chose a black backdrop and changed the lighting completely.
“It’s a beautiful bra,” I said of the black lace with a red under stripe, “but I’d like to take it now. I want some very dramatic shots of you.”
Her response was to simply hold her dark brown hair up away from her neck so I could reach the closure on the back. Not really a necessary move because her hair wasn’t that long, but signaled that she expected me to do the work of dressing and undressing her.
The breasts displayed were large and sagged a bit. Her areolae were also a good two inches across and almost black, contrasting with the brown of her skin. I started with more torso shots, but then asked politely if I could take her shorts and then her panties that matched the black lace bra.
Monique was confident. She had to know what a great body she had.
“What is your name origin?” I asked. “I think I’ve heard that last name before.”
“My father was Moroccan. He immigrated to England, met my mother, and their union was blessed with me. My father says the name originated farther south in Biafra, but he had no idea when his ancestors had migrated to the northwest.”
“I may have encountered it when I was in Morocco last April. Or perhaps in Tunisia.”
“You’ve traveled to Africa?”
“Yes, but not as much as I will be this fall. I don’t recognize Biafra on my list of countries, though.”
“It existed only from 1967 to 1970 before it was reabsorbed into Nigeria. My father, though he had never visited the area, was still fiercely proud of his origins.”
“Lean back against my hand and find your center to stabilize yourself when I withdraw,” I said with my hand in the center of her back. She leaned against me and shifted her feet so she could hold the position without my support. I got back to the camera, added some backlight, and shot more photos.
I brought a cube and draped it in a white cloth, then had her take various positions sitting, leaning, stretching back on it. Each time I changed her position, I guided her, changing her hand positions, the arch of her back, and the tilt of her head with my hands. I was just fascinated with the effect of the light on her skin and separating her body from the black background. We worked longer than I had with any model that week.
“You know, Polaroid got in a lot of trouble a few years ago for supplying the South African government with an ID camera that had a boost button on it. It increased the intensity of the flash by forty-four percent, which was deemed to be the additional amount of light absorbed by black skin. It was used to issue passbooks to black South Africans so the police could quickly identify them.”
“How horrid!”
“Exactly. They quit supplying the technology or supplies and have done a lot to improve the quality of life of black Africans in the country, but blacks are still not considered citizens in their own country and live under apartheid. It was true, though, that darker bodies require brighter light to get detail in the contours and features. I hope I’m not getting you too hot with all these lights I’m using.”
“Oh, I’m getting hot, but the lights don’t bother me.”
“I can get you a damp cloth if you’d like to wipe down a little as I change our setting,” I said.
I ran to the dressing room, moistened a washcloth, and brought it and a towel to her. Then I got Anna to help me move a hot sunny landscape in for a backdrop.
“I think you will look outstanding in front of this,” I said.
“That’s dramatic.”
“Now let’s focus a light so it looks like that sun is shining on your right shoulder. Now, dear, shield yourself slightly. Not desperately. I still want to see your lovely body. Let’s see how this works.”
We worked to get the right pose and exposures for another half an hour, then I surprised her by picking her up and carrying her to the dressing room, where Anna had already taken her clothes. I held out her panties and she daintily stepped into them. Then I fastened her bra, but let her lift her generous bosom into the cups. I continued dressing her until she was back in her hoodie, shorts, and sandals.
“Thank you, Nate,” she said, giving me a light kiss on the cheek. “That was the most intimate experience I’ve had outside my marriage. Now, I need to rush home and see my husband.”
“Thank you, Monique. I think we got a beautiful picture.”
The next week was a flurry of actors. Female actors. I photographed Lydia, Wendy, and Corinne. The last exhausted me. She seemed convinced that she could have sex with me if she persisted. We got a couple of great photos, but I ended up having Ronda take her into the dressing room to get dressed after the sitting. I’d never seen a woman dress and leave as fast as Corinne.
Thursday night we celebrated our family anniversary. After a lovely meal, we left the children with Melinda and attended the opening of La Vie Parisiennè. There were performances in both French and English, alternating nights. Kathleen played Gabrielle in the English version and another actress played in the French version. Apparently, the other actors played in all three shows each weekend. The alternating versions allowed Kathleen to perform in both La Vie and in Pericles. The wonderful Monica Kastner played Metella in both versions. In my opinion, she had no problem at all filling the Avon Theatre with her voice. I was really surprised that Kathleen had such a fine singing voice, though I don’t know why it should surprise me.
The show had some trademark Offenbach bits, like more words spoken or sung per second than anyone could possibly comprehend, and the requisite can-can. The music was lively and the show was farcical, featuring a favorite convention, a room with multiple doors. After the show, Patricia and Ronda went home to relieve Melinda as our babysitter, while Anna and I went to the pub to celebrate with Kathleen.
“That was quite the romp,” I told her when we got together.
“It’s exhausting,” she laughed. “I love it!”
“But you have to do Pericles tomorrow!” Anna said.
“It’s easy by comparison,” Kathleen said.
“Shakespeare is all easy compared to opera,” a voice said beside me. I turned and Monica smashed herself against me and kissed me.
“Monica!” I gasped when mine was the only tongue in my mouth. “Um… How nice to see you.”
“We have four weekends of performances and I have four lonely days between each weekend. Whatever shall I do to keep myself entertained? I do hope I can add to my collection of wonderful photographs,” she said.
“We have some interesting settings to pose you in,” I said. “Anna can set your schedule for you. I have a lot of people wanting photos this year.”
“Do they all want your attention like I do?” Monica whispered.
“Some do. Some don’t. Some want more attention than I can give,” I said. “I trust you won’t be in that last category.”
“Mio caro, you know I love your touch, but I must stay faithful to my husband. That matches your rule: No intercourse in the studio.”
“Uh… Yeah.”
“Dear Anna, may I have Tuesday?” she asked.
“I think we can fit you in,” she said, smothering a smirk. “Nate’s only been working Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in the studio. The rest of his time is trying to fill all the orders.”
“Not this coming week, though,” I said. “I need to be out of town a few days.”
“I need to set an appointment, too,” Kathleen said. “I can’t have everyone for a party and be the only one without a new picture.”
“Speaking of which, are you going to have your house?” I asked.
“No. Lord Peter and Lady Jane will have the house for their exclusive use starting Saturday. I understand they are bringing a butler and a nanny with them. I can’t believe they’ve only been married a little over a year and have a baby already.”
“They were eager to get started.”
“Well, they are down in New Jersey this week with Damien and the show. You know Lord Peter put some money behind the American production. I’m sure he’s checking on his investment,” Kathleen said, rolling her eyes. I wondered if he was more invested in Eugene or in Dora Devine.
Anna gave a flyer to each of the women who wanted to get in on the photo party. They were all paying a premium for the sitting and a single 12x15 color photo. It was definitely making the summer profitable and entertaining.
We had a drink with the women and then headed home.
Saturday afternoon, Peter and Jane arrived at Damien’s house. Jane immediately called to see if we could all get together for dinner. Of course, we suggested the little pub just up the street from us where the children were always welcome.
As soon as I’d received a lovely kiss from Jane, James Derek Nathaniel Monroe Winkle was placed in my arms. I looked at the little guy and smiled at the two-and-a-half-month old. Of course, since it was Saturday evening, there was music in the pub and I just naturally set about dancing with my son. He was Jane and Peter’s son, of course, unless he happened to be in my arms at the time.
I looked around and found Peter dancing with Toni and Ronda dancing Alex around the floor as Jane got caught up with Anna and Patricia. That’s when I noticed that Derek was with them and he seemed to have another young woman with him.
When food arrived at the table, the three of us who had taken turns dancing with all three children, joined the rest of the family. The young woman came directly to take the baby.
“Nate, this is Kendra. She’s our nanny and a lifesaver on this trip. You did not tell me how much work being a mother was,” Jane said.
“I’m delighted to meet you, Kendra.”
“A pleasure, sir,” she said nodding her head to me and taking James to the other end of the table to feed.
“She’ll warm up to you,” Jane whispered. “It just takes her a bit to get to know folks.”
“She seems very competent in caring for James,” I said, watching her holding the baby and giving him a bottle.
“It took me forever to trust her with him,” Jane confessed. “Peter finally had a talk with me and I agreed we needed a bit of help if we were going to make this summer trip. Kendra is really a calm influence in our house for a girl so young. All she wants to do is care for the child. Though she also cooks meals. We four rotate that responsibility if we aren’t out.”
“It’s nice to see Derek with you, too,” I said.
“I think he was just a bit jealous of us when we were off last summer. He’s not one to demand exclusivity, but he did miss Peter. He’s really part of our family.”
“I’m glad to hear that. And how are you, my lady?”
“A bit tired. And a bit horny now that everything is healed up. I hope you’ll have occasion to be with me during our time here. We’ll be two months, you know.”
“I’m happy you’ll be here for so long. How did you arrange that?”
“Well, we had a bit of a private ceremony with Her Majesty three weeks ago. She wanted to be officially introduced to our progeny. She was quite pleased, and in a surprise to both of us, granted Peter the Earldom, making me Countess of Plympford.”
“Oh! Congratulations! Please remember to give me instruction on the proper protocol for introducing you.”
“We’ve decided that we should simply be Peter and Jane Winkle here in Canada. No formalities. Mr. and Mrs. We ran our plan for visiting here during the summers by the Queen and she actually suggested that spending a couple of months each year would allow our son to learn about some of his American heritage, so to speak.”
“Her Majesty suggested that?”
“We are still under oath of silence, you understand,” Jane continued. “Kendra has no idea that Peter isn’t actually the father. I don’t think she quite understands how those things work. We’ve never actually confirmed it with Derek, though I believe he figured it out. Aside from that, the only ones to know are my mother and Audrey. And your family, of course.”
“Only those present at the table, and not the children,” I said. “We haven’t shared it with any of our parents and have no intention of doing so.”
“Good. Perhaps things will change when he’s reached his majority, but before that, we want him to know that you and your family are very special to us, and to him.”
Sunday, the Winkles joined us at the stable for riding and I presented Toni with new riding clothes and boots because hers were obviously too small for the growing girl. She was thrilled and wanted to show Aunt Jane and Uncle Peter how much she had learned in riding her pony and jumping the obstacles.
Peter and Jane each took a horse into the show ring and jumped a beautiful round before we all went for a ride out onto the trail. Kendra and Derek stayed with Alex and James while we were out for half an hour. We had dinner at a restaurant a bit out of town, then Jane slipped into our Chevy with us to go home.
Our home. It was delightful to have Jane in bed with us and she was an emotional lover to each of us. I hadn’t used a condom with my ladies in a long time, but Jane had not gone on any birth control. She flirted with the idea of getting pregnant again this summer, but decided she should wait a year for that. I was thankful. I hadn’t actually considered that Jane would want me to knock her up again, but she seemed quite convinced of it and my wives became enthused as well.
After Monday breakfast with the whole clan at That Scottish Café, Patricia, Toni, Alex, and I left town to go visit my parents in their new home. Mom had been reassigned at conference to the conference position of director at Camp Otterbein. It was located just a few miles west of DeKalb and about thirty miles southeast of Rockford.
“Wow, Mom! You’ve got campers already!” I said when we arrived at the bustling campground. She gave me a hug and then quickly took Alex from Patricia to look at her granddaughter.
“Conference was only a week ago, but in practicality, we’ve been working here for a month,” she said. “Our first campers of the season arrived on Sunday afternoon right after conference. This is our second group of kids. It’s so good to see you!”
Mom looked happier than I’d seen her in ages. She handed Alex back to Patricia and got down on her knees to hug Toni.
“How’s my precious girl?” she asked.
“Love you, Gamma. Where’s Gampa?” Toni asked, looking around.
“He’ll be by soon. We’ll have dinner with the campers,” Mom said. “Oh, look! There he is now!”
We looked around and saw Dad approaching on an old tractor with a front-loader full of firewood. He dumped the wood at a fire circle about a hundred yards from the house, and then drove over to us. Toni was on him as soon as he was off the tractor.
“Gampa! Can I ride the tractor?”
“Of course you can, my girl. And tonight, you can sit beside me while we gather around the campfire.”
Dad picked Toni up and carried her over so he could hug Patricia and Alex, and then me.
“Dad! You’re looking great! Camping life agrees with you.”
“Your mother drew a winning assignment this year,” he said. “It came complete with a job for your old man. Your mother is the director of the camp and gives me my orders each day. I’m officially the groundskeeper and maintenance man. It’s turning out that all I needed was some fresh air and a whole flock of children around. I feel great!”
“That’s so good to hear, Papa,” Patricia said. “This place is beautiful.”
“We have forty-five minutes before the dinner bell rings,” Mom said. “Bring your things inside. The first project your father tackled was getting the extra bedrooms and bath operational. They aren’t elegant or modern, but they’re a lot nicer than that shack we had in DeKalb.”
Mom was always positive and it was a surprise to hear her talk about their former residence in such disparaging terms. Not that I disagreed. The place had been depressing and in poor repair. The director’s ‘cottage’ at camp was a three-bedroom log cabin with two full bathrooms. It was a mansion compared to the place in DeKalb. It even had a big beautiful fireplace in the living room.
Dad had a list of chores he wanted me to help with this week and it sounded like I’d be pretty busy. As soon as we were settled into our rooms, though, I got out my Nikon and started taking pictures.
“Is that a new camera?” Mom asked.
“Yes. Pretty much like my other Nikon, but I sold the other one to the State Department. They’ve had me taking pictures on my trips as much as training people. Someone put a bug in the Assistant Secretary’s ear that I shouldn’t have to use my own camera for work. It all worked out pretty well.”
“I hope you’ll take lots of pictures around the camp and of the children. There was no resident director the past two years, so there were no official photographs taken to promote the camping program.”
“What happens in the winter?” Patricia asked.
“Well, we’ll have enough projects to keep us busy, but I’ll also be working at the conference office in Chicago to develop promotions. The conference is scheduling me as a guest speaker at churches all around northern Illinois. And the camp won’t be entirely unused. The lodge has two dozen rooms and hosts church retreats all winter,” Mom said.
We heard a bell ringing and Mom hustled us out of the cabin to head for the lodge and dinner. There were about fifty kids in fifth and sixth grades with ten counselors. They also had a kitchen staff of two college kids. One of the counselors led the kids in singing as they all took their seats. The room was built to hold twice this number for meals.
“Okay, kids. Everybody quiet. Reverend Mother will lead us in singing our grace.”
Reverend Mother??? I almost choked on my tongue trying not to laugh.
Oh, the Lord’s been good to me,
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need,
The sun and the rain and the apple seed.
The Lord’s been good to me.
I think campers have been singing that song before meals for a hundred years. As soon as it was over, one person from each table—the designated runner—went to the counter where they were given a platter of fried chicken to take back to their table. Dad went from our table. As soon as the chicken was served, the server went back for potatoes and gravy and vegetables. Four trips! Everyone poured lemonade from the pitcher on the table and we had a simple, tasty, and pretty nutritious meal.
“So, um… Reverend Mother,” I started.
“Oh, hush. It’s your fault.”
“What? How is it my fault?”
“Who do you think were the first camp counselors I met here last week? Your friend Andy from Tenbrook and his wife Karen. They’re still quite active in the church there and have been camp counseling ever since they started college. As soon as they saw me, Andy blurted out, ‘Reverend Mother Superior!’ It only took that one time for everyone to start calling me Reverend Mother, or just Rev. Mom.” She shook her head and started laughing. “You know, it seems so appropriate now.”
Wow! It was sure great to see my parents looking so happy.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
