{"id":24374,"date":"2019-10-06T11:32:15","date_gmt":"2019-10-06T15:32:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=24374"},"modified":"2025-09-25T15:39:24","modified_gmt":"2025-09-25T19:39:24","slug":"mrs-hardwickes-parlor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=24374","title":{"rendered":"Mrs. Hardwicke’s Parlor (by Inca \/ aka Tye)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0 <\/strong>While studying in Boston, a young Adam Cartwright finds himself a part-time job – with unexpected benefits.<\/p>\n

My response to Brand’s 13th anniversary R-rated challenge (to include the words “lacy lingerie”<\/em>)<\/p>\n

WC: 7150\u00a0 Rating: MA (for sexual content)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/h1>\n

Mrs. Hardwicke\u2019s parlor<\/strong><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about time we introduced younger brother here to the delights of Julia\u2019s Palace, wouldn\u2019t you say?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss grabs Joe\u2019s bag off the stage, looks at me and grins.\u00a0 Joe grins wider though.\u00a0 I\u2019m about to make good on the promise I made him three years ago: that I\u2019d take him to Julia\u2019s as soon as he was old enough as long as he promised to trust to me and Hoss to decide when the time was right, and not to go satisfying his natural curiosity in any of the less reputable establishments on D Street.<\/p>\n

Julia\u2019s Palace is a world away from the sordid cribs at the rougher end of town.\u00a0 Julia has a taste for elegance, and it\u2019s no secret her sound business acumen has made her a wealthy woman.\u00a0 The Palace is decked out with the finest furnishings.\u00a0 It\u2019s a place of comfort and luxury.\u00a0 More importantly, Julia\u2019s particular about the girls she employs.\u00a0 They\u2019re her investment, of course, but that\u2019s not the only reason Julia looks after them well.\u00a0 She has a sharp head for business, but she also cares. \u00a0Bawdy behavior, excessive drunkenness and brawling aren\u2019t tolerated at her place.\u00a0 Compared to most of the saloons in town, the Palace is a welcome breath of refinement.<\/p>\n

Despite that, I\u2019m well aware Pa would have something to say if he were to hear about this deal.\u00a0 Pa has strong views on the subject of brothels, so Hoss and I don\u2019t mention our visits to Julia\u2019s, and my promise to Joe is a secret between the three of us, Hoss, Joe and me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOur treat,\u201d I tell Joe as we walk up the steps to the Palace.\u00a0 Well, Hoss and I walk; Joe springs.\u00a0 His face is flushed with excitement.\u00a0 He looks at me with burning eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can choose any girl?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny girl you like.\u201d<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t hide my amusement; he\u2019s as eager as a kid at a carnival.\u00a0 But I can\u2019t blame him.\u00a0 All these years on, I still recall the fervor of my first time with a woman.\u00a0 I was pretty much the same age he is now, but unlike Joe, my life\u2019s experience of the opposite sex had always been limited to a handful of women, most of them some other man\u2019s wife, and none of them attainable.\u00a0 In my growing up years, Virginia City was barely more than a cluster of tents and shanties clinging to the mountain, inhabited by hard-bitten miners.\u00a0 Women were few and far between, particularly young and attractive ones.\u00a0 My father had by far the prettiest woman thereabouts.\u00a0 Marie was young and feisty and beautiful, and I adored her, but her image in my mind had spoiled me.\u00a0 The woman of my dreams was always another Marie, and women of her caliber were few and far between, particularly in the Washoe.\u00a0 The only other women I ever laid eyes on, aside from some toughened settlers\u2019 wives, were the inhabitants of the cat wagons that frequented the mining communities.\u00a0 I watched them from a distance, stifled by awe and envy, and by the trust Pa put in me; brazen ladies with painted faces, often wearing little more than lacy lingerie that barely covered the necessary parts, who flaunted their bodies around the mining camps as if they were goods to sell.\u00a0 Which I guess they were.\u00a0 In spite of the physical excitement, secretly, I was scared of them.\u00a0 I was a boy used to a man\u2019s world, and women \u2013 all women \u2013 were alien creatures.<\/p>\n

When my father brought Marie home with him, she seemed to me like a princess from a fairy-tale; exotic and fine, like a beautiful doll.\u00a0 I was more than a little in love with her, but not as a boy loves a mother.\u00a0 It made me awkward with her at the start.\u00a0 I was eleven years old and barely understood my own mixed-up feelings.\u00a0 Her loveliness overwhelmed me.\u00a0 I idolized her with such intensity, I would bury my face in my pillow at night and cry tears of frustrated love.\u00a0 It was a bewildering passion. It wasn\u2019t lust that haunted me, not in those early days, although as time went on she would factor in my fantasies.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t my stepmother I yearned for though; rather an ideal woman formed in her image.\u00a0 Maybe that was understandable since she was the only desirable female I had really known.\u00a0 No, Marie<\/p>\n

stirred in me a yearning for something beyond my childish comprehension; that union of physical and emotional fulfilment, the simultaneous satisfaction of body and soul.\u00a0 I know what it is now that I\u2019m older and wiser, yet still it eludes me.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t until I left the Ponderosa and went away to college, in Boston, that my eyes were fully opened to the female of the species.\u00a0 That was a turbulent time.\u00a0 Marie\u2019s death had destroyed all equilibrium at the Ponderosa, and the grief of my family was as hard to bear as my own.\u00a0 We\u2019d talked about college, but after what happened to Marie, I mentally shelved all plans of leaving my family.\u00a0 But Pa was not so easily deterred, in spite of his own sufferings.\u00a0 So, I left the turmoil of grief back home, and found myself in a different world; one that battered my sensibilities with new experiences from the moment I set foot off the train.<\/p>\n

Back in Nevada, I had been the clever kid, a book-loving oddity among men whose business was the earth, and day to day survival.\u00a0 Boston made my previous existence seem primitive.\u00a0 Here, at last, was civilization and culture, and I fell into it like a hungry puppy, eagerly lapping up every morsel that came my way.\u00a0 And women were part of the new fascination.\u00a0 The streets were filled with fine ladies, in elegant dresses, with frills and bows and all kinds of extravagant finery.\u00a0 They carried parasols to keep the sun from darkening their fair skin, and they walked in the park and drove out in smart carriages to call upon one another.\u00a0 They were delicate and pale and refined, and I was mesmerized.\u00a0\u00a0 Many of them were young and pretty, and they would smile at me when I tipped my hat as they passed me in the street.\u00a0 \u00a0Here at last, I thought, I would meet the woman of my dreams.\u00a0 My own Marie, with skin like rose petals and a laugh like water dancing over pebbles.\u00a0 I had more earthy dreams for her too that I indulged in my private moments, but as the months wore on, and I settled into my Boston existence, it became increasingly apparent, that in spite of the multitude of woman now available, I was no closer to fulfilling my dreams.\u00a0 Increasingly, I was becoming less motivated by ideals and more concerned with finding an outlet for my pent-up physical desires; one more satisfying than that which I could provide for myself.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t help that my fellow students appeared to view me as a man of vast sexual experience.\u00a0 I have no idea where the delusion stemmed from, other than the fact that I was from the West, which was generally considered in this elegant city to be a place of lawless iniquity, totally devoid of any moral standards.\u00a0 There was a general misconception that my home country was populated by women as wild as the land around them; women who would lift their skirts as soon as look at a man.\u00a0 I confess, I did nothing to dispel these illusions.\u00a0 These miscomprehensions only served to flatter a young man\u2019s fragile ego.\u00a0 I was viewed with a mixture of awe and curiosity, and if some of my closer acquaintances ever wondered about the truth, they never divulged any hint of doubt to me.\u00a0 I suspect they truly believed I was some kind of modern day Don Juan.\u00a0 And I\u2019m good at playing a close hand.\u00a0 I keep my own secrets too well.<\/p>\n

So, when it finally happened, it came as a complete surprise.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been in Boston almost six months.\u00a0 My old life on the Ponderosa had begun to feel oddly unreal, as though it belonged to another person.\u00a0 Boston life – college life – suited me.\u00a0 I was lodging with my grandfather.\u00a0 It was the only way my father could afford to for me to be at college.\u00a0 Pa had to work hard for every dollar as he built up the ranch.\u00a0 It was one of the reasons I had been reluctant to leave.\u00a0 I\u2019d always been there with Pa, every inch of the way, his right-hand man, in spite of my youth.\u00a0\u00a0 I worried how he would manage without me.\u00a0 I suspect my grandfather helped out financially with my college education too, although he never said.\u00a0 I was grateful to them both, my Pa and my grandfather, and grandpa and I got on well together.\u00a0 I hope he enjoyed having me to stay as much as I appreciated his kindness in accommodating me during those years.<\/p>\n

So, my fees were paid, and I had comfortable bed and board.\u00a0 What I didn\u2019t have was any spare cash to call my own.\u00a0 When I could, I helped out in my grandfather\u2019s chandler\u2019s store, but I was already in his debt and did not expect him to pay me wages for the little I could do to help.\u00a0 From time to time, Pa would send a little extra money, but every dime he sent was money he really needed for Hoss and Little Joe, and the ranch, and I was aware I was already a big financial burden to him.\u00a0 Still, I longed for some extra income of my own, some small amount I could freely spend on a night out with friends or buy a new novel for sheer indulgence.<\/p>\n

I frequented the local bookstore most days.\u00a0 It was owned by Mr. Fortescue, a gentle, quiet man who shared my passion for literature.\u00a0 I knew he already had a part-time helper, a final year student called Thomas Downs, but a job in a bookstore would a have been a dream come true for me, so I asked him if he would consider employing me too, even if it was only for a few hours a week.<\/p>\n

\u201cI already have Tom,\u201d he told me.\u00a0 \u201cUnfortunately, I\u2019m not in a position to take on another assistant.\u00a0 But when Tom leaves, in the spring, you can take his place then.\u00a0 I hope that helps.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thanked him and said it certainly would help.\u00a0 In the short term, I was no better off, but with no other practical prospects, I resigned myself to a few tight months, with the promise of improvement to my pecuniary status, come the spring.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you still looking for some paid work?\u201d Mr. Fortescue asked the next time I called into the bookshop.\u00a0 When I nodded, he went on. \u201cOne of my regular customers was in here yesterday, asking if I knew of a young man willing and able to escort an elderly gentleman to the park on Sunday afternoons.\u00a0 He\u2019s recently been confined to a wheelchair and misses his social outings.\u00a0 It would be for a couple of hours each Sunday, and there would be financial remuneration.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mr. Fortescue handed me a card bearing a name and address.\u00a0 \u201cBetter not waste any time if you\u2019re interested. I know they\u2019ve been asking around.\u00a0 If you want the job, best get over there straight away.\u201d<\/p>\n

The address on the card took me to a road about half a mile away, lined with modest but pleasant houses.\u00a0 I climbed the steps to the porch of number twenty and pulled on the doorbell.<\/p>\n

A maid answered; a thin girl in a starched apron.\u00a0 Seeing me on the step, she looked inexplicably flustered.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs Mr. Greenway in?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

She gathered herself together.\u00a0 \u201cWhom should I say is calling?\u201d<\/p>\n

I told her my name and that Mr. Fortescue from the bookstore had sent me.\u00a0 She vanished into the house and reappeared thirty seconds later, to usher me inside and take my hat.<\/p>\n

I followed her down a narrow hallway.\u00a0 Opening a door on the right, she showed me into a small, neat parlor before dropping a little curtsey and vanishing again.<\/p>\n

I had a brief impression of cream and lavender, and a gilt-framed painting of a vase of flowers above the fireplace, before a woman rose from the sofa.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright?\u201d<\/p>\n

She had a deep voice for a woman.\u00a0 Deep and husky.\u00a0 Something about it caused my heart to flip over in my chest.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Mrs. Hardwicke, Mr. Greenway\u2019s daughter.\u00a0\u00a0 Are you here about my father?\u201d<\/p>\n

I blinked and nodded.\u00a0 \u201cMr. Fortescue at the bookstore said he was looking for someone to escort him to the park on Sundays.\u201d For some reason, I couldn\u2019t manage the whole sentence without having to catch my breath in the middle.\u00a0 I hoped she hadn\u2019t noticed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was my idea,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Again, my insides contracted.She wasn\u2019t young, yet she wasn\u2019t old either.\u00a0 Looking back now, I imagine she was about thirty, but barely eighteen, with my brain in a spin, I had no idea of her age. \u00a0She was attractive, certainly. My brain registered that fact instantly, as it always does.\u00a0 Coils of fair hair framed a face that was more handsome than pretty and her green silk dress, plain and respectable though it was, nevertheless highlighted some promising curves.\u00a0 But that wasn\u2019t what took my breath away.\u00a0 That was something less tangible; something about that deep, breathy voice, coupled with a direct gaze that seemed instantly to see how my blood was racing and my body burning in all the wrong places.<\/p>\n

\u201cWon\u2019t you come in properly?\u00a0 Take a seat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026oh, yes,\u201d I stuttered, blushing like a twelve-year-old schoolboy.\u00a0 \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I perched myself, awkwardly, on the edge of a cream-upholstered armchair, doing my best to conceal the blatant and inconvenient erection now bulging beneath the hem of my jacket.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me about yourself,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

Each time she spoke, my blood tingled afresh.\u00a0 She breathed her words, like soft deep sighs, as though she relished the sounds.\u00a0 Her penetrating stare took me in, from head to foot, and she seemed to approve what she saw because she dropped her gaze and smiled – a secret, half smile.\u00a0 My insides shivered.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a student at the university,\u201d I told her.\u00a0 \u201cArchitecture.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not from around here though, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head, more vehemently than I\u2019d intended to.\u00a0 \u201cFrom Nevada,\u201d I told her.\u00a0 \u201cMy pa has a ranch there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNevada?\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d never given any thought to the name of my home territory, but when Mrs. Hardwicke said \u201cNevada\u201d, I had to suppress a groan of longing \u2013 and it wasn\u2019t for Nevada!<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a long way.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d\u00a0 I tried to think of something else to say about myself that would interest her, but my brain was a scrambled mess.\u00a0 All I could think about was how much I wanted to see what lay beneath that green silk dress, touch her skin and hear that deep, sweet voice murmuring my name as I sank myself deep inside her.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy father no longer enjoys the good health he used to,\u201d she told me.\u00a0 I was sure she could see how she had reduced me to a gibbering wreck.\u00a0 I even thought I detected a slight note of amusement in her voice.\u00a0 \u201cHe can no longer walk more than a few steps without the aid of a wheelchair.\u00a0 He used to walk often in the park.\u00a0 He misses the social intercourse.\u00a0 It\u2019s in my mind that a strong young man, such as yourself, might walk him there, in his chair, on a Sunday afternoon, when the weather is fine. For which service I will pay you one dollar.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was sure I wasn\u2019t mistaken about the purposeful emphasis with which she pronounced \u201cstrong young man\u201d.\u00a0 She asked if I would be able to start that very next Sunday.\u00a0 I just about managed to formulate a coherent sentence in the affirmative, and she said her father was currently sunning himself in the garden behind the house and that she would take me to meet him.<\/p>\n

A portly and aged gentleman dozed beneath a flower-hung arbor.\u00a0 \u201cMy father,\u201d said Mrs. Hardwicke, \u201cMr. Greenway.\u201d<\/p>\n

I experienced a nasty moment then.\u00a0 Hardwicke would be her married name.\u00a0 She had a husband, of course.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Why hadn\u2019t that occurred to me?\u00a0 Mentally, I chided myself for my foolishness.\u00a0 Mr. Greenway shook my hand and we exchanged the usual pleasantries, while Mrs. Hardwicke looked on with satisfaction, and I burned with her close proximity.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you\u2019re happy to wheel an old man around in that blessed contraption?\u201d said Mr. Greenway, waving his hand in the direction of the wicker-seated wheelchair and smiling at me in a way that said he would be happy to have me do so.\u00a0 He looked like an amiable gentleman.\u00a0 I nodded and said I\u2019d look forward to taking him out the following Sunday, if that suited him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou look a fine young fellow,\u201d he said, seemingly content.\u00a0 \u201cI shall look forward to making more of your acquaintance.\u201d<\/p>\n

After I\u2019d taken my leave, I walked home with my blood still tingling and my mind in a restless whirl.\u00a0 I told myself I was acting like a foolish boy, but I could not get Mrs. Hardwicke and her intoxicating voice out of my head.\u00a0 There were four whole days to get through until Sunday, and I spent every free moment replaying in my mind our short interview, remembering the way her eyes seemed to examine every inch of me, the slight twitch of her lips as she spoke to me (did I imagine that?), the hint of suggestion in her voice.\u00a0 I knew I was already in love with Mrs. Hardwicke, come what may.\u00a0 She haunted my waking moments and filled my nightly dreams with pleasure.<\/p>\n

On Sunday, the day dawned cloudy.\u00a0 I kept looking up at the overcast sky and willing the sun to break through.\u00a0 If it rained, there would be no walk in the park. \u00a0I accompanied my grandfather to church, shamelessly praying for sun, restless with the anticipation of seeing Mrs. Hardwicke once more.\u00a0 I breathed a deep sigh of relief when we came out of the service to find the town bathed in golden sunshine.\u00a0 I could hardly wait for the morning to be over so I could make my way back to number twenty Forest Drive.\u00a0 I was all too aware my longing for the lady was unlikely ever to be reciprocated, and yet that reality didn\u2019t dash my youthful fervor.\u00a0 There is something exquisitely sweet in the self-torture of unrequited love.\u00a0 I was young and green, content to take what I could get, even if that meant I could only worship and admire the object of my affections in the solitude of my own heart.<\/p>\n

I expected the maid to answer my summons, so I was taken by surprise when Mrs. Hardwicke herself appeared at the door in response to my tug on the bell-pull.\u00a0 My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. I swept the hat from my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright,\u201d she greeted me, her eyes running up and down my body and setting all my nerve ends into overdrive.\u00a0 There was nothing I could do to prevent the instant arousal her voice generated in me, but I was careful to hold my hat between my hands in such a position that she would not notice.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo come this way.\u00a0 Papa is ready and waiting for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was wearing a red and gold floral print skirt.\u00a0 I followed her along the narrow hallway, entranced by the way her hips moved beneath the heavy fabric.<\/p>\n

\u201cSunday afternoon is Mary\u2019s half day,\u201d she said over her shoulder.<\/p>\n

I presumed Mary was the skinny maid.\u00a0 For some reason, the knowledge of Mary\u2019s absence only made my erection throb the harder.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so pleased you were able to come,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cPapa has talked of nothing else all morning.\u00a0 He will be so delighted to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She opened the door to the parlor and stood back to let me through.\u00a0 Every nerve in my body sparked as I brushed past her.\u00a0 My face burned so hot I was sure Mr. Greenway must feel the heat radiating from me as I greeted him with a shake of the hand.\u00a0 But he was focused on his much-anticipated outing, and with no excuse to linger in the parlor, we set off through the autumn sunshine to the park.\u00a0 On the way, Mr. Greenway distracted me from lustful admiration of his daughter with tales of his life; from his career as a banker, to the death of his much-loved wife.\u00a0 He was an intelligent man and his stories were interesting, particularly when he spoke about his daughter.\u00a0 He called her his \u201cdear Annette\u201d.\u00a0 I felt an inexplicable surge of excitement simply from hearing her first name, as though I\u2019d made some wonderful discovery that made us intimate acquaintances.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy dear Annette,\u201d said Mr. Greenway, \u201ctakes such great care of me.\u00a0 A man couldn\u2019t ask for a kinder daughter.\u00a0 It\u2019s not been an easy few years for her since Peter\u2019s death. Her husband,\u201d he added, remembering that I was a stranger.<\/p>\n

My heart took a leap into my throat, and dropped back into place, racing at twice its normal speed.\u00a0 I forced my voice to remain level.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I asked. \u201cIf you don\u2019t mind my asking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all, my boy.\u00a0 It\u2019s no secret.\u00a0 Peter was a doctor.\u00a0 Very well thought of around here.\u00a0 But he contracted a most unpleasant fever from one of his patients.\u00a0 We were very sad to lose him.\u00a0 A young man of such great promise.\u00a0 My dear Annette misses him greatly, as you can imagine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey had no children?\u201d My heart was still thudding far too fast.<\/p>\n

\u201cSadly, no.\u00a0 A child would have been of great comfort in her loss.\u201d\u00a0 Mr. Greenway shook his head.\u00a0 \u201cBut she\u2019s a strong woman, my dear Annette.\u00a0 Very like her mother in that respect.\u00a0 My beautiful Margaret never crumbled in adversity.\u00a0 Take my advice, young fellow, choose a wife with sound common sense.\u00a0 It\u2019s worth a deal more than a pretty face.\u00a0 Although, if you can find a girl blessed with both, that\u2019s even better.\u00a0 Tell me, Mr. Cartwright, do you have a young lady of your own?\u201d<\/p>\n

I said him to call me Adam and that, no, I didn\u2019t; that, for now at least, I must concentrate on my studies.\u00a0 He told me I was wise and asked me more about my home.\u00a0 We\u2019d reached the park by then. He had lived in the area for most of his life and was well-known in the neighborhood.\u00a0 Every fourth or fifth person we passed stopped to say hello and exchange news. It was a pleasant afternoon, enjoying the fresh air and the company, but as we made our way back along the tree-lined street to the house, I was again gripped by the eager anticipation of seeing Mrs. Hardwicke \u2013 Annette \u2013 again.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Adam,\u201d said Mr. Greenway, as I helped him out of his wheelchair and up the steps to the front door.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s been the most enjoyable afternoon.\u00a0 I can\u2019t remember when I last had such a pleasant time.\u00a0 You are a most agreeable young man.\u201d He patted my arm.\u00a0 \u201cI wonder if I could impose upon your good nature just a little longer and ask you to help me to my bed.\u00a0 I think a rest before dinner is in order.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Hardwicke met us at the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have had a wonderful outing, my dear,\u201d said her father.\u00a0 \u201cNow this charming young man is going to help me to my room.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mrs. Hardwicke looked at me and smiled.\u00a0 My belly quivered strangely.\u00a0 \u201cAfter you\u2019ve done that,\u201d she said to me, \u201cmaybe you\u2019d like some tea in the parlor.\u201d<\/p>\n

I settled Mr. Greenway in his room and made my way back to the parlor.\u00a0 I was trembling inwardly simply at the thought of being once again in close proximity to Mrs. Hardwicke.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t explain my excitement, even to myself.\u00a0 Mrs. Hardwicke had given no tangible signal that my presence meant any more to her than that of the able young man she had engaged to wheel her elderly father around the park, and yet, when we looked at each other, the air between us shivered, I was certain of it.\u00a0 She had hinted at nothing, but her invitation to take tea in the parlor had tightened my belly into a hard knot and sent the blood rushing hot through my veins.\u00a0 It was as if I already knew something momentous was about to happen before I even laid a hand on the doorknob.<\/p>\n

There was a silver teapot on a silver tray on the table in front of the sofa, with bone china teacups and a cake decorated with a pattern made of sugar.\u00a0 My breathing quickened.\u00a0 So, it really was to be tea and cake, after all.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo sit down, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cCall me Adam.\u201d\u00a0 My voice sounded dry.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d she repeated, as if she were savoring the sound.\u00a0 Hearing her pronounce my name in her sultry tones sent hot rivulets all around my body.\u00a0 \u201cIt suits you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think so?\u201d I managed to say.<\/p>\n

She patted the sofa next to her and I obeyed, seating myself so that our knees were less than six inches apart.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d she said again.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s such a dependable<\/em> name.\u00a0 Earthy and solid and strong.\u201d She paused to pour tea into one of the little cups.\u00a0 \u201cIs that what you\u2019re like – Adam<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

I laughed, nervously.\u00a0 \u201cI suppose I am,\u201d I said, cringing at the lameness of my response.\u00a0 I\u2019d wanted to be sharp, witty, dazzling, yet I sounded exactly what I was: an unsophisticated and untried farm boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cSugar?\u201d<\/p>\n

I declined and she lifted the cup to hand it to me.\u00a0 Our eyes met and she smiled.\u00a0 I could barely swallow.\u00a0 I set the cup back down on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour father enjoyed his walk,\u201d I told her, wondering why my voice emerged suddenly squeaky.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI enjoyed it too,\u201d I went on, hoping she didn\u2019t notice my air of desperation.\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s good company.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said again.<\/p>\n

I stared down at my knees, wondering what else I could say to keep the conversation going.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you really want to talk about my father,\u201d she asked then, so bluntly I almost jumped.\u00a0 I stared at her in surprise, and for the first time noticed that the fever I could feel burning in my eyes was burning in hers too.\u00a0 For several long seconds, neither of us said anything else, and although I was staring at her eyes, from the edge of my gaze, I could see her breast rising and falling as hard and as fast as my own.<\/p>\n

I leaned in towards her and our mouths met without any help from me.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t have much experience, kissing women, and I\u2019d certainly never been kissed before the way Mrs. Hardwicke kissed me that day.\u00a0 It was as if we were trying to force our way inside each other through our mouths.\u00a0 I had a fleeting moment of anxiety that my lack of experience would ruin the moment, but my body was way ahead of my brain, following its own instincts.\u00a0 My arms enfolded her of their own accord.\u00a0 My hands traveled her back; hers caressed mine.\u00a0 I lost all sense of time as our mouths continued their greedy explorations.\u00a0 My hands grew bolder, sliding down into the small of her back and thence to the curve of her haunches.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t pull away or protest as I half feared she would.\u00a0 In fact, she seemed only to press harder into me.\u00a0 I dragged my lips from her hungry mouth to kiss her neck instead.\u00a0 She seemed to like that, tilting her head back, offering up her smooth, pale throat to my lips.\u00a0 My hands, of their own volition found their way to the mound of her bosom, safely encased in a rigid armory of stays.<\/p>\n

She pushed my hands down and pulled away from me.<\/p>\n

\u201cDrink your tea,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s getting cold.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wouldn\u2019t have cared if a film of ice had collected on the surface of the liquid, but it was clear the intimacy was over.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, still breathless. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to offend you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She had turned her attention back to the tea tray, absently patting her hair back to neatness with one hand.\u00a0 Only the flush on her cheek betrayed her recent passion.\u00a0 It made her more attractive than ever.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t,\u201d she said, and she smiled at me in a way that said she meant it.<\/p>\n

I stared at her in longing, burning with unspent desire. I even leaned towards her again in an attempt to rekindle the flame I\u2019d seen in her eyes earlier, but she held up my cup and saucer between us, smiling an inscrutable smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cToo much, too soon is never good for anyone, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she said, touching my lips with a teasing finger.\u00a0 \u201cAdam,\u201d she corrected herself in a husky whisper that caused me almost to ejaculate there and then.<\/p>\n

I swallowed the lukewarm tea obediently, our eyes never leaving the other\u2019s face.\u00a0 Hers glinted with coquettish amusement; mine, I\u2019m sure, were frantic with the desperate hunger I was trying so hard to control.<\/p>\n

\u201cI shall look forward to seeing you again next Sunday, Mr. Cartwright,\u201d she said, rising from the sofa, \u201cif you\u2019re happy to continue with this arrangement.\u201d<\/p>\n

I could barely string together a coherent sentence, but I assured her I would return next week.\u00a0 Wild horses would not have stopped me!<\/p>\n

The weather held fair, which was as well as, by Sunday, I was a blithering mess.\u00a0 I\u2019d struggled all week to concentrate on my college work, and I handed incorrect change to my grandfather\u2019s customers so often, he became concerned I might be unwell.<\/p>\n

Once again, Mrs. Hardwicke answered the door to me.\u00a0 She wore a dark blue skirt and blue-striped blouse with a white silk bow at her neck.\u00a0 Once again, she greeted me with formality and politeness, and no hint of all that had passed between us the week before.\u00a0 And once again, I was rendered a stammering wreck with longing.\u00a0 Even Mr. Greenway\u2019s cheerful ramblings as we made our way through the park could not dispel the burning ache in my loins, and I was haunted by a whole army of \u201cwhat-ifs\u201d too terrible to contemplate.\u00a0 What if Mrs. Hardwicke didn\u2019t invite me to take tea again in her parlor?\u00a0 What if the maid came back early for some unknown reason? What if there was tea, but Mr. Greenway took it into his head to join us for the ritual? I was almost trembling with apprehension by the time we got back to the house and I helped Mr. Greenway up the steps to the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain, I thank you, my boy.\u00a0 A wonderful afternoon.\u00a0 Very much appreciated, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

I held my breath as we waited for the door to open.\u00a0 And there she was, demure in her blue-striped top, holding out her hand to her father.\u00a0 Once again, I positioned my hat to disguise the swelling desire manifesting itself below the hem of my jacket while Mr. Greenway sang my praises to his daughter. Then, to my eternal relief, he once again asked me to help him to his room so he could take his nap, and I was never so keen to offer my assistance.<\/p>\n

And then Mrs. Hardwicke said those three words I had been dreaming of hearing all week.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll make tea.\u201d<\/p>\n

Once again, when I reached the parlor, the tea tray was on the table, but I spared it no more than a brief glance. \u00a0I had eyes only for the woman on the cream sofa.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome, sit by me,\u201d she said, pouring tea into two cups.<\/p>\n

I did as she bid.\u00a0 In truth, at that moment, I was helpless to do anything else.<\/p>\n

As before, she handed me the cup and, as before, I set it back down on the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright,\u201d she began.\u00a0 Before I could say anything, she corrected herself. \u201cAdam.\u201d\u00a0 She smoothed the skirt over her knees.\u00a0 She had slim, elegant hands.\u00a0 I resisted the urge to pick one up and put it to my lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, I trust you are a young man of honor and discretion.\u201d<\/p>\n

I assured her I was.\u00a0 Most certainly.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d she said, \u201cbecause I have my reputation to consider.\u201d<\/p>\n

My throat was dry.\u00a0 Had she had second thoughts about me?\u00a0 I had had such high hopes for this afternoon and suddenly I could scarcely breathe for fear she was about to tell me there could be no repeat of the previous Sunday.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf anyone were to think there was something between us\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would never breathe a word,\u201d I told her, aware I sounded frantic, even to my own ears.<\/p>\n

She smiled and lifted a hand to rest it against my cheek.\u00a0 \u201cPoor Adam,\u201d she murmured, \u201cyou look so anxious.\u00a0 I knew I could trust you though.\u00a0 There is something about you that is so\u2026dependable.\u00a0 So trustworthy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her thumb stroked the top of my cheek.\u00a0 I swallowed hard and once more leaned in towards her.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t until our lips touched that I dared to believe the dream I had clung to so fervently all week was finally happening for real.<\/p>\n

I was bolder this time.\u00a0 My hands caressed her back, her shoulders, crept round to the front of her blouse.\u00a0 Last time I\u2019d encountered the armored stays; this time there was no such obstruction.\u00a0 Beneath her blouse, there was only the soft roundness of her breasts.\u00a0 A bolt of excitement shot through my already aching groin, not simply at what my hands had encountered, but at what her deliberate absence of clothing promised.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t pull away this time; in fact, her kisses were hungrier than ever.\u00a0 She sank back against the cushions, and I followed her downwards, the fingers of my right hand pulling loose the silk bow of her blouse and working the little pearl buttons undone.<\/p>\n

There was some sort of camisole beneath.\u00a0 My knowledge of female undergarments was scant to say the least, but with a little blind exploration I discovered there were no other buttons, just a narrow ribbon at the neck of the garment.\u00a0 When I pulled that undone, it was an easy matter to loosen the neckline until I could ease it down over the deliciously soft, warm mounds beneath.\u00a0 Finally, my hands were caressing the delectable flesh of her breasts.\u00a0 She pushed her head back into the cushions to offer her throat to my willing mouth.<\/p>\n

I obliged, kissing up all the way to her ear, then down to the little hollow at the base of her neck.\u00a0 I pulled the front of her blouse fully open so I could take in the full beauty of her glorious bosom.\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0I took one luscious mound in each hand and pushed them together, and I ran my tongue over the tips, first one and then the other. They were rosy-pink and very hard. I took them in my mouth, licked, suckled, played games with one while my hand caressed the other.<\/p>\n

Her leg rubbed against the bulge of my straining erection.\u00a0 It felt so good, I groaned and pressed harder into her.\u00a0 Moments later, my face still sunk in the creamy whiteness of her breast, I spilled my seed, helpless to hold on any longer.<\/p>\n

I had a fleeting hope I could pretend nothing had happened, but Mrs. Hardwicke was as wise as I was inexperienced.\u00a0 Stroking the hair back from my face, she whispered my name as she kissed the top of my head.\u00a0 Then she took my right hand in hers, down to her skirts, pulling the heavy layers upwards over her knees.\u00a0 Guiding my hand over her leg, she led me up between her thighs.\u00a0 As drunk and giddy as I was with my own release, it took me a moment to register there were no drawers beneath her petticoats, nothing but cool flesh beneath my captive fingers. And then my hand was being guided into the moist, hot recesses of the hidden place between those softly rounded thighs.<\/p>\n

Her hand, over mine increased its pressure and rubbed back and forth with a rhythm I understood, even if everything else beneath my fingers was alien to me.\u00a0 My cheek was still resting on the cushion of her breast.\u00a0 I turned my head and once again closed my mouth over the swollen tip.<\/p>\n

Moments later, I felt the deep, pulsing contractions of her climax and, innocent that I was, learned something else I\u2019d never known about women.\u00a0 Her response spurred my own arousal to near painful intensity. \u00a0Once again though, she seemed to understand that without any word from me.\u00a0 \u00a0Unbuttoning the front of my pants, she took me in hand. Literally.\u00a0 After which we drank our cold tea, slumped against each other in shared disarray and euphoric bliss.<\/p>\n

That was how it began, on those Sunday afternoons, in a frenzy of fevered lust.\u00a0 For four whole months, it continued that way.\u00a0 I would walk Mr. Greenway around the park.\u00a0 Then I would wheel him home again and help him settle for his nap while his daughter prepared tea which we drank only once our other, more pressing thirsts were sated, and the tea no more than lukewarm.\u00a0 Our sessions were brief but never dull.\u00a0 I would walk down the narrow hallway from Mr. Greenway\u2019s room, my heart racing with anticipation, and she would be waiting in the parlor.\u00a0 After the first couple of times, we didn\u2019t bother with small talk and pretense.\u00a0 She was always as desperate as I was to get down to the real business between us.\u00a0 Mostly she took the lead and I was content to let her do so, bowing to her experience.\u00a0 She was very particular to avoid \u201cunwanted consequences\u201d, as she put it, necessary limitations that forced us to be creative and taught me useful techniques that have stood me in good stead many times since.<\/p>\n

Several weeks into our arrangement, she spoke close to my ear. \u00a0\u201cToday, we can go the whole way.\u00a0 You want to, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I raised my head from her delicious breasts.\u00a0 She read the question on my face.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a safe time,\u201d she told me, \u201cand I\u2019ve taken precautions.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t understand either of those explanations at the time, nor did I ask.\u00a0 What mattered was that finally, on that memorable Sunday afternoon, with the two of us sprawled half-naked on her cream couch, I could do what I\u2019d been longing to do ever since I\u2019d first laid eyes on her.\u00a0 Three times in fact, in different positions.\u00a0 And it was sweet.\u00a0 Very sweet.<\/p>\n

There were never any protestations of love between us, or even affection.\u00a0 In fact, there was barely any talk at all.\u00a0 I imagined she preferred it that way, and I never questioned.\u00a0 Our heady encounters were the highlight of my week.\u00a0 On the Sundays when it rained, I was moody and irritable for the whole day.\u00a0 But mostly, fate smiled on me and the weather was kind, and Mr. Greenway was not averse to cold, only rain and snow.<\/p>\n

I think back now, with the wisdom of twelve years\u2019 experience, and I wonder what Mrs. Hardwicke genuinely made of me.\u00a0 Was she fond of the gawky young man who turned up, almost panting with longing every Sunday, or was I just a convenience, a willing outlet for her loneliness in the absence of her husband?\u00a0 At the time, I spared no thought for the whys and wherefores, just counted myself amongst the most fortunate of young men.\u00a0 I had a regular lover who wanted nothing more than sexual gratification.\u00a0 What young man wouldn\u2019t have been euphoric?\u00a0 Whatever her motivation, I will always be indebted to Mrs. Hardwicke, not simply because she made a young man very happy, but also for what she taught me on those incredible Sunday afternoons.<\/p>\n

It ended as unexpectedly as it began.\u00a0 Mr. Greenway caught a cold that turned into pneumonia and died, almost exactly four months after I first wheeled him out of the house.<\/p>\n

The Sunday after he passed away, I took flowers to the house.\u00a0 Mrs. Hardwicke answered the door and stood back in silence to let me in.\u00a0 Dressed in her mourning black, she looked pale and serious.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry about your father,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

She laid the flowers on the hall stand.\u00a0 \u201cThank you.\u00a0 But he was an old man.\u00a0 He had a good life.\u00a0 None of us can ask for more than that.\u00a0 And he was very grateful to you for all you did for him, Adam.\u00a0 The walks in the park with you were the highlight of his week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd mine,\u201d I said, unable to prevent the rush of blood to my face.<\/p>\n

She smiled a little smile.\u00a0 \u201cAnd mine.\u201d\u00a0 She raised her eyes to me.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sorry it has to come to an end, Adam.\u00a0 But it must.\u00a0 You understand that, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t sure I did.\u00a0 I could not imagine my life without our weekly trysts.<\/p>\n

\u201cSurely, we can still see each other,\u201d I said. \u201cSomehow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be\u2026proper.\u201d She dropped her gaze. \u201cI have a reputation to think about.\u00a0 You do too.\u201d<\/p>\n

I wanted to protest.\u00a0 Surely our intimacy could not be cut short so abruptly.\u00a0 For one brief, mad moment, I even considered a marriage proposal, but then I met her eyes again and recognized my desperation for what it was.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you change your mind\u2026\u201d I told her.<\/p>\n

She smiled properly then, stepped close to me, and our mouths met in one last passionate kiss, then she stepped away again, a small patch of pinkness on each pale cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodbye, Adam. It was fun knowing you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u221e<\/p>\n

After the heat and dust of the street outside, the inside of Julia\u2019s Palace is cool and quiet.\u00a0 A mixture of perfume, whiskey, and cigar smoke tickles my nostrils, stirring up agreeable memories of other afternoons, other evenings, spent here in the company of Ellie-Rose, or Saffron, or\u2014best of all\u2014Angel. Joe\u2019s fervor is catching; there\u2019s a pleasant tingling in my own groin as I contemplate the prospects of the Palace, not just for Joe, but for all three of us.<\/p>\n

I imagine everyone remembers their first time.\u00a0 I know the girls here will make sure Joe doesn\u2019t forget his.\u00a0 Just as I won\u2019t ever forget Mrs. Hardwicke.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags: Adam Cartwright, Boston, first love, student<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/g><\/svg><\/i> \"Loading\"<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0 While studying in Boston, a young Adam Cartwright finds himself a part-time job – with unexpected benefits.<\/p>\n

My response to Brand’s 13th anniversary R-rated challenge (to include the words “lacy lingerie”)<\/p>\n

WC: 7150\u00a0 Rating: MA (for sexual content)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":18,"featured_media":24039,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1005,690,30,40],"tags":[647],"class_list":["post-24374","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-adam-cartwright","category-ma-rated","category-prequels","category-challenges","tag-r-challenge","wpcat-1005-id","wpcat-690-id","wpcat-30-id","wpcat-40-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":1928,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/09\/13th.png?fit=668%2C368&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":12120,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12120","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":0},"title":"Blundered Seduction (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"December 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 Caught with his pants down and in a compromising situation by the one person he'd least likely want to find him as such, Joe learns three valuable lessons; no one ever died of embarrassment, chose your friends carefully, and being 16 and still a virgin is nothing to be\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":12132,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12132","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":1},"title":"Chinese Molasses (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"January 1, 2002","format":false,"excerpt":"DebbieB passed away Christmas 2021. Any reader wishing to read this series should e:mail the Brandsters:\u00a0 Brandsters2020@gmail.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/Joe-copy-7.jpg?fit=594%2C592&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/Joe-copy-7.jpg?fit=594%2C592&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/Joe-copy-7.jpg?fit=594%2C592&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":13631,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=13631","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":2},"title":"Freedom from Fear (by JennieA)","author":"JennieA","date":"January 14, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 The aftermath of Joe's kidnapping and subsequent rescue. Rating:\u00a0 R\u00a0 (33,760) Due to the subject matter contained in this series, the stories are only available via e:mail from the author -- ryjennie@comcast.net","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/09\/4Cs.jpg?fit=400%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":12147,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12147","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":3},"title":"He Said Not To Tell (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"May 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"The author requests those who wish to read this series contact her via eMail: DLB1234@aol.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/11\/1-joe.jpg?fit=238%2C226&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":15530,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=15530","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":4},"title":"Cooking with Steamy Julia (by Robin)","author":"profrobinw","date":"December 4, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 Cooking isn't the only thing happening in the kitchen, and elsewhere. Rating:\u00a0 M\u00a0 (715 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/ARLE-e1497282889671.png?fit=570%2C416&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/ARLE-e1497282889671.png?fit=570%2C416&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/ARLE-e1497282889671.png?fit=570%2C416&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":12134,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12134","url_meta":{"origin":24374,"position":5},"title":"In My Father’s House (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"May 1, 2002","format":false,"excerpt":"DebbieB passed away Christmas 2021. Any reader wishing to read this series should e:mail the Brandsters:\u00a0 Brandsters2020@gmail.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/Pondarosa-House-3.jpg?fit=564%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/Pondarosa-House-3.jpg?fit=564%2C401&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/Pondarosa-House-3.jpg?fit=564%2C401&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24374","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/18"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=24374"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24374\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/24039"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=24374"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=24374"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=24374"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}