It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae & LM)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Lord Mayerling on 12-10-2010, 01:28:59</h2>
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				Title: <strong>It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 01:28:59</strong>
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				<div class="floatright">(http://www.casadimoda.net/images/imgStyles/suite4_big.jpg)</div>“You’ve been awarded half the house,” Theresa said over the box.<br><br>“Half the house?” Lance questioned into the speaker phone. “What the hell good is half a house?” He wasted half a thought on it before a decision was made. “Fine. Who got the other half? I’ll sell it to them. Let’s liquidate it.” <br><br>Lance Tillman was Vice President of Hamilton Funds, the youngest man ever to make Executive at the firm. He led two hundred traders who never stepped foot on Wall St. Their business was about speed, communication, intuition, and action. Lance had brought in $2 billion in assets in ten years with the firm. To the Board of Directors he was the wiz kid from Columbia Business. He had graduated near the bottom of his class, and became a trader. Over ten years he had risen like a star to lead the Trades Department, the largest profit center within the firm. He walked fast, he thought fast, he talked fast. He knew business like it was part of his body.&nbsp; He was used to getting what he wanted. He had been married twice, divorced twice, owned two cars, a house in the Hamptons, another in the <em>Cinque Terre</em>, and could retire anytime he wanted. He was 34. <br><br>He stood just under six feet tall with short dark hair and eyes. He went to the gym regularly, but mostly to swim instead of bulk up. He rented a condo in Manhattan for meetings, but didn’t use it much. He slept there, fucked there occasionally, but was busy and social enough that he rarely spent more than six or seven hours there…sleeping. His business was talk and sales. He was out on the town a lot. Investors, clients, partners…Delmonico’s, Sardie’s, Madison Square Garden. He knew how to get what he wanted, and he always did. He lived the life of a playboy. He had no children, no commitments; he could throw a lot of money around. That isn’t to say he was frivolous. Every dollar spent was a dollar invested. He knew its value intrinsically and always got what he paid for, and more where he could. <br><br>“It’s not that easy,” Theresa said. Theresa Salomons, a former fling, now his personal lawyer, got him through his second divorce without paying any alimony. For that, she was more important than sex. “There are stipulations. Conditions.”<br><br>“What? You know I don’t like those words, Theresa. What can you do?” Lance complained.<br><br>“Nothing. It’s already been through the courts. The Estate Taxes are paid,” she explained.<br><br>“What am I going to do with half a house? And I have to jump through hoops to get it? Forget it, Theresa, give it to the bank.”<br><br>“It’s valued at $12 million, Lance,” Theresa laid down her chips.<br><br>“What’s that?” Lance was suddenly listening a new.<br><br>“Your half…it’s worth $12 million.” <br><br>“I’m listening. What are the conditions?”<br><br>“You have to live there for a year before the title transfers into your name. And there’s one other thing. The co-inheritor is going to be living there too. In <em>their</em> half,” she was careful to emphasize the word of separation. <br><br>The conditions made him pause and reconcile. “Who’s the co-inheritor?”<br><br>Theresa dry swallowed. “Aurora Grey.”<br><br>“Oh fuck me, Theresa,” Lance swore. “Are you fucking kidding me with that? Are you fucking serious?”<br><br>“It’s twelve million dollars, Lance. In a year you get out of it. No skin off your back.” She had expected his reaction, and thus was prepared to sell him on it. “It’s yours, Lance. Do what you want with it. It’s not like she can stop you from using it. And in a year you’re twelve million in the black.”<br><br>Lance clutched his temples in his hands. “I can’t get out of this, can I?” he asked resignedly.<br><br>Theresa smiled. “I have the keys. Meet me at the office at seven.” That was the other thing with Theresa: every meeting was a date.<br><br>Lance exhaled a sigh. “Fine. Seven o’clock. Be out front.” He rung off before she had a chance to even say goodbye.
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>12-10-2010, 05:24:47</strong>
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				<div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v335/iconofroses/AuroraGrey2.png)</div>“What do you mean Grandma passed the estate onto myself … and someone else?”&nbsp; Dumbfounded Aurora Grey stared at Alfred Dutton, the elderly, gray haired lawyer she’d known for the entire length of her twenty-seven years, as her hands stilled in the wet clay she’d been molding on the pottery wheel.&nbsp; The light smoke trail of incense combated against the heavy smell of clay and paint, trickled through the kaleidoscope of sunlit patterns caught by the various glass sun catchers that dangled in front of every window in the large work room.&nbsp; “This doesn’t make any sense.&nbsp; Years ago Grandma told me the estate would be passing onto me as she wasn’t particularly fond of my cousins or her children, and the estate has been my home for, well, ever.”<br><br>“Ten years ago she made a change in her will.&nbsp; You’re co-inheriting the estate.&nbsp; The title will pass to both of you after a year’s time of both of you having lived there.”&nbsp; Alfred Dutton didn’t like the way Aurora’s pale jade eyes narrowed at him or the way her slender form tensed on the stool.&nbsp; “Everything else remains the same, as outlined in the will.&nbsp; It’s just the estate itself that is … tied up, shall we say, with this business.”<br><br>“Who is the other beneficiary?” she asked after a moment and let a slow breath exhale, barely catching her clay soaked hands from running through her golden, chestnut brown hair that hung loose around her shoulders, the tips, curled around the soft swell of her chest, already speckled with clay.&nbsp; It wasn’t so much the funds or personal effects she was worried about – the latter perhaps, but all personal mementos had been given to her by her grandmother prior to her death – but that the estate had always been her home, and now it was a home she’d have to share.&nbsp; <br><br>Ever since the age of five, after her parents had split in a nasty divorce and her grandmother had seen just how too involved they were in their lives to notice her, The Grey House (such a silly name for it as ‘house’ didn’t come close to defining the three story mansion and its surrounding grounds) had been home.&nbsp; She’d spent countless hours finding every nook and cranny, exploring the hidden passage ways; hosting elaborate tea parties in the grand ballroom; staging productions in the music room, and wishing on stars from the balcony of her bedroom suite.&nbsp; Her first kiss at the age of fifteen had been in the then elaborate Japanese gardens (which had been converted back to an English rose garden a few years ago), which was also where her grandmother had broken the news when her father, then a couple years later her mother, passed away.&nbsp; Even when she’d gone to the liberal arts college thousands of miles away, she had come back at every chance; six months before her grandmother’s death she’d even given the idea of her moving back in not only consideration but had done so, mostly due to the concern for her grandmother’s health.&nbsp; There were a plethora of memories all wrapped up into The Grey House and she’d spent her entire life assuming it would solely be hers to make more memories.&nbsp; <br><br>“Lance Tillman of – ”<br><br>“No!&nbsp; What?&nbsp; Him?!”&nbsp; &nbsp;Without warning the pottery wheel came to a complete stop, the bowl Aurora had been forming in her hands collapsing as she abruptly stood and stared at him, her jaw slack.&nbsp; “Are you kidding me?&nbsp; Oh, <em>please</em>… tell me you aren’t serious.”<br><br>“Quite serious, Aurora.&nbsp; Your grandmother’s will is quite specific, you know how she was.&nbsp; You and Mr. Tillman must both reside within The Grey House for no less than twelve months time.&nbsp; At the end of the year the title is passed over in both of you.&nbsp; Only then can you or he decide to buy out the other half –” Aurora snorted. “Or decide to live elsewhere without consequences.&nbsp; The estate costs will continue to be paid by the account your grandparents established decades ago.&nbsp; With the way the account is invested, you’ll certainly have no problems considering…”&nbsp; He stopped when Aurora’s soft mouth twitched and her pale eyes rolled heavenward.&nbsp; <br><br>Considering the last time she’d remembered to contact one of the galleries salivating for her artwork had been at least eight months.&nbsp; The routine had been established five years ago when she’d splashed onto the art scene; like a wildfire her artistic popularity had spread and caused a demand for her work that simply had never been met.&nbsp; Oh, she had hundreds of pieces – pottery, paintings, glass pieces – but they crowded the over stuffed shelves in her work room and storage area.&nbsp; As much as she enjoyed and loved the fact that her artwork was seen as a “must have” for any collector, the act of creating it, seeing the piece come to life by her own very hands, was what truly drove her.&nbsp; <br><br>No wait… it had been four months, she thought after a moment.&nbsp; She’d called the gallery owner in the city four months ago and had actually remembered to send him the crates.&nbsp; He’d sent a check for all the pieces… she was pretty sure she’d remembered to deposit it.&nbsp; It was simply having to deal with the business aspect of her craft that, well, she liked to avoid.&nbsp; Art was meant to be shared and enjoyed by all, and while it also meant keeping her bills paid (without resorting to glancing at her inheritance that she wanted to use for when it really mattered, such as when she had her own family), there were simply too many times she forgot about calling galleries, sending out the crates, or cashing the hefty checks.<br>&nbsp; <br>Then again, she tended to forget a lot of things.&nbsp; She was quite possibly the only Grey to have been inflicted with such absent minded behavior, just as she was the only Grey who’d ever sat in or organized a protest; spent hours in the meadow in the country estate making daisy chains for her and grandma; preferred the company of free thinkers and spiritualists to those in suits drinking outrageously expensive champagne and eating equally pricey caviar.&nbsp; Unlike her cousins who’d flown first class, stayed at posh hotels and resorts and been driven everywhere, she’d spent her summer aboard in Europe back packing, staying at hostiles, meeting the locals and getting a real feel for the culture and lifestyle.&nbsp; And, well, she also knew she was the only Grey who’d ever seen her grandmother high as she had that first summer she came back from college, and if it hadn’t been for her grandmother stepping in, would have gone off to the Peace Corp. at the first chance.&nbsp; <br><br>Aurora Grey, of the old and distinguished Grey family line, had simply always been the oddity.&nbsp; <br><br>“Okay, okay, Alfred.&nbsp; When I can expect Mr. Lance Tillman to be showing up on my doorstep?”&nbsp; At the raise of his white, bushy eyebrows, she amended: “Our doorstep?”&nbsp; <br><br>“He’s meeting with his lawyer and will be given the keys.&nbsp; I will be stopping by every couple of weeks to check up on things.&nbsp; Aurora, please know that if at any time you decide to no longer live at The Grey House during the year, you will forfeit your half of the estate to Mr. Tillman.&nbsp; The same applies to him; you’ll receive his half should he move out before the year’s end.”&nbsp; <br><br>“Yes, yes.&nbsp; Don’t move.&nbsp; I got it,” she murmured and sank back down onto her stool, stared glumly at the collapsed clay.&nbsp; This was going to be one long year… <br><br><em>Oh, Grandma.&nbsp; </em>
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>16-10-2010, 15:58:10</strong>
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				Lance had arrived at Sorensen &amp; Goldberg to meet Theresa. Even now, long after their fling had ended, she still cockteased him. She made him come to her to pick her up, she was late, making him wait, and she chose the spot for dinner without asking. He even wondered if she had gone home and changed into his favorite dress before coming back to the office to meet him. That seemed a little extreme. She was a great lawyer, so he put up with it. It was only one night, and she was clearly feeling like a princess giving over the keys to her castle. It only annoyed him that they decided to stop sleeping together, and yet she always gave off these signals that she still wanted to, but wouldn’t. He hated cockteases, but they were a cost of doing business. After three hours and a bottle of wine, Lance tipsily drove her back to her apartment in Chelsea, but at least the keys were in pocket now. She even had the gall to invite him up, but he declined, despite her sensual, alcohol-laced dance exiting the car.<br><br>Next day Lance and Jack worked out at the gym in their building. Jack was actually Giac…Giaccomo Vuselli, a Director at Pioneer Securities, a competitor of Hamilton Funds. Like Lance, Jack led a team of traders that had never set foot on Wall St. He was the same age as Lance, but hadn’t gotten as high in Pioneer as Lance had at Hamilton, and Lance often joked that Jack would be working for him someday. In the meantime they were friends and enemies, neighbors and competitors. They played racket ball together at the club religiously, and it was over a game that Grey House came up. <br><br>“You’re off your game,” Jack chided. “I hope you’re not meeting clients this afternoon.”<br><br>“I’m not, actually,” Lance bantered. “I’m off to Westchester. I’m going to be moving up there.”<br><br>Jack was suddenly flabbergasted. “Seriously? Just like that? What about your apartment in the building?”<br><br>“It’s a long story. I’m keeping the apartment here. It’s just a rental and I really only use it to sleep.”<br><br>“It’s not for a woman, is it?” Jack asked again in sarcasm.<br><br>“Yeah it is. Aurora Gray,” Lance answered just as sarcastically, but in total truth.<br><br>“Ass,” Jack laughed. “I know you’re bitter about the game, but don’t fuck with me.”<br><br>Lance simply smirked.<br><br>“Aurora Gray? But you hate her, you said.” Jack pressed.<br><br>“I do hate her. It’s a long story. Someone’s playing a cruel joke on me a year in duration,” Lance explained.<br><br>“Well, if you hate her, then you’ll want to play zone defense, right?” Jack asked.<br><br>“What, you want to come with me?” <br><br>“I’ve never met her. I only know what you’ve told me. She’s hot, right?” <br><br>Lance actually started to consider the offer. The idea of a buffer in this first, potentially confrontational meeting was appealing. And if Aurora actually liked Jack, then their flirting would take the edge off pretty well. <br><br>“Yeah…she’s hot,” Lance confirmed. “Sure. Why not? Meet me in an hour. Wear a suit.” <br><br>And that is why, when the black BMW rolled up the circular drive at Grey House, two men got out, instead of just Lance. Lance was dressed in a black suit, pale gray shirt and red tie. The man Aurora didn’t know was in navy pinstripes, with a light blue shirt underneath and a tie in gold, matching his hair. He was slightly taller than Lance, and looked in a much better mood. If one didn’t know, they would think he was inheriting half of Grey House, and not the other. The pair, each carrying a briefcase, walked from the parked car into the welcoming courtyard of the mansion. <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>16-10-2010, 17:19:24</strong>
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				"Sweet Gaia, Alfred didn't mention him having a roommate," Aurora muttered, her arms crossing beneath the swell of her breasts with a jangle of flat, runed silver bangles.&nbsp; At her bare feet sat Luna, a small black and silver calico that was contentedly licking her paw and entirely unaffected by her mistress' growing annoyance.&nbsp; From her position in the corner on the second floor alcove that overlooked the courtyard, most of her slender form shadowed by the half hung curtains.&nbsp; "Maybe he's playing for the other team now... ?"&nbsp; Except that certainly didn't fit his well known reputation, one that was simply too embedded to be anything but real.&nbsp; The thought was dismissed with a scrunch her nose and her eyes flickered over to the second gentleman.&nbsp; <br><br>Almost instantly the muscles in her stomach knotted.&nbsp; Now really... who was that?&nbsp; Almond shaped eyes widened appreciatively as her arms loosened to hang by her side; moments later fingers were lightly grasping the sides of the long skirt of the loose, floor length, tube dress.&nbsp; The silver medallion around her neck swung gently across her chest as she made her way down the two flights of stairs and to the foyer; her hair was caught up loosely at the nape of her neck leaving the smooth curve of her shoulders bare.&nbsp; If she had to spend the next year living with this... cretin, then the very least she could do was extend a small measure of peace.&nbsp; Even if he was the most wretched man she had ever had the sincere displeasure of ever meeting.&nbsp; How her grandmother had ever become fond of her was beyond her, but then again, her grandmother had been known to have some strange tastes. <br><br>Besides that, Aurora wanted where his rooms of the house were and where he was most certainly not permitted to go -- her suite, workshop and storage area or her grandparent's suite specifically.&nbsp; She had a feeling he wasn't going to appreciate that she usually kept very early hours, and considering this had been her home before his, she saw no reason why he wouldn't be able to at least be respectful of that.&nbsp; That included any large scale social events or parties; The Grey House hadn't been used for entertaining in decades and she saw no reason for that to change.&nbsp; This was a private home, not a salon.&nbsp; She had a suspicion that he was just the type to be planning something lavish just to showcase his "windfall."&nbsp; The thought had her mouth briefly frowning just as she reached the foyer as the front entry doors opened and she knew her entire world had shifted.<br><br><em>Breathe...five...four...three...two...</em><br><br>"Hello, Lance."&nbsp; Neutral.&nbsp; Calm.&nbsp; Inwardly she flushed with pleasure at the control she managed to grasp onto; her eyes were warm when they turned to the man that stepped in behind him.&nbsp; "Good evening.&nbsp; Welcome to The Grey House."&nbsp; 
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>19-10-2010, 23:07:22</strong>
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				“The Tillman-Grey House now, my dear,” Lance corrected her patronizingly as he stepped inside, followed closely by Jack. The pair of men walked confidently through the foyer and into the columned and high ceilinged great room. Balconies lined the walls around the second story, providing the perfect perching place to see, or be seen. Jack was the first to turn back to their hostess, more taken with the woman than the interior space. He cleared his throat, making Lance turn his head.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Oh, right,” Lance sighed, “Jack, this is Miss Aurora Grey. Aurora, meet Jack Vuselli.”<br>&nbsp;<br>“It’s a pleasure, Miss Grey,” Jack extended his hand, grasping Aurora’s in a firm, masculine handshake. <br>&nbsp;<br>Lance would have growled at the performance if he hadn’t planned using Jack as a decoy for Aurora’s attentions. Jack was already practically playing with himself with the thought of having her in Lance’s mind.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Well don’t just stand there, Aurora,” Lance admonished. “Go fetch someone to show us around, unless you’re going to show us around. I don’t mind that at all, but let’s stick the house, shall we? I don’t need to see your fingerpaintings. <br>&nbsp;<br>“Miss Gray is an artist, you see,” Lance went on to Jack in an explanation laced with sarcasm. “She thinks she’s the next Picasso. She can give you a list of clients in Westchester, Manhattan, Suffolk County. But then you start to wonder, is it the art you really want, or just to be on the list of clients? We put the piece my father bought in the men’s room over at Hamilton Funds. I’m sure she’ll leave you with the list of paintings for sale.”&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>“Lance, lay off,” Jack played off him, turning to Aurora, “I’d be happy to see your gallery. I’m a bit of a collector, myself,” he explained.<br>&nbsp;<br>“Have you made any decision how you’d like to split the house?” Lance interrupted. “I didn’t think so. Perhaps we should make that the first order of business. I’d like to split it right down this room. The house is symmetric: one will take the rooms on the left, the other the rooms on the right. Naturally, we’ll share the common, unique rooms equally. Since you’re already living here, choose the side you want. We’ll have everything not in your side moved to your side by the end of the week, and we’ll move my things in next week. It’s a neat, clean, fair determination, so there you have it.”
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>21-10-2010, 02:12:11</strong>
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				"Unless the sign by the gates, that has been there for three generations now, has been altered to say The Tillman-Grey House, then, no, it is still The Grey House," Aurora said, her jaw briefly tightening as she reigned in her temper.&nbsp; Normally it was never easy to provoke, Aurora priding herself on that she was able to aptly remained composed and calm even in the most stressful of times.&nbsp; Lance Tillman, however, seemed to just have to walk into a room to have the hairs on the back of her neck rising up.&nbsp; With great patience, though, she held herself quiet, amusement flickering across her features while he went on with his spiel.&nbsp; <br><br>Bringing him down a few pegs was going to be very, very enjoyable.&nbsp; <br><br>"Jack, it's a pleasure meeting you.&nbsp; Unlike Picasso, whom I would never dream of aspiring to be considering he's quite dead, I work in pottery and glass.&nbsp; I'm sure another time we could take a look at my storage area.&nbsp; A gallery I can't quite do as I don't really show case my pieces within my home."&nbsp; The corners of her soft mouth eased into a warm smile, the humor flaring even brighter in her eyes, as she drew her hand from his and let her fingers curl just slightly.&nbsp; Oh, she knew she was quite pointedly ignoring Lance at the moment, but that suited her just fine.&nbsp; "What type of work do you tend to collect?&nbsp; I had the opportunity to see a wonderful private collection in southern France a few years ago.&nbsp; A delightfully eccentric man who had a general fascination with art, I believe even having framed a couple of his grandchildren's more skilled attempts at water colors.&nbsp; I think he's either too senile or too devoted to say his grandchildren will never become the next Monet."<br><br>Only then did she deign to tilt her head toward Lance, the smile not quite slipping away but almost.&nbsp; "Lance, if you would like something <em>fetched </em>then by all means, go fetch.&nbsp; Nor I or any of the staff are here to serve your whimsical notions; I'm sure as an adult you must be capable of fending for yourself.&nbsp; As you may not be aware The Grey House only employs a few part time staff and two full time employees to see to the general upkeep of the estate.&nbsp; There are two gardeners, three house maids, a main housekeeper and a chef.&nbsp; The chef and housekeeper -- Monsieur de Blanc and Mrs Derricks -- are employed full time and live here on the grounds in wings adjacent to the kitchen.&nbsp; Whatever meal requests you have can be given to Monsieur de Blanc... though, I should tell you he tends to discriminate against fools.&nbsp; If you want to hire anyone else into the staff then feel free, but you'll pay for them out of your own pocket."<br><br>Aurora paused for only a moment, a fleeting smile sent to Jack.&nbsp; "You know, I have always wondered how people ever successfully manage to conduct business when they presume others don't think for themselves.&nbsp; Would you care for a glass of wine?&nbsp; I have a rather wonderfully stocked wine cellar," briefly her eyes flashed back to Lance.&nbsp; "Yes, mine.&nbsp; Not the house's.&nbsp; And yes, I did give thought to how the house should be divided.&nbsp; Your half can be found to the left of the stairs, and you'll find all the rooms quite appropriately bare.&nbsp; All the rooms on the first floor, except for my grandfather's study and the staff wing, are neutral territory."&nbsp; <br><br>She didn't wait to give him a moment to acquiescent, turning her smile, brighter now, back upon Jack as she lead him across the Italian marble foyer and into the first of the many spacious rooms off the area.&nbsp; "Please, make yourself comfortable," murmured to him, Lance once more slotted into the category of '<em>to be ignored</em>.'&nbsp; "And while I'm not sure what Lance said to get you to come, thank you for doing so.&nbsp; Do you prefer red or white for your wine?"&nbsp; Truly, she meant that.&nbsp; She still wasn't sure how she was going to put up with Lance for a whole year, but the thoughts of perhaps moving in a friend to help ease the burden were not entirely dismissed.&nbsp; <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>24-10-2010, 21:16:49</strong>
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				It all started a few days later when the moving truck arrived. Things began appearing at the mansion that didn’t quite fit. Even worse, landscapers arrived that very same day and put a new wrought iron gate on the drive, naming the property the Tillman-Grey house. <em>Can’t ignore that, can you?</em><br><br>Not that Lance minded the cold shoulder. He happened to like his house out in Suffolk County. He didn’t sell it, but in order to rent it his furniture all had to be moved out. He had hired a professional interior decorator to outfit his home in the Hamptons, and it showed in just how much nothing really worked well in Grey House to the point of it being spectacularly ugly. The furniture was far too specialized for an ultramodern space in the west Hamptons, and it just didn’t work at all with the 19th century Grey House. <br><br>It was only one of Lance’s frustrations that week. His commute had become totally awful, since now he had to go from Westchester into the City at the very least, and out to Ronkonkoma at worst. It was more than two hours each way. Moving the office up to Westchester was out of the question. Next, a stink had been made over changing the name on the gate at Grey House to Tillman-Gray House. A pissing contest had erupted, and it became so childish that the lawyers got involved. Lance wasn’t quite sure how the outcome had been reached, but Theresa called and affirmed everything was taken care of, and now she was owed another dinner. Finally, Jack had asked if Lance minded if he asked Aurora out. <em>Why the fuck should I care?</em> But for some reason, Lance did. He didn’t want Jack getting that close to the situation, but it wasn’t exactly something he could freely admit. Instead, for the time being, he had to deal with it. Jack had even purchased some trinket of kitsch of hers on his way into her pants.<br><br>About the only good thing Jack did was shut her up about the housewarming party he planned. Her protests were thus accommodated by the addition of Jack to the guest list, along with a dozen other potential new clients. It had taken longer for him to convince her than a freshman business student that the party made good sense to her financially and professionally, but she was too poisoned against him to listen to logic, at least until Jack was mentioned. Soon enough, twenty guests of her own were on the invite list, and Lance was paying to cater them. It was the least he could do after she agreed to drop the fight on the gate sign. A short truce had been reached.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>02-11-2010, 14:06:12</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“Oh, Aurora, you look wonderful!”<br><br>Warmly Aurora smiled as her cousin, Mia Gray, stepped back from their quick hug and openly surveyed her figure and the slinky, black silk dress that swept from one shoulder, a chunky jade and onyx clasp holding the flimsy material, to an angled line across her body; the hem line flirted from her left thigh and crossed down to her right knee, a slim cord of studded jade left to curve down the length of her calf.&nbsp; Her hair had simply been clipped to one side, the heels she wore a modest three inches.&nbsp; She knew she looked good – the approval had been in Jack's eyes the moment he'd seen her earlier.&nbsp; The look had been even more intense than the other she'd seen from him over the past couple weeks.<br><br>Since meeting Jack they had gone on five dates – well, four and a half as she didn't quite count an hour lunch with him as a date.&nbsp; They'd done dinner and dancing, a picnic and theater in the park, then a ball game, much to Jack's delight (especially when he didn't have to explain the game to her), and then a couple nights ago a late dinner at his place.&nbsp; Not that anything had happened at his posh condo beyond some rather passionate kissing and modest touching (clothes on), a fact Mia seemed to have a hard time accepting as she blinked at Aurora while they weaved their way through the guests toward the champagne table – her “gift” to the little housewarming Lance had insisted on.<br><br>“If your plan is to blue ball him into submission I'd say it's working.&nbsp; He looked ready to devour you right in the middle of the party.”<br><br>Aurora smirked and gave a shake of her head.&nbsp; “Four dates do not qualify anyone for more than that.&nbsp; I've only known him for two weeks.”<br><br>“So?&nbsp; I knew my first husband for only two days before we were in the sack.”<br><br>Mia had just divorced husband number four.<br><br>“Not all of us approach intimacy the same way.”<br><br>“Hmph.&nbsp; All I have to say is give the man a break.&nbsp; I don't know how you're holding on with him around and Lance living here, too.&nbsp; Two yummy male specimens, I would love to get my hands --”<br><br>“Oh, stop!”&nbsp; Aurora laughed and scrunched her nose.<br><br>“Really don't see why you dislike him so much.&nbsp; This year long set up could be very beneficial, if you know what I mean.&nbsp; But really, what's up?”<br><br>Ignoring the implication, Aurora merely sighed.&nbsp; “It's a long story.&nbsp; Not worth hearing.&nbsp; Trust me!&nbsp; Let's just say Grandma --”&nbsp; <br><br>“Oh, Miss Gray!&nbsp; Aurora!”<br><br>Aurora turned to find herself snared by two individuals Lance had insisted on inviting, both eager to discuss art.&nbsp; Her art.&nbsp; Lance saw them as potential buyers; to Aurora they were minor annoyances in an otherwise acceptable social setting.&nbsp; Lance couldn't seem to grasp she had no shortage of people wanting and waiting to buy her work – she simply wasn't vastly concerned about “making a killing.”&nbsp; Not to mention Aurora liked to save all her talk for when she agreed to put on an actual showing and the last time she had agreed to one was nearly two years ago.&nbsp; The thought of now, though, was seriously being entertained as she merely nodded and vaguely smiled to the couple.&nbsp; A showing could be an excellent opportunity – especially if she opted for the west coast.&nbsp; That would be at least five days away from Lance, and perhaps something he needed just as much.&nbsp; After making a mental note to speak with Alfred (to get assurances leaving for a week on business wouldn't break any rules), Aurora scooped up a glass of champagne and went in search of Jack after extracting herself from the “buyers.”&nbsp; On the way she deposited Mia onto Lance after making a quick introduction; somehow it shouldn't have surprised her to see the look of feminine appreciation on her cousin's face.<br><br>A week later Aurora hung up the phone after finishing the third satisfactory call that morning From Alfred going away for a week on business related matters was acceptable; from one excited gallery owner in Los Angeles they were more than pleased to have her agreement for an impromptu show in two weeks, and from Jack, he would be thrilled – and able – to meet her for that weekend of the show and return home Sunday with her.&nbsp; Now she just had to decide if in two weeks they'd be sleeping in two rooms or one... and keep hoping by the time she got back Lance would be sick of the house.&nbsp; The daily commute alone had to be grueling on him, though it did mean she saw little of him throughout the weekdays, not to mention the otherwise cold and frosty reception most of the staff had been all too happy to help her greet him with, their loyalty to the Gray family clear.&nbsp; <br><br>The way Aurora saw things, all she had to do was keep being patient and wait for Lance to grow tired of it all.&nbsp; She'd even graciously offer to pay him half of his half's worth even if the will would have given him none for pulling out early.&nbsp; Maybe another month – possibly two – and she could change that damn sign back as he drove far, far away.&nbsp; Just had to be patient...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>11-11-2010, 14:41:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lance hadn’t admitted that Aurora was the best looking piece of ass at that party to anyone. It was the first time outside of a complex business negotiation that he didn’t speak his mind, or force his will. He was arrogant not stupid. Besides, she had a personality to protect her face and body…and she had a friend. A cousin? Pleasure to meet you.<br><br>Jack had told him all about Aurora. How wild she was in bed. A tiger he had called her. Lance didn’t sense that from her. He thought her the sensual type. Ugh. He hated thinking about her. Jack had no basis to tell him such things either, but men are good at lying about their conquests, and Lance didn’t care enough to question him. Still, if he trusted his instincts, he would have surmised Jack was indeed boasting, but Lance was vulnerable in a way. The move, the change of scenery and lifestyle, the added tension and stress of Aurora’s constant grating, not to mention the commute had dulled the sharp edge of his mind.<br><br>At least the party had been a success. Lance was great at carousing. He had a charisma that charmed people in moderate doses. His talents in business spilled over into his talents with people. He was charming without being smarmy. He remembered the names of the wives of clients and colleagues he had last met over a year ago. He gave money to politicians wisely. As a result, the small crowd that had arrived at the party was much like him: gregarious, willful, charming, arrogant. The power in New York City centered at the Tillman-Grey House that night. At least the partygoers were all pompous enough to believe that. The sale of Aurora’s art wasn’t the goal, but word of mouth was. It was the lifestyle alluded to by the artist, a high class elegance, that would seep into the market insidious as smoke. He had no reason why he was doing this without her request; it was simply in his blood.&nbsp; <br><br>And then there was Mia Grey. The bloodlines in the Grey family were certainly strong. She had an Elizabeth Taylor quality that Lance was drawn to without thinking. The dark hair, the flawless shoulders, the white diamonds dipping into her cleavage. The moment Aurora introduced her to him he knew he would bed her, and he looked forward to it. Not one to ignore party guests, he waited until the wee hours of the morning to do so, after they had both been well plied with expensive champagne and catered hors d’oeuvres. In the morning he drove her back into the city, and they had each other again in his condo. <br><br>A week’s business in Los Angeles? Hallelujah. Jack’s going with her? Even better. Their friendship was certainly being strained by Jack’s fling, but there wasn’t anything Lance would do about it. Saying something would betray he cared, something about which he was still in total denial. A week with his new fucktoy and without Aurora and Jack sounded like a perfect solace. The lasting effect of such an enterprise was lost on Lance, but remember his instincts, and thus his intelligence, had been dulled. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>21-11-2010, 11:42:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“So, how was it?”<br><br>For a moment Aurora said nothing, blinking at the cacophony of people and sounds around her in LAX.&nbsp; She knew what Mia was asking, she just wasn’t sure how to answer her.&nbsp; The show had gone fabulously, every piece having sold and quite a few disappointed at having to settle for the waiting list.&nbsp; In her shoulder bag was a copy of today’s Sunday LA Times that had the feature article about her showing.&nbsp; That wasn’t what Mia wanted to know, though.&nbsp; She wanted to know how things had gone with Jack, who at that moment was off getting coffee for him and tea for her.&nbsp; More specifically Mia wanted to know how the past few nights had been ever since Jack had joined her in Los Angeles.&nbsp; <br><br>“It went very well.”<br><br>“Just very well?”<br><br>Aurora blushed.&nbsp; “More than very well, if you must know.”&nbsp; Except… something didn’t feel right.&nbsp; Not that she minded but they had two positions very well practiced over the weekend.&nbsp; Oh, he’d been quite feverish with his affections once admitted to her body, and that man could do things with his tongue she’d never dreamed of, but it didn’t quite stack against the ill feeling.&nbsp; Not that she wanted to even consider the "feeling."&nbsp; Frankly it was wonderful to have a man like Jack clearly interested in her, and not for just that she had gotten genetically lucky and took care of her body, but for her interests, her art and just herself.&nbsp; Still... <br><br>“That’s more like it.”<br><br>“How was the week?”<br><br>Silence reigned for a moment.&nbsp; “Let’s talk about that later, I want to hear more about LA.”<br><br>Aurora rolled her eyes.&nbsp; She knew Lance and Mia were getting intimate with each other.&nbsp; Why Mia thought it would bother her was beyond Aurora.&nbsp; It was perfectly all right if they wanted to sleep together.&nbsp; What reason did she have for being even remotely against the idea?&nbsp; She hadn’t noticed how clenched her hand had become until Jack returned and went to hand over her tea.&nbsp; Mia and Lance weren’t her concern.&nbsp; They were practically perfect for each other.&nbsp; Of course, Mia could also be changing the subject due to the old college buddies Aurora had allowed to stay in her absence.&nbsp; <br><br>They were a small group of hippy musicians known for finding groupies wherever they went and staying up till the wee hours of the morning.&nbsp; She’d told the band months ago they could stay at the mansion instead of a hotel when they came into town (that it happened to coincide for when she was gone was another matter) and had informed Lance of such before she left.&nbsp; Of course, with her luck Mia’s current presence in Lance’s life had probably softened any trials or tribulations from her old friends.&nbsp; It’d been nearly two months since Lance had moved in and he showed no signs of breaking yet.&nbsp; Was it possible he’d actually endure the full year and she’d be stuck co-owning the estate with him forever?&nbsp; Worse, he could his half… and not even to her.<br><br>None of Aurora’s thoughts had settled when hours later they finally touched down in JFK, she and Jack having not joined the “Mile High Club” despite Jack’s attempts to persuade her, and began to make their respective ways home.&nbsp; With any bit of luck her college friends would have sent Lance packing without a single glance back.<br><br>And she wouldn’t feel bad.&nbsp; At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>26-11-2010, 01:55:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aurora being out of town for a week was a total godsend. Mia was staying at the house, and they were learning a lot of pieces of furniture together. Lance had already lost any emotional interest in her, but she liked money, and she could be used. Lance liked to keep his based covered, so he still gave a worthy sexual performance just in case it came up in any of Mia’s conversations with others. She certainly wasn’t a bad lover; she just didn’t do anything for him in any way beyond the base physical act. She carried the baggage of past husbands, and Lance thought her too easy. As a result, notching her as a conquest was no real reward other than keeping him in regular sex. She was fun to fuck; the end.<br><br>When Aurora came back to the house from JFK, she arrived to a veritable party. Her college band friends had indeed been staying at the mansion, as had been an ever growing number of clingers and groupies. The walls of the mansion were rumbling as the front door opened. A man she had never met before greeted her and Jack as staff of the house, and the telltale smell of smoldering marijuana filled the air. A small concert was going on in the great room, and well over a hundred people were gyrating in various states of undress in the great room while her college friends ruled a makeshift stage that had been erected in her absence. <br><br>Lance and Mia were guests of honor. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a large cotton button down that wasn’t tucked in. It was the most casual she had had ever seen him, but it seemed to suit him just fine. Lance pretended not to notice her return, but a half smile crept across his face when he spotted her entry. <br><br>He had had a wonderful time while she was gone. He loved the west coast music her friends had brought with them, and they said yes when he asked if they would do some Jimmy Hendrix and Grateful Dead. As Aurora had expected, they had parties every night well into the next morning. When he wanted rest, he headed into the city to sleep the previous night off at his condo. He was starting to miss significant time at work for the first time in his career, but the plus side what that he was enjoying, for a short time, some additional fruits of his labor. When the existing staff started giving him some trouble, he suspected Aurora’s motives behind their behavior, and thus he hired his own man (the greeter at the door that night), and banned the existing staff from his half of the house.<br><br>He didn’t understand Aurora’s motives. He had been so successful in his life precisely because he handled a hugely wide variety of social situations perfectly. He welcomed a would-be menace into the house, and instead of grating against them, he used their own talents to win them over. Instead of shunning them, he let their rowdy friends in, too, allowing their drugs and promiscuity in with them. So when Aurora came home to lemons, he was drinking lemonade. Her week away had been the best one yet, and Lance felt stronger than ever that he could last out the year, and sell his half for a nice profit.<br><br>That night, as he was inside Mia, Lance would close his eyes and imagine he was inside Aurora, conquering her from within.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>28-11-2010, 17:57:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Aurora had anticipated a great many things when she arrived home -- none of which had come to pass.&nbsp; Instead she had been greeted by a complete stranger, some man she had never met but insisted he lived there as a member of the staff recently hired on by Lance, and discovered not only an acceptance of her old friends but an outright circus of a party with <em>him</em> and Mia as the guests of honor.&nbsp; Every ounce of mirth she had been holding onto since Los Angeles evaporated as she stared at the chaos and felt anger and guilt struggle for control.&nbsp; It wasn't until the morning early was she able to do anything about it, the hours in between sleeplessly spent holed away in her studio, changed into a pair of old denim shorts and a camisole tank, where at least some of the noise was muffled.<br><br>At dawn her patience snapped, fueled by how all week Lance had not been suffering from her schemes but enjoying them, not to mention how Mia had simply seemed to install herself in the mansion.&nbsp; No wonder she had evaded answering!&nbsp; Aurora's house staff was all too happy to assist her in removing all of the lingering house guests, roused from sleep or stupor, and had them all, her college buddies included, out the door.&nbsp; If not also down the road, then at least in their vans or bus (the band).&nbsp; By seven Mia was creeping downstairs, bleary eyed, tousled from sex, and looking as if she had barely slept a wink.&nbsp; She didn't say a word, instead looking appropriately guilty when her eyes saw the destruction of last night, and she slipped outside with all haste.&nbsp; The bit of satisfaction had felt then disappeared when she finally stepped into the great room to take stock of all the damages.<br><br>By the time she had done a complete survey of the first floor she had felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.&nbsp; Behind those burned a slow rising rage.&nbsp; While it had been her who had permitted her friends here, Lance had allowed all of <em>this</em> to happen.&nbsp; There were at least three rooms to be completely repaired, furniture fixed, and countless amount of space to be cleaned -- none of which she allowed her staff to touch yet.&nbsp; What finally had her snapping and the tears and anger spilling out was when she <em>it</em>.&nbsp; The very first pottery bowl she had sold (to her grandmother, though she hadn't known at the time) laid shattered beside the stand it had graced for over ten years, replaced by a handful of empty bear bottles.&nbsp; There was no telling just what had carried Aurora physically forward in her next actions.<br><br>All she knew was that the look on her face deterred even the kindhearted housekeeper from stopping her as she went storming up the stairs and for Lance's room.&nbsp; Maybe she hadn't been the greatest toward him, but what had her grandmother's property done to him?&nbsp; A strange man living in her house?&nbsp; He could be a serial killer for all they knew!&nbsp; Even robbing them blind.&nbsp; Not to mention her – hard she swallowed the lump in her throat – first potter bowl being carelessly destroyed.&nbsp; If Lance thought for one second her was just going to get away scot free, he had another thing coming!&nbsp; The fury rose in her slender form as she gasped in a breath and banged open his bedroom door.<br><br>“Lance Tillman!”<br><br>For such a delicate frame she certainly came with a loud voice.&nbsp; Damp, swollen eyes narrowed on Lance's form on the bed as she marched forward to the windows.&nbsp; Halfway there she nearly tripped over his discarded belt, thoughtlessly snatching it up and carrying it with her as she cursed his very existence.&nbsp; Then the curtains were thrown apart to allow all the sunlight and its luminescent power into the room.<br><br>“Lance!&nbsp; Wake up!”&nbsp; Aurora shouted, whirling toward the bed.&nbsp; The belt snapped down onto the stand beside him, and the idea flooded into her mind, took firm control before she could stop herself.&nbsp; Quickly, breathless, Aurora yanked the blankets back and delivered one hard smack of the belt across Lance's bared ass.&nbsp; “You jerk!&nbsp; The first floor is practically ruined!&nbsp; My bowl is broken!&nbsp; A man I have never met before in my life is living in my house as an employee!”&nbsp; The breath released and in a blink she brought the belt quickly back down onto his ass.&nbsp; “You damn asshole!&nbsp; How the hell could you?!&nbsp; Are you out of your mind!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Lord Mayerling</strong> on <strong>05-12-2010, 16:43:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The first slap of the belt against the night stand had barely registered in his waking dreams. Then he felt weight coming off him. It was that first sharp sting that snapped him awake. A searing pain crossed his ass and he recoiled as his eyes split open widely. Aurora was in such an enflamed state above him that her words were barely intelligible. He had expected she would be enraged as his continued residence at the house, but he never thought she would physically attack him. That’s when the second stinging blow lashed across his ass.<br><br>“Gaahhh!” he grunted, his stomach clenched to deal with the pain. “What the fuck, Aurora?” <br><br>He half rolled, his ass too tender and stung to roll onto it completely. He jumped out of bed naked as she continued to scream at him, and prepared to lash him again with the belt. “That’s my fucking belt!” he exclaimed in misplaced irony. She swung at him again, but this time he caught her wrist mid swing, allowing the belt to slack harmlessly in midair. She struggled in his arms, and she was surprisingly strong, especially her hands. <br><br>He tried to disarm her, but failed as she bent into a protective hold, facing away from him. His naked body hunched over and around hers in the struggle, but she still failed to relinquish her weapon, let alone her resistance to his retaliation. She was still screaming at him aggressively, and was only silenced when she bit him as he tried to wrap his arm over her shoulder to get at her hands. <br><br>Now he had enough. He simply lifted her off her feet in his arms and carried her over to his desk. He roughly tossed her against his, bending her over it and pinching her hard to his with his hips. With his weight and gravity on his side, he was able to pin her to the desk and finally wrench the belt from her hands. He body was surging with adrenaline. They were both gasping hard for breath. And strangely, his cock had hardened, and poked against the round of her ass prominently. He held her to the desk firmly…until she was ready to submit to his positional and physical advantages over her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: It's Yours, If Only... (Moirae &amp; LM)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>desert ashes</strong> on <strong>19-12-2010, 12:19:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				“Son of a bitch!&nbsp; Let!&nbsp; Me!&nbsp; Go!”&nbsp; Aurora screamed as she writhed and fought against him.&nbsp; Oh, she was quite ready to tango, the fury still fueling her actions.&nbsp; While she had put up quite the struggle, she was hissing, still furious, when he finally pinned her to the desk.&nbsp; Her heart was slamming hard against her chest, lungs burning and seizing for breath, and her entire body felt flushed… tingling.&nbsp; Beneath that layer of fury Aurora felt a pure sense of arousal.&nbsp; In the next moment she realized just how wet that tussle with Lance had made her between her legs.&nbsp; Worse, she could feel his arousal as it pressed into her ass; she had to swallow hard and squeeze her eyes shut just to ward off the sudden, gut wrenching need that gripped her just as her nipples hardened and then pushed into the desk.&nbsp; This was not quite what she had imagined when storming into Lance’s room – then again, hitting him with a belt hadn’t part of the plan either.<br><br>“Lance…”&nbsp; Aurora’s voice took on an edge as she lay there beneath him, no longer fighting the hold as it had taken only a half second to know doing so would have rubbed her back up into him.&nbsp; The subtly curved figure remained tense, however, ready to spring at the first sign.&nbsp; It was getting a little difficult to think&nbsp; with the&nbsp; way his hard shaft was poking into her, making her want to forget all the reason she was mad at him.&nbsp; Aurora drew in a shaky breath and strained against the hold.&nbsp; “Please let me go.&nbsp; I’m sorry for hitting you,” she gasped and squeezed her eyes harder.&nbsp; “But… you had no right hiring someone into the household without discussing them… or destroying the first floor!&nbsp; Or my pottery bowl!” <br><br>Sharply Aurora huffed out a breath and started to squirm, very carefully, on the desk.&nbsp; She stopped a second later.&nbsp; Not even the smallest of movements would keep her from touching him.&nbsp; Could he smell her arousal?&nbsp; Again Aurora swallowed and slowly opened her eyes, focused on the wall opposite them.&nbsp; Had he felt the way she just trembled?&nbsp; How her skin was becoming flushed?&nbsp; None of this should have been a turn on – especially considering who the male was in the situation – and yet … Oh God.&nbsp; Yet there was no denying just how Aurora was physically responding not only to Lance, but the force he had brought with him.&nbsp; <br><br>“Let me go now, Lance, please,” whispered quickly, her hands slowly clenching.&nbsp; Any longer under him and she wouldn’t be able to even remotely hide the barest of responses.&nbsp; No amount of meditation or inner focus study had prepared her for this unexpected reaction, and it left her quite without any way to defend herself from him or the growing awareness her body had of his.&nbsp; This was Lance!&nbsp; Lance Tillman, the one man in the world she couldn’t stand with a passion… Responding this way was not only wrong but it felt dangerous – too dangerous.&nbsp; “I really am sorry.&nbsp; Please… just let go and we’ll talk.&nbsp; Later.&nbsp; After you’ve slept.”&nbsp; And maybe forgotten this had happened.&nbsp; Chalked it up to one really screwed up dream. 
			</dd>
		</dl>
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