Aubrey drifted in and out of sleep. They had set her up by a window, with the view of the trees and the birds and the mountains in the distance. All the glory of the Hudson Valley to gaze upon during her convalescence. It was nice to have the window open in the mornings, before it got hot, and listen to the cicadas and the sparrows and wind.
The little guest room she slept in was pretty, but rather sterile. It was not much bigger than the bed she lay on, with a small dresser against the wall where her clothes were stored. Gray-blue walls with white molding and a few nondescript paintings that looked a lot like the view out the window.
She winced as she shifted in bed and considered her place in the big house. She looked out on the vast mountains in the distance and the seemingly endless field of trees, most of which were a deep dark green with only flecks of gold and red, as autumn was only starting its approach.
The home was that of family friends. A wealthy couple, Sophia and Malcolm Tremblay. They were a bit older than Aubrey and came from money, from what she understood. When they heard she was doing a research project in the area, they insisted she stay with them.
Malcolm was the son of Aubrey’s mother’s best friends, and growing up, he was ever-present, like a cousin. Ten years older and quite serious and full of himself, Aubrey had never really connected with him but knew and liked him.
The trip started well enough. She was writing an article on the changes in local wildlife due to global warming. It involved taking pictures, talking to hunters, rangers, and other locals.
She liked being outdoors, talking to new people, working. She was also surprised by the generosity of the Tremblays. They were busy people who mostly left her to her own devices, but every evening she was treated to lavish meals in their huge dining room and amazing wine from their cellar.
They always seemed to have three or four guests for dinner and cocktails after their meal. Other well-to-do people, who talked about art and politics and seemed amused by Aubrey and her nature writing.
That was how it went until her fourth day. On a hike to a valley she had heard housed a chain of Canada Lynxes, she fell off a trail into a rocky stream, and broke her left arm and her right ankle. Her right arm wasn’t in great shape either, but it was only a sprain.
The Tremblays insisted Aubrey stay with them until she was well enough to travel. There was a bit of an argument, but both Sophia and Malcolm were very insistent, and Aubrey didn’t like to upset people.
Thus Aubrey was pulling into the foreign clockwork of this wealthy couple’s lives. It wasn’t only Sophia and Malcolm, though. They had two maids, of whom Aubrey kept missing the names. The maids came in and cleaned around her, neither disturbing her nor engaging with her. They brought her meals, which were very well prepared by a chef Aubrey had never met.
There was a nurse who stopped by every other day to bathe her and check on things. There was a doctor who was on call if needed. There were also the Tremblays’ friends, who always seemed to be around. The dashing Alexander Burrows, who owned some sort of resort nearby. The bookish Liddia Park, who worked with Sophia in some capacity Aubrey wasn’t clear about. Finally, there was Ashford. Aubrey didn’t know if that was his first name or last.
Ashford was some kind of artist. He was tall and mostly bald and wore drapey black suits with black turtle necks. He was a little scary.
The pain medication made the world a bit dreamy. People came and went, and sometimes Aubry wasn’t sure if they were real or imagined.
Occasionally Malcolm would stop by and make sure the room was in order. He would talk about his day, though Aubry didn’t talk back much. He would straighten her blankets and fluff her pillow. He would slip his hand under her sheets and under her shirt and gently caress her breasts.
He would softly circle each nipple with his thumb until they were hard and then pinch them. All the while, he would rattle on about his work and how his tennis match went.
Or perhaps that was a dream. Aubry couldn’t really say for certain, but the memory of his wife calling for him down the hall, while his finger slipped inside of her, hot and wet under the thick blankets, rang in her head as true.
As time went on, it was decided that Aubry should simply stay and heal at their house. “She’s no trouble, and we feel horrible about what happened,” said Sophia on the whole with Aubrey’s mother.
Sophia only visited when no one was home. She doted on Aubry as if she was a child. Sometimes she slipped into the bed with her when she was lonely and cradled Aubrey’s head against her breast. There was an intimacy that was both frightening and comforting.
Sophia would coax Aubrey into nursing on her breasts. Cooing and cradling her head, bringing her nipple to Aubrey’s mouth, and sighing deeply as she sucked.
“That’s my good girl,” Sophia would say. Aubrey was only half aware of Sophia masturbating as it happened.
Alexander Burrows and Liddia Park would talk to each other as if Aubrey wasn’t there. Long conversations about politics or literature. All the while, they would circle Audrey’s little bed and pull at her clothes, never touching, just looking at her breasts and vulva.
Once, though, Liddia had pushed Alexander over, so that he leaned across Aubrey’s half-naked body. Liddia fucked him, though Aubrey didn’t know the exact method. As she did, he whispered into Aubrey’s ear, “she’s in my ass. She’s fucking my ass,” over and over again.
Ashford did not partake in such things-at least, not for a while. When he, or really any of them, came to visit Aubrey, she would close her eyes and pretend to sleep. She knew that would make them more likely to take advantage of her.
When Ashford would visit, he often sat next to her and read to her from Calvino or Neruda. She made a point of shifting and turning as much as she could in bed. She knew how to squirm out of her sheets enough that her breasts would be exposed. That would make his breath catch.
He tried to get through another passage of Invisible Cities, but Audrey arched her back, pushing her breasts out towards him, and he faltered.
She tried not to smile when she finally felt his hand move to her leg. He gropes her breasts, and she felt her nipple slip into his hot mouth. Then her sheet and blankets were pulled off entirely, and she let herself be pushed and pulled as he repositioned her so that her legs were hanging off the side of the mattress.
He was careful of her hurt ankle as he spread her legs and buried his face between them. She gasped so loudly she thought she might give herself away, but her thighs were thick enough to cover his ears.
He ate her out for his own pleasure. Tasting her for a few moments before standing and fumbling with his belt.
As much as everyone took advantage of her in the house, no one had outright fucked her. She braced herself.
He rubbed the thick head of his cock against her clit, which was almost painfully sensitive. He seemed to hesitate when he pressed his dick against her, not quite entering her.
She squirmed again, pretending to be tossing and turning in some dream. Her hips pushed up against him. He groaned. She pushed up once more, and he pushed back against her. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, his cock slipped into her. She wondered if he felt guilty.
Once he was inside of her, there were no more hesitations. He started fucking her, holding onto her hips tightly and ramming himself feel into her.
She had learned to come quietly ever since puberty hit while she shared a bedroom with her sister. She bit her lip as the orgasm swelled and then exploded inside of her. Moments later, he pulled his cock out of her and gasped and moaned as hot jets of come sprayed across her pubis.
She panted as he clumsily cleaned her up and put her back into the position he found her in. She felt a pang of sadness when he kissed her forehead—wondering if she should shake off the ruse and open her eyes-share some moment of real intimacy.
She decided not to. She enjoyed being a sleepy doll, used and taken, like a stolen toy.
It went on like that for another month, until finally she was sent home, only because the Trebleys were going on vacation in Tuscany.
Still, they kept tabs on Aubrey and made a point to invite her back on holidays and occasions. She tried to get back to their big house when she could, always making sure to leave the guest bedroom door slightly open.
They were always very generous hosts, and she was a generous guest.