A week. I've been holed up in the mansion for a week, and it's driving me up a fucking wall. There's only so many laps I can swim in the pool, so many workouts I can do in the gym in the garage, so many movies I can watch before I go apeshit.

Not that Pops cares. He's instructed the staff, and Nathan in particular, not to let me off the property, regardless of how I want to go about it. I'm not even allowed to walk out of here if I were feeling up to it. Mike won't even talk to me any longer. When I went to Pops to ask him about it, he just reiterated that Mike is no longer to answer to me, and works for only Pops now. Fucking ass.

So I find myself in the one room of the mansion I rarely visit, the library. Image is important to my family, so even though nobody other than Andrea's even ever actually been to college, we still have an impressive-looking library. The library contains mostly books bound in leather, but there are still some regular hardcovers and even some paperbacks. I start looking at the titles, idly wondering if anyone's actually taken them off the shelves and read them, or if the maid just comes by twice a week to dust them.

“You should try The Count of Monte Cristo. It's about someone seeking revenge for being wronged,” someone says behind me, and I turn to see Andrea sitting in one of the leather lounge chairs. Either she came in nearly silently, or maybe I'm just more distracted than I thought. Probably a bit of both, since she's capable of sneaking around like a ninja when she wants. She's dressed in her normal daytime clothes. For Andrea that means she's wearing her take on a power suit, wearing hip-hugging pants with a matching vest and blouse, plus four-inch heels. When you see the whole thing paired with her long, black hair cascading down her back, it gives her a really severe appearance. Andi's finishing up her MBA and probably can already take down a lot of young executives in the brains department. “It seems appropriate for what's going on in your life,” she remarks casually.

“Our lives,” I retort, moving over to sit down next to her. I'm wearing a tank top and shorts. When you see our outfits side by side, I look even more casual by comparison, but it's not like I need to get dressed up just to sit around the house. Hell, the staff should just consider themselves lucky I even took a shower before my workout today. “She embarrassed the whole family.”

Andrea scowls, making her look older than her twenty years. I've pointed that out to her before, but it just makes her scowl more when I do. “No, she embarrassed you. She pissed off Peter and put herself in danger as a result. But she hasn't done anything to me.”

“Whatever. If she takes down this family, which is what it seems like she wants to do, you can say sayonara to your gravy train, too.”

Her scowl disappears, replaced by the sarcastic grin that is the second most common expression she normally wears. “I don't need a gravy train, niichan. I'm going to break free on my own someday. I've got things to do as well.”

I nod, half-frowning to myself. Andrea's always had this strange little driven side to her personality. I've never really been able to see all of it, but she hints at it sometimes. “If you say so, Andrea. But then why haven't you broken free yet?”

“Just wait. I'm biding my time, that's all. Patience can be a virtue.”

I shake my head and get up to walk toward the door, having had more than enough of this conversation. “Yeah, well, my patience is at an end. I need to do something to take my mind off this bullshit, have a little fun.”

Andrea shakes her head, snorting. “What's her name going to be?”

“Their names, Andrea. Their names.”

* * *

Tiffany is an old hook-up of mine. We've played all sorts of games together, but what she loves to do best with me is costume play. I swear this bitch has a closet reserved solely for the outfits she wears when she's fucking me. So far I've seen various costumes, company uniforms, and other clothes specifically for fucking, but she's almost never repeated any of the pieces with me. Most of them allow for easy access between the legs.

Today she's Doctor Tiffany, although I doubt a real doctor would wear a skirt this short and still expect to be taken seriously. Or not get slapped with a malpractice suit with this much cleavage showing. “Hello, Jackson. What seems to be the trouble today?” she asks in a breathy voice.

I smirk. She's a terrible actress, but I didn't invite her over to read Shakespeare. I lean back on my bed and give a fake cough. “Oh Doctor, you know how it is. My throat's sore and my body aches all over. And I think my balls are turning blue.”

“Aww, you poor, poor man,” Tiffany says, giving me a naughty smile. I know a lot of men who'd already be creaming their jeans at that smile alone. She knows how to work what she's got, and she's got a body like Carmen Electra in her prime. “It sounds like I might need some help for this exam. Nurse?”

The door to my walk-in closet swings open, and Allison comes out. She's my other little playmate. She and Tiffany are pretty much night and day in appearance, but they're good friends, and sometimes more than just good friends. Allie is short where Tiffany is tall, and skinny where Tiffany is stacked, but she still has a sex drive that borders on the nymphomaniac level. And despite only having little A cup tits, she's got an ass that you just want to pour some maple syrup over and lick out for hours. Just like Tiffany, she's wearing a costume, but no nurse I've ever seen has ever worn thigh high stockings that stop an inch below the hem of her uniform.

“Yes, Doctor?” she asks, prancing her way across the floor. Allie loves playing up her youthfulness, and always tries to come across as an innocent young thing, even when she's riding my cock like a pro rodeo cowgirl. “How can I help you?”

“This patient, Mr. Jackson... he's not feeling good at all. He says his throat hurts, and his body aches.”

“Oh no, Doctor, what should I do?” Allie asks in her little girl voice, taking a seat on the bed. Tiffany climbs onto the bed next to Allie as she speaks.

“I thought you might want to start by checking his tonsils while I measure his temperature,” she says. Allie's lips find mine and we kiss, her long tongue already sweeping my mouth.

“Mmm, I think I need more exploration,” Allie whispers when she breaks our kiss, biting her lip. “What do you think, Jackson?”

I should be into this. I should be hard as a fucking rock. I've got two hot and horny nymphos in my bed, ready to do just about anything I want. Hell, I should be tearing off Allie's nurse uniform right now and feasting on those tiny but yummy tits of hers. She's able to come just from nipple play. I should be looking forward to Tiffany riding my mouth while Allie turns my cock into a pogo stick.

I should be... but I'm not. Tiffany runs her hand over my cock, and while there's a little twitch, that's it. “What's wrong, baby?” she asks, sliding up higher on the bed. Allie notices the look in my eye and sits up as well. “Talk to us, Jackson. Sure, we have a lot of fun fucking, but you've been an okay guy to talk with, too.”

I sigh and sit up, scooting back. “I don't know... maybe it's just stress. I thought that a little playtime between the three of us might help ease my mind.”

Tiffany nods. She's a nympho, but she's also an accountant, and I hear she's a talented one at that. She just likes playing the dumb slut for fun when we get together. Allie's actually a bimbo, but she's got a decent heart, too. “I gotcha, baby. Wanna talk about it instead?”

I shake my head. “Nah... it's nothing you girls need to worry about. Listen, I'm gonna go catch a swim or something. Feel free to stay as long as you want, play if you want. I know I got you two all heated up and there's no payoff.”

Allie looks over at Tiffany, and I can see the look in her eyes. She's still ready to go, and while playtime with just the two of them might not have been her first choice, she'll still take it. She looks like she wants to push me on the issue, but she also knows I'm nobody to be trifled with. “Well, okay... but if you're feeling up for it later, maybe we can still have a little fun?” she asks. “We don't even have to have the costumes.”

I reach out and stroke her cheek and nod. She's cute. “Maybe, baby. But don't get your hopes up too much.”

I get off the bed, making sure my shorts are okay before glancing back. Tiffany's already got Allie pinned to the mattress and is kissing her, the two of them quickly getting into it. Any other night I'd be up for at least watching, but I'm just not interested right now. I leave the spare bedroom and go out into the hallway, making sure to close the door behind me.

The problem's clear. I can't get Kat off my mind. Not only am I pissed at her still, but the way she touched me, the way she looked, the way her dress clung to her body... great, now my cock twitches and wakes up again.

“Face it, you dumb fuck, you want her,” I whisper, sighing. I go out onto the back patio that overlooks the garden, which leads to the rest of the old plantation lands. Ten acres is all that's left of one of the biggest indigo plantations of the pre-American days that once covered an area larger than the French Quarter, but it's a beautiful ten acres. I lean against the hundred-year-old red brick wall that lines the patio, and look out into the sky. After days of cloudiness and some rain, the weather finally broke just around sunset today, and now I can look up to see a mostly full moon shining down on the property, stars glittering around it. “Ten years.”

It's the part that's bothered me the most this past week. Nathan's question of if I had feelings for Katrina continues to dance around in my head, because the honest truth is... I probably did. There's never been a lot of love in my family, and even Andrea I can't call anything other than a close acquaintance. Mom... ha. Pops has always treated me like an annoying little insect to be paid off more than anything else. At least I've lived comfortably this entire time, I guess. Hell, more than comfortably.

But Katrina... from the first time we hung out together, we just clicked. Her father had brought her by on one of his visits to see Pops. We liked the same games and even had the same hobbies. When I went through a phase where I was into building plastic car models, she was right there with me. She'd help me cut out all the parts from the tree and sand the edges, making sure each piece fit perfectly. Her hands were steadier than mine, so she'd always paint the individual pieces before the two of us would work together on the final assembly. Going to the same school meant that we got a decent amount of facetime together, but we were pretty much inseparable even outside class. Riding bikes, doing homework... all of it. She got me through my times tables, and I helped her with learning how to swim in our pool.

I'd almost grown out of the plastic model phase when she dropped out of my life, and yeah, it left a hole inside me. Now she's back... and she's pissed. Considering what Nathan told me, I can understand. I don't like Pops either. In fact, the only person in my family I even respect is Andrea. But Pops... fine. He's scum. But how am I supposed to break away? Andrea talks about it, but the only step she’s taken toward it is getting her MBA. I've never even thought about college, and my only skill is knowing how to party. That's good for about fifty cents above minimum wage if it weren't for Pops' money.

I shake my head and go inside, leaving the door to the garden open. I head back toward the guest bedrooms, when a cough behind me catches my attention.

“Nathan,” I say after I turn. “Didn't think you'd still be dressed in your suit.”

Nathan looks down at his black linen suit and brushes a bit of lint off his lapel. “I didn't think I'd find you... dressed,” he replies. Nathan looks pointedly at the door where I’d just been with the two girls, then shrugs.

“Wasn't feeling it tonight. What can I help you with?”

Nathan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. “An address. You were looking for it. She lives in a warehouse over on Market Street.”

I look down at the numbers written on the paper. “And you haven't told Pops?”

Nathan shakes his head. “Not until you find your answers. I told you, Jackson, I've got some debts to balance out. Or maybe in my mind I just keep seeing the little girl that Katrina Grammercy was when I first met her. I've done a lot of nasty things in my day, Jackson... but I don't touch kids.”

I nod and fold the paper up, putting it in the pocket of my shorts. “I see. Thank you, Nathan. And sometime... perhaps we can have a cup of tea again.”

Nathan, who's already turned to go back down the hallway, stops and looks back. “I'd like that. Have a good night, Jackson.”