Chapter Sixteen
Selection

Miss Fulham stared at the bags of groceries sitting on her kitchen counter. Yes, her kitchen counter. The house belonged to Mr. Baxter, but the kitchen was her domain. Aside from a very rare request, Stephen left it all up to her--now this.

Dominic sat at the table, watching her disbelief with amusement. She began to unload the sacks, muttering to herself. "Green beans. Canned are always too salty. I suppose I can boil some potatoes with them to take out the excess salt. Of course then they'll be soggy."

She pulled out a package of steak, examined it critically, then nodded. "At least he's got a good eye for meat." Dominic snorted, almost spraying a mouthful of beer. She looked at him. "What?"

He waved his hand till he caught his breath again. Finally he said, "Just agreeing with you."

She looked at him blankly for a moment, then smiled. "You!" She began rummaging again. She pulled out a garishly colored box. "Good God. 'Sav-U-Mor Mac 'n Cheese' He loves my macaroni and cheese. Why did he buy this?"

"Because they were on sale--four for a dollar. Find some way to use them or his feelings will be hurt."

She sighed and began to put away the groceries. "I just hope he doesn't decide to make a habit of this. Lord, if his mother ever knew of Sav-U-Mor on her Limogenes china..."

"Dominic?" Stephen came into the kitchen. "I'm going to take a look at the tapes, if you're interested?"

"Oh, fuck no!" He stood up immediately, going to the refrigerator. "Want a beer?"

"Please. Ah, Miss Fulham, could you hand me those pretzels?"

She handed them over, obviously trying not to look pained. "Butter Krisp?"

Stephen accepted the bag, opened it, and munched a pretzel. "Mr. Salty and Rold Gold were a dollar more."

Dominic followed Stephen out of the kitchen. "Rec room or basement?"

"Basement. The tapes are already down there." They went downstairs.

Stephen had offered to re-furnish the basement for Dominic more than once--buy him a proper bedroom suite, but the young man always shrugged it off. He claimed that he liked the sofa bed.

Stephen settled on the couch and Dominic went to where the tapes were stacked by the television. He began sorting through them. "What first?"

"Let's try Baranski first. Living room, bathroom, then bedroom."

"Check." He plugged the chosen tape into the VCR and went to sit beside Stephen on the couch. As the older man used the remote to activate the television, then the video, he said, "You're not fooling me, you know."

"What do you mean, Dominic?" He was fast forwarding through the tape. When Adrianna walked into the scene he slowed it to normal speed.

"You're saving O'Connel for last. Some people go straight for what they really want, others save the best for last. You're a saver." Stephen didn't reply, merely taking a sip of beer. Dominic chuckled.

Dominic found Adrianna rather boring. She cleaned house. She spent what seemed to him an inordinate amount of time vacuuming her little living room and dusting one of the most impressive collections of ceramic penguins Dominic had ever seen. Had it been him, he would have fast forwarded through it all, but Stephen liked this kind of shit. It turned him on to observe the minutiae of a woman's life without her knowledge. Dominic noticed the slight bulge in Stephen's crotch that heralded the beginning of an erection. He shook his head wonderingly. Not even any skin, and he was getting hard.

She took delivery of a pizza. Dominic watched in astonishment as she brought in a plate and flat-ware, and proceeded to eat two tiny slices with a knife and fork. "Oh, fuck me!" he groaned. "Even Miss Manners... even Miss Fulham wouldn't expect that."

"A bit prissy," Stephen agreed.

"The term is 'tight ass'."

The bathroom tape was a bust. Baranski ran herself a nice, hot bath--so hot that it steamed up the camera lens. She came out of the bathroom into the bedroom wearing a nightshirt with a (surprise) penguin on it. She slipped into bed and spent several moments making sure her sheets and cover were perfectly aligned and turned down in precise layers. Then she went to sleep and did not stir till the tape ran out.

"Well, that was boring." Dominic ejected the final tape, and inserted the first for Mina.

She came into the living room, throwing her coat and a lumpy plastic bag on the couch as she kicked off her shoes. Dominic watched gleefully as she reached up under her shirt and did some fumbling and grimacing. A moment later she pulled a bra from under her shirt, tossed it on the couch, and rubbed her sides and now unfettered bosom with every evidence of relief. Dominic laughed. "I love this woman."

Mina disappeared into the kitchen and returned a little later with an enormous bowl of popcorn and a soda. The television and VCR were located at one end of her tatty sofa, facing up its length. They watched as she tossed her discarded garments on the coffee table, selected a tape out of the bag, and plugged it into the VCR. The odd placement of the television was explained when she propped her back against the sofa's arm and stretched her legs out comfortably on the cushions. She had no visitors to consider, so her furniture was placed solely to please herself.

She enjoyed the movie, though she seemed to have some issues with it. Twice she shot the finger at the screen. Once she threw popcorn. Dominic wished they had sound, because she was obviously freely giving advice to the characters and cursing them when they didn't take it.

The bathroom tape was much more of a success than Baranski's. Mina stripped before going in the shower. She did it casually, with none of the grace and little gestures of someone who knows they have an audience. She was no centerfold. Her breasts were not perfect, sagging a bit. Her waist was a little thick, her belly gently rounded. Her thighs looked strong and a little chunky, but that ass... That was a nice ass--plump and very white. Dominic noticed that Stephen was pressing his palm down firmly on his tented fly.

The lens did not fog. "Her hot water must not be very abundant," Stephen remarked.

"Yeah." She'd just stepped out of the shower, water droplets glistening on her skin, and was beginning to towel herself. "Look," Dominic pointed. "It must've run cold. See? Her nipples are hard."

Stephen made a quiet sound and unzipped his fly, reaching inside. She slipped into a baggy t-shirt and shorts, then left the bathroom. "Dominic, the bedroom tape, please." Stephen's voice was thick.

Dominic quickly switched tapes. They watched as she entered the room, went into the bathroom, then finally emerged again. She flipped her coverlet to the foot of the bed and crawled under the sheet. Finally she picked up a small, colorful magazine and began to flip through it thoughtfully.

Stephen sat a little forward, frowning in concentration, then smiled. "Oh, my. Dominic, that's a catalogue. Do you know what it's for?"

"Victoria's Secret? Frederick's of Hollywood? Though she has the most plain vanilla undies I've seen, barring nuns."

"And how would you know about nuns?" Dominic whistled innocently. "It's International Male."

Dominic gaped, then laughed. "Way to go, Mina! You can almost tell whether or not the models are circumsized in the underwear and swimsuit shots."

She laid the magazine open on her lap, flipping a page. This spread showed several young, buff men attired only in different colored thongs. Her eyes on the catalogue, Mina idly ran her fingers lightly up the inside of her forearm from wrist to elbow. She stroked the same path several times, fingertips delicately brushing the skin. She wet her lips.

"Holy Christ," said Dominic, almost reverently. "Look at that. Her nipples are hard again, and it ain't because she's cold this time." He looked over again. Stephen's expression was slightly glazed and his hand moved inside his pants in a slow, steady rhythm. Dominic didn't blame him at all.

Mina laid aside the catalogue, slipping down to lie flat, the sheet puddled around her waist. She gave each peak in her shirt a tiny pinch, her lips barely curved in a smile, as if wondering at the phenomenon. Then she pressed her hand flat against her belly and slid it down the front of her shorts.

Dominic whispered obscene admiration, and Stephen fumbled impatiently with his belt, completely opening his pants for better access. By the time he succeeded the woman's hand had begun a slow, subtle motion. Stephen exposed himself and began masturbating strongly.

Dominic grew hard himself, but he waited. There'd be plenty of time to review the tape later. He knew that, though he'd been invited to watch, Mr. Baxter would prefer to have the first experience all to himself.

On screen the woman had clamped her knees tight together, curling her legs up. She bit her lip, eyebrows drawing down in concentration as her hand moved more quickly. Stephen was jerking off almost roughly. He was whispering, and Dominic doubted that he was aware of it. "Yes, Mina. Yes. Do it. Love yourself, sweet little hider. Mina, Mina Aiteag, shy girl."

She threw her head back, spine arching, mouth falling open. Her body jerked. When she opened her eyes they seemed unfocused. Stephen made a guttural as he climaxed, his sperm splattering the coffee table before him.

Dominic silently offered tissues, and wiped off the coffee table as his employer cleaned himself. On screen Mina stretched luxuriously, turned off her lamp, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep. Stephen sat for a moment more, squeezing his now flacid cock as he stared at the television.

As Stephen refastened his pants, Dominic said, "Boss, you can tell yourself you want to weigh things a little more, but I think you've already made your choice."

Stephen got up and went to the television. He stacked some photos on top of Adrianna Baranski's cassettes and said, "You can dispose of these. Tomorrow I'll tell Lamont to begin the photography, concentrating on Mina O'Connel. I want lots of pictures--all kinds." Dominic was nodding.

Stephen picked up a thin sheaf of photos of Mina--ones he'd viewed at the beginning of this choosing. He paused and touched the television screen, lightly tracing over the line of her mouth, then shut the machine off. He opened a door in the basement's back wall, leaving it open while he lit several candles on a small table near the small room's entrance. He entered, then shut the door.

The room was long and narrow, almost like a short hall, and paneled in dark wood. Reaching into a box on the table, he scooped up several push-pins--each one topped with a silver or gold bead, then he walked to the room's far end.

Stephen ran a finger down one panel, feeling the minute indentations of many tiny holes. He carefully tacked the three photos of Mina in the center of the wall. Stephen dragged a thick pad in front of the miniature gallery and settled on it, cross-legged. He stared up at the photos, eyes moving from one to another. He sat there for a long time.

Mina peered through the lobby door into the street. Nasty day. It was only spitting rain right now, but the sky overhead was an ugly purple-black, laced with occasional flashes of lightning. She'd been getting impatient about having to depend on Baxter for her transportation, but now she was relieved. Her car had always chosen days like today to misbehave.

The now familiar dark car pulled up before the apartment building. As she started to step out she was surprised to see the front passenger side door open. A large black umbrella popped open, and a man followed it out, hurrying toward her before she could move out of the shelter of the doorway. "Just a moment, Miss."

A small man held the umbrella out invitingly, and she allowed him to shelter her to the car. He kept the umbrella carefully over her as the back door opened and she slipped in.

Stephen Baxter was wearing a raincoat that probably cost more than she earned in a week. Mina gave it another look. *Make that two weeks.*

He nodded gravely. "Miss O'Connell. I would wish you a good morning, but..." he gestured toward the street. As if even nature worked at his behest, the rain thickened to a hissing downpour.

"Yes." She caught Dominic's glance in the rear view mirror and said, "I don't suppose...?"

"Not in this weather." She sighed as Dominic pulled away from the curb. "Why don't you relax, O'Connell? It isn't as if this is costing you anything."

"It's restrictive."

Stephen said, "As I've told you, Miss O'Connell, you have only to ask, and Dominic can take you wherever you wish to go. I quite enjoyed our foray into the supermarket."

"Thanks, but it's... it's like being ten years old." She made her voice high pitched and childish. "Daddy, would you take me to the library? Daddy, can I have a ride to the movies? Oh, and could you pick me up at nine o'clock? Pretty please? I've been good." Her tone was wheedling.

She didn't notice that Stephen's stare had become intense, nor that he quickly laid his briefcase across his lap. She was too busy studying the man who'd escorted her--he looked familiar. "Do I know you?"

He half turned to her, smiling genially. His left hand rested on the seatback, his right gripped the thick handle of the umbrella, near the base. Peculiar design. There were round, flat crystals circling the handle. As he spoke, he idly tapped his thumb on the butt. "We have met, though we haven't been formally introduced."

She thought, then nodded. "You're the photographer." It was almost an accusation.

"Yes. The last session was only to give us ideas--a feel for what we might try," Stephen interjected. "He'll be around the next day or so getting the photos for the first edition of the company magazine. It will be just a 'meet your fellow employees' sort of thing."

"Mm. Are you sure this is the best time for it? A number of people are going to end up looking like drowned rodents."

"Mr. Baxter has assured me I'll be welcome for as long as necessary," the photographer assured her.

Mina bit back a cynical grunt. *Why not? Mr. Baxter owns our time while we're at work. He can order a full scale fashion layout, if he so chooses.* She looked out the window, the better to avoid further conversation.

*Lovely profile, lit by that gray light from the street.* Lamont again pressed the butt of the umbrella handle. There was no click, but he felt the button depress. He'd have this roll finished by the time they reached the office, then he could switch to his usual 35 mm.

She didn't turn her head, keeping her forehead against the glass, but she slid a look at him that was a little sullen, a little suspicious. He made a note to tell his operatives to be very careful with this one--to stick with the long range zoom lens whenever possible.

*He likes you, kiddo. Last time I started off targeting two, and it was three days before he settled on one of them. I guess I can see why, though. You've got your own style.*

The look she turned on him wasn't quite a glare. "Do I have egg on my chin?"

He was startled. "Oh. Uh, no, nothing like that."

"I should hope not, since I only had toast."

Lamont took the hint, turning to face forward, and caught a glimpse of Dominic's grin. *Yep, her own style--polite 'go to hell'.*