Part One: Mark Simmons, Jr.
Summer had finally begun to rear its beautiful head in Kicksburg, Montana, which had to be one of the smallest - if not the smallest - town in all of America. It was hot out, but not blistering. The days lengthened, the nights shortened, the local ice cream shop turned its largest profits of the year, and everyone in town who owned a swimming pool was making use of it, including myself. Well, unless you don't consider lounging right next to the pool to be making use of it, but I digress.
It was well into the afternoon on that fateful day. At the moment I was shirtless, covered in perhaps more sunblock than needed as I lied back on a beach chair right by the pool on my balcony, or one of my balconies at least. When I gained this mansion as a college graduation present about a year ago, my dad had been nice enough to give me a large pool-deck/balcony that came right off of my master suite, which gave it a somewhat isolated feel. And it didn't hurt that the balcony gave me a view of practically the whole town, including my parents' mansion directly across from me. I could also make out a couple of black SUVs making their way through town, though I didn't think much of them.
Without moving all that much, I reached to the small table next to me and grabbed my dirty banana, which I took a sip from. For a while, it seemed as though nothing could possibly ruin this moment of relaxation for me... that is until the doorbell abruptly rang. I'd been smart enough to install an intercom in the house so I could tell if someone was at the door regardless of where I was. Getting up and looking over the edge of the balcony, I spotted those same vans pulling up towards the gate to my arch-shaped driveway. I hurried over to the nearest intercom panel, holding the red button on it and speaking into a series of slots.
"Come on in," I said, before releasing the button.
I then pressed the blue button right next to it, which opened the gates and allowed the SUVs to pull up to the front door. I hurriedly grabbed my discarded Hawaiian shirt and slipped it on, managing to close all the buttons by the time I got downstairs and opened the door for whoever had stopped by. And it turned out that the people who had stopped by were a man and a woman, both dressed in suits, with the woman's including a pencil-skirt. The man was of average height, with a pallid complexion, hazel eyes, glasses, and a jet-black jew-fro and facial hair, complete with a gray yarmulka. The woman by contrast, had bronze skin, and was heterochromic, with one eye mahogany and the other gray. She was quite short, but curvy, and had jet-black breast-length hair with platinum-blonde highlights.
"Ah, Chris. What brings you here?" I asked, immediately recognizing the man before me. "I take it things are going well with your job?"
"Yes, yes, but that's not why we're here," Chris said dismissively. "See, Roxanne and I made our way over here to ask you a favor."
"Lay it on me," I replied.
"One of the most notorious mob bosses in the country has been up to no good recently, and she's currently after this witness we brought with us," Roxanne explained, speaking in an odd combination of Brooklyn and New Orleans accents.
She then panned her hand out as a young white woman about my age exited one of the vans. I watched in slight fascination as she made her entrance, stepping around to lift two suitcases out of the trunk, each one over half her size. She was just slightly taller than Roxanne, with a rosy complexion, navy blue eyes, a cute, unblemished face, and choppy blonde hair down to the nape of her neck. Short bangs peeked out from under a white bandana covered in tiny black fleur de lis, with one corner positioned on top of her head and pointed backwards. A gold necklace with a tiny cross glinted in plain sight around her neck.
Below the neck, she possessed a rather nice figure, covered in gray high-top sneakers and tan, calf-length bell-bottoms held up with a gray side-tied sash occupying the belt loops. On top, she was wearing a dalmatian-print blouse under a brown sweater-vest that was barely long enough to cover her torso. It kept bobbing up and down as she walked, revealing a slight gut and a white gold-pierced bellybutton. Other than that spare tire, she seemed perfectly slim everywhere else.
"Junior, meet Rosemary Sterling," Chris introduced.
"Pleased to meet you," Rosemary greeted in a mellifluous Southern drawl, putting on an equally endearing grin as she reached out her hand for me to shake.
"The pleasure's all mine," I replied, ending the exchange with a kiss on the back of her soft, petite hand.
"Rosemary happened to catch this mob boss in the act and reported her, but as you can imagine, she wasn't too happy about being ratted out. So in order to protect the witness, we decided to relocate her to a place where those criminals will never think to look. Just until the authorities can subdue them," Roxanne explained.
"And this town struck us as the perfect candidate," Chris added.
"Huh. Never thought I'd see the day when I'd be asked to do a witness protection," I chuckled. "And they say nothing interesting ever happens in Kicksburg."
"Well I certainly admire your excitement," Roxanne smiled. "So just be sure to keep a low profile and do whatever you can to make sure she feels comfortable living here. We'll contact you at the end of the summer and let you know if the circumstances have changed."
"But if you have any questions or concerns, then feel free to contact us sooner," Chris replied as he and his colleague each handed me a business card.
"Much obliged," I nodded, slipping the cards into my pocket. "Take care, you two!"
Chris just smiled and nodded as he and his colleague returned to their vans and drove off, leaving just Rosemary and I on the doorstep.
"So, uh, what say we get you situated here? You can pick whatever guest room you want. I've got tons of them," I explained as I helped my guest carry her luggage. "And once you've moved in, feel free to explore the place. It's not like Beauty and the Beast where certain areas are off-limits."
"I really appreciate it, Mister," Rosemary replied. "Oh, and just one question: the papers I was given said that your name is Mark Simmons, Jr."
"That is correct," I nodded.
"Okay, so... and I really hate to ask such a dumb question, but... are you by any chance related to the Mark Simmons?" Rosemary asked.
"Yep. He's my dad," I replied. "I even own a small portion of his business empire."
"Huh. Figures," Rosemary shrugged.
Eventually, we made our way upstairs to the part of the second floor that was near the back of the manor, where two doors were present. The one to our left led to my master suite, as well as the attached pool deck, while the other one led to a smaller section of the house that contained three guest suites, though there were several more of those on the first floor as well.
"So uh, yeah, like I said, just pick a room. Any room," I said as I ushered her in.
"Thanks again, Junior," Rosemary replied. "Hmm, I think I'll go with the one in the back. Probably gets the most natural light."
"I take it you're a nature lover?" I inquired.
"You bet'cha. Back in Alabama, where I'm from, I used to spend pretty much all my time outdoors," Rosemary explained. "Chasing fireflies, picking berries, even working on the farm was fun."
"Yeah, I enjoy working too," I replied, bringing her second suitcase into her room of choice.
Rosemary didn't respond as she began to unload her sloppily-packed suitcases into the dresser and walk-in closet, as well as the bathroom. I just stood there in the doorway for a spell, watching with slight intrigue as she callously tossed all her clothes onto the bed before proceeding to fold them and sort them into drawers. One the garments I spotted was an ordinary white T-shirt bra, and adjusting my thin, gold-framed glasses allowed me to make out two D's on the tag. And on top of all that, I caught a glimpse of her bountiful rear end and the top of her silk underwear as she crouched down to reach one of the lower drawers.
Holy shit, I thought as a small feeling of arousal burgeoned within me.
"Er... I guess I'll just leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, just use the intercom system," I pointed to the silver panel on the wall by the door. "That way I can hear you no matter where I am in the house."
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," Rosemary replied, not reciprocating my eye-contact as she continued to unpack.
I said nothing as I left. Turning away from my new guest allowed me to calm my nerves and steady my breathing a bit, but it did nothing to prevent the tightening of my cargo shorts.