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First let me thank you all for the votes and emails. And as I’ve said before, this is not meant to be the next great novel, so if that’s what you’re looking for, I’m sorry to disappoint. I started it wanting to do a running chronicle that spans years like a soap opera, so it may never actually reach a satisfactory end for some people. With that in mind, if you haven’t read all previous chapters, I suggest you do so before proceeding.
If I haven’t already scared you off, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do writing it. All mistakes are mine. All people, places and institutions are made up, this story in no way reflects reality and any similarities to it are coincidental. Enjoy.
From what Mason could see, Cambridge was a small community that had been swallowed by its bigger neighbor Boston, yet was fighting to retain its identity. Probably a fight it would have lost long ago if not for the fact that both Harvard and MIT found their home there. He quickly determined that he didn’t want to buy a house on the Boston side of the Charles River Basin and wasn’t sure he wanted to even live in Cambridge, it was all too crowded. For now, he had taken a room at the West Keaton hotel in Cambridge, they offered dining, a gym and free Wi-Fi, so he hadn’t bothered looking further.
He’d spent a good part of the first day talking to Brigid on the phone, missing her terribly. But she seemed so excited about everything for him, that he soon felt better himself. That is, until he went down to have dinner that evening. There is something depressing about walking into a crowded dining room alone and he almost turned around. If it hadn’t been for the hostess seating him, he would have.
She was a surprise. He didn’t think she was quite five foot tall even though she had three-inch pumps on, and had the figure of a skinny boy, but there was something alluring about her, something very gypsy like and fluid in her movement. He would bet she was a natural dancer. She had jet black shoulder length hair with a blood-red lock above her right eye and tiny hands with long blood-red nails. Her eyes were practically the same dark blue as his own.
Her name tag read Cybil, and Mason grinned. “Thank God that’s not spelled with an S.” He told her, pointing at it.
She looked down, seeming surprised that he was pointing at her nonexistent chest, before catching what he had said. “Don’t let that fool you,” she shot back, “it gets pretty crowded in here sometimes.” and she tapped her head with the menu she was carrying. Mason laughed and her face lit up with a million dollar smile.
“And here I was already thinking how cute you were,” he told her, “then you smile like that and put the word to shame.” That got him a blush and a pleased but slightly puzzled look.
She led him to a table off to one side and handed him the menu after he sat. “I’ll be twenty on my birthday in ten days.” She told him with a grin. And he blushed.
“I was that obvious?” he asked sheepishly.
“Not really, in fact you’re kind of fun. But it’s basically the first thing everybody thinks when they see me.” And though she looked cheerful, Mason detected a small forlorn note hidden in her voice.
“Actually, my first thought was what you might look like in a Sailor Moon outfit.” He told her with a grin, it was almost true, it had occurred to him.
She laughed, “Maybe I’ll wear mine to work one of these nights if you’re staying long.” and with a wink she almost skipped back to her post by the door. Mason didn’t even taste his burger, he couldn’t stop watching her.
For her part, Cybil was very confused by the whole thing. She’d long ago given up on guys and settled happily into playing with girls. She understood them better and found it easy to play the butch role in most instances. After all, though she was small, she was wiry and strong, and basically lacked most of the womanly attributes, like tits and hips. Usually she got hit on by drunks from the bar and old guys that wanted a child. Both disgusted her, but this guy was young and very good looking. And he was looking at her again. Where she would usually be creeped out by all the attention, she was surprised to feel what could only be those mythical butterflies in her stomach.
Mason spent the next few of days visiting realty offices, something he soon realized that he hated. With no luck finding anything he was interested in even looking at, and more than a little pissed that most of the agents wrote him off as soon as he walked through their door. He turned and left without a word once, when the looks were too blatant. It seemed like an exercise in finding what he didn’t want. He usually ended up working it off in the gym, running miles on the treadmill and using the free weights. He really missed the heavy bag from home. He talked to Brigid for an hour or so each morning, and thought it was funny that Marcus suddenly seemed to need her help with everything. They both knew it was his way of keeping her from missing Mason, and while Mason laughed about it, Brigid was getting frazzled and hoped perabet he’d get bored with it soon.
In the evenings he went down and flirted with Cybil. He didn’t think too much about it, just that she was the only local person he had connected with. And he really liked her personality. He learned that she was in fact attending MIT, in their computer sciences program, and was working there over the break to keep her room in a walk-up close to the campus. On his fifth night there, he learned that she did indeed have a Sailor Moon outfit. Or more accurately, a blue and white Sailor Mercury outfit, and the skirt was definitely short. She was waiting for him in the lobby when he got off the elevator.
He couldn’t help feeling like he was leering as he approached her, but she had a smile on her face. “That’s Mercury right?”
“You really do know your Sailor Moon.” She grinned, doing a little twirl that showed she had matching blue panties on. It had taken her two days to track down the outfit, finally finding the Mercury one in the cosplay section at Leathers & Feathers, a local erotic exotic shop.
“I have to give any credit for that to my friend Marcus.” Mason admitted, “he has a very eclectic taste in shows. What’s up?” he asked, trying hard to will his cock back into hibernation.
“It’s my day off, and I and some of my friends are hitting the town. I’m here to drag you along, so no excuses, you’ve been cooped up in this old place long enough.” She looked so cute standing there with her hands on her hips giving him a stern eye, that Mason burst out laughing.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” he told her,” lead the way sailor.”
She let out a girlish squeak and pranced off towards the entrance. “Come on slow poke.” She called watching his reflection in the window. Mason had already decided days before that she wasn’t above using her youthful looks to her advantage, and he liked that. She ran to an old rusty fifties era Ford pickup in the parking lot and started fumbling in her clutch for her keys. Mason eyed it for a second then grinned.
“So you drive a stick?” he asked waving at it.
“When I can afford the gas,” she replied as her hand came out with the key. “it don’t look like much, but my dad got it for me from a buddy of his, so I’d have something if I needed it.” She sounded a little defensive, but Mason couldn’t decide if she were defending the truck or her father.
“He sounds like a good man.” He decided to go with, “but why don’t we take mine and you can drive, because I’m sick of this traffic.” and handing her his keys, he walked over to the Chevelle.
Cybil walked towards it almost reverently, reaching out to stroke it like a wild beast she wasn’t really sure it was safe to touch. “Really?” she finally asked, looking up at him in disbelief. He wasn’t even done nodding and she was wrapped around him, for a split second she was hugging him with arms around his neck and legs around his waist in a death grip. As it occurred to him that he ought to be enjoying it, she was down and running around the car, giggling.
Mason was relieved to note that she handled the six speed manual well and that she seemed to be a cautious driver. He was also glad the Chevelle had bucket seats when she slid her’s so far forward he’d have had to sit sideways to keep his knees off the dash.
He normally wouldn’t have considered letting someone else drive his car, but after days of crazy traffic and the seemingly aimless road layout of the area, he just didn’t want to think about it. That morning alone, he had spent hours more or less lost, trying to find some of the more interesting properties being offered in the local paper. Only to discover that the ads were either misleading or that he didn’t like the locations. Besides, she knew where they were going. “Where are we going anyway?”
“We’re meeting my friends Ardella and Katey at Angelique’s Pizza for dinner, you’ll love it. They have the best pizza around here.” She replied as she turned towards Kendall Square. “Ardella is a few years older than us, but a lot of fun. You should ask her about housing, she knows more about that stuff than anyone else I’ve ever met. Katey is a couple of months older than me, and our resident foodie. Don’t get her started talking recipes.”
“Isn’t it kind of dangerous to meet her in a restaurant then?”
“You might have a point.” She laughed, “But never turn down a meal if she offers, the girl has serious skills in the kitchen. Unfortunately, she has a terrible track record with guys, the girl is like a scrub magnet.”
“Scrub?” Mason raised an eyebrow, “Does that mean we will have the honor of her present one?”
“No, I believe she’s between right now. But don’t be surprised if one comes sniffing around her before the nights over.” And she shook her head in resignation.
Katey turned out to be a mousey blonde, with shy green eyes. Mason found her funny but sad. She kind of percolated, getting excited and lighting up, only to look around like she had done something wrong and fold back in on herself until something else was perabet giriş said that set her off again. Usually something about food. He couldn’t really judge her figure, because she swam in the clothes she had on, but he thought she would be very pretty if someone got her to open up.
She was in her second year at MIT, and was studying languages and global studies. Mason just shook his head when Cybil told him she was learning German, Russian and Portuguese all at the same time.
Ardella was something else all together. Six foot tall and model thin, she was an elegant articulate black woman. Mason couldn’t imagine a situation that she wouldn’t stand out in. She might even be a match for Allan he thought. She was twenty-seven and working towards her PhD in Building Technology, and was Cybil’s resident adviser as well as her friend. Mason was just a little intimidated by her, impressed that she already had an MBA in architecture.
Mason could tell right away that Cybil was the catalyst for this threesome, she seemed to orchestrate the evening’s conversations, drawing Katey out of her shell and doing little mischievous things that Mason barely noticed, but made Ardella swat at her and kept her grinning. It was fun to watch but Mason wondered if he would ever be privileged to the inside jokes the two obviously shared.
They all three dug into the pizza when it came, moaning like it was ambrosia, Katey even came alive and did a kind of inventory of the toppings and what she thought was in the sauce. Mason thought it was okay, it had a rosemary sauce on it and goat cheese, but really, he was more of a pepperoni kind of guy. It was still the best meal he’d had all week and washed down with a Guinness left him satisfied. Mason wasn’t much of a drinker, being only eighteen, but Marcus had taught him that a good Irish stout and pizza just went together. And with his size, he hadn’t been carded yet on the few occasions he had one. About the time they were dusting off the last pieces, Cybil started teasing Ardella about Mason’s name. Which seemed to open up Ardella’s favorite subject. A place called Mason Hall.
Most people assumed it had something to do with the Masonic Order, but it was actually named for Everett Mason, who built it to try and lure away the membership of a club in England that had ousted him. He squandered his portion of the family fortune on the building but ran out of funds before much was done to the interior. Unfortunately for him, he had no temperament for business, something his father knew well, and since the old man didn’t approve of the project he refused to put more money into it. And after failing repeatedly to borrow funds to finish the hall, Everett settled into the one semi-finished suite and lived out his final years, stubbornly refusing to return to England.
Everett died of cancer in a hospice after almost fifteen years of solitude, in nineteen seventy-six. And it seems that his father paid the taxes on the building out of guilt until he also passed away around the turn of the century. In two thousand five, the department of revenue for Massachusetts seized it for taxes. Though it failed to go to auction because the historic society took an interest in it and tied it up in court for three years.
The court decreed that though the building had an interesting story, being unfinished, it didn’t merit full historic preservation. The society won only one concession, the exterior of the building was to conform to the original design in perpetuity. So it languished in government hands to that day. Ardella was using it in her thesis project for her PHD.
Mason was intrigued by the story, probably as much to do with it sharing his name and the enthusiasm Ardella told it with as anything. “Why hasn’t anyone done anything with it?” he asked.
“That’s part of my thesis, bringing a 20th century brick and stone building into the 21st century.” She began, “Many laws and regulations have changed since the original plans for the hall were made, and with the court ruling, bringing the building up to today’s codes is a bit challenging. Fortunately, the original architect had a good understanding of seismic issues for his time, placing steel reinforcement and connections throughout his design. If he hadn’t, doing anything with the building under the court restrictions would be almost impossible.” She paused, shaking her head and shrugging as she considered it for a second.
“While it’s a great subject for me, and I’d love the chance to do the work with the actual building. It would probably take about three million to get the title and land, I haven’t got that figure with me.” She went on. ” And at least that much more to finish the building. Couple that with the fact that the court has already ruled it can’t be torn down and fear that future court complications might arise, and nobody has stepped forward that was both interested and affluent enough to do it. It’s really just that simple.”
“How about if I hired you?” Mason asked, only half kidding.
“Yeah right.” Ardella laughed, and grabbed a pizza perabet güvenilir mi crust off Cybil’s plate.
Mason liked Ardella, but after the way he had been getting treated by realtors all week he was getting a little tired of people being so dismissive of him. “Seriously Ardella,” he said, no longer grinning. “through no fault of my own, what you’ve just described wouldn’t even dent my wallet. And I’ve been looking for something to buy in this area all week. Obviously I’d want to see the place and have you go over the plans you’ve made with my business manager, but if your plan is viable and I like what I see, we might be doing this.”
Cybil was staring at him like he’d grown horns or a halo, while Katey muttered something in Russian that sounded like an expletive, and was doing her best to disappear into thin air. Ardella was swinging her gaze back and forth from Mason to Cybil like she didn’t know whom to ask her questions to. “You’re not shit’n me?” she finally asked Mason, her expression hopeful yet suspicious.
Mason got his wallet out and laid his black BNY Mellon card on the table. “This is like the Black Amex that Jerry Seinfeld was famous for carrying,” he began, “while it isn’t limitless, it might as well be.”
“Well shit.” Cybil sighed,” I think you can get the check then.” And Mason started laughing.
Ardella picked up the card and stared at it, a slow smile spreading across her beautiful face. “You’re serious?”
“I’m serious about looking at it.” He told her. “It’ll be up to you to convince me. If I like what I see, and your plan is sound, we could very well be doing it.”
Cybil was silent as she drove them back to the hotel, not talking until after she parked and turned off the engine.”You know, after you let me drive this beauty, I was thinking all night about fucking you in the back seat. But now that you went and told us you were Batman, I don’t want it to look like that’s why.”
Mason’s jeans were suddenly very uncomfortable. “Okay.” He blurted. and she giggled.
“Okay? That’s all you have to say?”
Wordlessly, he scooped her up and tossed her in the back, climbing after her and her blue Mercury skirt. Her gale of laughter singing in his ears. She was in his arms as soon as he settled to the seat, her body surprisingly solid. But her lips soft and hungry against his. He had one fleeting guilty thought about Brigid, but then Cybil was straddling him and grinding her panty covered crotch on top of his stiff denim clad cock. And he let it go. Hadn’t she made him promise to live?
His hands went to her ass and he helped her grind against him, moaning around her tongue in his mouth as they sparred. But he soon wanted out, needed to get it out of the tight jeans, so he pushed her hips back and reached for his zipper. “Let me,” She told him, pushing his hands aside as she slid to the floor, her having moved the seat so far forward giving her lots of room.
He watched as she drew the zipper down, her hands actually shaking, and lifted his ass so she could pull his jeans down his legs. The bulge of his cock in his white BVDs was obscene, and she just sat there staring at it for a time.
“You know, if I get that out, when I get it out, it will be the first time I’ve ever touched a real cock?” almost like she was talking to herself. “Oh, don’t worry that I’m a virgin or anything like that, I’ve had more things up my cooch than even I can remember. Just never a real one of these.” As she ran her fingers along his bulge, ” It’s funny, I’d kind of given up on the idea of ever doing this, just never liked a guy that liked me I guess, so I turned to women, and I learned how to drive them wild..” Mason could believe that, she was driving him wild right then. Her fingers exploring him but only over the cloth of his BVDs. “This looks like a nice cock.” She concluded as she finally took hold of his shorts and pulled them back to let it out.
If Mason hadn’t spent his time with Brigid, he was sure he would have erupted the moment her tiny hand tried to encircle him and failed. With a look of wonder she used both hands to slowly stroke and explore it. “It’s so different,” she muttered, “all that false advertising, I should take my whole collection back and picket the store.”
Mason moaned and she looked up at him, almost like she just remembered he was there and attached to her plaything. “You like that?” she grinned, slowly jacking him.
“God Cybil, you’re driving me nuts.” He admitted and moaned again when she leaned in and licked his cock from the balls up. “Please?” he begged shamelessly. Then sagged back against the seat as she began worshiping his cock.
She laved it with her tongue, gripping it tightly just below the head with both hands. “Speaking of nuts..,” she muttered as she moved down to them, taking first one then the other into her mouth to roll it around. For someone who claimed to have no experience with a real cock, she built him up and kept him hovering close to the edge for quite a while. Enjoying the feel of him and quickly realizing that she needed to back off when she felt him swell and get even stiffer. She toyed with him, mouthing the head of his cock only, denying him release time and again like a cat playing with a mouse. Taking her time, but she finally gave in to her own desire and took more of him.
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