The Story Of Amelia

Chapter One

"Gawd . . .what a hellish night", Allan thought to himself. As he looked out the rain-splattered windows of the Jaguar at the old mansion, Allan was reminded of the set for some late-night TV horror show. Stonehurt Manor was the perfect replica of a mad scientist's castle, and the crashing thunder and jagged streaks of lightning completed the scene - a scene seemingly lifted directly from "The Frankenstein Monster" movie re-run that Allan had seen only a few weeks ago.

He sat there for a moment, listening to the pelting rain as it lashed against the sleek automobile, wondering to himself why in the hell he was out here in this God-forgotten place in this ill-begotten weather. Allen also wondered, as he had nearly a hundred times during the past hour of driving through the storm, if closing a fat business deal was really worth all this much trouble.

Allen closed his eyes, gave another deep sigh, and leaned back against the leather seat cushion, not quite ready to brave the snarling force of the storm. Then, suddenly, he heard the sound of a bolt being thrown, the screech of heavy hinges, and opened his eyes to the sight of the huge front door swinging open.

Standing there in the open doorway was a tall, strikingly beautiful young woman. This must be Amelia Stone, the mysterious woman who had sent him an invitation that was responsible for his being there at Stonehurst Manor on this dark and stormy night. Or at least Allan sincerely hoped this was the case. Ah-hhh, things were definitely looking up, thought Allan.

The woman stooped down, peered through the rain-streaked side window, and gestured him into the house. That, and the sight of her statueque beauty, was all the invitation Allan neded. He slid across the seat, swung open the car door on the passenger side, jumped out, and made a dashing leap through the rain to the sheltering entryway. The young woman welcomed him with a dazzling smile.

"Ah-hhh, so you decided to come," she said in a softly accented drawl. "I am Amelia Stone." She held out a hand in greeting. Her handshake was warm and firm. And strong! The steely strength in those long, slim fingers caught Allan totally by surprise. So did the intense look she gave him; a questioning, "do-you-recognize-me" look.

"I didn't know if you would actually come," she continued in that low, husky-voiced drawl, while Allan stood there completely tongue-tied. The woman motioned him inside and closed the massive door behind them. "But I was sure that you wanted to buy that piece of property," she continued after she had turned back to face Allan.

"My legal staff usually takes care of that sort of thing for me, but in this case I wanted to handle things a little differently. That's why I sent you the note."

When Allan had finally picked up the telephone and dialed the number on the note, Amelia Stone's secretary answered, and, after he had identified himself to her, he was told that Miss Stone was expecting him that evening, precisely at eight o'clock. She would give him no further information, other than directions, saying that it was a matter that Miss Stone wished to discuss privately with him. Allan told the secretary that unless the impending storm made it impossible, he would drive out to Stonehurst Manor that evening.

After hanging up, Allan read the note again. "Challange"? "Dare"? All that he could make out from the mysterious wording was that this Amelia Stone probably wanted to haggle over the price. Well, she would soon discover that he was a world-class haggler. He'd show her, Allan said to himself . . . he loved a challange!

Allen was trying to remember something that he had heard once about this mysterious young heiress. It was all very hazy in his memory, but he seemed to recollect that she had inherited her wealth from a relative who had made a discovery having to do with genetic enhancement, recombinant DNA, that sort of thing. There had been some news stories about his secret process, a process that had promised to produce a "super-human being". But the government had quickly taken control of the discovery, claiming "National Security", and nothing more was ever heard about it.

Something else tickled at his memory, but Allen couldn't put his finger on what it was. In any case, Allen had accepted her invitation . . . or was it her challange that he had accepted?

Now, at the appointed hour, Allan was being ushered into the old mansion by one of the most splendidly beautiful women he had ever seen. Allan noticed that she was dressed casually in a pair of body-gripping Levi jeans and a sleeveless white silken blouse, clothing that accented her tall, trim, athletic good looks.

Amelia Stone led her guest down the entry hall into a cavernous livingroom. The huge room was cheered by a roaring fire set in a fireplace large enough to burn chunked-up telephone poles. Other than the yellow-orange light from the flickering flames, the rest of the spacious livingroom was dark and shadowy. It was like an old Gothic movie set. He half-expected to see "Igor the Hunchback" come drooling and lurching into the room any second. But then he realized something that surprised him. He hadn't seen any servants, or even Amelia Stone's secretary. There was no one else around. Not a soul. It seemed that the sprawling mansion was deserted, except for Allan and the Stone woman. Hm-mmmmm! This in itself seemed rather strange.

A moment later, the young woman offered Allan a comfortable chair in front of the warming fire, and took a seat on the sofa across from him.

"Well, just what did you have in mind, Miss Stone", Allan asked after she had seated herself and crossed her long, Levi-clad legs. She really WAS a knock-out, Allan thought to himself.

"Oh, just some healthy competition, me against you she murmered. You are a competitive kind of guy, aren't you?"

Allan laughed and nodded his head. "Yeah, and I usually always win", he replied with a cocky grin.

Amelia Stone arched her eyebrows, and reached up to brush away an errant strand of honey-colored hair from her wide forehead. The lazily executed movement sent a ripple of muscle scampering along her bare arm. Allan's eyes widened at the sudden flexation, watching the sculptured curve of a clearly defined bicep rise up from its place of hiding beneath the surface of her satiny, sunbronzed skin. Allan instantly felt a strange tremor of excitement, a current that electrified him into focused attention on that surprisingly well-muscled arm.

The juxtaposition of that unexpected evidence of athletic muscularity and her otherwise sleek, quintessential feminine beauty was totally mind-blowing. Despite that rippling sinewiness, she certainly didn't appear "Butch" at all. She was all woman, with no doubt as to her gender. He found himself wondering how she had come by all that smoothly sculpted muscularity. She must be into body-building, he mused. Hm-mmm . . . and what else?

"I really do enjoy hard-fought negotiation sessions", Allan continued, attempting to cover up his flustered fixation on her firmly molded bicep. His eyes slid from her sun-bronzed arm across her wide, flawlessly curved shoulders and then down to the thrusting solidity of her jutting breasts. Gawd, this woman was really BUILT, he realized once again.

"Negotiation?" she murmered in a mocking tone, completely aware of her effect upon Allan. "I wasn't really thinking of an intellectual battle of wits. In fact, I had something quite different in mind. Frankly, I thought that we might compete in a way that would be more of a challange . . . to both of us!"

There was that word, "challange", again! What did she mean? Now he was becoming confused. Just what did she want, what the hell kind of a business deal was this, anyway? One thing was certain; at this point she already had him at a considerable disadvantage, in what he could only surmise was a well-thought-out bargaining ploy. Allan would have to change those odd quickly, if he was going to play her game . . . and win! The handsome young man furrowed his brow, and made a quick decision.

"Alright, let's quite wasting time", Allan snapped out at her in an irritable growl. "It has been a long day, and a long drive out here in some lousy weather. Why am I here, and just what the hell do you want", he demanded with an angry scowl.

Her jade-green eyes gleamed with sudden intensity, and her wide lips formed a slow smile of anticipation. Ah-hhhh, this was even better than she had hoped, Amelia mused to herself. He's not only dammed good-looking and VERY well-built, but quite masterful as well. Amelia realized that his forceful retort to her teasing had electrified and excited her. This was going to be even more fun than she had imagined it would be! Amelia leaned forward, and locked her eyes with his.

"Simply this", Amelia drawled in reply. "You want to purchase a piece of property that I own, and I haven't too much interest in selling it. However, it just might amuse me to put that property up as a prize in a little contest between the two of us."

Prize? Contest? Now Allan was completely baffled, and his expression must have signaled his puzzlement. Amelia Stone's green eyes crinkled as she laughed out in sudden delight.

"Tell me, Mr. Businessman, how would you like to wrestle me for the title to that property?"

Wrestle! Wrestle her for the title to . . . . WRESTLE! Could this wealthy, elegant young woman actually mean getting down on the rug and grappling with him? Na-aaaaaa, no way!

This was ridiculous. It was all Allan could do to keep from laughing in her beautiful face. She couldn't really be serious about a test of strength with him. He was almost twice her size and he was, after all, a MAN!

But then as Allan sat there looking her up and down with a slightly condesending smile, he noticed something. Amelia was NOT half his size at all. In fact, he remembered that she had looked directly into his eyes when they first met, which made her about equal to his own five-ten. And he also remembered the surprising strength of her firm handshake. Then, too, there was that pronounced athletic muscularity which could only have been developed by some serious free-weight training. Yeah, a bodybuilder for sure. And probably adept at several other sports as well, from the look of her. Hm-mmmmmm.

"Oh come now", he exclaimed. "You must be trying to pull my leg. You surely aren't talking about actual wrestling, are you?"

But somehow, as he stared into her deep green eyes, Allan was suddenly quite certain that this WAS precisely what she meant.

Amelia gave him a long, appraising look. And then, without another word, she got up from the sofa and made her way across the room to a door set into the far wall. She turned the knob and quickly shoved open the heavy oak door with seemingly little effort. She turned and beckoned Allan with one curled finger. Allan got up and walked over to where she stood, peered over her sleek shoulder into the room beyond, and gave a grunt of surprise. She had opened the door to a large, completely equipped private gymnasium.

Exercise paraphernalia was crowded around the walls, and in the very center of the room was a square mat. As he looked down at that obviously well-used wrestling mat, Allan suddenly knew for sure that he was in for a really weird evening.

Amelia kicked off her shoes, stepped onto the mat, and turned to face Allan with a funny half-smile tugging at her lips. Then, as she saw the look on Allan's face, she burst out laughing.

"What's the matter, haven't you ever wrestled with a woman before?" she asked.

"Well yes, sort of," Allan stammered out. "I used to know a girl who liked to tickle me and wrassle around in the sand at the beach, if that's what you mean. But that was back when I was a kid." Allan heard himself, and realized just how totally lame he sounded.

For a quick moment, the beautiful woman peered intently into his eyes, as if searching for something. And there it was again, that strange "don't-you-recognize-me" look. Then, seemingly satisfied with the blank expression in Allan's eyes, she shook her head impatiently.

"Tickling matches?" she snorted distainfully. "Look, let's get one thing straight right now. I'm not interested in any tickling. I want to wrestle! And I mean REALLY wrestle, not some silly, giggly roll-around."

"But I'm a man . . . a businessman! I don't go around having wrestling matches with women clients", he blustered out at her in a tone that sounded far more prissy and pompus than he had meant it to be.

"Who says you're a man", she challanged him. "You've still got to prove that to me, haven't you? Frankly, from what I've seen and heard thus far, I'll bet that I can pin your butt in about ten seconds flat!

Whoa there . . . . that was simply too much. Allan was dammed if he was going to let this arrogant young Amazon talk to him like that. He'd had enough of her over-bearing attitude. It was about time that Miss Rich Bitch learned a lesson!

"Alright, that's it! You've got your wrestle, lady. I'll take you on, even though this whole scene is totally bizarre", Allan growled out. "But remember, you asked for this!"

Amelia's smile danced across her lips, her green eyes crinkling with delight. She almost trembled with excitement as she looked across the mat at the angry young man. Oh-hhhhh YES! This really was going to be great fun, she murmered quietly to herself. Amelia was not at all surprised to discover a tingling sensation down between her long, perfectly muscled thighs. She was already beginning to get turned-on by the thought of what was to cum . . . and no pun intended, she grinned to herself.

"Well, aren't you going to strip down", she taunted. "You can't do any wrestling in a three-piece suit."

And with that, she reached up and began unbuttoning her blouse. She shrugged her smooth shoulders free, and tossed the blouse aside. Then she wriggled her way out of the Levis and stood facing him across the mat, clad in nothing more than a pair of black silk tights. She wore no bra, and from the look of those magnificent melon-solid breasts, she had never needed one.

As Allan's eyes slid down along Amelia's splendidly constructed body, he noticed that the the black silk briefs, cut more like a pair of bodybuilders posing tights than panties, fit her slim hips and firmly rounded butt like a second skin.

Tall, full-breasted, wide-shouldered and lithe-hipped, Amelia's half-nude body was absolutely breathtaking. There didn't appear to be an ounce of excess fat on her statueque body. Her stomach was flat-as-a-board taut, her abs sculptured six-packs of sinew. Her columnar ribcage and wide shoulder girth provided the structural support for those heavy, jutting breasts. Those thrusting breasts were, however, in absolutely perfect proportion to her overall body size. In fact, everything about her was in exquisitely proper proportion . . . including her erotic muscularity.

There were no unsightly lumps of muscle, just that look of well-trained strength, the kind which only comes with years of disciplined exercise and diet. It was the look of a modern-day female athlete . . . . or, he mused to himself, of a mythological Amazon Warrior come to life!

Allan Clark, standing across that wrestling mat from Amelia Stone, thought that he had never seen a more beautiful creature in his whole life! He had never experienced such a perfect combination of raw strength and exquisite beauty in a woman before, and it made his heart pound and sent a shiver of excitement tingling up and down his spine. But even more important, he was getting a HUGE hard-on!

During Allan's stunned, open-mouth examination of Amelia Stone's spectacular body, she had stood there quietly with a strangely intense gleam in her jade green eyes. But it was the odd, quirky smile that bothered Allan!

Somehow it seemed as if he remembered that challanging grin from a time long ago. Hm-mmmm, was it possible that hed seen Amelia Stone before? Something tickled his memory, but whatever it was remained just out of reach.

Hey! Wait a moment . . . back when he was a teenager . . . one day at the beach . . . naw-www, it couldn't be. Until this very day he had never even heard of Amelia Stone or the Stonehurst Estate. And now, here he was, being challanged by this gorgeous, half-naked, superbly muscled young Amazon to strip down and wrestle with her!

Well-llllllll . . . . what the hell, he thought to himself. Why not. Let's just see what she's got! Besides, the prize was worth it. And once their half-naked bodies were grappled tightly together in sweat-slippery straining, there might even be a bonus prize, Allan chuckled to himself.