The Engagement Party-Part 1 By Wanderer Frank meets his roommate's sister, Janice "The Engagement Party" continues the story of Frank, his sister Maddy, and Frank's college roommate, Jim, whose full name is James Pettigrew Witherington III. You may like to read the first stories in this series before reading this one, if you haven't done so. They are "Who's In the Closet Now?" and "We're Back In the Closet Again," and they can be found in the Wanderer bookshelf. This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental. Copyright 2001 by Wanderer I stepped off the plane and retrieved my luggage and headed for the cab stand to get a taxi to take me to the Witherington estate. I had flown here from my home in the west for the engagement announcement party of my sister to James Pettigrew Witherington III. I was sure every cab driver would know where that was because the Witherington family was so prominent in this town. There was the Witherington Library, the Witherington Hospital, the Witherington Museum, and on and on. But before I got outside I heard a voice over my shoulder. "Master Frank?" it inquired. Who the hell was that, I thought, nobody knows me here. I turned to see an elegant gentleman in very formal attire, flanked by another man in what seemed to be a chauffeur's uniform, cap and all. "Yes?" I responded, "do you know me?" "Of course we do, sir. Master Jim made sure to acquaint us with your appearance, and he left us with a photograph of you to be sure that we could properly identify you. I am one of the valets on staff, a personal manservant if you will, and I am to be your personal attendant during your visit. My name is Farnsworth, and Gunther here is one of our chauffeurs, assigned to transport you to any desired location you might wish to visit during your stay with us. Your vehicle awaits you, sir." Well, I could get used to this for sure. "OK, let's go," I said. Bending down and gripping my two bags I started for the exit gate. Both men looked horrified. "Oh, goodness, no, sir, you are to do no manual labor while you are here, that would be inhospitable of us." Farnsworth motioned to Gunther, and Gunther quickly took my bags from me and we and we proceeded out the exit doors of the baggage area, followed by the curious stares of passersby, as if I were some visiting royalty or something. Yes, I could definitely get used to this. Needless to say, the car, which just happened to be a Rolls Royce, was parked right at the curb, not in some distant parking lot, and it was being watched over by one of the local police, to shoo away any curious riffraff. You see, I was beginning to think rich already. The chauffeur opened the rear door for me and I stepped in to find a waiting bouquet of flowers and a chilled bottle of champagne awaiting me, Roederer Cristal, vintage year. I was about to open it when Farnsworth, the valet, said, "Oh, please sir, let me accommodate you," and he very professionally removed the cork, with the slightest pop, and poured me a sampling for my approval. I made a great show of rolling a bit of the bubbly liquid around in my mouth, and I said "It will do," and he seemed quite pleased as he filled my glass. Yes, I could definitely get used to this lifestyle. We drove maybe a half hour from the airport to the gated Witherington estate, and there a guard passed us through with a nod to Farnsworth and Gunther and a respectful hand salute to me. We drove up to a most magnificent Colonial style two story building and I prepared to get out of the car, but we drove right past it. I was at a loss. Were they going to put me up in the garage or something? Later I learned that magnificent building was only the guest cottage, and we continued driving for maybe another half mile until we stopped under a magnificent portico. I stepped out of the Rolls Royce and looked up-and up, and up. My jaw just dropped open. I was stunned, I was speechless. So this is what it's like to be rich. This was the home of James Pettigrew Witherington III, my college roommate and the man my sister was engaged to. As the brother of the fiancee I was to be an honored guest, and especially so because not only was I Jim's college roommate, I was also to be his best man. I was being honored by being put up in the main house with the Witherington family instead of in the guest quarters. But when I saw this opulent estate, a sign of the luxurious excess my sister was marrying into, I blessed my sister over and over again. As Maddy's brother and Jim's new brother-in- law, I knew my place in the Witherington Fortune 500 family was now assured. All my dreams of wealth, power, social position and opulence were now about to come true. "Oh, bless you, Maddy, bless you for your captivating beauty, your vivaciousness, and yes, even your powerful body that Jim found so fascinating and that I think had tipped the scales in their relationship. I entered through the towering doorway and was amazed at what I saw. Huge marble entry hall, double staircase ascending to the second floor, and the entire staff seemed to be gathered to greet me. A quick estimate told me maybe twenty people, valets, butlers, maids, chambermaids, guards, and it didn't even include the cooks, gardeners, or the other chauffeurs, one for each member of the family. They all seemed smiling and happy. I guess Jim was one of their favorites, since there were only two children in the family, and, as the brother of the bride to be, they seemed very happy to welcome me. Farnsworth escorted me to my room on the second floor. Well, I call it a room but it was actually a suite. There was an elegant bedroom, a sitting room, a library room paneled in walnut with one of those traditional high backed chairs with red leather upholstery and those gold type nails all around the perimeter. A smoking jacket was laid out over the chair and there was a humidor with Cuban cigars on the lamp stand next to the chair. In one corner stood a liquor cart with elegant Napoleon brandies, Courvoisier, single malt scotches, thank goodness I was old enough to drink! The bathroom had a Jacuzzi in it big enough to swim laps in, and there was a dressing closet as big as my entire bedroom back home. Curious, I examined all the clothing. Whose was it? And everything in it was my size. Then all of a sudden it hit me-these were mine! The clothes in this closet were mine to use! And take, I suppose, if I wanted to. Elegant Italian leather shoes, suits from Saville Row, Armani suits and sport clothes, no need to bring my own clothes from home! That devil Jim, my college roommate, had copied down all my clothes sizes and faxed them to the home office and arrangements had been made to see that I was suitably attired! Yes, I could definitely adjust to this. I sat down on the edge of the bed and I removed one shoe and sock, pondering my good fortune, and looking down at my toes wiggling in the luxurious high tufted carpet. I became aware of a pair of brown leather boots, highly polished, standing there in front of me. Slowly I looked up and saw that there was a body connected to the boots, wearing a pair of jodhpurs, those elegant riding breeches, a riding crop in the right hand, a beautiful tailored riding jacket, and then a rather small but nevertheless impressive bust line topped by an elegant face framed by cascading dark brown hair. I kind of just sat there with my mouth open. I mean, what do you say, "Who the hell are you?" So I waited for her to speak, and she did. "I'm sorry," she said, "but the door was open and I observed you sitting there, and I was curious as to who you are. You seem very young to be occupying this room. Ordinarily it is reserved for presidents, heads of state, potentates, significant religious figures, very special people. Usually most guests stay in the guest house. Who are you?" "Who the hell is she?" I thought, but as a guest I decided to be polite. "I'm Frank, the brother of Maddy, the fiancee of James Pettigrew Witherington III," I responded, "I'm an invited guest here." "Oh, of course," she said, "mummy and daddy told me to expect you, I had forgotten that today was to be the day of your arrival." As she spoke, I reached down to remove my second shoe. Maybe it was impolite, but my toes felt cramped, these were new shoes bought for the occasion and it felt good to get them off my aching feet. But all of a sudden I felt the riding crop under my chin and my head was forcibly elevated. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you," she ordered me, "I'm curious to see what you look like." Well, that got my dander up. I pulled the riding crop away from my chin and she immediately smacked me on my left cheek with it. Boy, did that sting! "I wasn't finished looking at you," she said. "Now wait just a God damn min--" I started, but then she smacks me very hard on my right cheek with the riding crop and she says, "Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking!" Now I had a dilemma. I want to get up and smack her, but she is the only daughter of the Witherington family and it probably wasn't a good idea to antagonize her. If I want a job with the Family's Fortune 500 company it won't help is she's angry with me, so I decide to play it her way. "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry," I say, contritely. "That's better," she says, "I don't want to hurt you, but I'm used to people obeying me. You may call me Janice, rather than Ms. Witherington, and since you are soon to be a member of the family, although a rather distant member, if I find you satisfactory I may someday give you permission to use a more familiar term and call me Jan, but until I give you that permission you are to refer to me as Janice. Do you understand?" Hell, I'm thinking to myself, she's just as bossy and pushy as her brother, that is until my sister Maddy took him down a few pegs. "Yes, ma'am, er--Janice," I respond. "Stand up!" she orders me, and for emphasis she puts her riding crop under my chin again and literally forces me to rise. "What a bitch!" I'm thinking to myself. Now I'm six feet tall, but she's looking me squarely in the eyes, I may even be looking up a little, but I've taken my shoes off and she's wearing her boots, so I figure maybe she's about 5' 10" or so. Now that makes her taller than my 5' 6" sister, but she's much slimmer than Maddy, not nearly the sturdy build of my sister, and she doesn't have Maddy's muscles either. I'm not afraid of this Janice like I am of my muscular sister, but I figure I'd better play it cool if I'm to become a part of this family and hopefully their big company. While she's looking me over I'm looking her over. I feel like she's measuring me, evaluating me, pros and cons, I feel like a piece of meat in a butcher shop. I'm thinking she's awfully pretty, fine delicate features, full lips, lovely hair cascading to her shoulders, a very appealing bosom, slim, man, I could really go for this broad if she weren't so bitchy. She snapped me out of my reveries by saying to me, "You'll do for what I have in mind. Come to the horse barn this afternoon at 2:00 P.M. Your valet will show you the way (MY valet, wow!). Be prompt, I don't tolerate lateness." She turned on her heel to leave. I had hoped to relax before dinner and my first meeting with father and mother Witherington II, I was tired from the long plane trip from my home out west to Jim's east coast home. I had to arise at 3:00 A.M., the plane had been delayed on take off, delayed on landing, and I was plainly tired. "But---" I started to say. Janice whirled and gave me a vicious slap across the face with the riding crop. I was stunned. "What did you say to me?" she asked. "Don't ever start a sentence to me with 'but,' I won't tolerate it! You're to be at the horse barn at 2:00 P.M. and that's final!" she said, an extremely sharp edge to her voice. I lowered my head and uttered a very demure "Yes'm, er--yes, Janice." What was the matter with me? I felt like some kind of puny fool. I was taller than she was. I must outweigh her by fifty pounds, at least. But I felt thoroughly cowed. Was it the authority in her voice? It was like she wasn't used to being disobeyed, or even challenged. "That's better," she said. "You may be a quick learner. I think we're going to get along just fine." She turned and left the room, snapping her riding crop sharply several times against her riding pants as she did so. For some reason the sound of the leather snapping against her leg sent chills up and down my spine, I didn't know why. I pondered the situation. I wanted to help ease Maddy's acceptance into the Witherington family, I wanted a high position with the family's company now that I have my MBA degree. Janice was a very attractive girl, maybe we could be good friends. There might even be marriage down the road-that would certainly cement my position in the Witherington family company, and I could share in their billions, but what was the girl's problem? She seemed to have a mean streak-a very mean streak. She was only eighteen years old, and I'm twenty-three, she was tall but slim, like I said I must outweigh her by at least fifty pounds, and yet somehow I'm afraid of her. Her and her damn riding crop! But I resolved to play along and see where it took me. So at 2:00 o'clock I made my appearance at the horse barn, and promptly, too. Janice was already there, waiting for me. "I'm glad you're on time, that's very important to me," she said. "I abhor being kept waiting. My groom has saddled a horse for you, we're going for a ride so I can discuss my plans for you." "Oh, no," I said, "I don't ride, never been on a horse in my life! I don't deal with anything bigger than me, I'm afraid it might eat me!" Immediately I felt an enormous aching pain in my groin. The pointed toe of Janice's heavy leather boot had smashed into my balls and I didn't know what hit me except that I was experiencing excruciating pain. I doubled over and was in the process of sinking to the ground when I felt myself being lifted bodily off the ground by my belt and thrown across Janice's saddle, face down. Unable to move, I was in so much pain, I could only lie across the saddle of Janice's horse and watch the ground go by as she turned the horse and headed it out of the barn and corral and into the woods behind the Witherington mansion. The ground passed rapidly before my eyes and that was all I could see. Then horse, rider and dead weight (me) would rise into the air as Janice jumped a fence or a hedge with a shout of "eeee-yaaahhh." Was this what it was like when the Valkyries carried the dead heroes of a battle to Valhalla? I must ask Diana. Only I didn't feel like a hero. I didn't like horses and I didn't like dying to prove a point. Then I heard Janice admonish me. "Don't ever say no to me Frank, it's not a request when I tell you something to do, and it's not open for debate. I may couch it in polite terms in case anyone is listening, but I assure you it's an order, not a request-do you understand me?" "Y--yes," I mumbled. "I can't hear you, Frank," I heard Janice say, followed by a tremendous pain to my tail bone as Janice viciously smashed me with her whip. "Yes! Yes!" I yelped. "Please, Janice, I'm really hurting, please stop!" I begged. This young eighteen year old girl was destroying me, a male five years her senior, and I didn't know why. It was more than I could stand. I had come here expecting to be treated like a king, the brother of the bride to be, and here I was being treated like some kind of criminal. Tears of disappointment and frustration began to roll down my cheeks and then on to Janice's riding pants, and, I'm afraid, staining them. She raised my face up by pulling on my hair, and she gazed into my tear filled eyes. "Oh, poor baby," she mocked me, "I've made you cry." Then she struck me with her leather whip across the bridge of my nose. The pain was so awful I passed out into blissful unconsciousness. End of Part 1 In part 2 Janice reveals to Frank what she has in mind for him.