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  "Here we are," he announced, swinging open the door of the Victorian boudoir next to his office, and beckoning her inside. "I bet you've never been laid in a Gothic-style four poster before."

  "There's a first time for everything," Jaye murmured, and raked her fingernails down his bulging fly.

  Chris caught her to him in a fever of lust, moving his hands over her breasts, bottom, and thighs. He could feel her hot breath against his neck and the rigidness of her nipples through the fragile silk of her dress.

  "I want to suck you," she whispered, but he shook his head and pushed her back on the bed. His need was too urgent, and he wanted his hard cock inside her pussy above all else.

  Her feet, in their stiletto heels, remained firmly fixed on the floor, while he hitched up her skirt and pushed aside her panties. He unzipped himself and entered her at once.

  She gasped as his cock thrust inside her, and he felt the delectable grip of her sex muscles as they clamped around it like the jaws of a mastiff.

  "I won't last," he panted, and when she wound her legs around him for deeper penetration, her high-heels tapping against his butt, he went off like a rocket.

  Jaye lay back contentedly against the rather hard pillows and scrutinized the barley-twist posts and molded canopy. "So, who owned this monstrous old bed?" she asked.

  "Judge Absalom Percy, the same grim-faced old tyrant who built this house. He came from a rich industrialist family and was notorious for ordering floggings. So much so, in fact, that he became known as the flogging judge." "Yikes," she exclaimed in mock terror. "And those were the good old days?" Chris traced the line of her breast with his fingertips, delighting as the nipples

  stood erect at his touch. He licked them until her back arched with longing. "That glorious little man-trap between your legs is next," he promised hotly. When his tongue sought out her clit, he found it pebble hard and wet with secretions.

  Jaye was the first woman with whom he had ever felt comfortable enough to really let himself go sexually. There was a very special quality about her that went far deeper than physical beauty. For this would surely have intimidated rather than attracted him if not combined with a pleasant manner and caring nature. But it was her ultra sexy edge that drove him to distraction.

  An only child whose parents had divorced when he was four years old, Chris had been brought up by an overprotective mother and equally smothering aunt. Between them, they shielded him from the world while at the same time threatening him with it.

  "It really wasn't such a scary place, when I finally broke free," he explained to Jaye. "But my love life took a beating that it's only now recovering from." And with that he kissed her ravenously while pressing his cock hard against her to prove his point. * * * The Public Library was empty, save for a couple of teenage girls who giggled quietly in the biology section. Jaye browsed the stacks, feeling clammy from the heat of the day. She was interested in the history of the area, and especially if Judge Percy had anything to do with the Bell Island diggings. She would have asked Chris about that, if they hadn't gotten quite so involved with carnal delights in the Judge's bed. She smiled to herself, imagining the stern-faced Calvinist's reaction if he could have seen their torrid coupling.

  After checking out a couple of promising looking titles, she stopped by the grocery store for lemons and a few other purchases. She intended to make a frosty jug of fresh lemonade and relax on the porch with her books.

  However, fate had other plans in store for her as she approached the island. She met Brad Philips, who looked cool in a crisp blue shirt despite the humid weather.

  "Why don't you drive Adelaide's old car?" he asked, referring to the vintage Ford that was sequestered in the double garage. He looked surprised to see her on foot, and insisted on carrying her packages.

  "I do sometimes," Jaye explained, "but it's so beautiful around here, and I am something of a marathon walker."

  Brad revealed that he had come over for a weekend of salmon fishing, and to visit some old friends. He would be staying with Chris.

  "I grew up here," he explained, "but my family moved to Vancouver when I was still in high school."

  Jaye was wearing a skimpy cotton top with matching shorts, and suddenly became very aware of her body in relation to her nearness to Brad as she served tea and biscuits on the front porch. The man really did have a disturbing effect on her, she admitted with a sensual thrill. The old familiar stirrings were felt, despite her wholly satisfying relationship with Chris.

  "You appear to be beating the heat," he remarked as if sensing her interest. He eyed her scantily clad figure approvingly while biting into an Oreo cookie.

  A bee droned lazily around the hydrangeas, and in the distance a ship's horn boomed out a warning. They chatted about Pendle Harbor and its history, and Adelaide's determined quest for the Bell Island treasure. The sexual tension, meanwhile, built between them electrifying the air with its disturbing presence.

  Jaye was lubricated and ready. Her position on the wicker lawn chair increased her desire as it made the crotch of her shorts press firmly into her pussy.

  While Brad was crossing and uncrossing his legs, his handsome face flushed beneath silver streaked hair. She thought again of how distinguished he must look in his legal robes, and as he rose to leave he let his arm brush lightly against her breasts, sending a quiver through her rigid nipples.

  "You bastard, Brad," she cursed after he was gone. He left her to cope with a raging libido that would not be denied, although her condemnation was made in good humor. She did not really blame him for her current state of horny licentiousness, feeling just as reluctant as he to begin a sexual affair. She was, after all, fucking his oldest friend, and Brad was the attorney handling her great aunt's estate. Better not to mix business with pleasure, she decided stoically. Or to complicate matters by hurling Cupid's arrows at both him and Chris at the same time.

  She curled up on the bed in which Adelaide must have dreamed many times about finding treasure, and wound her legs around a body pillow, to which she had strapped her favorite dildo with the tickler on top.

  "Fuck me, baby, fuck me," she moaned, running her hands up and down the mock male and bringing herself off twice in rapid succession. * * * "We miss you," Joanna said, her voice sounding pleasantly close, with the busy sounds of computer repair obvious in the background. She had telephoned just as Jaye was getting absorbed in the life and times of Judge Percy. "Any idea when you'll be coming back?"

  The question, though perfectly natural, caught her off-guard. It drove home what she had been reluctant to admit even to herself. She was in no hurry to return to Toronto and the frenetic pace of running a thriving business. In fact, the very thought of leaving the island and never seeing it again filled her with panic. For like many before her, including her great aunt, she had fallen under the captivating spell of the place.

  "I'll be here longer than originally expected," she told her business partner, pointing to the vast amount of papers that Adelaide had left as one reason for the delay. "Meanwhile, just keep sending any orders you can't cope with to me, and I'll get them back to you ASAP."

  A Canadian sunset blazed flame on the western horizon, the curtain call for another broiling day. As if on cue, Jaye poked her feet into canvas runners and went out for her usual evening stroll.

  Judge Percy had not been directly involved with the Bell Island treasure hunt. But he had officiated on legal matters pertaining to it. And, as Jaye was learning, there had been plenty of those during the course of its history. Ownership of the island, and who had the right to dig there, being chief amongst them.

  Originally, it had been Crown property that had passed to private ownership with the Renfrew grant of 1762. This gave immigrants from the American Colonies the right to settle in what was then uninhabited wilderness. So when Nathaniel York had started the longest treasure hunt in history, on that muggy day in late July, Bell Island was already divided into several different lots.

&nbs
p; Although no one actually lived there until much later, the early settlers used it mainly as grazing land for cattle and logging it for timber.

  The Crown remained entitled to a share of any treasure found there until the British North America Act of 1867 assigned this Treasure Trove right to the individual provinces of Canada. What made early treasure hunters leery was that no set amount was stipulated. Just a vague sort of "at their pleasure" kind of clause that was unacceptable for those investing a large amount of time and money in the enterprise.

  Jaye was beginning to see why the theory of treasure found and secretly removed was so popular.

  "No bloody way," Angus had declared when she suggested as much to him. "With the diggings filling up with water at a hundred feet nothing could have been found."

  As Jaye wandered cautiously around the muddy labyrinth of abandoned pits, she pondered on whom was right.

  What was Judge Absalom Percy like in bed, too, she wondered with a snicker. Only his good wife knew that, and as she had dutifully borne him ten children he must not have been adverse to the pleasures of the flesh.

  His long, disdainful nose spoke volumes about the man's personality. And the pinched quality of his features indicated a miserly nature.

  There again, while not ordering some poor wretch thrashed, he might have frequented brothels and got up to all manner of taboo. Jaye was reminded of a former boyfriend, a big, burly professional ball player and business owner who asked her to dress him up in lingerie and scold him for being naughty. This was preparatory to having him bend across her lap, where she removed the little lace panties and spanked his bottom.

  Thinking of this now was a definite turn-on, she wondered if the Judge had been excited by the thought of beatings as well. Perhaps that's why he ordered so many from the bench?

  And there was indeed a bench, but of a different sort, on display in the cellar of Chris' Museum. This one was a whipping stool, where miscreants were bent over and secured before having their hindquarters severely thrashed.

  Sadie Biggs had been one of those unfortunates, sentenced by Judge Percy to a dozen lashes for drunkenness in a public place and soliciting males for purposes of prostitution.

  This was harsh punishment even for the times. There was an account in the local newspaper archives of how a matron from a benevolent society had comforted the distraught woman as she endured the scourging, which was administered by a female warden for decency's sake.

  There was no mention of her age, or whether the hapless Sadie was a comely wench or not. Neither did it state whether she had returned to her life of debauchery with a sorely striped bum. It was little personal details like that, Jaye decided, that would have made these dry historical accounts exciting.

  And because she was in a particularly frisky and mischievous mood, she visualized Judge Percy paying the flogged woman for her services just to admire the handiwork, which he himself had decreed.

  "That'll teach you to be a naughty girl," he admonished. "Getting inebriated and peddling your juicy cunt to all and sundry." Then he bent her across his lap and caressed her whipped buttocks before vigorously impaling her with his lance. "You never told me what side of the fence you are on?" Jaye said to Chris, as

  they ate a potluck supper in Adelaide's small kitchen. "Pro treasure or anti?" He laughed and pushed away his plate. "If by that you mean, do I believe there's a treasure there or not, I'm going to have to sit on the fence, rather than settle on either side of it." "So you're not sure?" "Well, there are pros and cons for both positions. Nathaniel York may have

  misinterpreted what he found on that fateful day." "But how could he misinterpret: one, a clearing in the woods with tree stumps; two, a large depression in the ground beneath a tree that had been left standing; and three, that tree's sawed off limb with a ship's tackle block still hanging from it?"

  "You've been doing your homework, congratulations," Chris laughed, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and stirring in sugar. "The tackle block may be something added in later accounts. As I've said before, Jaye, I can't imagine that anyone would go to such a gargantuan effort to hide treasure then leave their calling card so to speak vis-à-vis a tackle block."

  "But even supposing you are right, that still doesn't explain away the saucer shaped depression in the ground and the tree with the sawed off limb directly above it."

  "It could have been a sinkhole, which is a natural phenomenon caused by an underlying fault."

  "Okay, but there's no natural force that I know of that leaves several rotting tree stumps clumped together in a clearing and that saws off branches."

  "The early settlers to the region logged the island," Chris replied with a grin. "The branch may have been cut off for firewood, or for some other reason. Then, when York came upon the clearing with the depression in the ground, he immediately jumped to the treasure conclusion."

  "What about the stone?" Jaye demanded. "You cannot explain away an inscribed stone found tens of feet down in the ground."

  "But was it?" Chris responded. "According to the debunkers of the treasure theory, that was something planted by diggers to secure continued funding for their search."

  "Well I don't buy it," Jaye declared. "And I believe that if we could only find that stone, it would hold the key to where the treasure is buried."

  "But it's not so much where the treasure is," Chris explained. "We already know that, or at least think that we do. But rather, how to circumvent the flooding and get at it."

  And that was the most perplexing feature of the Bell Island treasure hunt. For when the original shaft was excavated to around a hundred feet, it immediately began to fill up with water.

  Subsequent shafts that were dug in the hope of tunneling through to the treasure pit and bypassing the flooding had to be quickly abandoned for the same reason.

  At first it was believed that this was a natural occurrence. But that was before a primitive drainage system was discovered on the north shore, with a suspected flood tunnel leading directly from the beach to the nether regions of the treasure pit.

  The conclusion was that whoever buried the treasure on Bell Island went to the extraordinary lengths of protecting his cache with the waters of Pendle Bay.

  "And how do you explain that away?" Jaye asked, referring to the artificial tunnel and drains. "I suppose the debunkers think that those occurred naturally as well?"

  "Actually they do," Chris admitted with a wry grin. "Natural water-carrying fissures. Which is, I'm loath to inform you, quite geologically possible under the circumstances."

  "Enough already," Jaye suddenly exclaimed, flashing Chris a come-hither look, as she rose from the table. "I mean to have my way with you tonight, and the sooner we get started the better."

  "Well, be my guest," he invited with a delighted expression. "I'm not about to resist."

  He followed her into the bedroom where she immediately assumed a dominant role. "I have something very special planned for you," she promised with an enigmatic expression. Wasting no time in stripping off his clothes, she bound his wrists and ankles to the bedposts with silk scarves.

  When he was bound to her satisfaction, she kneeled astride him, peeling her clothes off down to her panties. Grasping his head, she rubbed his mouth firmly over her armpits and breasts to give him her body scent.

  When she locked her legs around his neck and pressed her covered pussy on his mouth, Chris strained against the bonds, his face flushed with desire.

  Tantalizing and teasing, Jaye finally removed her panties and gave him the direct genital kiss. Brushing lightly at first over the outer lips, she opened up like a flower to allow him entry to the pistil.

  Ravel's Bolero played softly from the living room, and as it built in tempo, so did the intensity of their lovemaking. * * * Chris had never experienced this degree of excitement before; it was at once intensely thrilling and quite alarming. His whole body felt as if it were about to implode, such was the depth of his arousal. He had an overwhelming ur
ge to jerk free of his bonds and fuck this temptress within an inch of her life.

  Jaye continued to take her time, pleasuring him with her hands and tongue until he was on the verge of orgasm, then drawing back, before starting the process all over again.

  Her entire body became a sex toy as she pressed her foot against his crotch while teasing his nipples with her tongue and lips.

  Chris longed for release, yet paradoxically never wanted this intoxicating clamor of the senses to end. And when it finally did, when Jaye allowed him to reach orgasm at last, he thought that the wild pumping contractions would never subside.

  "But even if there was treasure here to start with," Jaye said, tossing some books off the porch chair so Angus could sit down. "That doesn't mean that it's still here now."

  "Och, I can see you've been listening to the naysayers and debunkers," he retorted impatiently. "Of course the treasure is still here."

  Jaye swatted at a mosquito hovering around her arm and watched a small plane leave a plumy trail across the cloudless sky. "I listen to both sides," she replied shortly, "before making up my mind."

  "And what conclusions have you come to?" Angus asked with a wryness that was not lost on Jaye. His bulbous eyes were intense beneath bristling brows.

  "I believe that there was treasure buried on the island. But I'm not so sure that it hasn't been removed."

  Before he had a chance to interrupt, she explained her reasons for feeling that way. "Early searchers had no incentive to admit they had found it. When by so doing, it would have immediately been forfeited by the Crown or Province."

  "You have a point there, lassie, when speaking of treasure finds anywhere but on Bell Island. But here, nobody could dig past a hundred feet before the shafts filled up with seawater."

  "And how can you be sure that no-one else removed it before reaching that depth?"

  "Well that's quite simple. Nathaniel York, who discovered the treasure pit in the first place, was forced to stop digging because of the flooding. And he returned to it again just as soon as he had raised enough money for pumps and a better equipped crew."