Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Rose by Salem (MF FF mc nc viol hist cheat)
Summary: After being kidnapped, Rose's behavior takes a strange turn.

   *If you have anything to say about my story, I'd like to hear it.*

   *w_itchtrial@hotmail.com*

   Chapter One

   Wearing a lovely red evening gown and high heels, Rose Matheson made her
way up a staircase in her ritzy mansion.  As she slid her hand over the
ornate, ebony banister, it cast shadows from the moonlight on her satin
skirt.  She was quite pleased with herself, and she made no attempt to hide
it.

   In spite of the frightful Minnesota winter, Rose's gala had been a
smashing success.  Even Walter had seemed in good spirits, though he
retired to private chambers well before the party drew to a close.  Lately,
her husband had been out of sorts.  She hoped that the current economic
situation had not hurt business, but it was hardly her place to worry about
such things.

   To say that Rose was easy on the eye would have been an understatement.
Aside from a beautiful figure, she had wavy blonde hair and dark, alluring
eyes.  She had been properly trained in social graces, and she was not
without her charms.  Like any other Fairmont, Rose knew how to get what she
wanted.  Three years ago, what she had wanted was Walter.

   At twenty-one, Rose had been seven years younger than Walter, but her
parents had fully supported the engagement.  The couple represented the two
wealthiest families in Minneapolis, even if Walter was essentially nouveau
riche.  His grandfather had been a common pharmacist, a stigma that was
difficult to escape in their social circles.

   Only Rose's grandfather had truly disapproved of her fiancé, though,
snorting in contempt as if he could smell the bourgeoisie in his blood.  To
this day, he would not recognize Walter as a member of the family, despite
her husband's dedication to both family and business.  This saddened Rose,
but she knew to treat her grandfather with respect.  He was the patriarch
of the Fairmonts, after all.

   As Rose drifted gracefully down the dark hallway toward her bedroom, she
glanced over the family portraits that lined the walls.  Her heritage was
of great importance to her, and she could only hope that she would live up
to the proud Fairmont name.  If nothing else, she had earned admiration for
her skills as hostess.

   At the end of the hallway, Rose paused and slowly turned around.  She
had felt as if she were being watched, but there was not a soul in sight.
If the last few weeks were any indication, she would find Walter in bed,
fast asleep.  Amused by her own skittish behavior, she opened the bedroom
door and stepped inside.

   Something soft but firm clamped over her mouth, startling her.  Before
she could think to pull away, her vision began to blur.  Rose soon fell
limply into waiting arms.



   "This was a bad idea, Paul." Russell Hatcher paced back and forth across
the cramped bedroom, sporting a five o'clock shadow.  He was dressed in
pants, suspenders and a dirty undershirt.  In the corner, "Happy Days are
Here Again" was issuing from Margaret's tinny tube radio.  "I shouldn't
have let you talk me into this."

   His older brother was crouched against the wall, his head bowed.  Under
the circumstances, Paul felt surprisingly calm.  It seemed to him that the
worst part was over.  "I think you need a drink, Russ."

   Russell grinned nervously.  "Why did you take her purse?  Just tell me
that."

   Paul looked up at him with perfect composure.  "We don't know that much
about her.  She might have needed special medicine, and it's not like we
could have gone back for it."

   Russell sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed.  "Well?  Did you
find any medicine?"

   "No.  Lots of perfume, though." Paul had no idea why any woman would
need so much perfume.  As he saw it, the upper class were a breed apart. 
"Look, just relax.  Everything's going according to plan, so let's not lose
our heads."

   Margaret entered the room, her arms crossed.  She had curly brown hair,
and she was wearing an old and worn black flapper dress.  "I just found our
guest gagged and tied to a chair.  My god, Paul."

   Paul stood up and placed his hands on his wife's arms, rubbing them
gently.  "Margaret, this is what happens when you kidnap someone.  Now
we've talked about this.  She won't be here for long."

   She shook her head wearily, staring into his eyes.  "Is that supposed to
make it okay?  She's probably terrified right now, and she can't even move
or talk.  She did nothing to deserve this."

   Russell laughed.  "How do you figure?  A rich snob who lives in her
perfect little world and never lifts a finger for anyone...I say let her be
scared."

   Margaret glanced at him, and then her eyes returned to Paul.  "I didn't
want any of this.  You know that.  This is your plan, and I've given up on
trying to stop you.  But I won't have some poor woman tied up in my living
room."

   Paul hesitated.  "A living room you won't have when the bank finally
forecloses on us." He pulled her close and kissed her.  "I'm doing this for
you.  The way things are, this is the only way I can provide for you."

   She rubbed her nose against his.  "I know, Paul.  But if you don't untie
her, I will."

   "Dammit!" Russell stood up and began pacing again.  "You could have said
something earlier, Margaret.  What exactly are we supposed to do?  Just
hand ourselves over to the police?" Leaning against the dresser, he closed
his eyes and massaged his forehead.  "Maybe I do need a drink."

   Paul sighed, his eyes on the floor.  Then he looked at Margaret.  "Okay,
look.  I'll talk to her, see how it goes.  Maybe we can work something
out."

   Russ lay down the bed and took a deep breath.  "I'm telling you, this
was a bad idea."



   If not for the woman in the dining room chair, Paul's living room would
have seemed ordinary, even dull.  Rose was sitting perfectly erect, her
wrists and ankles bound to the chair by rope.  She had clean rags stuffed
in her mouth, and she still smelled of fine perfume.  Russell's hunting
rifle was leaning against the wall, fully loaded.  He claimed that it would
help keep Rose under control, but it only made Paul more nervous.

   As Paul knelt down in front of Rose, she made no attempt to move, and
her beautiful brown eyes seemed quite calm.  *Maybe we're the only ones who
are terrified.* He glanced uncertainly at Russell, who was sitting on an
arm of the sofa, and then he began.

   "Okay, listen to me, Mrs.  Matheson.  We're not going to hurt you.  I'll
take the gag out of your mouth, but only if you agree to stay calm.  Can
you do that?" She nodded, and he removed the rags.

   Rose looked the two brothers over, her expression almost curious.  When
she spoke, she did so with poise and articulation.  "Don't the poor in this
town have any manners?  This is hardly the way to treat a lady."

   Paul sighed.  "It was a matter of necessity, Mrs.  Matheson.  We're
thinking about untying you, but you have to be on your best behavior.  No
running away, no trying to get help.  You stay in this house until we get
the ransom from your husband.  Don't cause any trouble, and everything
should go smoothly for all of us."

   Rose rolled her eyes.  "I am a lady of refinement, and I can certainly
behave myself.  Besides, my husband will spare no expense for me, so this
is little more than an inconvenience.  Though I do hope to attend the
masquerade ball tomorrow night.  It would be quite the faux pas if I were
not to make an appearance."

   Russell smirked.  "A masquerade ball, huh?  Don't you rich people have
anything better to do with your time?"

   Ignoring his brother, Paul shook his head.  "I'm afraid that's out of
the question, Mrs.  Matheson."

   Rose nodded thoughtfully, a twitch of a smile playing on her lips. 
"That really is a shame, regardless of what your uncouth friend may
believe. No self-respecting socialite would dare to miss such an event. 
Not that someone like him could ever understand.  A man who fails to put on
clean attire when expecting company deserves his lot in life."

   Russell stood and glared at her.  "Hey, I'm not the one who's attending
fancy parties while people everywhere go hungry.  We're in a depression
right now, but maybe you failed to notice that from the comfort of your
cushy mansion."

   She tilted her head toward him.  "If you hold my way of life in such low
regard, then why are you so interested in Walter's money?  Perhaps you are
jealous, because my husband succeeds where you have failed.  An ambitious
man would clean himself up and find a job, rather than looking for
handouts."

   Russell's eyes widened.  "There are no jobs, Lady.  And I feel sorry for
your husband, if he has to listen to your bullshit all the time."

   Rose slowly shook her head.  "Such language hardly makes for proper
first impressions.  Besides, you would love the opportunity to court me.  I
can see it in your eyes.  You realize that you are beneath me, though, and
it makes you angry."

   He laughed, but Paul could see how furious he really was.  "Oh, I
wouldn't mind being beneath you, Rose.  But underneath the expensive
perfume and the fancy clothes, I bet you're nothing but a cocktease."

   Paul glared at him.  "Russ, don't start." *He's going to make this
impossible.*

   Rose narrowed her eyes.  "You simple, vulgar man.  You are in the
presence of a lady, and yet you speak as if a colored sailor on shore
leave."

   Russell approached her, fuming, but Paul stood up and grabbed him by the
arm.  "Just step outside, Russ.  Get some fresh air.  I'll handle this."
After a moment, Russ turned and headed toward the kitchen.

   Paul knelt down behind Rose and began cutting the ropes with his
pocketknife.  His fingers brushed against hers, and he felt a light
stirring in his pants.  There was no denying that Rose Matheson was a
beautiful woman.  "This is just for a few days, so try not to argue with
Russ.  You'll be sharing the bedroom with my wife, Margaret."

   Smiling politely, she rose from the chair and turned to face him. 
"Well, at least one of my captors is a gentleman.  You must be the man of
the house."



   Margaret was lying on her bed in a sheer gray nightgown, one that fit
snugly over her ample chest.  In her hands was a tattered, old romance
novel.  She had read it at least a dozen times over the years, but she
never tired of it.  The radio was now off, and she was reading intently.

   Rose sat daintily at the foot of the bed, brushing her luxurious blonde
hair.  She studied Margaret's book with a frown.  "Why do you read that? 
It's old and trashy."

   Margaret glanced at the other woman and sighed.  "I don't know.  I guess
I like to forget about my problems for a while." She wondered if Rose had
ever had a real problem.

   The silence seemed heavy between them.  After a moment, Rose smiled
sweetly at her.  "You're very pretty, you know."

   Margaret grinned.  "Thank you.  So are you, but I guess you hear that a
lot."

   Rose's eyes grew distant, but she continued to pass the brush through
her hair.  "You remind me of someone I once knew.  Her name was Virginia,
and we were good friends.  Her hair was red, but you could be sisters."

   Curious, Margaret set the book aside and sat up.  "Where is she now?"

   Rose looked away, frowning.  "She went missing, and they never found
her." Then she bowed her head.  "She was a lovely girl."

   Margaret sighed and moved closer, placing her hand on Rose's.  "I'm
sorry.  About this, I mean.  I promise you that nothing bad will happen to
you.  Paul's not like that."

   Rose smiled at her.  "I'm not afraid.  Your husband is a gentleman. 
He'll take me home soon enough."



   "Oh, such dreadful news." Rose's mother slipped the ransom note back
into its envelope and handed it to Walter.  "She'll miss the masquerade
ball.  What will people say?"

   Walter nodded thoughtfully.  "Since it is a masquerade, perhaps we could
simply tell everyone that she was there." They were in his private study, a
pleasant heat pouring from the large, stone fireplace.  He had visited the
banks earlier, and the chilly December air was almost as dismaying as the
rabble that crowded the streets.

   Her face brightened.  "Yes, that should work...oh, but this is so silly.
If these men want money, they should work for it, like your grandfather
did." She frowned and shook her head.  "Now where are my manners?  I didn't
mean to suggest that your family was poor."

   He smiled, in spite of himself.  "That's quite all right, Mrs. 
Fairmont. Actually, there's something else, something I wanted to ask of
you.  Here, have a seat." He pulled his desk chair out for her.

   "Please, Walter.  Call me Alice." She adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and
gracefully sat down.

   Walter nodded.  "If it pleases you.  Alice...after looking over my
finances, it would seem that I'm somewhat short on the ransom money.  Since
the market crash, I've been saving money as much as I can, but keeping up
appearances alone is so very costly.  I hope you understand."

   She smiled and patted his hand.  "Of course, of course.  Why would the
poor buy medicine when they can't even dress themselves properly?  It must
be very hard on you."

   "Yes, I'm afraid it is.  I really do hate to ask this of you, especially
given your father's opinion of me..."

   Alice stood up, her expression firm.  "Say no more.  I'll not have you
beg, Walter Matheson.  You may expect the full amount of the ransom
tomorrow afternoon, three at the latest.  Just bring my daughter back as
soon as possible."

   He smiled gratefully.  "Thank you, Alice.  Rose is lucky to have a
mother like you."

   As he escorted her out of the study, she faced him again.  "Oh, and
don't involve the police, Walter.  We wouldn't want a scandal, now would
we?"

   Walter shook his head.  "Certainly not."



   The first two days had gone better than Paul could have anticipated. 
Russell and Rose generally kept their distance from each other, and his
wife had actually made friends with the woman.  Rose did not cause any
trouble or complain much at all, even if she regarded her surroundings with
obvious, though unexpressed, disdain.

   Night had fallen, and Paul and Russ were playing blackjack at the dining
room table.  Paul smiled and flipped his down card over, the revealed ace
giving him twenty and the win.  "Someday, Russ, you might want to learn how
to play."

   Russell did not respond, his eyes fixed on something behind his brother.
After a moment, Paul turned in his chair, and then his eyes grew wide. 
Rose was undressing in plain sight of them.

   She carefully slipped off her evening gown, not allowing it to touch the
floor.  Underneath was a see-through, lacy black slip that did not quite
cover her step-in panties, as well as sheer stockings and black garters. 
Staring at her long, sexy legs, Paul found himself entertaining thoughts of
infidelity.  He blushed and turned back to his cards, his cock stiff.

   Russ, on the other hand, seemed unable to look away.  As his lustful
gaze shifted across the room, curiosity got the better of Paul, and he
glanced at Rose again.  She was now sitting on a stool by the far wall,
holding her satin gown up with both hands.  Her black silk brassiere was
lying on a nearby chest, and Paul realized that she had just bared her
breasts in front of Russell.

   Rose calmly looked over at Paul.  "It would seem that my dress has been
soiled.  I would give it to Margaret, but I can't imagine that she knows
how to wash something of this quality."

   Paul swallowed and nodded.  "If you need something to wear, I'm sure
Margaret has some dresses she'd let you borrow."

   Rose smiled as she neatly set the gown aside.  "You're too kind, Paul,
but I will be retiring soon enough." She reached down and began to unfasten
her garters, flashing her breasts in the process.

   Russell shook his head, grinning.  "Need any help with those?" Paul
glared at him, but he did not seem to notice.

   Rose threw him a disapproving glance, but then her face relaxed.  As
they watched, she slipped a silk stocking down her leg.  "I am a lady, and
a married one at that.  I do not engage in such tawdry behavior, Russell."
She lay the stocking on the gown and moved on to the other leg.  Paul could
see the shadow of a smile on her face.

   Russ laughed and then leaned over the table.  "Have you ever seen a
piece of ass like that?" he whispered in Paul's ear.

   Paul shook his head, but he was no longer looking at Rose.  With growing
dread, he was staring at something just a couple of feet behind her. 
Russell had left his rifle leaning on the wall, well within their hostage's
reach.  Paul's pistol was unloaded and locked away in a drawer, and there
were no other guns in the house.

   Thinking fast, Paul stood up and forced a smile.  "Rose...could you
please come over here for just a second?"

   Rose's smile widened, and she appeared to be the model of innocence. 
"Of course, Paul." After setting the second stocking on the pile of
clothes, she stood and approached them.  "Was there something that you
needed?"

   Paul stepped around Rose to retrieve the gun, the scent of her perfume
further enticing him.  Russell looked her over, grinning lecherously. 
"There's something I need, Rose."

   Rose rolled her eyes, but her smile never dimmed.  "A lady does not
entertain such vulgar advances, Russell.  Do contain your baser impulses in
the future."

   She turned gracefully and eyed the rifle in Paul's hands, while Russell
got a better look at her ass.  "Is that why you called me?  Don't be silly,
Paul.  I am a lady of refinement.  I would never use a man's weapon, even
if I knew how.  Besides, I will behave myself, as I already told you.  I do
wish that you would trust me."

   Paul glanced at Russell, who was still enjoying the show, and then he
sighed.  "Rose, I think you should go to bed.  We'll talk more in the
morning, after you've dressed."

   Rose nodded.  "Then it's settled." She stepped forward and kissed Paul
on the cheek.  Her body was inches from his, and his cock grew hard. 
"Goodnight, Paul.  Goodnight, Russell.  Pleasant dreams." She turned and
headed for the bedroom.

   Paul sat down again, shaking his head in disbelief.  "What the hell was
that?"

   Russell grinned.  "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.  Can we keep
her?"

   Frowning, Paul leaned over the table.  "Leaving the gun there was
stupid, Russ.  Until this is over, you have to be smarter than that.  We
have to be very careful.  Okay?"

   Russell nodded and began to pick up the cards.  "Yeah, okay.  But you
can't tell me you didn't enjoy that."



   The December wind had fallen still, and the sky was clear of snow.  Paul
found Margaret on the porch swing, staring up at the stars, and he joined
her.  They held hands for a while, the silence broken only by the
occasional passing car.  Then she smiled at him.  "Are they asleep in
there?"

   Paul sighed and shook his head.  "Rose went to bed, but Russ got the
Scotch out again." He managed a smirk.  "This would be easier if he was out
chasing girls."

   Margaret grimaced.  "He should know better, Paul.  With Rose here..."
She rested her head on his shoulder.  "Things aren't getting any easier.  I
worry so much.  And I like her.  I didn't expect that.  I didn't think I
would feel this guilty."

   He squeezed her hand.  "This is my responsibility, not yours.  And it's
just one more night.  Rose...she'll be fine.  She'll go back to her mansion
and her parties.  She'll forget all about it."

   Margaret looked down at her lap, frowning.  "And then we have to leave
the country.  Leave everything behind, just like that." She shook her head.
"I don't know, Paul.  I know things haven't been easy lately, but this...I
just don't know."

   Paul kissed her on the ear.  "It won't be so bad.  And we'll come back
someday.  This whole thing might just blow over."

   She stared into his eyes.  "Paul, this is my home.  Not just the house,
but Minneapolis.  America.  I don't know anything else."

   He gently kissed her, stroking her hair.  "I know.  I wish it didn't
have to be this way." Then he smiled.  "Let's dance.  Like we used to."

   Margaret grinned and rolled her eyes.  "Paul, there's no music."

   "I'll take care of that." Paul stood up and extended his hand to his
wife.  After a moment, she let him lead her to the center of the porch.  He
pulled her close to him and began to sing at a high whisper.  "Button up
your overcoat, when the wind is free..." Paul spun her around, and she
giggled.  "Take good care of yourself, you belong to me..."

   Margaret kissed him, and then she laughed.  "I love you, you goof."



   It was Rose's last day at the Hatcher residence.  She slipped into the
bedroom and watched Russell quietly, her eyes lingering over his muscular,
working class body.  He was in his undershirt again, and his suspenders
hung loose.  *They're so much hotter than the rich boys.  They're strong,
and they're hard, and they know how to make a girl come.*

   She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  *I am a proper lady.  I am
married, and I love my husband.  I should not be thinking such vulgar
things.  And I certainly should not be considering them.* She tried to
ignore the growing sensation between her legs, but it was hard to resist.
With every second, being a proper lady seemed less and less appealing.

   "The Depression has struck the major league today, as owners have voted
to limit teams to twenty-three players.  In other news-"

   Russell shut the radio off, and then he turned around.  He grinned and
looked her over.  "Hey.  You're all dolled up again.  I thought you said
the dress was dirty."

   She smiled seductively and leaned back against the dresser, fingering a
strap of her gown.  "Maybe I like being dirty..." *Stop it, Rose.  Stop it
this instant.  What will people think?*

   Now that she thought about it, Rose did not really care what people
would think.  She wondered why she had ever cared in the first place.  Did
she love her husband?  If so, he seemed strangely distant to her at the
moment.  Right now, all that she could think about was falling into bed
with this stud.  She glanced at his crotch and was pleased with what she
found.

   "And maybe I like you dirty." Russ approached her, coming so close that
she expected him to kiss her.  Instead, he lifted the Scotch bottle and
shot glass from the dresser.  He poured a shot and offered it to her. 
*Alcohol is contraband, Rose.  You have to obey the law.*

   Rose accepted the drink, and then she downed it.  Tossing the glass
aside, she grabbed Russell by the neck and french kissed him.  *I'm not a
proper lady.  They can't tell me what to do.* She pushed him away, grinning
wildly.  "You're right.  I should not be wearing such a dirty dress.  You'd
better be a good boy and take it off of me."

   Russell fell against Rose, his mouth colliding with hers as he slipped
the gown off.  Kissing her neck, he ran his hands over the waist of her
slip.  He slid it upward, baring her midsection, and then his fingers crept
into her silky panties.  She moaned and hugged him to her, savoring the
heat coming off of him.  Then she pushed him away and lifted herself onto
the dresser.  "The stockings too, Russell."

   While Russell unfastened the garters, Rose stared down at him in lust.
She could see the hunger in his eyes, but she wanted him to work for it. 
Slowly, seductively, she pulled the slip over the top of her head.

   Russ carefully peeled the stockings off, and she let him kiss and caress
her soft, bare legs.  His face wandered to the front of her panties, with
no complaints on her part.  Meanwhile, she slipped out of her brassiere and
dangled it playfully over him.  "Like anything you see?" She grinned and
threw it to the floor.

   Russell kissed up Rose's body to her breasts, and she fingered herself
as he sucked on her nipples.  After a moment, he picked her up and tossed
her onto the bed.  She moaned and fondled her crotch, sliding her bare feet
over the bedspread.

   While he undressed, Rose slipped her panties off and kicked them at him.
She was still wearing the garter belt when he climbed on top of her.  He
began to ram into her, his muscular body pressed against hers, and she
moaned and bit him on the shoulder.

   Finally, Rose screamed out in orgasm.  She kissed him passionately,
running her fingers through his dusky hair.  She already wanted it again,
but she was not surprised when he came inside her with a grunt.

   Russell kissed her on the breast, and then he rolled off of her and
headed for the dresser.  She stood up and followed him, grinning
seductively.  Her fingers slipped between her legs.  "Where do you think
you're going?"

   He threw a shot of Scotch back and smiled at her.  "Just let me rest a
minute."

   Rose shook her head as she dropped to her knees.  "You don't have to do
a thing.  Just trust me." She smiled and ran her mouth over his cock.