The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Chapter 23

2017 Erotica story: The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Chapter 23

Our return to the cabin became a déjà vu moment and a mirror image of when I first arrived with Darlene about ten-days-ago. As our rescue vehicles approach, it appears as though Lisa and the entire membership of the Society of Sisters waited on the cabin’s balcony in freezing cold.

The upper deck erupted in shouts of joy and hand waves of welcome when Seraina dismounted from the snowmobile.

The boisterous display of affection slammed into a wall of silence as I climbed off the passenger seat. For the most part, the expressions on the faces of the assembled women were neutral displays of puzzlement and curiosity, as opposed to blatant hostility. A few of the ladies gave me tentative waves of greeting.

Lisa leaned forward, braced her gloved hands on the icy railing and studied Seraina for a moment before turning her attention to me. I now know how a field mouse feels when looking up only to find a soaring hawk looking down.

“Welcome home. Thank God, you’re back. We’ve been searching for you for a week. Do either one of you require medical treatment?”

“No, we’re okay. The only thing I need is mouth-wash to get rid of the taste of rattlesnake,” Alice shouted to the amusement of the crowd.

“Glad to be back!” I exclaimed as I greeted the gals with a joyful thumbs-up of my own. Lisa returned my gesture with a slight nod and wave of her hand, a half-smile on her lips.

“Wonderful, we’ll start your debriefing session in sixty minutes. Use the time to shower and change into fresh clothes. Grab a bite to eat if you’re hungry. See you in an hour” the Colony’s leader turned on her heel and walked into the cabin.

WTF! We’re being debriefed? That didn’t sound family-friendly-fuzzy to me. In the military, a ‘debriefing’ was a crap shoot a soldier faced when returning from an operation to face a bunch of Monday-morning quarterbacks. With perfect hindsight, they reviewed details of your operation and assessed individual performance and mission results.

When things went well, debriefings were a cakewalk; otherwise, the interrogation took on shades of the Spanish Inquisition as the powers above grilled you like a pork chop on the barbecue.

As much as I hated the process, I also understood debriefings were unavoidable. Success and failures each teach important lessons, but only if we take the time to learn.

Our drivers took the upwind position as they escorted Seraina and me to the upstairs shower a few doors down from the room I shared with Darlene. I couldn’t blame them. We smelled worse than a blacksmith’s armpit.

“Dennis! Alice! Wait for us,” Darlene called out as she ran forward with Alice’s daughter at her side.

“Mom, Dennis, welcome home!” StarShine screamed as she double hugged her mother and me before wrinkling her nose and backing away.

“Christ! You smell like a wet dog,” Darlene gave me a sloppy wet kiss of welcome as our small mob continued toward the shower.

“Perhaps he smells like a wet wolf,” Seraina laughed with a wink.

“Yeah, an old soggy wolf with stinky fur,” Darlene’s nose wrinkled as she gave me an inquiring glance.

I shrugged and looked over at the ladies assembling along second-floor balcony opposite our position. We had become persons of interest, and the sisters are curious to see what the cat dragged in.

Entering the relative privacy of the bathroom was a relief. After a week alone with Seraina, I found the throng of curious onlookers to be slightly overwhelming, or as Darlene would quip, ‘Too much people.’

“I’ll race you to the showers,” I said to Seraina while unbuckling my pants and kicking off my shoes. Whew! We stunk.

My grungy underwear likely qualified as hazardous waste. As I stripped, I checked out my reflection in the mirror over one of the restroom sinks. Crap! I looked like I fought a battle with a dirt monster and lost. My thinning hair was greasy and matted, a white t-shirt which had become a dingy shade of gray, and a week’s worth of stubble did nothing to improve my appearance.

I removed my socks, dropped my trousers and slid out of my jockey shorts before I added my shirt and t-shirt to the pile of dirty clothes at my feet.

“Should I wash them or burn ’em?” I pointed to the floor.

“Neither. We should bury them in the garden. We’re always in need of fertilizer,” the driver with rust-brown hair suggested with a laugh.

StarShine dashed across the room to the showers and turned on the entire bank and vanished behind clouds of billowing warm steam. A few moments later, a naked StarShine reemerged from the fog.

“Come on in! The water’s fine,” Alice’s daughter shouted with glee as she beckoned us to join her.

Our two rescue drivers exchanged glances, whispered a few words to each other, disrobed and entered the rising steam. A hot shower after a long freezing day riding snowmobiles is too tempting an offer to pass up.

Many hands make light work, and Seraina and I took turns scrubbing the grime off each other’s bodies while Darlene and StarShine helped the best they could. I can’t begin to describe the absolute pleasure of their soft hands and hot soapy water washing away enough dirt and grime to start a small garden.

Ahhh! To be warm and clean once again. Heaven is real. Bath time over, there was a minor problem with clean clothes. I will be damned if I’m going to be naked while being debriefed by Lisa and the Society. Darlene is a mind reader. She made a quick exit and returned a few minutes later with my razor, a pair of cargo pants and a lumberjack style red and black flannel shirt, along with a fresh change of socks and underwear. I smiled to myself when I noted she had thoughtfully included a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes, Bic lighter, and a toothbrush.

Seraina fared better than I had in the clothing department. A fresh change of clothing provided by StarShine sat ready and waiting.

I examined my clean-shaven face in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. My mouth and body felt clean for the first time in a week. Glancing at my wristwatch, I noted we still had twenty-five minutes to grab something to eat and drink before show time. With our drivers one each side of me, I followed Seraina, Darlene, and StarShine to the kitchen.

I used a slice of warm homemade bread to soak up the last of the venison stew from my third serving and pushed the empty bowl to the middle of the table.

“That was fucking fantastic. I had almost forgotten how wonderful real food tastes,” I said wiping my mouth with a white linen napkin.

Darlene is a thoughtful mind reader. She had stuffed a Bic lighter and a full pack of smokes in the breast pocket of my shirt. With a silent prayer of thanksgiving, I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. Life is good except for the parts that suck.

“Smoke fast, we don’t want to be late,” the driver with rust-colored-hair advised.

Lisa waited for us at the door of the media and entertainment center located in the back corner of the ground floor. Obviously, the society had spared no expense when the built the cabin and the indoor amphitheater. Arranged in a half circle around an elevated stage at the bottom of the well were four tiers of comfortable movie-theater-style seating. Several huge ultra-high definition flat screen televisions dominated the back wall.

Judging by the Society of Sister’s logo displayed on the primary screen, one of the women in the Colony was an excellent artist and graphic designer. The pastel pink and red image of two nude women holding hands in front of a flower blossom rendered in the style of Georgia O’Keeffe floated in the center of the black screen.

Lush maroon colored carpeting covered the floor, and indirect lighting fixtures on the walls and ceiling of the hall provided illumination.

The soft murmur of conversation from the two-dozen women in attendance descended into silence as Lisa led Alice and me down the aisle toward a white-oak conference table in the middle of the stage. Three leather bound executive office chairs faced the audience from behind the table. Microphones and nameplates sat in front of each seat. My assigned seating was to the left of Lisa’s chair at the center.

The presence of two video cameras did nothing to calm our nerves. We exchanged nervous glances as we took our seats on the stage.

Lisa took her seat and centered her legal pad she on the table in front of her place. She studied the blank pad for a moment before placing two black gel pens on the right side of the tablet. She carefully positioned the pens to be perfectly parallel with each other and the pad of paper and repeated the process with two #2 yellow pencils on the other side of the pad before placing a hand-carved wood gavel on the notepad.

It was my guess Lisa is probably not a very lucky poker player, she had too many obvious tells and giveaways. When you can read a player’s unconscious body language, it was like playing poker with the cards face up on the table.

The need to precisely control personal space was indicative of someone toilet trained at gunpoint. It spoke volumes about Lisa’s core personality traits.

As a leader, she wanted as much control as possible. Dictatorial and authoritarian leaders employed the law to govern their subjects. As a leader in a democratic environment, Lisa imposed her control at the personal level. Democratic authoritarians used their personality to achieve the same ends.

Control might explain Lisa’s attempt to seduce me. Sexual union was her leverage point, and she had utilized it effectively to retain her position over the last fifteen years. She had, by her own admission, slept with every member of the Colony.

Interesting thought: Maybe her seduction attempt was a result of her desire to keep me around under her rule rather than a result of my sparkling personality. I chuckled at the sudden insight and earned a sharp look from Lisa as she finished fussing with her pencils.

Lisa leaned forward and did what every nervous public speaker does; she tapped the microphone with her finger and asked, “Is this thing on?”

A loud ‘pop!’ from the hall’s sound system, answered in the affirmative.