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Chapter Three: Thelma Rottenbutski
Like all ‘Paines’, Reele’s aunt Thelma was provided a magnificent penthouse somewhere in the upper levels of the manor. It wasn’t the very top, because she was an adopted family member and the youngest Paines. But in Mr. Badd’s eyes, she’d always been as important as Bigg.
She’s a crude swinish woman, who looked like a street fighter and back alley brawler, yet came on like a sweet old lady, everyone’s favorite grandmother. Reele feared, more than hated her. She appeared to be in her late fifties, but Reele knew she was older. She kept the last name of her late husband just to irk the other Paines’. Reele sent for Laura once Thelma arrived.
Thelma’s an intimidating woman at six feet tall, with broad shoulders. A heavily stocked matron with a big mouth, rough worried features and mildly callous hands. Her general roughness is in sharp contrast to her lush black hair, which she wore brushed back and piled neatly in a tight bun atop her head. She was an eccentric, dressed in a gray English tweed suit, snug and sharp as a tack. It was clean and crisp, and as severe as her expressions and tone.
Everything about her bothered Reele but he stuck to the business at hand. Auntie Thelma knew what it was she was being offered and controlled her temper because of it. Laura was her brother’s, the late Bigg Paines, luscious granddaughter, the one everyone was talking about. Thelma had been adopted by Bigg’s father, the powerful Mr. Badd Paines, a year before Paines Manor was erected. Thelma had hated Bigg and saw this a fitting finale to their sibling rivalry. Laura was the Manor’s precious princess and would fit in nicely with her plans. Thelma was short with her frightened nephew, explicit and very loud. Before Laura arrived, she’d cowed the poor man, who wanted nothing to do with the woman to begin with.
Laura balked as she entered her father’s study to meet her great aunt and future governess. She was dumbfounded escort dikmen by such a frightfully garish woman whose appearance commanded attention. Thelma’s eyes exploded with flashes, not unlike those produced by camera bulbs ignighted by eager photographers. They nearly popped from their sockets and her heart began beating faster and harder then ever before. When she saw Laura, she saw her ‘Blue Ribbon’ and realized her prayers had been answered.
Like an asp with an apple, she approached the trembling teenager seductively, with a keen sense of the girl’s unease. She was sly, evil, pure serpentine. She smiled broadly and began talking to Laura as a kindly mother might, with an even, quiet tone. She asked generic questions, touching on subjects she couldn’t have cared less about, education, hobbies and such, calming fears and affording the child an extremely false sense of security.
In moments things were progressing to Thelma’s satisfaction, and Laura was lulled back to her world of fantasy. The teen sensed neither the unmitigated guile, nor the dangers lurking behind the woman’s forced sweetness. Laura’s fears were brushed aside by Thelma’s manipulations of innocence. Laura found herself quite taken by the glib silver-tongued woman and almost at ease. Like a timid mouse after a bit of peanut butter, she cautiously stepped up to a well-placed trap, unaware of its nature.
From some distant place only Reele could hear, the starting gun went off and someone yelled, “place your bets please.” So eagerly blinded by selfish desires was Mr. Paines, he didn’t take notice of Thelma’s twin sons standing in the shadows. Actually he wished not to, because the less he had to do with his aunt the better.
The boys were off to the side waiting quietly, but alert. These two rouges were genuine imps if there ever were, demons who’d slipped under the walls of Hades. Yet they followed an almost abnormal obedience, a military style escort elvankent regime, when around their mother, or whenever she so much as looked in their direction. One wouldn’t say they behaved so out of fear, but rather out of an unusual eagerness and pride.
Laura’s extremely graceful beauty and breath-taking attributes were not wasted on these two. Like a couple starving vultures sitting in wait on the crooked limb of a nearby tree, they watched their prey’s every movement. They studied her every breath, every blink, every nervous twitch, in wide-eyed salivating enthusiasm. They waited for a peek at something, anything, hoping to simply catch the girl’s glance, as their hands busied themselves on what appeared to be thick Genoa salamis stuffed down their pants. Standing behind them was another extremely interesting creature Mr. Paines chose to also ignore, Fifi.
Fifi stood behind the boys, silent, poised and bald. She’s thirty years of age, blind and mute, almost five foot tall, pleasingly plump and very playful looking. She has a round sullen face, thick pouty lips and an olive brown complexion. She wore a well starched maid’s uniform. It was snow white and trimmed with yards of lace, obviously tailored to her body, leaving her voluptuous form well-accented. One couldn’t help noticing, while admiring the utter size of her breasts, their weight dragging them down to below her waist. Each nipple strained to push through the milk-soaked satin material, which molded to each mammary like a tight rubber glove. She also wore a pair of dainty white laced gloves that came to her wrists, a wide lacy neck collar and a pair of outrageously steep white high heeled pumps, sans nylons or undergarments. Her nose was pierced and threaded with a small silver ring. Thelma had met and befriended the woman about seven years earlier, helping her escape an abusive deaf mother.
It’s not hard to feel sorry for the late Mr. Bigg Paines granddaughter. escort emek But like good Christians slaughtering American natives, rounding up slaves, or flocking to enjoy a good old fashioned hanging…, Or like Puritans who enjoy watching people stripped naked, jabbed with pitch forks and burned alive while tied to a stake… Or like newspapers and television reports that thrive on depravity, lies and injustice for sustenance: feeling sorry for anyone is just that… feeling sorry. Hey! Too bad, tough luck, we’re Americans and don’t give a damn about anyone until they’re dead. The excitement and thrills received from watching another suffer are beyond human comprehension. It’s an unreachable itch caused by a genetic flaw in human DNA that transcends all reason and all religionist precepts. It pervades all politically correct systems and what little value they possess, all nationalities, all men and all women alike. So let’s enjoy Laura’s suffering, shall we?
Reele was itching to escape, working his way to the door, nodding in approval and agreeing to every demand made by Thelma. By the time Reele had disappeared out of the door, even poor Laura realized she had been given away, passed off to this strange woman. She’d been handed off like a piece of jewelry, a trinket or some worthless curio, and saw no alternative.
As Reele made some last minute preparations, Thelma Rottenbutski, her two boys, along with Fifi and a very saddened Laura, strolled off to Laura’s room. The ogling crowd Laura had found following before were absent, replaced with the less obvious, but more curious peekers.
Laura didn’t want to look at the boys, who already revolted and embarrassed her. But in the elevator, as the group descended, her childlike curiosity and the boys’ heckling caused her to steal a quick glance in their direction. She turned her head in shame when she found them lifting the skirt of the blind mute, revealing the maid’s nakedness. She listened to them slap the big behind and wondered why Thelma did nothing.
After exiting the lift, Thelma found a room for her boys and Fifi, just down the hall from Laura’s. Much to Laura’s sadness, Thelma decided to occupy Betsey’s old room, which adjoined both hers and the boys’.
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