Treasure Hunt, Part 4

by LesLuv

There must have been over a thousand people at the inter-school sports. The weather was perfect- late spring, sunny and blue. The chalet was stunning – Ben had been given a two bedroom suite at the top of the six storey rustic building, in keeping with its snowfield proximity, so the views are magnificent. The amenities were amazing, the food was dazzling, and it cost nothing. The quid pro quo was a spread in the city paper for which Ben worked, and which he could promise, having conned the editor before calling. The town nearby was abuzz with visitors, locals rubbing their hands, and the busloads of school children, many of whom were staying at the caravan park or a boy scouts/guides camp.

The girls had been keyed up all day, and the long drive after school left them tired and very, very cross with everything and everyone, even themselves. They'd dozed in the car, could hardly eat the late supper provided, and fell into their bunks too exhausted for more complaints or to even kiss each other good night. It had at least helped them adhere to their mother's plea to 'act normal'. They hardly stirred during the night, and by morning and after a long hot shower their spirits and equanimity had been restored; they kissed, stroked and cuddled each other with quiet sighs and moans, so most things were again exciting and novel. The breakfast was declared delicious, the shops explored, outfits admired, and good feelings were on show.

Jas looked particularly nice, white leggings contrasting with a long loose fitting short sleeved purple top and gold chain, over which spilled her long golden hair, kept off her face with two gold clasps. Purple sneakers, (no socks) rounded out the picture. Ange caught covetous glances directed at her sister from other girls, and distinct ogles from nearly all the males. The fact that the dress was so loose that what was hiding under the bodice was open to the imagination. Her wide spaced deep blue eyes set in an oval face, ruby lips and perfect nose didn't hurt at all, while her pink skin – no, thought Ange, it was not pink, but a kind of beautiful gold - made a picture so alluring that she wished – well, almost – that she hadn't made the team. And although they could not even hold hands, it was so pleasant to be walking with her, feeling the vibes of content and love that radiated around them. No one looked at her, and she gave a little grin at the thought – netball attire is not sexy. Well, not to most people. And she knew her gangly frame, short dark hair and freckled face would never put her on the hit parade. Thank heavens. She also knew her large, amber eyes were her best feature – her chin wasn't bad either. One had to know what one had in this world.

The events got underway at 10 a.m., with Angela's first match at 11. They won it easily, the opposition being undersized and undertrained. The next match was tougher, and they were all hot and sweaty by the time it was over, but Angela's successful heart stopping penalty goal with just a few seconds to go put them into the semifinals. These were to be held early the following day; although the athletic heats had also begun, the relays were not until that afternoon - so it was back to the chalet, shower, light meal and rest. The praise from coach, fellow students and family was fulsome, but to Ange it was no big deal. She knew they'd all have to do much better than they had if they were to get to the final.

By the time her relay team had completed the one heat necessary to qualify for the final she was sore but elated. She'd set up a winning margin – later said to be four seconds – on the first leg, which gave her far more satisfaction than the netball. Everyone was thrilled and quite amazed at her speed, and praise was heaped on her, but she was not too receptive. The real satisfaction, she knew, came simply from doing one's best and then improving on it. As the athletics finals were set for the following afternoon, there was little do do for the rest of the day apart from watching and cheering on some of her friends from school in their events.

This was Jasmine's first sight of her sister's real athletic ability, and she was rather gob-smacked. Not only was her sister the sexiest, most beautiful person to have ever lived, she was a wonderful sportswoman as well. She felt really proud to be her sister and her lover. She just wished she could throw her arms around her neck, kiss her passionately, slip her hand under her top and shout to all and sundry 'we're lovers. We love each other, and she's my sister.' She could think it, though.

The coach from Angela's school had admonished them all, "very well done, with some more wonderful games and events to come tomorrow. But… for tonight, no partying, no late nights, light, high protein meals and plenty of water. No junk. Relax, watch tele, talk, but get at least eight hours sleep. And be here an hour before your event. We're so proud of you all, you've put the prowess and honour of the school on high for all to see."

"Amen," came a voice from the back, and they all burst out laughing. It might be a church school, but it could stand it's share of ridicule.

They were back at the chalet by five, but as they made their way to the lifts a young receptionist came over and handed their father a slip of paper. He opened it and read the contents. A big smile appeared, and he said, "Estvan, the owner, has invited us for drinks at 5. He wants to talk about the coverage I promised. That is, he wants Muriel and I for drinks, but you two," he nodded to the girls, "are to join us for dinner at seven." Turning back to his wife, he asked, "are you OK to go as you are?"

"You're joking. Give me half an hour. You too, you can't go without a shower and change of clothes." She looked at the girls, shaking her head in frustration. "You see what I've got to put up with? One of the swankiest places in the country and 'can I go smelling like your average derelict?' Come on, let's get swanky."

It did take the half hour, and when they were about to leave Muriel called, "see you about seven. Don't eat…"

But she was cut off by Angela who said, as both girls walked into the sitting room, "Oh, Mum, you look positively wonderful! That is the most delicious dress. And what a figure. Wow. And hey, Dad, you look pretty neat too. Nice suit."

Their mother had put on a new creation of the palest aqua in a lustrous silk-synthetic mix, sleeveless, figure- hugging, and falling just above her knees. A strip of similar material about four inches wide ran from the left shoulder across the front to the opposite hip, and although it could have been made from the same material, it was patterned in the tiniest mosaic of deep aqua, grey, daffodil and white. As she moved it appeared to be living, flashes of energy seeming to radiate out of it so that it was impossible to take take ones eyes away. A minimum of accessories and makeup was all it took for her whole appearance to be stunning. And her figure – well, it wasn't tiny, but it looked so perfect that women would blanche and men drool. Jas knew her mother was fabulous, was a wonderful lover of them and her sister, and now realized that such things did not preclude looking great for everyone. She tucked that morsel away for the future.

They waved goodbye, and the girls were left smiling. "Well, let's get a bath, Jas. It'll take a while to get ready, and I'm starving. Maybe we can go down early."

The grin on her sister's face was as wide as the sea. "Well, I'm hun…gr..y myself" she growled menacingly. "And I want to go down now..rr!"

"Ooo… the hungry she-cub wants to play, does she? Would you like to lick my fur, little one?'

"Oh, yes please, (purr purr….) If you had some, of course."

Giggling, they made their way to the bathroom. It was very much larger than the one at home, the bath was a spa that could have held four people. Ange looked at the instructions, turned on the taps, added some special foam liquid and began to strip off her sweaty outfit. Jas removed her things and went to put them on her bed, knowing she would be wearing them again the following day. They stepped into the hot water, jumping about as their cold feet sent signals of pain upwards, but as the cold water began to make it more comfortable they lowered themselves into it. "Ow!" Yelled Jas as her backside hit the water. Ange hadn't been so careful, and had just plopped down, so her cry was more a screech. She tried hard to get up, but it was not so easy, particularly when her young sister had suddenly stood up and then flopped on top of her.

Their heads went under for a moment, and they both came up spluttering, Ange throwing hers arms about wildly trying to sit up and breathe at the same time, but her sister didn't care about this and threw her arms around her neck and kissed her with such ferocity that Ange thought her jaw would break. After a wild moment trying to get hold of something that didn't slide out of her hands, she pushed Jas away and took a deep breath.

"I've been waiting all day to do that," yelled Jas. Then more quietly, "Oh, Ange, I want you so much. I feel starved... hold me, please."

Angela put her arms around her little sister and rocked her back and forth. Jas might be only two years younger, but she suddenly felt older, exactly like a big sister. A guardian, coach, guide. Yes, she needed her sister in the same way she was needed, but somehow the urgency seemed a little less intense - or maybe it was the sense that by willing oneself to not indulge, to postpone the need while the hunger built, and that was not such a bad thing. She put her cheek next to Ange's, brushed her wet hair out of the way and whispered, "oh, my sweet darling, I love you. I love you in ways I don't know how to say. It goes beyond here and now, it's like forever. And I love what we do to each other, love our sex, but it's more than that, Jas, it's everything. I'll never want anything else. And never anyone other than you."

Jasmine just nestled into her sister, warm, wet, slippery and so strong. They lay there in the water until Ange spied a button on the side of the bath that the instructions had said to push when the water level was high enough, so she quietly pushed it down and a few moments later heard the deep purr of a pump begin. Then, with no warning, the jet stream of bubbles raced all over the tub and them, frothing the water and vibrating their skin.

"Oo!" said Jas, "look at that. Oo.. it feels funny. Tickling. It's tickling me, Ange." She began to wave her arms through the maelstrom, delighted with a newfound pastime.

Ange was smiling broadly, as she had been in a spa once before at a girl friends house when she ten, but was still excited by this one. She moved to where a bottom jet was located and sat right on it, opening her legs wide. Her head was only just above the water, but the sensation – ah, the sensation was like an express train racing through her body. "Ooooo… Ahhhhh… a… a… a…" She could feel the whole of her vulva being pounded and teased, could feel the beginning of orgasm, and closed her eyes, better to enjoy, when a hand began to massage her breast, and another slide down her pelvis until it came to rest on the top of her pubes and begin to caress her clitoris. It didn't take long. The dual ministrations were as intense as anything she had experienced, and within a few minutes the wonderful blaze of fulfillment and release had suffused her mind, body and being. Her cry was long, uncontrolled and awesome. "Ahhh……."

When it was over, she opened her eyes and saw Jas massaging something beneath the water, so shifted along, pulling her sister into her place as she did so. Jas had to sit up very straight to keep her head above water level, but the effect of the bubbling water was obviously the same on her as it had been on her sister. "Ah!" Her cry was sharp and brief. "Ooo… that's so nice. Oooo… it's tickling my pussy. Oooo…" but by this time Ange's fingers had found the seat of sensation and were flicking fit to cause flight. Her other hand meanwhile was tugging nipples, massaging breasts, or sliding up and down the front of this trembling wet body.

Her orgasm, when it came, was so intense that she, like the space shuttle, had lift off. She began floating as her body spasmed, while Jas looked on with smiling admiration - until the float suddenly turned into the submerge. Her head disappeared beneath the surface as she was drawing breath, with her whole body immediately convulsing as she struggled to get her head back above the frothing water.

Ange was there in a flash, lifting her clear while Jasmine tried desperately to unblock her airways and draw breath. Without knowing where she got the strength, she flipped her sister over and lifted her clear of the water, almost upside down, and used an arm to squeeze her rib cage. A sudden cough, then another, and her gasp of breath could be heard above the roil of the jets. She more or less dropped her sister's feet back into the water and helped her stand, then put her arms under her armpits and helped her to the edge of the tub. After jumping out, she helped her climb from the bath to the floor, then out the door to the bed.

Jas sat on the edge and took several deep breaths before looking up with a wan smile. "I never want to do that again," she croaked. "I don't know what happened, either. Errk… it was awful, Ange. Awful."

"You kind of went under, just…"

"… I had no idea where I was. Those bubbles… and you… and I went… Ooo… what an orgasm! I love orgasms. Maybe not in the spa…" and she giggled. "Gee, thanks for rescuing me. Thanks for… everything." She sat dreaming for a moment, then exclaimed, "Hey, I'm cold. And the bed's wet... and…

But Ange had picked up a big fluffy white towel from the foot of the bed and begun to vigorously dry the goose-bumped flesh. She told her sister to sit up, dried her back, half spread the towel on the bed and pushed her back down onto it. Sitting on the side of the bunk, she leant over and kissed her on those full ruby lips, softly at first but then with more urgency. Jas's arms went round her neck and pulled her close, and when they came up for air Ange slid her tongue down to first one nipple, then the other, drawing each into her mouth and sucking on them like a milkshake straw. When she began to go further downward, Jas exclaimed, "My God! I've got real nipples. They're so big, Ohh, they feel so tender and sensitive." And she began to flick them from side to side, gently squeeze them while she watched in fascination.

"Ah, that's not all, my cherub," said Ange, bringing her face close and smiling, "You are not a flat-chested kid any more." She leant back and circled the tiny mounds with her fingers. "You are on the road to buxom wench. You - have - boobs!"

"Wow! Gee, isn't growing up wonderful?"

"Yeah. And you'll have fight off the boys." They giggled.

Then Jas almost sang, "Oh, sister, lovely sibling, turn thyself around and stick your pussy in my mouth. Si'l vous plait."

No sooner asked than accomplished. The places they hadn't dried were still wet from the spa, and licking this off before putting mouth to labia was a nice prelude. Practiced as they were by now in this erotic art, it was not long before arousal began and tension built. The licking, slurping, probing became urgent and uncontrollable, and within five minutes both exploded in a paroxysm of fire, lust and sex.

"Ah…."

"Oooo…"

After a moment Angela rolled off onto the bunk , but did not have the energy to turn around.

"Hey, Sis," said Jas, "it's not just me, you're growing too."

"Eh? How?"

"You've got lots of tiny brown hairs growing. You're going to have a real pussy."

"Oh, good. I can't feel them, but pussies love being petted."

But at that moment they heard the front door open and their father call, "Hey, are you two ready yet? It's nearly seven, and we're all waiting."

They hadn't even thought of closing the door to their bedroom, and suddenly the vision of their father peeking in and catching them 'in flagrante delicto' was overwhelming in its embarrassment.

"Um…" called Ange as she took a quick step to the door and pushed it nearly closed, "Won't be long. Just getting dressed."

"OK, but hurry up. There's someone waiting to meet you."

They heard the door close, and Jas whispered, "Oh, my God." She was panting, she'd broken out in a sweat, her face was white. As was her sister's, but who had recovered and was grabbing things out of her suitcase. Panic could wait.

No one would ever guess that when they arrived downstairs six minutes later they had done anything but spend the last hour getting ready. Angela had on her one really good outfit, sky blue light cotton jeans, frilly long sleeved white lacy top – she'd worn her bra, white and chaste – sandals, brushed her hair so it was less spiky than normal, applied a little face cream and powder, and looked the picture of radiant good health, ready for the next big sporting event.

Jasmine, by contrast, wanted no part of appearing track and field, but as soon as she knew where they'd be had thought long about what she would wear. Fashion magazines were not just pretty dresses, they were serious advice, so she'd wheedled her mother into taking her to the 'Miss' shop, then into spending more than she liked. The result was startling, to say the least.

A cocktail dress, black lace and satin, two minute straps over the shoulders, and coming to about four inches below her bum. Tiny petticoat to show decorum, padded strapless black bra, black satin briefs, flat gold sandals – no way was her mum going to allow high heels yet – with her long platinum hair, caught at the back in a gold pin, cascading almost to her waist. Tiny gold earrings, the lightest of makeup and she was awesome.

Conversation stopped abruptly when they appeared. A male voice murmured 'Christ,' , and then everyone was standing, smiling, and welcoming them like movie stars. During the briefest of pauses their father interrupted with, "Angela, I'd like you to meet my friend, Istvan. He's the owner of this fine establishment, and has asked specially to meet you," He held out his hand toward a dark haired man of about sixty, dressed in a white dinner suit, who smiled and stepped forward.

"Istvan Gregorovitch at your service, mademoiselle." His accent was East European, his manner charming. He picked up Ange's hand, put it to his lips, and said, "I am so pleased to meet you. Would you do me the honour of sitting next to me, si'l vous plais?"

Although totally bewildered by this approach, she was not her mother's daughter for nothing and didn't bat an eyelid. "Merci, monsieur. Enchante. A dire merci." And as he continued to hold her hand she smiled her very best grown up smile at him. She had no idea what he was on about, but her schoolgirl French had been learnt for just this occasion, and she wasn't going to knock back the opportunity of boasting about something other than running. Besides, he had a nice smile, looked rich, and one could not live on air, now could one?

They all sat down, Jasmine being ensconced between her father and a rather thin lady with a wrinkly face, who had rings on every finger and lots of jewels round her neck.

Her father leant over and said softly, an amused smile round his mouth, "Excuse me, young lady, but how old did you say you were?"

"Why, father, I didn't say. But I value your opinion."

He began to chuckle. "Oh boy. Yesterday you were in nappies. Now you're in…" but he couldn't find a word to finish.

"That's all right, Dad, I'm still eleven, but I'll be about sixteen next year. I think."

"And God help the boys." He hadn't meant to be so obvious, but his thought was too strong.

"Oh," she replied as archly as an eleven year old can be, "they'll have to take their chances."

He went red. He knew exactly what the future held for his precocious stunner. Or thought he did. So he shut up and leant back as the first course arrived.

The elderly lady leant nearer and said, in an accent so thick it was hard to understand, "So – you are Jasmine?" She pronounced the name in three syllables.

Jas looked up and smiled, nodding her head.

"Vell, my dear, that is the most stunning number you haf on. It is Dior, I think?"

Jas was stuck. How did she answer a question like this? She had read about the famous designer, knew his reputation, but… "Why, thank you," she said with a smile. "It's not, I'm afraid. Probably just a copy."

"Well, it look magnifique on you, my darling. You are so beautiful, you have far to go in life. I know. I too was once such a beauty, but ah… life is sometimes odd, is it not? But so, I am rude old lady. I introduce myself. I am countess Olga Mistropolov. Or was, a long time ago. In another life. But now," she waved her hand toward the other side of the table, "but now, my dear, I am the wife of that wonderful man over there." She indicated their host.

"Oh," replied Jas. "I'm so glad to meet you, countess. What a wonderful place you have here." Straight out of her mother's party time chatter.

The mistress of the chalet was about to reply but their food was in front of them ,and Jas remembered how starving she'd been three hours ago. She picked up her knife and fork and unceremoniously cut into the delicious looking salad. If madam spoke, it was lost in the sound of mastication.

Conversation was firing rapidly around the table, with Angela and Istvan doing a good deal of it. She looked poised, on top of everything, and quite at home. Their mother was in sparkling conversation with two very suave looking men, laughter spilling over and infecting those around them. Dad was listening to a large lady wearing, of all things, a fur coat, but at the same time listening to his daughter and her host. The salad was replaced by individual pie dishes with golden crust covered meat and gravy, tender and spicy.

They were part way trough this when the sound of a knife lightly tapping a wine glass cut through the voices. " Ladies and gentlemen," said their host rising to his feet, a bright smile touching his lips, "I wish to make an announcement." The remains of the conversations died away, and everyone straightened in their chairs. There must have been 200 people in the room, about 15 at their table, but the silence was total. "We are honored tonight by the presence of my good friend Ben Arbutt and his family. Ben has not only helped put this place on the map, he has had extraordinary influence on the growth of tourism in this region. I, and all who hold this area dear, owe him a great debt. Now he has come here with his family, and before proceeding, I would like to introduce them." There was a rustle as diners craned to get a better look. "Firstly, his wife, Muriel." He motioned for her to stand. As she did a wolf whistle came from the other side of the room. She smiled, bobbed her head and sat down. "Yes, gorgeous. I can say that. I have permission. You don't!" he shouted toward the whistler, but with a big grin. There was laughter all round.

"Now his youngest daughter, Jasmine." He motioned her to stand. It was so unexpected that her veneer of self-confidence vanished in an instant, and somehow her legs had no strength. "Come on, Jasmine, on your feet."

Her father leant close and whispered, "sixteen, next birthday," and the ice was broken.

She rose and gave a little bow, but several voices at other tables were saying loudly, "Hey, Jasmine, we can't see you. How about you stand on the chair. Would that be OK with you, sir?"

Ben was loath to put his daughter on display for these perverts, but Istvan, ever the proprietor, smiled at her and said, "Go on, let 'em see how pretty you are."

Rather reluctantly she climbed onto the chair, stood upright and immediately jumped down. She was furious. How dare he make her an object? How dare he? She kept her eyes angrily on the cloth in front of her, even as the room burst into applause. She couldn't maintain the rage for long, however, for he went on, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, the eldest. I introduce to you Angela Arbutt. Please stand, Angela." She did so, smiling broadly. "This young lady has just set a state record for the fastest leg ever run in the combined school's open grade 400 yard relay. And we wish to congratulate her. " The room erupted in applause, shouts, whistles and clapping.

When it had quietened he went on, "not only to congratulate her, but to enlist her services. She and her family have agreed to her being the face and personality behind our new tourist campaign. She, and us, will tell people about the wonders and delights of Westmoor and its surroundings. You will be seeing her face, reading her words on the benefits of visiting this area. You will be proud of her and her family. You will be able to say, 'I was there when Angela Arbutt made history'. Now - let us cheer her on her way." And he led the room in three mighty cheers.

There was pandemonium. People were trying to push their way to the front, take photos, get her autograph, touch her. Ben said to his wife, urgency in his voice, "Quick. Get the girls. Out the door. Up to the rooms. I'll have a word with this so called friend."

They did make it out before being engulfed. They were shaken, puzzled, and upset. Angela told them that he'd asked her if she would help the tourism group, of which he was chairman. It would be an ecologically friendly program, and although her name and face would be used, as well as her sporting ability, she herself would retain full veto over anything proposed involving her, and any and all ideas she had would be favorably considered.

"Well," she told them, "that all sounded fine and good, but the clincher was that my time and effort would be rewarded. Not by benefit to me – that's how he put it – but to any registered charity I cared to name. And that it would be a $1000 minimum per campaign. Mum, I know you help people, and I thought something like that would be great, so I said yes. After all, he's Dad's friend, so he has to be all right, doesn't he? But this… this bullshit… this hype… oh, what have I let myself in for? And you?"

Ben came in a short while later looking grim. "The deal's off."

"Thank God for that," said Muriel.

Angela went and hugged her dad. "Thank you, Dad. I was so sure it was good to say yes. He's was so charming, so persuasive. But what a… liar."

They were soon laughing over this, though Angela knew she would never forget the ease with which she had been conned. Smooth talkers would be on the top of her avoidance list from now on.

Relieved and relaxed again, they were soon in bed, ready for the final day.

To be continued