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Against All Odds: A Gilded Age Romance

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“Barbara! What is the meaning of this? What happened? Who is this fellow?” roared her father, pulling himself up short before them, and duly noting that the fellow before him had his hand resting on his daughter’s hip.

“Calm down, father, you’re making a scene. It’s quite alright. I simply lost my footing, you see, and this fine young man was quick enough to save me from taking a nasty fall.”

“I see. Well, thank you, young fellow, for coming to my daughter’s assistance.”

“His name, father, is Stan Goldman.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. … uh …. Goldman was it? James J. Moore here.”

“It’s an honor, sir.”

“Quite. Now, if you will kindly excuse us … uh … Goldman … my daughter and I must be off.”

“Yessir.”
That didn't go so badly, did it? There might be hope...

The hotel was demolished in 1953 to make way for a supermarket.
The supermarket chain was called, oddly enough, Grand Union, though not named in honor of the hotel...
Handkerchiefs have been around for centuries, dating back at least as far as the Romans. During their existence they’ve been used for many things … like cleaning one’s hands, face, or teeth, wiping one’s tears and nose,
I hope you gave Stan an unused one, Moore!!!
 
Chapter 11.

It was 6 in the morning when Mario went on duty at the front desk. The hotel lobby was still quiet at that hour, which meant that he could count on being undisturbed long enough to carry out the small task he had set for himself while lying awake half the night. The reason why he hadn’t slept had to do with the previous morning’s visit to the eighth floor suite in which Barbara and her father were staying, and the extraordinary sensual experience he had had there.

Who, after all, would have been able to sleep after observing Barbara and her Swedish maid, Kristina, going at it, stark naked, on the bed? Not only had he been a witness to a scene so steamy that he was probably never going to forget it for the rest of his life, but it had ended with Kristina serving him up one of the best fucks of his life!

Moreover, having now seen Barbara totally naked, he desperately wanted to fuck this little Midwestern vixen. No, he wanted more than to just fuck her. He wanted to possess her!

And therein lay the problem he now needed to solve. As he saw it, there were two barriers standing in his way.

One was her ever vigilant father. Mario knew the man would never accept him as a suitor. He was neither rich nor patrician. That, however … being the practical opportunist that he was … was not an insuperable problem to overcome. He was not the marrying type anyway, and would be happy enough if he could simply get Barbara to dump the “we are just friends” accommodation they had agreed upon and replace it with a whole lot of fucking for the simple sake of fucking. The hotel was, after all, huge and in his managerial role there, it was child’s play for him to organize places and opportunities for them to couple willy-nilly … right under her father’s nose, so to speak.

The other and far more vexing problem was her infatuation with that Goldman character. He knew that he was going to have to find a way to frustrate that, and a plan for doing just that had come to him during the night. He was about to put that plan into play that very morning.

Reaching into a drawer beneath the lobby desktop, he pulled out a sheet of stationary with the Plaza’s logo embossed on it, and reached for a pen.

Writing in the flowery script that he had perfected, he crafted a note that read:

“My Dear Goldman (yes, I know who you are now),

Knowing of your keen romantic interest in Miss Barbara Moore, I have decided, being of good Italian stock and possessing a fiery romantic spirit myself, that I might be of service to you.

To that end I have taken the liberty of arranging for you a private and well secluded meeting with Miss Moore here at the Plaza Hotel.

Her father, as I have told you, is one of those overly protective sorts, so to be successful this must be done very discretely. I have refrained, therefore, from providing Miss Moore with any details.

She knows only that a certain gentleman, whom I believe she really would like to know, has expressed a desire to meet with her. And that, in my managerial capacity at the Plaza, I have arranged a meeting for her and this gentleman in one of the hotel’s private meeting rooms.

If this arrangement is agreeable to you, as I can assure you that it is to Miss Moore, please reply in the affirmative, and come to the Plaza in one week’s time on the 25th of May at 10:45 am. On your arrival, do not stop at the front desk. Proceed directly and discretely to the second floor, where you will find the door to the Melville Room unlocked. Let yourself in and wait there for Miss Moore to join you.

I am delivering this note to you via a friend who works as a waiter at Delmonico’s and tells me that he knows of you.

If ever asked I will deny any knowledge of this arrangement, but know that I send this to you with my very best wishes. I expect no compensation. Consider this my little gift to what i hope might be a budding romance.

M. Pellegrino”

He read it over quickly and reached for a blotter, which he then artfully manipulated to smudge the “5” in the “25th of May” just enough to make it appear to be a “6”. Placing it in an envelope, he turned to an associate who was about to go off duty, and asked him to kindly get it into the hands of their mutual friend ‘Seppi” over at Delmonico’s.

Then he turned, with a smugly satisfied feeling, to his duties at the desk. Phase two of his plan would follow shortly, once he had seen Mr. James J. Moore depart the building for the day. And he hadn’t long to wait, as right on time, Mr. Moore emerged from the elevator at exactly 8:32 am and proceeded directly across the lobby to where the doorman hastened to open a door while signaling for a hansom cab to pull forward from its place at the head of the cab queue.

Mario turned to an associate as soon as Moore had ridden off in the cab, and told him to cover for him. Then he took the elevator to the eighth floor.

“Kristina, please go see who is rapping at the door,” said Barbara from the bath tub.

“Ja Fröken,” she replied, laying aside the towels she had been holding, and rushing off.

Moments later she returned … trailing behind Mario, waving her arms, and exclaiming “It’s Mr. Pellegrino, insisting he must see you immediately.”

“Mario!” gasped Barbara, as she slid beneath the surface of the sudsy bath water and attempted to cover up with arms and hands.

“Oh, don’t do that. Relax. You’ve got no reason to hide, Barbara. I’ve seen it all before, remember?” he chuckled, mockingly pretending to cover his eyes with a hand, while gaping his fingers wide enough to make the gesture pointless.

“Stand aside, please,” snapped Barbara, rising out of the tub. “I want to get out so that Kristina can dry me off.”

“Oh, allow me,” he declared, snatching the towels away from Kristina.

“You can dry my back, but Kristina will do my front”, sniffed Barbara turning away to face the tub.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “What in the world happened to your butt? It’s all covered with red stripes!”

“Father took a strap to me last night, if you really must know. I misbehaved at the Stock Exchange yesterday afternoon and embarrassed him, as well as myself. There’s no excuse, of course, for what I did. I fully deserved the thrashing I received. Don’t worry. The redness and the welts will go away. Kristina will see to that. She works wonders with all her oils and lotions.”

“She certainly is good at working you up. I was witness to that yesterday.”

“Uh-huh. Move back now so Kristina can dry me off in front.”

“Sure, I’ll just go into the bedroom and take my customary place on that chair. Tell me. Is Kristina planning to use that fancy little dildo on you again today?”

“Wait a minute! Your presence yesterday was a one time thing … nothing customary about it! A down payment on services yet to be rendered, is what you claimed it to be, remember?”

“Well, actually, that’s what brought me up here this morning. I have some news that I know you’ll want to hear.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“Um, first there is a matter of payment. A lot of effort went into what I am about to tell you.”

“Okay, I should have known. What’s the price this time?”

“I’m wounded, Barbara. Terribly wounded that you think i am in this just for remuneration. I know how badly you want to meet this fellow, Goldman, and I know how appalled your father would be to find out. Think of what a thrashing you’d surely receive if he did! So out of respect and affection for you, I’ve been working hard … very hard … to arrange a private meeting between you and Goldman.”

“Really? That’s wonderful, Mario! Tell me more!”

“Ahhh, I fully intend to. That’s why I’m here, but … uh … first ….”

“Don’t say it. I will. First, there’s a matter of pre-payment, right? Didn’t we do that already yesterday?”

“Well, yes and no. Let’s say yesterday was a kind of partial pre-payment … an incentive if you will.”

“Mario, you could give my father a run for his money! What exactly do you have in mind?”

“To watch you and Kristina again, as I did yesterday, but this time … when she gets to that dildo part … I’d like to be allowed do it to you instead.”

“Out of the question!”

“Kristina, what do you say?” he said turning abruptly to her.

“Ja, sure. We could do that.”

“Thanks for that,” sighed Barbara sarcastically,” as pushing her way past them, she strode into the bedroom and threw herself face down on the bed. “Don’t just stand there. Let’s get on with it.”

Kristina shrugged, followed Barbara into the bedroom, and nonchalantly proceeded to strip naked. She then clambered onto the bed to administer the massage, while Mario watched from the edge of his chair. And when the time came, Kristina handed him the dildo and moved out of his way.

By then he was naked too.

Taking the dildo in his hand and slathering it with lubricating lotion as he had seen Kristina do, he waited patiently for Barbara to flip over on her back and open her thighs. Then he went to work, slipping the tip of the dildo in, moving and twisting it about, angling it to bring the ribbed part into contact in exactly the way it would do the most good.

And it did. He watched in fascination as she quickly became lost in her own mounting excitement … gasping and moaning, rhythmically moving her hips, crushing her breasts together with her hands and thumbing her nipples.

Then … suddenly stiffening, belly drawn taut, mouth wide open, she screamed “Yesssssss!!”

There was an immediate tug at his elbow. It was Kristina. Throwing Mario down alongside Barbara, in an amazing show of strength, she mounted him and repeated her performance of the previous day.

Afterwards, as they all lay panting on the bed, Barbara raised her head, poked him with a finger, and said, “Okay, Mario, tell us the news now. And it had better be worth what just happened here!”

“It is,” he declared, before repeating an approximation of what he had written to Goldman, but not mentioning, of course, the smudging of the date of the proposed rendezvous.

“So, if that sounds good to you, dear Barbara,” he continued. “You will go down to the Melville Room on the second floor, exactly one week from today on Wednesday the 25th, and there you will have the pleasure of making the acquaintance of your mysterious Mr Goldman.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect, Mario! But, alas, its an entire week from now! Waiting will be so difficult”

“Well, Kristina and I can help keep you … um … occupied every morning until then, can’t we Kristina?”

“Ja, sure …. det kan vi.”

“Don’t press your luck, Mario.” laughed Barbara. “Kristina will eat you alive!”

*********

A week passed. By noon on Wednesday, the 25th, Mario positioned himself behind the reception desk in the Plaza Hotel lobby so as to keep a vigil on both the elevator door and the staircase leading to the second floor. He was expecting to see Barbara emerging from one or the other very soon.

Ten minutes went by and then she appeared on the staircase. She looked distraught, and was holding on to the polished brass banister for support as she descended. By the time she reached the lobby floor he could tell that she’d been crying, presumably out of frustration. Her face was red and her eyes watery.

On spotting him she made straight for the reception desk. Ordering a subordinate to cover for him, Mario moved quickly to intercept her and steer her into the nearby small room where he had previously closeted himself with her.

As soon as he had closed and locked the door, she flew into his arms, wailing, “Oh, Mario. I’m devastated. He …. Goldman … never turned up. I went to the Melville Room at 11:00 as we had planned. I even got there a few minutes early. But the room was empty. He wasn’t there. I waited a whole hour, thinking he may have been delayed. But no, he never showed up. I’m absolutely devastated, Mario!”

“There, there,” purred Mario consolingly. “I’m so sorry. You know how much I wanted this arrangement to work. It was all set, Barbara. I was told he’d definitely be here.”

“Then what went wrong? Why didn’t he come?”

“Well, we really don’t know. Of course I will try to work my contacts to find out. But, from what I’ve heard this Goldman is a bit of an adventurer, a man on the make, a philanderer, if you will. I had hoped his intentions were honorable … his stated interest in you sincere. But perhaps another interest popped up for him over the course of the past week, and he simply decided to back out, and is enough of a cad to stoop so low as to doing so without notice or explanation.”

“(Sniff) … i suppose you could be right. Mario. It’s so terribly disappointing, but I shall simply have to learn to forget about him.”

“Yes, it may very well come to that.”

“I’m glad I have you you to turn to at a time like this, Mario. I know you have my best interests at heart. Now, hold me tight, please.”


“Of course, dear Barbara. That’s what friends are for.”
Now, this Mario is just beginning to tickle my loathometer! :mad::mad:
 
What the man stood to gain, since, oddly, he hadn’t asked Stan for money, Stan couldn’t say, but that the desk clerk had some scheme seemed indisputable.
At least Stan has sussed the bastard... :)

“Yes, sir,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him to her room.
You know, the thought of anther woman as a surrogate Barb would not have occured to me in a zillion years! Nice work, Windar!

:goodjob:
 
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Digital loathometer.jpg
I think we’d all like to know how the “anti-demerit” function works.. :confused:
 
I think we’d all like to know how the “anti-demerit” function works.. :confused:
A little door opens in the back, and a hand comes out and rubs soothing ointment onto your bum. ;):)

I use it sometimes even when I haven't been given demerits. :rolleyes:
 
Stan found the rocking motion of Mr. Vanderbilt’s New York Central Railroad train and the sound of the wheels clacking against the rails very soothing.

A little door opens in the back, and a hand comes out and rubs soothing ointment onto your bum. ;):)

I use it sometimes even when I haven't been given demerits. :rolleyes:
In times past you just had to be content with a ride on the NYC railroad. :)
 
Chapter 14.

Two months to the day had passed since that fateful morning when Goldman had failed to turn up for their clandestine meeting in the privacy of the Plaza Hotel’s Melville Room. Barbara had felt both slighted and devastated at the time, and her confusion and disappointment had persisted for weeks before it gradually subsided.

But subside it had. She’d been kept busy and seldom had much time alone to brood. Her father’s relentless, though to date ineffectual, arrangement of “opportunities” for her to meet eligible bachelors had filled most of her evenings. And outings, typically chaperoned by a mother of one or another of her father’s most currently favored “eligibles”, to shop or take in the sights of the city, had often occupied her afternoons.

Morning bath and massage times with Kristina had continued blissfully, occasionally in the company of Mario … although his role, with respect to Barbara, was strictly limited to wielding the dildo, which he had learned in time to apply with amazing effect. No such limitations, however, were imposed on what he might do with Kristina, and the two of them had become quite inventive, much to Barbara’s amusement and, at times, outright jealousy.

That didn’t mean that she no longer harbored hope. At every evening dinner, she would invariably scan the restaurant dining tables for any sign of Goldman, and on every afternoon outing she was always on the lookout. But to no avail, and less fervently so as the weeks had passed.

“Barbara! You haven’t touched your food!” snapped her father, causing her to start in surprise. “Where are you, dear girl?”

“Oh …. Uh …. s …. sorry, father,” she mumbled.

They were seated at a table over breakfast in the dining room of Saratoga Spring’s Grand Union Hotel. Picking up her spoon, she began to pick listlessly at the bowl of oatmeal before her, which had by then gone cold.

“Something wrong? Not feeling so well, this morning, Barbara?” quizzed her father, folding and setting aside his newspaper, a mild look of concern crossing his face.

“No father. I think I am just weary. The social whirl here at the hotel has been almost non-stop since we arrived. I feel as though you have me constantly on show, even more so than back in the City. And it’s taking its toll. I miss my quiet mornings back at the Plaza, especially my leisurely morning baths and Kristina’s invigorating massages.”

“Ah, Kristina. I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about her. I’m beginning to think she is unsuitable. She can barely speak two sentences without mixing in words of her native language, but even worse I’ve seen her making eyes in the hotel corridors with that dreadful character, Pellegrino. Most distasteful! Everyone knows those Italians are over-sexed. I believe I will have to replace her.”

“Oh really, father!” exclaimed Barbara reproachfully, turning her head away.

And it was at that moment that she saw HIM!

There he was, off to her right, trailing a hostess leading him down the elongated dining room’s central aisle to a table some distance away. As he passed by her table he looked her way, and they made eye contact. And she was certain she saw recognition in his eyes.

She stared past her father’s left shoulder at him, watching intently as he was seated and a waiter took his order, returning a few minutes later with a plate of bacon, eggs and biscuits. As he ate, he would every so often look directly at her. It was eerie.

She finished her oatmeal and reached for the cup of hot tea she had ordered with her breakfast. It had grown cold … perhaps as cold as his attraction to her? Why had he failed to show that day? Should she confront him? So many questions.

“Come Barbara, we’d best be off now,” said her father. “There are some people I want you to meet this morning out on the hotel piazza … the Vandergrifts … and their son Archibald … I’m told he’s a perfect match for you.”

“Yes, father.”

They rose and headed for the far exit of the dining room, a course that would take them right past Goldman’s table. She fell in behind her father, lagging a good many paces behind, as she always did. And as she drew abreast of Goldman’s table … throwing all caution to the winds … she faked a little stumble … pretending to catch her toe on the edge of the carpet runner that ran the length of the dining room’s long central aisle … and careened towards his table.

With amazing swiftness, he rose in time to break her fall … taking her into his arms, as she hurtled towards him and fell full against his chest, her cheek brushing against his.

He held her tightly for a few moments, one hand placed in the small of her back, the other … fingers spread … over the gently tucking curve of the lower part of her ass. Then, righting her, he stepped back slowly, and said, “Careful now. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I think so. Thank you for catching me. I don’t know how I could have been so clumsy. But thank you again for coming to my rescue … so quickly and valiantly.”

“My pleasure, Miss … uh?”

“Barbara … Barbara Moore.”

“Barbara Moore? The daughter of James J. Moore?”

“Yes, that’s me, and you are?”

“Stan Goldman.”

“Well, pleased to meet you Stan. Are you staying at this hotel?”

“Well, yes,”

“Then, I should be running into you again … not literally, I mean … you must understand that I don’t make a practice of falling, willy-nilly, into young gentleman’s arms.”

“No, I suppose you don’t. I imagine that from time to time you even go so far as to stand them up.”

“Hmmm … is that a practice you yourself are well acquainted with?”

An awkward moment passed before he responded evenly, “No, not really. It’s not my style to do so. Look, I think your father has discovered that he has lost you. Here he comes. Do introduce me to him, please. I’d be honored to meet a man of his reputation.”

“Barbara! What is the meaning of this? What happened? Who is this fellow?” roared her father, pulling himself up short before them, and duly noting that the fellow before him had his hand resting on his daughter’s hip.

“Calm down, father, you’re making a scene. It’s quite alright. I simply lost my footing, you see, and this fine young man was quick enough to save me from taking a nasty fall.”

“I see. Well, thank you, young fellow, for coming to my daughter’s assistance.”

“His name, father, is Stan Goldman.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. … uh …. Goldman was it? James J. Moore here.”

“It’s an honor, sir.”

“Quite. Now, if you will kindly excuse us … uh … Goldman … my daughter and I must be off.”

“Yessir.”

“Come Barbara, the Vandergrifts are waiting and must be wondering by now what the devil’s become of us.”

“Good day, Mr. Goldman,” chirped Barbara breezily. I do hope to see you again.”

“Likewise, Miss Moore.”

“Barbara! Come! … NOW!”

“Yes, father.”

And so, she left, but not without casting one last backwards glance over her shoulder to see whether he had noticed that she had left behind her handkerchief on his table.

He had.

****************

Much to Barbara’s surprise the meeting with the Vandergrifts went surprisingly well. They turned out to be more gracious and more down-to-earth than most other families she had been forced to meet through her father’s machinations. They were from Pennsylvania, rather than New York, and seemed to be without pretensions of any kind.

And their son, Archibald, was more to her taste than any of the young scions of wealth and privilege thrust upon her thus to date. He was affable and relaxed, and showed more interest in her than he did in himself, which was refreshing.

And although she was somewhat distracted, her mind at least still partially focused on the morning’s surprise encounter with Goldman, she found that she and Archie, as he preferred to be called, got on rather nicely. He wasn’t bad looking either.

She graciously accepted his offer to be her escort for the day, and together they left the company of his parents and her father to try their hand at bowling on the lanes located in the basement of the hotel (she was terrible at it) … and to share a light lunch out together out on the piazza, followed by a lengthy promenade around the hotel’s extensive grounds.

They parted for a late afternoon’s rest and a quiet dinner, he with his parents and she with her father, but agreed to reunite later for an evening of dancing to the music of the famous Victor Herbert Orchestra in the hotel’s ornate white and gold ballroom.

“So, you appear to be taken with young Archibald Vandergrift!” mused her father as he watched her preen before the full-length mirror in their hotel suite. She was wearing a dark skirt, cut daringly above the ankles, a delicate white linen, round-necked blouse, and a colorful ribbon in her hair.

“Well, he’s definitely a cut above all the others. I’ll give him that.”

“That’s encouraging. And you’re definitely not thinking anymore about that fellow you stumbled on at breakfast, I hope.”

“No, father. I’m thinking only about going dancing this evening and having a good time with Archie Vandergrift, and … oh … that must be him now rapping on the door. I’ll be going now. Don’t wait up.”


Half an hour later, she found herself out on the crowded white pine dance floor of the hotel’s ballroom, swirling around to the strains of waltz music. And she was having a reasonably good time too, enjoying Archie’s attentions, when out of the blue she saw HIM again, leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching … literally staring … directly at her.
Archibald Vandergrift. Poor blighter. Does he have half a clue what he's getting into? :eek:
 
Half an hour later, she found herself out on the crowded white pine dance floor of the hotel’s ballroom, swirling around to the strains of waltz music. And she was having a reasonably good time too, enjoying Archie’s attentions, when out of the blue she saw HIM again, leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching … literally staring … directly at her.
And Stan's plans once more fall down the wayside. Poor guy. Naughty girl.
 
I took the liberty to look for, and post a picture of the famous dining room in the Grand Union Hotel, Saratoga Springs, where this Chapter 14 takes place.

View attachment 1153221
Gosh, you'd get your steps in just getting to your table at the far end - you'd need a decent meal!
 
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