Don’t be THAT mother-in-law…

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“That’s right Tim. I said I will help you two over this rough patch and we will definitely do it together. But before we can work as a team, we’ll have to go over some things individually. As soon as I have this little discussion with my daughter I’ll come into the drawing room and speak with you. Run along now. Oh-before you go, would you be a dear and hand me the hairbrush on the bureau there? Thank you honey.”

…On second thought…

Image uncredited on Tumblr.

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant- Three

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Uncredited from Tumblr

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – Two)

At six sharp the staff was gone, the door locked, house lights out and the bar dimmed. Connie and Marie moved through the room staying busy-wiping the clean bar or counting cheese in the fridge for the fifth time. At 6:10 Connie looked at the clock and sighed, untying her apron.

“Jesus, Tony”, she whispered.

“Yeah, right…” Marie answered tightly peeling her tongue from the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t have been more nervous if she were the one awaiting a spanking.

Then, ten minutes later, they heard the kitchen door swing open and their eyes settled on Antonio striding into the room. He had changed into a white logo-T that clung to his chest and shoulders and carried a long wooden spatula with three holes drilled down the center. Every time Connie happened into the kitchen she would glance at that particular tool hanging innocently above the stove with all the other utensils at the ready to stir a deep pot of sauce or anything else the chef saw fit to do with it.

Antonio pulled an armless wooden chair into the open space behind the barstools. “Good day today, Ladies. For a Sunday. Everything turn out OK?”

“Yes, Chef”, they echoed.

“Money?”

“All good”, Connie answered with a wry smile. “Counted and in the safe.”

“No more broken glasses?” he looked at Marie and she almost jumped-she had forgotten that.

“No Chef.”

Antonio sat. “Good, good…One question Connie”, he said looking up, seemingly taller than she even when sitting. “Seriously. And the truth. Were you drinking last night?”

“No!” She said quickly. Then, “well no more than usual…a glass of wine at close. Same as always.”

“That’s no problem. You’re a forty year old woman, if you can ‘t have a drink what’s the world coming to?”

“I’m thirty seven”, she chirped knowing she was being teased.

“So I round up.”

“You could round down to thirty five, you know.”

“Thirty seven, thirty five-what’s it matter? You run rings around the twenty five year olds.” He nodded over to Marie, “Between you and Sophia Loren over there you’re the best I got. Best I ever had. Without you two, I close down and go back into retail.”

Marie nodded a small bow. “Thanks, Chef”, said Connie standing like a penitent before him, eyes downcast.

“But that’s why what happened last night is so wrong. You know better-you know what to do but you don’t do it!”

“I do most of the time”, she said almost whining with her head down. Marie, watching intently, almost expected her to kick at the floor.

“People don’t come here because we’re good ‘most of the time’ do they? This is not a forgiving business. We have to be on the razor’s edge all of the time, right?”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Sometimes I have to help you focus, right? To…help you keep your thoughts on the tasks at hand right?” Then, when she didn’t answer, “Right?”

“Yes Chef”, she said softly.

“You have to be…what is it? ‘In the moment?’ Don’t think of something else until the one thing is done. Right?”

“Hundred percent right Chef.”

“Oh, you agree then…”

“Yes, Chef.”

“You weren’t in the moment last night were you?”

“Jesus”, thought Marie. She might cry if she were ever scolded like this. Antonio might yell-but she never knew him to lecture. She glanced at Connie who looked for all the world like a chastened, naughty child and felt tremendously uncomfortable. She had slipped into a memory that she couldn’t exactly remember, but could feel.

“No Chef.”

“Why not?”

“I…don’t know, Chef”, she said miserably. “I’m sorry….”

“That’s OK. I’m going to make it right. See? I’m focused. I’m in the moment. The only thing I’m thinking about right now is paddling your bottom. Only thing on my mind.”

“Mine too, as it turns out.”

“Come on then.” He waved her over with the spatula that Connie was trying to avoid seeing. She moved to his right side and unsnapped her jeans. She would typically lay over his lap and he would pull them down when he was ready-usually well into the spanking. But now, “You might as well take them down”, he said.

“Oh, OK”, she said with nary a pause but a small gulp. She unzipped them and let them slide, with little prompting into a pile around her feet. He had put the spatula down and reached up to take her hand. Gently, as if leading her onto a pitching boat, he helped her settle across his lap.

“I don’t know Connie,” he said patting the back of her leg. “It seems like a long time since you’ve been here but you fit so well.”

She shrugged a rueful smile that no one could see, staring as she was at the ceramic tiles and Antonio’s leather sandals. It was true though-she had been with him for close to twelve years and two restaurants-started when she was twenty five. How many times had she had this view of his footwear?

But it had never gone beyond that. When she was married-which happily she hadn’t been for six years now-her husband never knew that her boss spanked her. He would have assumed what everybody assumed; that a good spanking was a prelude to a good fucking. It had never been like that for her. Or for Antonio.

“It’s probably been too long”, Connie said upside down.

“Probably. I’ve been neglectful…Forgive me. ”

She wriggled as he pulled her panties down easily over her slim bottom. “Oh, oh”, she thought. He had never started in on the bare-he always worked up to it. He pushed them all the way to her knees leaving her exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Oh, oh”, thought Marie from the pub table where she leaned. The generalized flutter in her chest grew into more of a drumbeat. Without realizing it she had lifted her hand to her breast like an old woman with the vapors. She had told herself that she was here to support Connie-maybe comfort her in her time of need. She had told herself that to make it seem like she was here for more than to watch her friend being spanked. But now, seeing her bare bottom just feet away, she wasn’t so sure her intentions were all that noble. She suddenly had trouble trying to figure out where to put her eyes.

To be continued…

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – Two

(Continued from Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – One)

By the time Connie returned, most of the wait staff was in place and William, the regular bartender, had called off. So she, along with Marie would cover the bar which wouldn’t be a big deal on a Sunday PLUS her regular tables. When people asked how she stayed so thin she’d tell them, “Come watch me work!” But she was smooth and flowing; not herky-jerky the way some looked when they were rushing about.  She’d done this long enough to anticipate where she was needed and had an amazing memory for faces and particularly drinks.  Nobody was thirsty in her bar.

She caught Marie watching her once and raised her eyebrows in a “what’s up?”

“You OK?” Marie mouthed. She answered with a tight smile and a nod. But now that Marie had brought it up, thank you, she wasn’t completely OK. Being busy stopped her from thinking about last night-from trying to remember what caused her to leave the cash out…to forget the change this morning…whatever had scattered her. And she wasn’t crazy-she knew what was going to happen to her after close and every time she looked at the clock her chest felt a little lighter and her stomach gurgled. But really, what Chef was going to do to her paled in comparison with how she was beating herself up over last night.

She saw herself the way she was right now: handling tables and the bar-dancing and moving and making money for herself and Antonio. Not as the absent minded waitress who left cash out on the bar overnight. Or forgot to go to the bank this morning. She sidled over to Marie during a lull.

“We’re busier than I thought we’d be.”

“We’re moving them through…”

“Yeah…Well…some are comfortable. Uh…How late you think the staff will be here?” She was concerned about Antonio coming out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon while waitresses were still counting tips.

Marie shrugged, not even looking up. “I told them they had to be gone by six. That there was a private party coming in and we had to turn quick.”

“You did that?” asked Connie smiling.

“You really don’t want to get spanked in front of Dominic”, she said, waving to the pizza guy manning the oven across the room who had no idea what they were talking about.

She squeezed Marie’s arm. “I love you! You…you’re staying?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.”

Why?

“I don’t know exactly….”

“Nervous?”

“I don’t know. A little, sure.” She leaned against Marie and whispered. “Hurts like hell, I’ll tell you that.”

“I imagine it does. I’ll stay.”

Connie ran her hands back along her temples and patted the tight helmet of jet black hair that sprouted a tight pony tail in back. “Thank you…” she said before turning back to the bar where ‘Chianti in the leather jacket’ was almost empty.

Marie had seen Connie spanked once, years before. She had happened into the restaurant before opening on her day off and heard the two of them arguing in the dining room. By the time she made her way to the archway to see what the ruckus was, the sound of the first swat stopped her cold. Two more steps and she saw them. Connie, leaning against the wall with her butt pushed back and Tony, holding up her skirt smacking her hard on the panties with a wooden spoon, each loud “thwack!” answered with a small “Ow! Ow! Ow!” She had quietly backed out of the room, then the restaurant, feeling what she thought was embarrassment. Maybe fear. But she worried it might have been something else.

Over drinks a couple of weeks later Marie confessed to what she had seen. Connie smiled wistfully over her Negroni. “Yeah, he was pissed…I can’t even remember why…”

“But he….”

Connie reached over and patted her friend’s hand. “Chef and I have…an understanding. It’s OK.” She took another sip in silence then asked, “Did you ever…I mean, did he ever…?”

“Me? No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Did you ever…at home…?”

“What? Charlie? He won’t even yell at the dog. “

They had giggled like schoolgirls and for the first time Marie began to feel that she was on the outside of something that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be inside of. Wasn’t sure but wasn’t sure she wanted to be on the outside either. Was she missing something? She had known other times when Connie was “going to get it”- that’s the way Connie put it. “I fucked up the wine order and William had to go pick some up-I’m going to get it later”. That was always Marie’s cue to make herself scarce.

But that was her call-she was the one who didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know what really was going on. Or didn’t want to think about it. She was the matriarch here-the boss was fifteen years her junior. The rest were kids. Connie was closest…she sighed. She couldn’t imagine how that would work. Just couldn’t. But she wondered.

Lost in thought she picked the bottarga from the cooler and put it on the mandoline. Thin even slices. Thin even cuts. Breathe-slice-breathe-slice-thin strokes. “How the hell would that even work?” asked her mind refusing to be lulled.

To Be Continued…

 

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant – One

 

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Connie pulled on the oversized handle and the heavy wooden door-perfectly balanced-opened smoothly. She slipped into the cool dim that was Umberto’s in the morning. It was her favorite time to be in the restaurant: three hours before service: yesterday’s smells a fragrant memory as today’s aromas are just beginning to seep from the kitchen where Antonio’s sauce for the day was simmering.

She walked past the bar and noticed with a start the stack of bills just lying there beside the register. Her heart sank and the warm glow in her chest turned heavy and cold. “Shit!” she whispered immediately looking around to see if anyone was there to see. She had closed last night and her last task was to count the register, make sure the money was right, and put it in the safe. She got it half done.

Connie was staring at the pile of Saturday night cash so intently trying so hard to remember what had distracted her that he didn’t notice Marie come up behind her.

“He told me to leave it there”, she said. “Let you see what he found when he walked in.”

“Christ, I don’t know what I did…if I heard something or what…?”

“You’ve seen it now. Best finish up what you were doing last night.”

Marie was the front-of-the-house queen and to diners in front-seemed to run the place. Just shy of fifty she had an ageless glow that comes from the confidence of, not only knowing your place in the universe, but mastering it. Ostensibly, her prime task was building the charcuterie boards that were Umberto’s best-selling appetizers. She worked behind the bar in full view-surrounded by hanging meats, cheese wheels, knives and slicers.

She wore the Umberto uniform of white logo T-shirt and black jeans. But instead of the apron that wrapped to the hip-bones…revealing jean-clad tushies pushing out as from behind a curtain, she wore a short chef’s coat that hung no lower than her belt, unbuttoned half way down her chest. There was nothing about her body, top or bottom, that she felt a need to hide.

“Jesus, Marie”, Connie hissed through gritted teeth. “This is bad…”

“Not good…”

“Is he pissed?”

“You know Chef…he shook his head. I wished I’d have stayed late to help…”

“No. Don’t be silly. This is my fault.” She bagged the money and set it back on the bar when Antonio stepped into the archway.

“So, is the money right?”

“Yes, chef. It’s right.”

“Just a quick note, if you’re going to leave it on the bar, probably best just to leave it in the register.”

“Yes, chef. I’m sorry….I”

There’s an old saw in the business that you don’t trust a skinny chef. Antonio wasn’t skinny-was once, but not now. His wife’s family own a gym and some of he and Deena’s first dates were there-bonding over dumbbells, as it were. Like a good border-line obsessive, Chef Antonio took to weight training like a starving man to food. Now, standing there in his black V-neck reflecting the V from his shoulders to his waist with the trimmed salt and pepper beard and hair combed straight back he looked like an out-of-place model doing a shoot in a kitchen.

“Did you bring the change?”

“The cha…SHIT!”

Connie lived closest of the three to the only bank around the lake that was open on Sundays. She would typically stop and get a couple hundred dollars in ones and fives for the day.

“You forgot the change.” It was pointedly not a question-which was good because she had no answer for him. Marie slipped a step or two further into the background as the silence seemed to dim the lights. “Now or later?” he asked sternly. The air left the room and it seemed to get warm. Marie dropped her eyes and put an elbow on the bar. Sunday was a short day with a limited menu, but they were close to opening and had a lot to do.

“I really have to run to get that change”, Connie said meeting his sharp eyes with her own puddling.

“Later then.” He turned on his heel and was back to the kitchen.

Marie cleared her throat. “Better this way. He’ll calm down a little.”

Skittish, Connie turned too quickly and knocked a French Press pot off the bar with her elbow. It landed with a shattering crash but happily it fell into the dirty dish bin.

“NOW WHAT?” came a roar from the kitchen.

“Nothing Chef” yelled Marie quickly. “I broke a glass-I got it.” Then quieter, “Jesus, girl. Settle. The die is cast. You want a Xanax or something?”

“A Xanax is not what I need.”

“I know, I know. Hold it together for today-You’ll get what you need. Now get out of here before we’re both in trouble!” She pushed her toward the door with a quick little smack on her jeans.

(To Be Continued….)

The Norwegians – Part 5

 

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(Continued from The Norwegians-Part 4)

The late afternoon sun blasting through the window wall would be incinerating them like vampires caught outside at high noon had Angie not pressed a button on a remote that brought dark blinds a quarter way down.  Jess would have been surprisingly content to have whiled away the evening in the huge bed her cheeks and lips washed with the sweet saltiness that she had tasted for the first time an hour ago.

But this was good-nestled on the couch facing the city-seeing it sideways from where she lay with her head in Angie’s naked lap. She turned slightly to look up-past Angie’s breasts to meet her blue eyes. She was about to speak when Angie pressed a finger down on her lips.

“Shhhhh…”

She rolled her head back to the window and let her mind wind back to the bedroom. After she had come and come and come…she lay spent on her side and placed her hand on the back of Angie’s who was sliding a finger between her own legs. She saw Angie’s small smile as she felt Jess’ hand atop her own. She came up to her elbow and kissed the blonde’s soft belly. The smile widened. Then wider still as she kissed a little lower.  They both knew where she was headed.

“Do you want to….?” Angie asked quietly.

“I definitely want to…”

“Do you know how?” she whispered through a smile.

“I’ll figure it out…”

Angie settled back as Jess scootched up on her elbows slipping her head between Angie’s taut, damp thighs. “Kiss me there-inside my leg” Angie hissed. She did, feeling the skin-and muscle under it-quiver gently.

“Oh my…” she breathed. “Just do what I did. Run your tongue up…”

“Shhhhh…” Jess hissed sweetly reaching up to pinch Angie’s bum gently.

“Yes Ma’am”. She flopped her head back-finished with the directions.

“Ma’am” resonated somewhere in Jess’ core. She flashed to the spanking and the…the spanking…and the…Jesus, she thought-this was so good! That she had never done this was undeniably true. To say though that she had never thought about it would have been a lie. So now all her fantasies and daydreams came to life and propelled her tongue gently along the inside of Angie’s thighs. Then gently, up and down and around the damp folds of her-then less gently, into the hot passage. She pushed deeply, hungrily, grinding her nose into the stamp sized tuft of beautifully trimmed blonde hair.

She found it where she thought it would be: at the top of the flower, erect and pulsating. It took just a lick-a tiny flick of the tongue-to move Angie upward. Two flicks and she was almost bridging on her neck. Jess withdrew and she came down-receding like a wave pulling back from the beach. Jess flicked and she rose. In and out, up and down…teasing…

“You brat…” Angie moaned and again a word-one tiny syllable-jolted something inside Jess. She filed that away to ponder later. Now she was in love now with the power of her tongue-giving the touch-withholding it-nibbling once-backing off. She loved the mewling sounds and grunts she was causing with just a flick…of…her…tongue. “Damn!” she thought.

She pulled her head back and-with her hands on the back of her thighs, pushed Angie further up-exposing her tight pink asshole. From behind closed eyes Angie knew…”Don’t you even…”

Jessica ran her tongue across it. “Gahhh!” came the gasp. “You are killing me….”

With an unseen smile Jess tongued it again then pressed her thumb lightly there. Angie moaned. Then a little heavier, pushing her way into the dry door to her bottom. Blonde tresses whipped from side to side with every tiny push. Then with a final kiss back there Jess painted a wet trail back to Angie’s center. The little man pulsed between Jess’ lips.

“Let me come Jess-“

“I didn’t know I was stopping you….”

“MAKE ME COME YOU BITCH!” she growled through a laugh.

“Since you put it so sweetly…”

Jessica cupped Angie’s the round bottom cheeks and pulled her more deeply into her mouth. She worked her lips and tongue feverishly, maintaining contact amid the rising and falling of bucking hips and squeezing thighs. Angie came like a woman comfortable with her surroundings: knowing that no sound would reach anyone not in the room. Jessica squeezed her ass-as she had wanted to do that morning-as if to wring the last drop of the salty liquor into her mouth before the storms abated and she lay her head on Angie’s lap-absorbing the sweet fragrance that she suddenly knew would be a major part of her life going forward.

This was her mind as she lay in Angie’s lap watching the sun disappear behind the Cooper Building uptown. There was a lot she wanted to ask, but Angie obviously wasn’t deep into post coital chatter. She would wait…

She stiffened when the elevator pinged behind them she heard the muted swoosh of the doors. This time when she looked up her eyes were wide. She moved to rise but Angie, who had reacted not at all, placed a hand on her arm.

“Shhh…” she said, as if comforting a baby. “It’s OK…”

“Hmmm…” came a deep but feminine voice from behind them. “Do I only see one head one the couch? Where might the other….”

Toni, the door woman, came around the front into Jess’ sight.

“Oh, here she is….”

She wasn’t wearing the hat so the blade of her dark bangs cut like a scimitar across her forehead. Gone too was the jacket and the hint of ink that had peeked above her collar now blossomed into full life behind her open shirt.

Her size and appearance, striking though they were, might have been frightening were it not for her soft, dancing eyes.

“How is it that I’m always missing out on the fun…”

“Somebody’s gotta work in this house…” Jessica’s mind was whirling but relaxed slightly as Toni wandered over toward the windows and looked down into the street absently unbuttoning her shirt. Angie stroked her arm-again as one would a nervous child. “You could always join us.”

“That’s sweet. But duty calls. Heading down to The Haven…There is something with a bartender I have to sort out.”

“Oh, oh…which one?”

“Corrine.”

“Oh Jeez…”

“Yep.” She turned away from the window and headed back behind them. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

“K”, said Angie. “You want any help in there?”

“No, I’m fine”, said the voice from behind them. “You could send in the dark one though…”

Jessica looked up wide-eyed to see Angie, still stroking her arm, smiling down. “That’s OK. This one’s a little skittish…I’ll keep her out here…”

“So greedy….” said the voice heading down the hall.

(To be continued…in some form…)

The Longest Day

CAUTION: Intimations of buggery ahead….

 

“You been in there, right? Top floor?”

“Ah…it’s been years-and honestly-those days? Not much in the way of memories…”

“Well, it’s a long hallway and I’m at this end…” to make his point he did a chopping motion in the air and held his hand on edge. “Y’see? And Colleen’s room is halfway down-more than that actually-just a door up from the loo. Right there.” He pointed through the window and up the hill to the rambling ramshackle of a boarding house overlooking the few standing structures that still defined Wichymeade as a town on some old maps. “The one with the purple curtains”, he continued to point.

Glennon’s shrug was equal parts “I see”, “I don’t get it” and “get on with it.”

“Anyways” he shrugs getting on with it, “I’m creeping down the hall to do my night’s business and I hear this…hum. More like a moan.”

“A moan?”

“Like, ‘Mmmmmmmm’.”

“That could be a moan”, then shrugging. “Or a hum. And it’s coming from….”

“You got it. Right! Colleen’s room. And it’s getting louder as I get closer-which of course makes sense-and I get there, again, on my way to the loo…just passing by, and I see Dennehy-of course I think it was Dennehy. Never seen him from that particular angle.”

“What angle was that?”

“He was laying over Colleen’s lap-like a naughty baby-stark naked from what I could see…”

“Naked!?”

“Completely!”

“Facing which way?”

“Away from me.”

“Oh dear.”

“Right. And that’s not the worst of it. Colleen was pushing a cucumber into his bottom.”

“What? A cucumber?”

“Had to be”, he answered struggling to remember the details.

Glennon sipped his coffee. “Why don’t people shut their doors when they’re on about something like that?” Then, after a pause as he tried to envision the calamity, “You’re sure it was a cucumber?”

“And not a….”

“Zucchini, let’s say.”

“Would have had to be a small zucchini…”

“And the sound you heard, the ‘mmmmmmmmm…”

“That was coming out of him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Was there lights on in the room?”

“See, that’s the thing what gets me wondering if it were a dream or not. It seemed to be sunlight leaking in around the curtains…”

“But it was night.”

“Exactly!”

“Were you soused?”

“No more, no less.”

“Sampling any of Dixon’s latest”, he asked pantomiming puffing on a joint.

“My credit’s no good with him no more.”

“Did you speak with either of them?”

“No, not speak. But when Colleen noticed me at the door, she gave me a look.”

“What kinda look?”

“You know.”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“Like I had come upon them playing bridge or something. Chess maybe. Like ‘nothing to see here, best be off.’ As if she wasn’t jamming a zucchini up me mate’s behind.”

“I thought you said it was a cucumber!”

“It was, what did I say?”

“Zucchini.”

“No. Had to be a cucumber. Of produce, I guess I could see a carrot…a banana, of course…”

“Candlestick.”

“Oh, yes. Forgot you were an altar boy.”

“Shush!” hissed Glennon clapping him on the shoulder. “What you do then? After she spied you?”

“What ya think? Bypassed the loo completely. Down the stairs and out into the yard. Did my business behind a tree and went over to Sadies.”

“Ah Sadie. She’s always good for a piece of day old pie and a cuppa that hideous coffee of hers.”

“Ghastly stuff!”

“You really have to work to make coffee that bad.”

“Then I come over here soon’s June Bug opened. Did you see Dennehy this morning at the dock?”

“No. But his boat leaves early so I wouldn’t, typically.”

The sharp double toot of a steam whistle cut the heavy air.

“That’s me”, said Glennon, drinking off the rest of his cup. “I’m off. Salmon to be caught.”

“You need a hand?”

“No, we’re full today. Why? Don’t you have a train?”

“No I do not! Fools threw a wheel down the bottom of the lake.”

“So you have nothing today.”

“Nope.”

Standing Glennon patted him on the shoulder and headed for the door. “You should set a bit. Stay down here and get your thoughts in order. And oh”, he paused hand on the push bar “on the off chance, pass on the salad if she tosses one for dinner.”

The door closed and he was alone at the counter.

“Junie? Would you give me a wee,” he held his fingers up a scant smidge apart for emphasis “tiny bit a’ schnapps please?”

“I will not, Kevin Duffy!”

“You won’t?”

“It’s not an hour past sunup and you yourownself told me to never serve you before noon.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. So unless you want a good, sound spank you’ll have another coffee and be happy about it!”

“What?”

She stood in front of him with the pot. “D’ye want another cup?”

“What…else? The other thing…? What did you say? Besides coffee?”

“Are ye daft as well as deaf? No alkyhol till noon. Now, ‘nother coffee?”

“Uh…no. No thank you.”

He pushed away, leaving more coin on the counter than was necessary.

“See ye at noon then”, she called at his back.

Outside the sun burning from over the lake warmed his back and threw his shadow well up the hill. He set out, trudging after it as if underwater, up toward the boarding house.