 
The Eyes of O'Keefe

Copyright 2020 by Arden Masters

Published by Arden Masters at Smashwords

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Author's Notes

This is a work of fiction for reader's enjoyment. Names, characters, places, and situations are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, cats, dogs, horses, living or dead, actual events, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All characters depicted are at least eighteen years of age. This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts and is not suitable for minors.

### The Eyes of O'Keefe

Shamus O'Keefe – September, 1912

The rusty hulk of the coastal steamer hissed as it slowly pulled away from the largest dock in Round Harbor. The ship's whistle shrieked so loud Shamus flinched, even though he was expecting it. At the railing he could see Norah holding their son, Patrick, in her arms. Shamus waved, but she stood there impassively, staring back at him. It was no surprise and he deserved no better. His wife and two-year-old son were bound for Portland, and then on to Boston, where her mother lived. He had driven her away, even though he loved her. She could no longer bear the shame and humiliation he had put her through. His many dalliances were no secret. The desires that drove him to this were overwhelming and something he found himself unable to control. Shamus was tall and handsome with a powerful physique. Only twenty-five years old, he had already amassed a small fortune. Even though he had a wife and child, many women had succumbed to his charms, unable to contain themselves any more than he could.

Lost in thought and regret, Shamus barely felt a hand lightly grasp his shoulder. "It was bound to happen, old friend," said a sad voice.

Shamus turned to the man. "I know, Arthur. I know. Do you think I will ever be able shun those who are not my wife and win her back?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Of course, Shamus, just as surely as my pig will sprout wings and learn to fly."

Shamus managed a guilty smile. "Aye, mate, you know me too well." He turned back to watch the steamer disappear around the point until only a trail of smoke lifting skyward proclaimed its departure. Perhaps he could change, he mused. Perhaps, after time was given the chance to work its magic, he could seek her out and make amends. His son would need a father to learn from, to show him the way...to be his legacy. Yes, he decided, he would go to them when the time was right.

Conall O'Keefe - April, Present Day

The conference room was dry and incredibly stuffy. Conall's eyes were burning. Maybe it was the sad excuse for ventilation in the old building or maybe it was the achingly boring PowerPoint presentation he had just been subjected to, but he was suffering. Dr. Marty Lynch was more boring than his presentation. Yes, he was a senior researcher at the Oceanographic Institute of the Atlantic, Conall's erstwhile, part-time employer, but he was still a stiff. Conall's friend, Rajeev "Raj" Choudhary, sat next to him, eyes wide with apparently rapt attention. As a research assistant, he needed to seriously kiss ass to survive his next job review.

"Dr. Lynch, that was amazing," said Raj, using his most enthusiastic voice. He turned to Conall. "This is going to be so cool working this up for the media." Raj had his back to Dr. Lynch and rolled his eyes dramatically.

Conall was a science writer for the Institute...a part time one, that is. "Totally," agreed Conall, using all his self-control to stifle a laugh. He looked at Dr. Lynch and smiled.

Dr. Lynch eyed them both suspiciously. "Very well. I'll e-mail you the presentation and my notes to work from, but I want to see the final product before releasing it."

"Of course, of course," Conall assured him. He couldn't wait for this day to be over.

After Dr. Lynch left, Raj let out a sigh. "I can't wait for that asshole to die so I can take his job."

Conall laughed. "That's a little harsh, Raj. I thought your people wouldn't even kill a cow."

"I had a hamburger for lunch," he replied, deadpan.

"Okay, killer. What say we get a drink? I'm off the clock." Thirty minutes later they were ensconced at a dive bar that served Pabst Blue Ribbon pounders at rock-bottom prices.

Raj took a big swig from the can...they didn't do glasses at a place like this. "It's April and Cape Cod is about to become a steaming mass of asshole tourists from who the hell knows where. Where you gonna live?"

Conall had been house sitting for the winter, but over the next few months housing was going to be almost impossible. Even with his income from handyman work, it was always ugly in the summer. "I don't know. I wish my job at the Institute was full time and it paid a living wage."

Raj snorted some beer up his nose. When he stopped coughing, he gave Conall a look. "Is that like a Cinderella thing? I don't see a glass slipper and you don't have the legs for it."

Conall huffed a laugh. "I guess not, but a guy can dream, can't he?"

"And that's not even what you really want anyway, is it? What about that novel you're writing? You could make some serious cash. You know, like that chick who wrote the books with vampires and werewolves?"

"Yeah, like that's going to happen."

"Hey, it could happen." Raj took a big swig off his beer, then put it down on the bar. "Drink up. This plan is going to sound way better after a couple of more beers."

Conall grinned. "Excellent point. Guess we should get to work on that."

On his way home he ordered a take-out pizza. It wasn't really his home; it was just a place to stay until the weather got warm and he had to move somewhere else. He tossed the pizza box down on the kitchen table and fired up his laptop. As it was booting up, he got a beer from the refrigerator. He grabbed a slice of still-warm pizza, took a generous bite and, still holding it in one hand, typed his password in with the other.

For the next hour he browsed his social media accounts, his news feed, and even took the time to stare at the story he'd been working on without adding a word to it. When he checked his work email, more out of boredom than anything else, he saw one that caught his attention. He launched it and began to read...

Dear Mr. O'Keefe,

I am reaching out to you as the legal representative of the O'Keefe Foundation, which is located in Round Harbor, Maine. One of my principal duties is to locate descendants of the founder, Mr. Shamus O'Keefe. I have recently come into possession of information leading me to believe you may be a direct patrilineal descendant of Mr. O'Keefe. As such, I would very much like to discuss the matter with you.

Please contact me by phone at 207-555-0451 or by responding to this email. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely, Oliver Raines Sr., Esq.

Conall sat back in his chair and stared at the note. This was weird; it had to be some scam. He quickly launched Google and typed the man's name in the browser. He found it on the second page. The guy was a lawyer in a small firm located in Round Harbor, Maine. The phone number matched. He couldn't find anything on the O'Keefe Foundation, which seemed a little suspicious. Even so, he was intrigued. He'd heard stories from his father, Michael, about the family having had a Maine connection many years ago. Conall wished he could call him and ask, but his father died years ago in a car accident. He missed him.

Satisfied the email wasn't a total scam, he was still wary. He decided to call the lawyer the following day. With that, he powered down his laptop and headed off to bed.

Conall awoke the next morning a little tired. It was more than just a mild hangover. He'd had strange dreams, though just now he couldn't remember them. He took a shower, got dressed and headed out the door. His first stop, as always, was at a Dunkin Donuts drive-through. There was something soothing and addictive about their coffee. Sufficiently powered up by the caffeine, he was ready for his half day of work...and it was Friday.

His first stop was Raj's cramped and disorderly office. He poked his head through the open door. "Hey, Raj. We working on the Lynch presentation today?"

His friend looked up. "Oh...yeah. Just give me a minute, okay? I've got to finish this up." Raj looked down at his monitor and resumed typing.

"Sure, meet me in the cafeteria when you're ready," Conall replied. Raj grunted his agreement.

The morning passed uneventfully, but productively. Raj and Conall made good progress on the press release. They were able to put together a good first draft for Dr. Marty. It was lunchtime when they finished. "I'm going to e-mail this to Lynch before I leave. He can chew on it over the weekend," said Conall.

Raj nodded his head. "What are you doing this weekend? Moping around, drinking beer, and thinking about getting laid?"

"Ouch." Unfortunately, Raj's teasing comment hit a little too close to home for comfort. He'd broken up with his latest girlfriend over a month ago and it was slim pickings during the off-season on the Cape. "Actually, I have a call to make to my lawyer."

"Your what?"

"Lawyer." Raj gave him a confused look. "Okay, he's not really my lawyer. I got this crazy e-mail last night." Conall proceeded to tell Raj about it.

Raj was nodding his head at the end. "Yeah, that's odd alright. Just be careful if he asks you to send him a thousand dollars in gift cards so you can collect your inheritance."

"Yeah, got that. I'm going to call him after lunch and see what he has to say."

An hour later Conall was home and pacing nervously back and forth, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He tapped in the lawyer's number. On the second ring he heard the pleasant voice of a woman.

"Raines Law Office. How may I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Raines."

"Junior or Senior?"

"Senior?"

"And whom shall I say is calling?"

"Conall O'Keefe."

There was a pause before the woman responded. "Oh..."

He thought she sounded startled. "I think he's expecting my call."

"Of course, Mr. O'Keefe. I'll put you right through."

After a few moments a man came on the line. "Mr. O'Keefe, thank you for calling."

By the sound of his voice Conall judged him to be middle-aged, at least. "Well, I must say your e-mail was intriguing. I'm curious as to why you contacted me."

"Understandably. First, I was hoping we could confirm a few things. I believe your father's name was Michael. Is that correct?"

"Yeah," replied Conall warily.

"And I'm sorry for your loss."

This guy had done his homework. "Thanks, but it's been quite a few years."

"Nonetheless, a sad event. Your grandfather's name was Liam?" he continued.

"Yes."

"Apologies for delving so deeply into the past...but was your great-grandfather's father's name Patrick?"

Conall narrowed his eyes. What was going on? "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth."

There was a pause before Raines continued. "According to the genealogical records available to me, he was. And Patrick O'Keefe was the sole child and heir of Shamus O'Keefe."

Conall shook his head. "So what? I mean, it's interesting, but..."

The lawyer cut him off. "Mr. O'Keefe, you may be a beneficiary of your great-great-grandfather's estate."

Conall was stunned. "Seriously?"

"Yes, of course. However, any further discussions concerning this matter would need to take place in person."

And there is was; another bizarre ask. "Is this the part where you ask me to give you a thousand dollars in gift cards from Walmart?"

"Sorry?"

"Uh, never mind. Listen, I don't see why this can't be taken care of over the phone. I've got a job, you know." A crappy job, he thought, but a job.

"I can be flexible, but we must meet in person," said Raines emphatically.

Conall thought about it for a moment. It was a five-hour drive to Round Harbor. He could head out early the next morning, be there by late morning, and drive back on Sunday. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. "I know it's a Saturday, but can you meet me tomorrow at eleven?"

"Certainly."

"Your office?"

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

Shamus O'Keefe - June, 1914

Shamus had not spent the last two years idling. Between his stocks and business interests in shipping, timber, and manufacturing, he was now extremely wealthy. America was booming. He also knew war was coming. Even though huge opportunities for profit lay just on the horizon, he could take no pleasure in it. War was insanity. However, his wealth afforded him the opportunity to ensure both Nora and Patrick would never want for anything. The problem was he had lost touch with them. More to the point, she had stopped answering his letters. Shamus had accepted she would never return to him, which was just as well, since his longing for women had never subsided, but he did not want to lose contact with his only child, his son. Towards that end he hired a private detective, the best Boston had to offer.

The train from Portland to Boston pulled into North Station almost on time. Shamus and his best friend, Arthur, who was now also his lawyer, had made the urgent trip together. From the station they took a cab to the offices of Thomas J. Paine and Company, which was located in South Boston. They were meeting with the Mr. Paine himself, the owner of the detective agency.

Soon after their arrival they were ushered to Mr. Paine's office. Thomas Paine was a gruff-looking man with a crooked nose and a burly frame. He sported long sideburns and a handlebar moustache. His tweed jacket seemed to speak to his occupation. He stepped forward, sharing a broad smile with his guests, and extended his hand to Shamus.

"Mr. O'Keefe, I'm very glad to meet you at last."

"And you as well, Mr. Paine." He turned to Arthur. "Please let me introduce my attorney, Mr. Arthur Raines, Esquire."

Paine gave Arthur a little bow and shook his hand. "Please to meet you, sir."

Arthur gave him a thin smile. "Likewise, Mr. Paine."

The three men seated themselves; Paine behind his large oak desk and Shamus and Arthur on the opposite side. There was a moment they all sat, silently appraising each other. Finally, Paine spoke. "I wish I had better news, Mr. O'Keefe."

"Oh?"

"Your wife and child are no longer living with her mother. In fact, Mrs. Dunphy has passed away."

Shamus was briefly taken aback. He had no idea his shrewish mother-in-law had died. "And?"

"It seems Mrs. O'Keefe quickly liquidated her mother's modest estate and disappeared."

"Disappeared? How is that?"

Paine squirmed a bit in his chair. "Based on a conversation with the probate attorney, who was actually quite talkative after his fourth drink, she said she was looking to make a new start in life and was leaving town."

Shamus leaned forward. "For where?"

"She didn't say. In fact, he said she made a point of being evasive."

Arthur took the opportunity to weigh in. "Mr. Paine, you have been paid a substantial sum of money for information leading to the location of Mrs. O'Keefe and her son. Please assure us further progress has been made on this account."

Paine set his jaw. "I'm afraid I can't, Mr. Raines. There was no forwarding address, the neighbors were interviewed and know nothing, and the bank accounts were closed. I've contacted all the moving companies in the area. They have no records pertaining to a Mrs. O'Keefe or of moving anyone from her former address. I have even been to see the priest at the church she attended...nothing. It seems her move was well planned to leave no trace. I'm sorry."

Shamus and Arthur took a cab to the Parker House Hotel and checked in. The venerable establishment was located in the center of the city, just two blocks from Boston Commons, and had a reputation for fine dining and excellent service. When it was early evening, they went down to the dining room and shared a fine meal. Afterward, Shamus was quiet as they repaired to the lounge to smoke their after-dinner cigars. Arthur knew his friend was melancholy, but also knew he could bounce back quickly. He just needed a nudge. Once their brandies were in hand, they lit their cigars. Arthur drew deeply on his Havana; the men made sure to pack an ample supply for the trip.

"Shamus my friend, it's a pity we've come so far and have nothing to show for it." said Arthur. Shamus nodded and took a slow puff from his aromatic smoke. "We've left Mr. Paine a handsome retainer to finance continued investigations, so all that could be done has been done."

"Aye," replied Shamus glumly.

"Therefore, I have a proposition."

Shamus sat up in his chair and turned to his friend expectantly. "And what might that be?"

"Given we rarely visit such a grand place as Boston, I thought it would be sinful to return home without availing ourselves of the entertainment this fine city affords."

Shamus saw the smirk on his friend's face. "Is that so, counselor?"

"It is. I have made inquiries."

"And tell me the nature of these inquiries," Shamus replied, knowing full well what his friend would say.

"It seems a house of ill repute, not far from here, offers delights unheard of, though only to men of substantial means."

Shamus grinned. "We are men of substantial means."

Arthur laughed. "To be certain, it is you who possesses substantial means."

"When we are together, my friend, it is we." Shamus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As my attorney, are you advising me to visit this den of sin to drown my sorrows and partake of the forbidden pleasures they afford?"

"Indisputably."

"Then let us call a cab and be off."

When Shamus and Arthur entered the house, a pretty young woman, scantily clad, took their hats and coats. They entered a spacious living room where a middle-aged woman with heavy make-up and wearing a red satin dress greeted them. "Good evening, gentlemen. How might I help you this evening?"

Shamus surveyed the room. The walls were painted red above the dark polished wainscoting. Overstuffed chairs were scattered around the room. Most were occupied by older men who were less than attractive, but obviously well-to-do. The fireplace at the far side of the room cast a pleasant glow and the faint smell of smoke from it masked the scent of cigars. There were several young and quite pretty women serving drinks, sitting on laps, and laughing gaily. Shamus turned his attention back to the madam. "My friend and I are looking for companionship...and price is not an issue. What would you recommend?" He could see the look of greed creep to her eyes.

"I am sure we can find a way to accommodate two such discerning and elegant gentlemen." She brought them to a private room with two comfortable chairs placed against the wall with a table in between. Like the rest of the house, the walls were painted red. An impressive chandelier with electric lights hung from the ceiling. A young girl, dressed modestly and not much more than twelve, brought them drinks. Her eyes never left the ground as she put them on the table and scurried away.

A few minutes later six women entered the room through a side door. The madam presented each one; there were two blondes, two brunettes, a redhead, and an exotic looking Asian. Each was wearing just enough to ensure some modesty, but dressed to display each as unique and alluring in their own way.

Arthur nodded approvingly. "Madame, you present us with an impossible challenge. To chose amongst such beauty is beyond my abilities."

The madam was flattered by his words. "Then, if you wish, shall I choose for you?" He nodded. She went to the Asian woman, who was beautiful, slim, and had long black hair that fell far down her back. She took her hand and pulled her forward. "May I suggest Ling, my Chinese pearl? She will happily attend to your every need."

Arthur had never experienced such a woman. He was intrigued. "Yes, wonderful. She will do nicely." Ling gave him a coy smile, took his hand in hers, and led him from the room.

While Arthur was engaged in choosing a woman for the evening Shamus was considering his own choice. The Chinese woman was interesting, but he was happy to let Arthur have her. He found two of the women especially intriguing; a blonde and a brunette standing close together. They were stunningly beautiful, possessed unsurpassed womanly curves, and seemed to have an aura about them. The madam turned to him.

"And you, good sir, have you made a decision?"

Shamus waved his hand towards the two women who had captured his interest. "The two on the right...would you have them step forward?"

"Certainly." The madam motioned to them. "Erin, Selene, please come closer."

When they approached, Shamus could see his eyes had not deceived him. He felt a deep surge of lust. The blonde was petite and had large, full breasts. She was extremely pretty and had sparkling blue eyes. Her smile enchanted him. The brunette was sultry with smoldering emerald eyes. She seemed to have a dangerous edge he found himself strongly drawn to. She was slimmer than Erin and taller, but no less alluring. Though the two women were outwardly different, he sensed they had something in common, a bond. Were they somehow related he wondered?

He uttered the words before he could think of what he was saying. "Are you sisters?"

The brunette, Selene, gave him sly smile. "Would you like us to be?"

That brought a smile to his face; feisty, he liked that. "It is not a requirement, but I find the idea intriguing."

"Of course, you do. Erin and I are...cousins, but we can be sisters tonight, if you'd like."

While she was talking Erin moved closer and placed her hand on his chest. "That sounds like fun," she murmured in his ear. The buxom blonde then rubbed her breasts against his head.

Shamus quickly made his decision. "I would like to share the company of both these lovely ladies."

The madam was ecstatic. "That would be most expensive, sir. These are my two most favored ladies. And...and they are allowed to accept or decline any invitation they might receive." She looked anxiously at the two women, who exchanged knowing glances.

Selene had a predatory look on her face. "We would love to entertain this handsome gentleman, isn't that right Erin?"

Erin was smiling, almost grinning. "Oh, yes. We will be sure to take good care of him."

The women each took an arm and escorted him from the room. They climbed the stairway and brought him to a well-appointed bedroom. Selene closed the door behind them.

"What's you name?" asked Selene.

"Shamus."

"Well, Shamus, my sister and I find you very attractive. Can we share you tonight?"

He tried to stifle a grin; they were good. "Of course. And I will be sure to satisfy you both."

"Will you now?" smirked Selene. "Our appetites are great."

Erin kneeled before him and expertly unbuckled his trousers let them fall to the floor. When she pulled his underwear down, Erin gasped. "Oh my, what a fine figure of a man we have here."

Selene looked down and admired his impressive and very erect cock. Her eyebrows rose slightly. It was thick, very thick, and perhaps nine inches long. "Nice, Shamus, very nice, but our needs are as great as your manhood. We will devour you. Would you like that?"

"Indeed, I would, but I plan to make both of you mine tonight."

Erin stroked his magnificent shaft and felt the head of his cock become wet in her hand. "I can feel how much he wants us, sister." She leaned in and took his shaft in her mouth. Shamus groaned his appreciation.

Selene kissed him and placed her hand on the back of Erin's head, encouraging her to take him deeper down her throat. "Does Erin's mouth please you, Shamus?"

"It does."

"And will you fuck us both...and cum for us both?"

"I will, I promise."

"Then my sister and I will be most pleased," Selene murmured in his ear.

Shamus' breathing was becoming labored as Erin enthusiastically licked and sucked his throbbing member. She felt...no, tasted his sexual power, an energy that flooded from him. It was intoxicating.

Selene pulled his face to hers and gazed deeply into his eyes; they were amber. She had never met anyone with such eyes. It sent a thrill to her core, though she wasn't sure why. She kissed him passionately, her tongue entering his mouth and probing deeply. "I want you to cum in my sister's mouth and then we shall see if you can fulfill your promise."

With one beautiful woman ministering to his straining cock and the other whispering the most arousing things imaginable in his ear, Shamus was ready to explode. "Yes!" he cried and began to spurt violently. He heard her choking as he filled her willing mouth with his seed. The plucky courtesan never let go, but did let out a muffled to scream. It was as if she had climaxed with him. Even more amazing was Selene shaking and moaning with what appeared to be an orgasm. Shamus had never experienced anything like this. If this was part of the service they provided, he had clearly chosen well.

Afterwards, Shamus lay on the bed, a shapely companion on either side. He noticed them exchanging glances. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

Erin snuggled closer. "Not at all, Shamus. We're...impressed by your manliness."

"Oh?" he replied, a little confused.

Selene lifted a leg over his lap and massaged his half-hard cock with it. "Yes, but please assure us you're not done for the night."

He laughed loudly. "Certainly not. I wish to release inside both of you, and I will make you cum for me again and again."

Selene rolled over so she could straddle him, then began to slide her wet sex up and down his length. "Those are the words we wish to hear, Shamus." He grinned up at her. "And my sister wants to mount your face so you may taste her arousal."

"I welcome it," he replied.

Selene studied him for a moment. Not only was he the most delicious man they had ever encountered, but he was willing and eager to engage with their more salacious desires. She took his shaft and guided it into her tight recesses. "Will you cum again for us, Shamus?" she asked teasingly.

"How could I not?" he replied breathlessly.

Erin moved closer and lowered herself on his face. She cried out as his tongue entered her. "Yes, Shamus!" she cried out.

As the evening progressed Shamus fucked them from behind, on their backs with their legs spread wide, on their sides as they clung together. He was able to orgasm again and again. To his amazement, they both seemed to reach their peaks every time he did. No doubt they were accomplished in their trade; pretending to climax with him. But still, it was convincing and beyond exciting. After each bout they lay beside him, rubbing their bodies against his and murmuring in his ear encouraging, even demanding, more.

The sun was just coming up when Shamus stumbled down the stairs from the bedroom where he had spent all night making love to the two most amazing women he had ever met. Arthur was asleep in a chair next to the fireplace. Shamus shook him gently. "Arthur, wake up. We have to get going."

Arthur's eyes slowly opened and took on a confused look. Then he remembered where he was. "Dear Lord, what time is it?"

"Dawn, and time to return to the hotel."

"Oh, yes...of course."

Later that morning, after showering and donning clean clothes, they repaired to the dining room of the hotel where Shamus prevailed upon the staff to provide breakfast, even though dining hours were over.

Arthur was a little more awake than Shamus, since he had managed to get some sleep after his magical hour with Ling. "So...two women, Shamus? All night?"

Shamus looked up from his omelet with a broad smile. "Yes, and a glorious night it was."

"I'm impressed, as were the ladies, no doubt."

Shamus nodded thoughtfully. "It was strange. They seemed much more...enthusiastic, than I would have ever expected. In fact, when our allotted time had expired, they insisted I remain...for more."

"Odd, indeed."

They sat together in companionable silence for some time, steeped in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Shamus spoke. "I've come to a decision." Arthur looked expectantly at his friend, waiting to hear whatever it was Shamus had decided. "I will not be returning home at this time. I'll be remaining in Boston. If you would be so kind, please make arrangements to enable me to manage my interests from here."

Arthur was astounded. "Have you gone mad!"

Shamus smiled. "Perhaps. Time will tell."

"Please tell me this has nothing to do with, with those... those women." Arthur stammered.

"Oh, but it does. I feel like I have lived my life as a blind man, but now my eyes have been opened and I can see clearly."

"Shamus, I beg of you, please reconsider this rash action."

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but my course is set."

Round Harbor, Maine – April, Present Day

In Maine, every working port has at least one bar that's open all year long. If it has decent food, all the better. They serve the working people who live there not just during the idyllic summer months, but during the long, harsh winter months, as well. In Round Harbor the name of that place was MacDougal's. The owner, Mary Winslow, was a heavy-set woman in her mid-forties, with careworn lines on her once-pretty face. She wore her flaming red hair pulled back in a French braid, no mean feat now that her husband was no longer there to do it for her. Her husband, a fisherman, had died at sea when his trawler sank in a storm. On this particular Friday night, she was working behind the bar. A few regulars had taken up their stations in front of her while several groups of people were sitting at the tables. For April, it was a pretty good crowd.

Her "girls", as she liked to call them, were serving tables, stocking the beer cooler, and generally doing everything but mixing drinks. One was a lifelong resident, like Mary. Ellen Landau was a petite and pretty blonde in her early twenties. With her sexy curves, big bust, and bubbly personality, she was a man magnet, something that had gotten her in trouble more than once. Her other girl was Samantha Vogel, but everyone called her Sam. The pretty brunette with a pixie cut and more than her share of tats, was athletic, almost tomboyish, with a lithe figure that attracted men and, some say, women, too. Her parents moved to Round Harbor when she was in grammar school; her dad was a fisherman. When she turned eighteen, they told her she was on her own and moved to Mississippi. She stayed. Since then, Mary had pretty much adopted her. The matriarch of MacDougal's wondered what the future held for them. She hoped it wouldn't be working here in the bar. Maybe they would meet someone special...

Shamus O'Keefe – July, 1914

It had only been a month but Shamus was a relentless man; he would not take "no" for an answer. Erin and Selene had entertained him almost constantly. The women marveled at his virility and his ability to sate them. Selene knew there was something very different about this man. Even though she and Erin had been quite comfortable with their current circumstance, Shamus had made a proposition that was hard to refuse. He offered to move them into a home, provide for all their needs, and worship them. Late one evening, after Shamus had left, they discussed his proposition.

"I like him and it's been too long since we were properly worshipped," Erin declared with a huff. "I think we should do it."

Selene laughed, but was still not convinced. "Yes, he's very nice, fulfills our needs, and has a great cock, but what happens when he finds out what we are?"

"Well, I think he'd be fine with it," said Erin dismissively.

The brunette gave her fellow succubus a disapproving look. "You realize Salem is only a few miles north of here, right?"

"That was a long time ago, Selene. This is the twentieth century...anything goes."

Selene was still skeptical. "I don't know. He _is_ the most delicious man I've ever tasted, but can we trust him?"

Erin reached out and took Selene's hands in hers. "I want this. I want to have a someone we can share, someone who can provide what we need. Shamus is that man. Can't you feel it?"

Selene nodded slowly. She did feel it. "I guess we're going to do this?"

"Yes!" Erin squeaked...and then giggled happily.

When Shamus escorted them into their new home, both women were impressed. "This is very nice, Shamus, but it's so _big_ ," observed Selene with a sly smirk.

Shamus smiled and gave her a wink. "I have engaged a household staff, so there is no need to worry on that account," Shamus beamed.

Erin gave her cousin an I-told-you-so look. "That's so thoughtful," said Erin sweetly.

Shamus proceeded to give them the full tour, ending, inevitably, in the master bedroom. The center of the room was dominated by an enormous bed. Erin let out an excited squeal. "I _love_ it!". She immediately went over, sat her heart-shaped butt on the mattress, and bounced up and down. "It's perfect."

Shamus was momentarily distracted by the sight of her large breasts bouncing up and down. "Oh, um, I'm glad you like it."

Selene came up and hugged him from behind. She reached around and felt the hardness between his legs. "So far, Shamus, you've done everything you promised." He throbbed in her hand. "And now I can feel you're ready to worship us."

Erin stood and hugged him from the front, bringing his face close to hers. She kissed him. "Are you ready, Shamus?"

"For you and Selene...I'm always ready."

"And we love that about you," sighed Erin. "Now sit on the end of the bed."

When he was seated his sirens, as he sometimes enjoyed calling them, began to slowly, teasingly undress each other. He felt his stomach tighten and his manhood stiffen. It was glorious torture to just watch. They kissed each other and wantonly displayed themselves for his pleasure. He could barely restrain himself as Selene licked Erin's puckered nipples.

Erin could see the deep desire, the desperate need, in his amber eyes. "I can feel your lust, Shamus. I can taste it." Selene glanced up; her eyes were wide with concern. "I want you now," she murmured, her voice husky. Erin strode to where he was sitting and began to tear at his clothes. Selene joined her sister succubus in what would soon be a glorious feeding frenzy.

When they had him naked, they pushed him onto his back and took turns licking and sucking his straining member. Erin quickly mounted him, grabbing his cock and sliding it easily in her tight, wet pussy. He groaned as she plunged down, taking him to the hilt. Selene lay next to him, lavishing his lips with passionate kisses.

"Fuck my sister, Shamus," Selene breathed. "Cum for us," she commanded.

Shamus loved these games; they were his sex goddesses. "Yes, Selene," he hissed.

Erin was bucking wildly up and down, moaning and panting. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Give it to me! Cum for me!"

With a roar, Shamus let loose with a shattering orgasm. Joining his peak, Erin let out a strangled cry as his white-hot sexual energy washed over her. Selene was kissing him, and by touching, got to share almost equally in the potent bounty. Even though this energy could sustain them for days, they had become gluttons for him. As soon as he recovered, which could be moments to minutes, Selene would take her turn while Erin held him, smothering his face with her breasts. The women felt no guilt and Shamus suffered no harm. They wondered how he could satisfy them as no man or woman ever could, but it no longer mattered. He was theirs...and they were his.

Conall O'Keefe – Round Harbor

On Saturday morning Conall rose early. He'd packed a bag the night before, so there was little to do besides shower, dress, and head out. He planned to get coffee and something to eat on the road. It was getting light as he approached Boston. Dawn on a Saturday was a good time to drive through the city; Friday night revelers were in bed and those who planned to do something with their day were just rising. North of Boston was stretch of Route One that was wall to wall strip malls, fast food places, car dealerships, and even strip clubs. He pulled into a huge MacDonald's and went inside. The greasy, but hot, Egg McMuffin, and large cup of coffee tasted better than it should have. After hitting the rest room, it was back on the road for the final leg of the trip.

Unlike most state borders, you didn't need a road sign to tell you when you entered Maine; the state line was the middle of the huge Piscataqua River Bridge. Conall always felt a little different when he was in Maine. The trees seemed greener and the air a little cleaner. There were no billboards and there didn't seem to be as much garbage on the side of the road. About forty-five minutes later he drove through Portland, a beautiful old city. You got a great look at the skyline and there were plenty of water views. North of Portland the trees took over once more. In Brunswick he got off the highway and back on Route One. He kept heading north, though it was really east. Conall had read somewhere this section of Maine was called "Down East" because the compass setting for sailing ships going up the coast was more east than north.

As he drove through Bath, and then Wiscasset, he noticed evergreens were much more prevalent. It was too early in the year for the other trees to be leafed out. Some time later he saw the sign he was looking for; _Rte. 31 South - Round Harbor 22 miles_. The harbor was near the end of a long, rocky peninsula. There was only one main road down the center of it, which was typical this far down the coast. In fact, north of Portland there was one peninsula after the other. It was a pleasant drive down the winding, scenic road. There were old farm houses and cottages, seemingly all painted white, surrounded by broad open fields. He caught glimpses of the ocean from time to time.

At last he saw signs of the town. There was a gas station, a convenience store, and a couple of car repair shops. In a field off to his right lay a forest of boats perched on storage stands, still covered by their winter shields of white shrink-wrap. He knew he was getting close to his destination. The lawyer's office was down in the harbor, not more than a mile away. Conall looked down at his car's clock; his appointment wasn't for another half hour. He had time to take a swing down by the water.

He drove slowly along the main street. A few people were walking along the sidewalks, but there were hardly any cars parked along the side of the road. Judging by the look of it, the town had a lot of tourists during the summer season. It was quaint, but the boats tied up along the wharves looked like fishing and lobster boats; this was a working harbor, not just a place for tourists and fair-weather residents. There was a boat yard at the far end of town, confirming his notion. Conall looked at the clock again. It was 10:50...close enough.

The lawyer's office was a big house situated a block up the hill from the harbor. He walked in and saw a middle-aged woman sitting at a desk in what must have been the foyer. "Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Raines...senior."

"And your name?"

"Conall O'Keefe."

The woman suddenly broke into a generous smile. "Oh! Mr. O'Keefe...yes, he's expecting you. She picked up her phone and punched a button. "Mr. Raines, Mr. O'Keefe is here...yes, of course." She hung up. "Please go right in. It's the second office on the left."

The door was open, so Conall walked right in. The office spacious; probably a living room originally. There was plenty of wood paneling and an ornate fireplace. On one side was a conference table with six chairs around it. The man sitting behind the desk stood when he entered and came around the desk smiling with his hand extended.

"Thank you so much for coming, Mr. O'Keefe." They shook hands.

Oliver Raines appeared to be in his fifties. With salt and pepper hair, a thin mustache, and a tweed sport coat, he very much looked like the country lawyer Conall expected. Their eyes locked for a moment; the lawyer's gaze intense.

"Sure, nice to meet you, Mr. Raines, and just Conall is fine."

"Of course, and please call me Oliver. Perhaps we can take a moment to sit down and get to know each other a little better?" He gestured to the chair in front of the desk. "Can I get you anything?"

"Naw, I'm good," said Conall as he sat down.

Oliver folded his hands and studied the young man sitting across from him. His research said he was twenty-nine years old. He was tall, perhaps six-foot three, handsome and fit with wavy brown hair, and looked very much like the photos he had of Shamus but, more importantly, his eyes were amber. There was no mistake. "Conall, this may surprise you, but our families have a longstanding connection."

"Oh, how is that?"

"Our great-great-grandfathers, Shamus O'Keefe and Arthur Raines, were best friends. Arthur was also Shamus' lawyer and the executor of his will."

"Interesting," replied Conall, wondering where this was going.

"In the absence of a suitable heir, the O'Keefe fortune was put into trust. However, the will also stipulated a search for an heir would continue."

Conall's heart skipped a beat. Ever since he'd first spoken with Oliver, he'd fantasized this was about inheriting a long-lost fortune. It still didn't seem possible. "How long ago did he pass?"

"Almost a hundred years ago, during the summer of 1926."

"A hundred years?"

"Quite so, and my family has managed the trust and the property ever since."

"The property?"

"Ah, yes, that is perhaps the most unusual asset of the Trust."

"So where is this property?

Oliver gave him a crooked smile. "Just outside of town on Little Round Island. There's a mansion on the island called Castletown Manor...quite spectacular, really. Shamus commissioned it in 1919 and construction was completed in early 1922. The Trust has maintained it all these years. In fact, it's quite famous around here."

"Who lives there?"

"Oh, no one."

"You maintain an empty house?"

"Well, yes. The house is an important part of the legacy."

"How so?"

Oliver paused for a moment. This was not how he had planned to proceed. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer not to get ahead of ourselves, Conall. Just to be clear, if you are who I think you are, I'll be satisfied you are the sole beneficiary of the O'Keefe estate."

Conall swallowed hard. "What does that mean?"

"Once you have fulfilled the terms of the will, you'll inherit everything. That includes Little Round Island, the manor, and the substantial investments held by the Trust. Congratulations, my boy...you're going to be rich."

Conall suddenly realized his mouth was agape. "You're kidding me..." he gasped quietly.

Oliver gave him a big smile. "Certainly not. I don't mean to be discourteous, but may I see your driver's license? It's just a formality. Then we can discuss the will in more detail and move forward drafting the necessary legal documents."

When Conall finally left Oliver's office, his head was spinning. It turned out Castletown Manor could only be reached by a causeway which was underwater at high tide. How bizarre was that? Also, there were some really strange stipulations in the will. One provided for two women to live the rest of their lives at Castletown Manor. Their relationship to Shamus was unclear. Another was the heir had to live at the old manor for a period of one year before he could fully inherit; annoying, but doable. The strangest thing of all was the requirement only an O'Keefe male could inherit...and only one with amber eyes. He realized that was the reason Oliver had stared at him so closely when they first met. It had been a hell of a day, so far, and he was starving. Oliver suggested he get something to eat at a place called MacDougal's. They agreed to pick things up on Monday. It looked like he would be staying in town for a while.

MacDougal's was only a few blocks away from the lawyer's office, so he decided to walk. The aptly named Harbor Street followed the town's waterfront. On one side were shops and businesses of various types. Almost all of them appeared to be closed. On the other side of the street were docks, wharves, and a few hotels. Some of the buildings were well maintained, while others were falling into neglect. The damp smell of salt, seaweed, and mud hung heavy in the air. He soon spotted the MacDougal's sign hanging over a door in an old clapboard covered building at the head of the town wharf. The wooden sign was attractively carved and painted, but appeared worn, even battered. The salt air could be very unforgiving.

Once inside, he took a moment to survey the place. It was much like he expected; there were plenty of bars like it on the Cape. The floors were made up of wooden planks, uneven and worn deeply near the door and in front of the bar. There were a number of tables with obvious scars from age and heavy use. He noticed the legs had matchbooks and napkins wedged under them, no doubt in a vain attempt to stop them from wobbling. It was definitely a "seat yourself" kind of place. He saw a table alongside the sole window and sat down.

While Conall had been deciding where to sit, Ellen and Sam had been watching him with great interest. Ellen leaned into Sam and whispered, "You think he's alone?"

"I'd say so," replied Sam quietly.

"I call dibs on him."

"You what?"

"It's been a long winter. He's the hunkiest guy to walk in the door since last fall."

Sam rolled her eyes. "You're such a slut."

"Am not!" Ellen complained, then added with a guilty grin, "At least mostly not. But, hey, don't worry...maybe he has a sister." Sam stuck her tongue out, made a face, and went back behind the bar. Ellen pulled an order pad from her apron and went over to Conall's table where he was studying the menu. "Hi, there," she chirped. "See anything you like?"

When Conall looked up he saw a beautiful and shapely young woman. "Oh, well, I guess I do." He gave her a bright smile and saw her blush a little.

"Great. What'll it be?"

"Is the haddock fresh?"

"Absolutely. They're landed right here in the harbor, so it doesn't get fresher than that."

"Perfect. I'll have the fried haddock sandwich with extra tartar sauce."

"Lettuce and tomato?"

"Yes, please."

"Fries or coleslaw?"

"Fries."

Ellen was nodding as she took down his order. Conall took the opportunity to check out his comely waitress. She was something special. When she looked back up at him, he quickly averted his eyes, but was pretty sure she'd caught him checking her out. Her big smile seemed to indicate she didn't mind. "And to drink?" she asked cheerfully.

"Anything good on tap?"

"Everyone seems to like Allagash White. It's a Belgian wheat beer. Would you like one?"

"Sure, that would be great."

As she walked away to place his order, he was mesmerized by her cute butt swaying back and forth. He had to shake his head to break the spell.

When Ellen got up to the kitchen pass-through, she slid the order across and called to the cook. "Burt, order in!" Then she went to the wait station at the bar. "Allagash White, draft."

Sam grabbed a chilled pint glass and pulled back on the tap. "He was totally checking your ass out."

Ellen smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "Of course, he was. If he's not just driving through, I might consider giving him a much better view later."

"You really are a slut," Sam teased as she placed the beer on the bar. Ellen stuck her tongue out, turned, then sauntered back to deliver the drink to her new favorite customer.

When Conall finished lunch there was barely a crumb left on his plate. Ellen came over and cleared the table. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked sweetly.

"Maybe another beer? It was really good. What was it? Allagash?"

"Yes. Allagash White."

"Oh, and maybe you can help me out. I'm going to be in town for a few days, at least. Can you recommend a hotel? It looks like a lot of them are closed."

Ellen's eyes lit up immediately. "Sure, sure. The Bentley Inn opened up last week. It's right on the water and you can get spring rates. It's three blocks down on the water side."

"That sounds great. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ellen paused for a moment and bit her bottom lip. "I'm Ellen. What's your name?" She saw a brief glimmer of surprise, then a pleased smile.

"Conall."

She stuck out her hand and they shook. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too, Ellen."

"Are you in town by yourself?"

"I am."

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "Then, if you have nothing else planned, why don't you come back later for something to eat or a drink. Tonight's my night off. Maybe we could hang out."

"I just might. You seem really good at drumming up business for your employer. I hope they appreciate that," he teased.

Ellen giggled. "Yeah, I get a bonus for every hot guy I drag in here." She saw him quirk a smile and she flushed.

Conall chuckled. She was adorable. "Well, you're doing a great job. I'd be happy to help you earn your bonus."

Relieved he had allowed her to gracefully remove her foot from her mouth, she just batted her eyelashes, "Super. I'll be right back with your beer."

After lunch he checked into the Bentley Inn. It was a modest place with the added benefits of free parking and being a two-minute walk to MacDougal's. His room was on the second floor. He unlocked the door and threw his bag down on the queen-sized bed. It was a nice room with a sliding glass door that opened to a narrow deck. He stepped out onto it and realized he had hundred-dollar room with a million-dollar view. The harbor was a beautiful sight. The working boats, the wharves, sailboats rocking gently on their moorings...picturesque did not begin to describe it.

There were two chairs on the deck. He sat down in one and sighed. It had been an amazing day; the connection to his past, the inheritance, an island manor he'd be living in soon, and what sounded like a date with a beautiful and sexy local girl. Raj was going to freak out when he told him.

Conall was so exhausted from the trip, and everything else, he ended up lying down and falling asleep. He awoke later with a start; it was dark. He picked up his phone and saw it was almost seven o'clock. Damn. He got up, splashed some water on his face and headed out to MacDougal's.

As soon as he entered the place, he saw Ellen sitting on a stool and talking to the woman tending bar. Then he saw the bartender say something and cock her head in his direction. Ellen turned toward him; her expression immediately brightened. He walked up to her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself, big guy," she replied, then placed a hand on his chest. "I thought you were going to cost me my bonus."

The feel of her hand gave him a little thrill. "Well, here I am."

She smiled. "Oh," she said, glancing at the bartender, a very attractive brunette, "this is my roommate, Sam."

He nodded to her. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi," she replied with a mischievous smile. "And you're Conall. Nice to meet you. I guess you made quite an impression on my girl here."

"Sam!" Ellen hissed, and leaned forward to swat her.

Sam started laughing, easily dodging her roommate's swinging arm. "Yeah, he's totally hot."

Conall saw Ellen's face burning. "I'm flattered and want to thank you for being so nice to someone new in town. It's been a long day and I've really looked forward to having someone to hang out with."

Ellen seemed to relax. "That's so sweet, Conall. Why don't we get a table where we can be away from... _annoying people_?" She glared at Sam as she said the last two words.

They sat together at the same table he had lunch at. He ordered two Allagash Whites and grabbed the menu. "Have you eaten?"

Ellen nodded. "I had something earlier." She looked down. "I guess I wasn't sure you were going to show up."

"Oh..." he replied a little guiltily. "Do you mind if I get something? I'm pretty hungry."

"Of course not. What would you like?" She recommended the "Fisherman's Platter", so he ordered it and then settled back in his chair.

He looked around the room taking in everything. "Tell me, who is the guy with the rubber boots at the bar?"

Ellen looked over at a man in his forties wearing a baseball cap and a flannel shirt. "That's Ernie Whitcomb. He ties up near the co-op. And by the way, don't get too close; he stinks of fish."

"Good to know. And the guy next to him?"

"Ralph Hendricks, Ernie's stern man. The guy's a little whacky and is missing more teeth and fingers than he should be."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah."

Conall could see into the kitchen from where he was sitting. A burly, dark-skinned man placed a plate of food on the pass-though and yelled, "Order up!"

He turned to Ellen. "I heard you call the cook 'Burt'. That sounds like a Maine name, but..."

She didn't turn around. "Yeah, his real name is Berto Gomez. He moved here with his wife, Maria, and their three kids about five years ago. He's an awesome guy and a great cook."

Conall's "Fisherman's Platter", a giant plate of an assorted fried seafood, was more than he could eat, so he convinced Ellen to help pick at it. As they settled into their second beer, he asked Ellen where she was from. She chuckled before answering.

"Here," she replied. "Born and raised. My family has lived here for generations."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around."

She nodded. "Yeah. What about you?"

"I live on the Cape, but my family has lived in New England for over a hundred years, I guess. In fact, I just found out today I'm related to a guy who lived here a long time ago."

"Really?" said Ellen, perking up.

"Yeah, a guy named Shamus O'Keefe. I guess he owned a house on Little Round Island." He saw Ellen's eyes go wide and her jaw slowly drop. "What? What did I say?" said Conall, mystified by her reaction.

"You, you're related to Shamus O'Keefe?" she stammered.

"Uh...yeah, that's what I'm told." he replied.

"Holy crap!"

"What?" replied Conall, a little alarmed. "Is there something I should know about this guy?"

"He's kind of a local legend around here."

"How so?"

Ellen tipped her head to one side. "You don't know?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Not really."

"He was this local guy who got mega-rich in the 1920's, built that creepy old mansion on Little Round island, and then shacked up with two gorgeous women. Legend has it the parties out there were epic."

"Wow. The lawyer didn't paint the picture quite like that."

"Lawyer?"

"Yeah. Maybe you know him...Oliver Raines."

"Junior of senior?"

"Senior."

"How did you run into him?"

"He's in charge of the O'Keefe trust. Looks like I might be living in that old house for a while."

Ellen was speechless for a moment, then gasped, "No...f-ing...way!"

"Uh...way," he chuckled. Then Ellen let out an excited, strangled squeal.

Erin and Selene: The Confession – Boston, December, 1917

Their lavish, four-story town house in the Beacon Hill area of Boston stood at the edge of Louisville Square, where the city's elite lived...and Shamus O'Keefe was definitely a member of that elite. It was no coincidence the Massachusetts State House was only blocks away. During the day he would attend to his thriving businesses and at night return to his two "goddesses", as he sometimes called them. His burning desire for the two women had blossomed into something he could only call love. They returned his feelings in kind and took to calling him their "amber-eyed lover". Erin was the softer, sweeter of the two, yet her passion was just as great as Selene's. As for her taller, dark-haired companion, she was wicked and sly, but equally devoted to both Erin and Shamus. It turned out they were not really sisters, which Shamus had always known, despite the game they liked to play...or even cousins. The truth, he would soon learn, was much, much stranger.

Erin and Selene enjoyed throwing extravagant parties and entertaining the younger and more adventurous among Boston's elite. It was an open scandal in Boston high society, but wealth had of way of bending the rules of what is acceptable and what is not. Then again, there was a war raging in Europe; the cities were alive with people willing to try new and even taboo things.

There were rumors Shamus' "women", as they were often called, would invite a pretty girl or even a couple into their bed. After one of their parties it would not be unusual for the many bedrooms to be filled with amorous couples or even groups of lovers.

On one such occasion, Selene seduced a beautiful young woman named Felicity who wanted to experience pleasures previously unknown to her. Once she and Erin had lured her to their bedroom, they smothered her with the pheromones succubae use to overpower any reluctance in their prey, although in Felicity's case, it probably wasn't necessary. After bringing her to climax several times with their lips and tongues, Shamus entered the room and dropped his clothes to the floor. When Felicity saw his towering manhood, she almost swooned.

"Please, Shamus," she begged. "Take me. Make me one of your women."

Erin and Selene exchanged excited glances. "Yes, Shamus, make her one of your women," said Selene with a lurid grin. "She's wet and ready for you."

Shamus moved forward, aroused and eager to take the young woman. Erin and Selene spread her legs invitingly for him. As he entered Felicity, she cried out. "Oh my _God_ , it's so big!" After a few careful thrusts, she was able to fully accommodate him. Felicity whimpered and moaned uncontrollably as his thrusts became harder and deeper. "Yes, Shamus! Fuck me!" she cursed.

Erin and Selene kissed Felicity, licked her breasts, and urged her on. It wasn't long until both Shamus and Felicity reached their peak, shuddering with pleasure as he pumped load after load in her willing pussy.

It didn't escape Shamus' notice that his two lovers orgasmed at the same time. He knew this was not some game played for his benefit. Every time he challenged them about it, they deflected his question or made a joke about it. After Felicity left, he was determined to get an answer.

"I demand to know what is going on. How can you climax like that?"

The women exchanged worried looks, but then Selene nodded to Erin.

"Um, sweetheart, there _is_ something about us we haven't, um, entirely shared with you before," replied Erin as he chewed on her bottom lip.

"And what would that be?" he replied, cocking his head to one side.

"Selene and I aren't like other girls."

Shamus burst into uncontrollable laughter. When he finally caught his breath he said, "I think it's safe to say I already knew that."

Selene decided she would have to be the one to break it to him. "Let me be more direct, Shamus. Do you know what a succubus is?"

"I believe so," he replied easily. "They are foul demons in female form with great horns, a long tail, and a forked tongue. They steal a man's soul and suck the life from his body." Erin started giggling. "Did I say something funny?" he asked, mystified.

"Well, my dear," Selene snorted, "I can't say we ever got good press."

"What do you mean?"

Selene looked him right in the eyes. "Darling, Erin and I are succubae."

Shamus stood motionless, completely stunned. "What! That's _not_ possible!"

"Hey...horns no, horny yes. Oh, and you don't seem any worse for the wear."

"I've lain with demons?"

"I think you've been doing a lot more than just that, don't you?"

Erin moved closer and put a hand on his chest. "Do you still love us?" she asked, her lips quivering.

Shamus looked from one to the other. He saw their worried, pleading eyes. These were not the eyes of demons...they were the eyes of the women he loved.

"Of course, I love you both, but this is...it's a bit of a shock."

"I can imagine," said Selene, much relieved. "You're the first person we've ever told."

"I'm honored, I suppose. Then...you haven't stolen my soul?"

Erin giggled. "Don't be silly. We just soak in the amazing sexual energy oozing out of every pore in your body. As long as we're touching you when you cum, we orgasm, too. Oh, and we can't cum unless a partner does."

"Really?"

Erin shrugged. "Hey, everything has a catch."

Once again, Selene cut in. "Shamus, we feed on sexual energy. We need it to survive...and the energy you share with us is the sweetest, most intoxicating we've ever known. We're addicted to you. Please...don't ever leave us."

Shamus arched his eyebrows. How could this be? They were the same people they were the moment before they told him. Was he in love with demons? Yes...he was. He didn't care they if they were different. If the cost was his soul, then so be it.

"I will stand by you both," he declared. "I don't care what you are. You're my beloveds."

Tears came to both Erin's and Selene's eyes. They hugged him and sobbed. Their worst fears had been put to rest and for the first time in their lives they could be their true selves.

Shamus O'Keefe – Boston, May, 1919

Since his fateful trip to Boston some five years before, his business empire had flourished as he knew it would. The "Great War" had put the economy in overdrive, but now it was over. Shamus was beginning to turn his attention to the future. His relationship with Erin and Selene was stronger than ever before. He'd adjusted to the fact his two loves were...succubae. Even now, years later, he could still barely believe it, but there was no doubt...in order to survive they needed to feed off the sexual energy of others, especially himself. Since no one seemed to be harmed and no souls appeared to be lost, he was at peace their secret.

One morning Shamus came to the breakfast table looking pensive. Erin and Selene were already eating. Their cook, a middle-aged, matronly woman named Sally, brought him a cup of coffee. Shamus nodded to the woman. "Thank you, Sally." She gave him a little smile and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Selene studied him for a moment and narrowed her eyes. "What's going on in that head of yours, Shamus? What are you up to?"

He gave up a guilty grin. "There's no fooling you, is there, Selene?"

"Certainly not. Tell me immediately, or Erin and I will torture you until you do."

Shamus laughed. "As you well know, that's hardly a threat. It sounds more like a reward."

"Perhaps," she replied smugly, "but we could certainly have fun doing it."

"There's something I've been contemplating for a while."

"And what might that be, darling?" asked Erin.

"I own a small island off the Maine coast. I was thinking of building a grand house on it; a place we could go in the summer where the air is clean and breezes cool. It would be very private, somewhere we could be ourselves."

"I like the sound of this," said Selene. "I get kind of sick of these Boston biddies looking down their noses at us."

Shamus turned to Erin. "And you, my dear?"

"It sounds lovely, Shamus, but being with you is all I really care about."

Selene rolled her eyes dramatically. " _Really_ , Erin? Whatever happened to my harlot sister?"

"Oh, she's still here, right Shamus?" she grinned.

"Indeed, my sweet." He went over and kissed the top of her head. "Then it's settled. I'll call Arthur to set the project in motion. When I have some drawings from the architects, we can review them together. Would you like that?" They did.

Conall O'Keefe - Little Round Island

When he awoke on Sunday morning the sun was already shining brightly. The events of the prior day came streaming back through a haze. Had it really happened or was it all just a lingering dream? He remembered a pleasant evening with a beautiful blonde. He smiled to himself. Yes, that happened. Ellen seemed to be quite enamored of him...and very handsy. He was pretty sure she would have gladly shared his bed last night, but he'd been exhausted. All was not lost; they'd exchanged phone numbers. She'd been very excited about seeing the old mansion, but he wanted to take his first tour alone. Besides, she had to work today. She made sure he knew her day off was Monday.

He got up and prepared himself for the day. The hotel had a complimentary breakfast, so he trundled down the stairs to check it out. They had coffee, of course, and he went right for it. The food was meager; some muffins, a few donuts, bananas, and cold cereal. He grabbed a blueberry muffin, a banana, his coffee, and went back to his room.

Conall went out on his deck to drink his coffee and munch on the muffin. The warm spring sun felt good on his face. Looking down at the water it was obvious the tide was neither high nor low, but he couldn't tell if it was coming in or going out. This was something he'd have to start keeping track of. He used his phone to bring up a local tide chart. It was coming in; high tide would be just after noon. When Oliver gave him the keys to the manor, he said the causeway was usually impassable for about two hours around high tide, depending on the time of month. He did the math in his head. There was time to pick up something for lunch, cross over to the island, and have the causeway open back up by midafternoon. Perfect.

The man at the inn's front desk told him he could buy groceries at "the IGA", which turned out to be a co-op for small grocery stores. When he got there, he could see it was pretty much what he imagined it would be; the aisles were narrow and the shopping carts small. Every available space seemed to be crammed with items. As he walked through the store, he realized it had pretty much anything you might want...unless you were looking for ethnic foods. He got two bottles of water, some granola bars, and a pre-made sandwich that looked like it didn't need to be refrigerated.

The cashier at the register was an older woman with a sturdy build and white hair wound into tight curls. She was wearing a red apron with a name tag that said "Lottie". He put his items down on the conveyor belt and she began ringing them up.

"Did you find everything you were looking for, young man?"

The woman made him smile with her kindly, cheerful voice. She reminded him of his grandmother. "Uh, yes ma'am."

"Oh, you can call me Lottie. Everyone does."

"Okay, Lottie. Thanks." Conall was again beginning to wonder if he hadn't slipped into some sort of alternate dimension; people were amazingly friendly. It was a far cry from the people he was used to running into on the Cape.

"And what's your name?" she continued. "I haven't seen you around before."

"It's Conall," he replied.

"Well, you have yourself a nice day, Conall. I hope to see you again real soon."

"Thanks, Lottie," he replied. When Conall got back in his car he just sat there for a moment, reflecting briefly on yet another unexpected, yet pleasant, encounter in this very interesting little town.

Fifteen minutes later he was headed down a narrow road leading to the water. He wasn't surprised to find it was called Little Round Island Road. At the end it broadened into a gravel parking area...and then he saw it. The island rose steeply from the water and was thickly covered by tall trees, mostly evergreen. Large flat slabs of granite had been laid from the parking area down to the water, where the causeway began and extended a hundred yards to the shore of the island. The causeway was flanked on either side by large blocks of granite. In between, to his surprise, it was paved. The water was about a foot below the road, so he knew it was now or never. He eased his car down the ramp, drove carefully across the causeway, and was soon climbing the bank on the other side.

His pulse quickened as he navigated the narrow, winding road he knew would lead him to Castletown Manor. He imagined all the times Shamus must have driven this way a hundred years ago and wondered how much it had changed. The road kept going uphill until the trees encroaching on the road gave way to a broad meadow. And there, standing majestically on the crest of the hill, was Castletown Manor. Three stories tall, it had two turrets, with a wide, covered porch that wrapped around the building. There were gabled lookouts with views in every direction. He could see there was a massive chimney. It was built almost entirely of stone and brick formed in intricate designs. The roof was covered by slate shingles.

He parked in front and got out of his car, taking a moment to survey what his eyes could barely believe. This was his new home? Was this really possible? He fished the keys out of his pocket and climbed up the wide stairway to the porch. He stood before a massive wooden door with a huge brass knocker in the shape of what looked like a mermaid, or was it a siren? He inserted the key marked "front door" in the lock and turned it apprehensively. Sure enough, he heard the bolt slide back. Conall pushed the door open and beheld a large foyer leading to a grand staircase which then rose to a mezzanine overlooking the central room on the first floor. There was floor to ceiling wood paneling like you might see in some English manor. The banisters were also ornately carved. Even so, it wasn't just a copy of an old English manor; many of the accents were Art Deco, a popular style during the 1920's. Expensive-looking carpets covered the floors. There was furniture, but it was all covered by sheets. He was pleased to see the house appeared to be in excellent condition despite the fact no one had lived in it for many decades. Oliver had apparently taken his responsibilities seriously when it came to preserving the legacy. Conall would have to thank him for that.

For the next hour he went from room to room, exploring the house and wondering at the opulence of his ancestor's lifestyle. He was also glad to discover it had electricity. While it could certainly benefit from updating, he wouldn't have to light the place with candles and hurricane lamps. He noticed there were old-style steam radiators in the house, so there was central heat. "Thanks, Shamus," he said under his breath.

Still reeling from his tour of the house, Conall wandered outside. It was a beautiful spring day and the breeze off the ocean was invigorating. The manor was perched at the top of a cliff with bold views of the open ocean. He breathed in the cool, salty air and let it out slowly. It made him hungry. He went back to the car, got his sandwich and water, and went out to the edge of the cliff where there were several granite blocks arranged in a semi-circle. When he got closer, he saw there was a fireplace in the center; the hardscape was for sitting and entertaining. Perfect.

He sat on one of the blocks, which had already been warmed by the sun; it was more comfortable than he thought it would be. Conall looked out over the water and saw whitecaps, but they weren't angry ones. He could see lobster buoys and even a few boats off in the distance. It was beautiful...peaceful. After finishing his sandwich, he looked around. At the edge of the meadow stood a small building that appeared to be made out of stone. He made his way over to it and, as he got closer, realized it was a mausoleum. There was little doubt in his mind as to who the occupant might be. Sure enough, his name was emblazoned over the door; _Shamus Patrick O'Keefe, born September 9, 1885, died July 25, 1926_. Conall stilled, contemplating all the days and years that had intervened between then and now. Below that was inscribed two more names. It said " _Erin and Selene, beloved of Shamus – Together Forever"_.

Conall suddenly understood. These were the two women mentioned in the will; it made him smile. It seemed like great-great grandpa was quite the lady's man. He suddenly felt a chill go down his spine and a fluttering in his stomach. He shook his head. Strange. It wasn't like him to get emotional about some long-lost relative and his girlfriends.

His attention was then drawn to an area surrounded by a low rock wall. It was less than a hundred feet away; he went over to investigate. In the center was a single oak tree rising high above. The majestic tree, still bare of leaves, was surrounded by several headstones. He walked up to one and read the inscription: _Here Lies Rex – Faithful unto Death_. Interesting. The next said, _Scout – Always Loyal_. The third said, _Scout 2 – Always Loyal_. There was little doubt...this was a pet cemetery. Interesting.

For the next hour Conall explored the rest of the island. While the center was densely wooded, the perimeter was solid rock. It allowed him to circle the island without having to push through the underbrush. For the most part the rock plunged steeply to the sea, but on the back end of the island there was a small sandy beach. At the end nearest the causeway was a stone wharf in poor repair. No doubt it was used to access the island in spite of whatever the tide was. He was able to clamber down and inspect the beach, finding a circle of rocks with charred logs in the center. The empty beer cans and even some clothes strewn about made it clear the locals had staked this out as a party place. It bothered him this little slice of his fantasy world had been violated, but he could also see himself as being one of the teenage revelers.

By the time he got back to the manor he knew the tide was receding; he could probably leave the island. Conall locked up the house. He'd seen enough for one day and had a lot to think about. As he drove down the hill towards the causeway, he was already thinking of questions to ask Oliver in the morning. A lot would need to be done before moving into the manor.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the Bentley Inn it was late afternoon. He went up to his room and found the pad of paper that all hotels seem to leave in the room for people. As he began to jot his thoughts down another thought occurred to him; he should probably call Raj. He picked up his phone and said, "Call Raj."

"Calling Raj, mobile," replied Siri.

It only rang twice before his friend picked up. "Dude! What's up?"

"A lot," Conall chuckled.

"You hook up with some hottie...I hope? Want to get together for a beer?"

"Uh, might be difficult. I'm at a hotel in Round Harbor, Maine."

"You get kidnapped?"

"No, way weirder than that."

For a moment there was silence on the line. "Um, you're scaring me here, Conall. What's going on?"

Conall proceeded to tell him the story, starting with the mysterious call from the lawyer to his visit to Little Round Island. He left out the part about Ellen since he knew his friend would torment him mercilessly over his decision to go home and sleep instead bringing her back to his room.

Raj was understandably amazed. "Damn! Are you telling me I have a rich friend?"

Conall laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."

"That is so awesome! I've never had a rich friend. Can I borrow some money?"

"Hey, I haven't seen a dime, so maybe this is some kind of crazy scam, but since I'm broke, I can't see how that would work."

"Yeah, makes sense. Well, keep me in the loop on all this."

"Sure. By the way, I'm not coming back to work this week. I'll call my boss in the morning. Looks like you're going to have to carry the ball on the Dr. Marty article."

"Sure, no problem."

By the time Conall hung up it was starting to get dark and he was starting to get hungry. His dinner choices included another trip to the IGA, the sketchy dining room in the inn, or a trip to MacDougal's. It was an easy choice.

As he entered MacDougal's he noticed it was almost deserted. He ambled over to bar and took a seat at one of the tall stools. Erin's dark-haired friend was tending bar again.

"Hey, Conall, if you're looking for blondie, she's not here."

"Sam. Right?" he replied. She nodded. "I'm just here to get a beer and something to eat."

"Looks like you're becoming quite the regular," she said with a crooked smile.

He gave her a look. "Does two days in a row make me a regular?"

"Well, we're not ready to get a brass plaque for the back of the chair...yet, but we'll see how it goes. So, what would you like to eat? What did you have yesterday?"

"A Fisherman's Platter."

"In the mood to try something different today?" she said, leaning forward and slightly arching an eyebrow.

Conall caught a glimpse of her cleavage and heard the suggestive tone of her voice. "You're Ellen's roommate, aren't you?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

He immediately wanted to change the subject. "Um, no. Any specials today?"

She gave him a sly smile, obviously enjoying making him uncomfortable. "Yeah, we have T-bone steaks. You look like a man who enjoys a nice piece of meat."

Conall started laughing. "You're an evil woman. I think I like you."

Sam broke into a grin. "So...steak then?"

"Sure, sounds good."

All through dinner they bantered and flirted back and forth. He found her attractive in a very different way than Ellen. While Ellen was sweet and wide-eyed, Sam was edgy and self-confident. With them being roommates, he would definitely have to watch his step.

After finishing his second beer he bid Sam goodnight and headed back to the inn. He wanted to be fresh for his meeting with Oliver in the morning.

Shamus O'Keefe – Little Round Island, July, 1922

Castletown Manor was completed in early spring. By late May, Shamus, Selene, and Erin had moved in. While Shamus had made several trips north to supervise and inspect the work, this was the first time the women had seen it...and they were thrilled.

"Oh, Shamus," gushed Erin, "It's so beautiful. I _love_ it. I never want to leave!"

"I'm so glad you're pleased, my dear," replied Shamus proudly.

Selene was more restrained, but he could see her bottom lip quivering. "It's wonderful, Shamus...a real home for the three of us. Thank you."

He knew she was just as pleased, if not more so, as Erin. He nodded and let his eyes convey his response. She returned a grateful smile.

The height of summer brought forth flowers in the gardens as well as guests travelling from near and far. Prohibition and the puritanical morays of the post-war years was little in evidence at Castletown Manor. The wharf by the beach allowed easy access for boats sailing down from Canada with shipments of fine wines and Canadian whisky as well as for friends sailing up from Boston. In a strange legal twist, prohibition allowed citizens to consume alcohol, but not buy, sell, produce, or transport it. The folly of the "grand experiment" would not be fully appreciated until many years later. As always, the enforcement of laws applied to the poor, not the rich.

And so, the parties they enjoyed in Boston continued at the manor, even more uninhibited than before. Erin and Selene could feed to their heart's content and Shamus was able to take as many lovers as he wanted. Their friends and lovers from Boston would often visit to partake of the revelries as well as escape the summer heat.

The seasonal respite was also an opportunity for Shamus to go riding on his horse, Rex. They had a golden retriever named Scout who was able to roam the island as his own domain, often accompanying Shamus and Rex on their rides. Arthur would often visit, since he continued to live in Round Harbor. Erin and Selene were very fond of him, but would often tease and flirt with him, knowing how flustered he would become. Shamus just found it amusing. It was during one of these visits he pulled his friend aside.

"Arthur, I'd like you to join me in my study. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you."

Arthur recognized the look. With a feeling of apprehension, he followed Shamus to his study. Three hours and two cognacs later Arthur emerged from the study with sheaves of documents and copious notes in hand. Shamus had directed him to prepare his last will and testament. Arthur was grateful his friend was finally moving forward with it; he'd been pestering Shamus for over a year to take care of the matter. However, Shamus had several very unusual requests that would take serious thought before committing them to paper. Ensuring there would be no challenge to the will would be a daunting task.

Conall O'Keefe – The Inheritance

Conall rose early on Monday morning, understandably anxious about how the day would unfold. He called work just after eight o'clock and told his boss he needed to take a few days off due to a death in the family. It wasn't a lie; he simply didn't share the fact the death had occurred a hundred years ago.

It was just before nine o'clock in the morning when Conall pulled into Oliver's office parking lot. The sky was overcast, but according to the local news station, it was supposed to clear up by lunchtime. He walked up to the door and entered. The same receptionist was sitting at her desk in the foyer and greeted him with a cheerful smile.

"Good morning Mr. O'Keefe. Mr. Raines is expecting you. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Then you can go right in."

When he entered Oliver's office he rose and shook his hand. "Good morning, Conall, please have a seat and we can get going."

"Sounds good."

When Conall was seated Oliver sat back with a smile on his face. "I'm assuming you went out to the island yesterday. What do you think?"

Conall shook his head. "Amazing, just amazing. It was like being transported back in time. Oh, and I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For keeping the place is such good shape. It couldn't have been easy."

"I truly appreciate that, Conall, but perhaps a nod of thanks is also in order for my father and his father before him. I can't take all the credit."

That really put things in perspective. "You're right, Oliver. I can see the continuity in all this and the bond passed down through generations. It's not something I've ever experienced before."

"Memories are long here and the bonds that tie us together are strong. I'm glad you understand. Now tell me...do you think you can live at the manor for a year?"

Conall had thought constantly about that very question. The manor was totally out-sized for a single person, but it was doable. "Yes, I could definitely could, but I'd need a job and the place would need work to get it habitable."

"I see," replied Oliver with satisfaction. "Then you'll be glad to hear that, until you have complied with all the provisions of the will, the O'Keefe Foundation will provide you with a generous stipend and all necessary funds to address maintenance and improvements to the property. Does this address any immediate concerns you might have?"

Conall was shocked; it looked like this was really happening. "Uh, yeah, those were the big ones."

"What else?"

"The basics, I guess. Getting the electricity and water turned on...and the heat. Do they all work?"

"Yes," replied Oliver without hesitation. "We test all of them periodically. In fact, I arranged this morning for the power to be turned on from the mainland side. All you have to do is throw the breakers in the basement and you'll have light and water. Just let the water run for ten minutes before you drink it."

"That's great. Thanks."

"As to your stipend..." Conall looked up expectantly. Oliver leaned forward and handed him a check. "Here is an initial check for $100,000 drawn on a local bank. I've been in contact with the manager who will personally meet with you, open the account, and ensure the funds are immediately available to you. Will that be satisfactory?"

Conall was numb and found himself staring down at the check. "Yeah, um, sure," he mumbled.

"Excellent. Anything else before we continue? There are some documents to sign."

Conall dragged himself back to the present. "Yes. I've been wondering how Shamus died. He was only forty-one years old."

"Oh, of course. He was thrown by a horse and broke his neck."

Conall considered this for a moment. "Was the horse's name Rex?"

"Indeed, it was," smiled Oliver. "I see you found the pet cemetery."

"I did. There's one other item that's been bothering me."

"And what would that be?"

"The thing with the eye color. What's with that?"

Oliver gave him a slight nod. "Yes, that _is_ rather odd. Although the will doesn't record the color of Shamus' eyes, my family has passed down the story from one generation to the next; he had amber eyes. More than that, his constant companions, Erin and Selene, seemed to be excessively enamored of that trait."

"Strange..."

"Indeed."

"So, who were these women?"

"It seems Shamus met them during a trip to Boston in search of his wife and son."

"Wife? Son?"

"Yes, her name was Norah, and your great-grandfather, Patrick. She left Shamus and apparently dropped out of sight sometime before World War One. He was never able to locate her or his son."

"And the women?"

"As you may have guessed by now, Shamus had a well-deserved reputation as a womanizer."

"Yeah, I kind of figured."

"Erin and Selene were rumored to have met Shamus during a visit to a Boston brothel."

"They were prostitutes? Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all. The three of them lived together in Boston for a number of years before moving into Castletown Manor. By that time, it was apparent to all that Shamus was deeply in love with them and they, in turn, were devoted to him. As scandalous as it all was, people in polite society did not discuss such things openly; they preferred to gossip behind closed doors. The fact that Shamus was enormously rich provided at least superficial acceptance of their relationship."

"Interesting. So, after Shamus died, what happened to them? I saw their names on his mausoleum."

"That's right. The two women lived out the rest of their short lives at Castletown Manor. They became reclusive and both, less than two years later, passed away on the very same night. It caused quite a stir in town. Some said they killed themselves, though no evidence of this was ever found. Others said they died of broken hearts. It was all very tragic."

Less than an hour later Conall was headed to the bank with his huge check burning a hole in his pocket. Maybe this is what it felt like to win the lottery. His phone dinged; he looked down and saw it was a text from Ellen. Then he remembered MacDougal's was closed on Mondays and he'd promised to take her to the island. He'd deal with it later.

The bank manager was very helpful and seemingly anxious to please. Perhaps Oliver had mentioned something about the possibility he could become a significant customer. He left the bank with a new checking and savings account and five hundred dollars in cash. It felt good to be flush. Then he remembered he was supposed to call Ellen...it was still early.

Conall O'Keefe – Return to the Island

She picked up on the first ring. "Hi, Conall!" she squeaked excitedly.

"Hi, Ellen." She was so damned cute.

She wasted no time getting to the point. "Can we go to the island today?"

"Sure. Let's pick up something to eat and drink and then head over. We'll have to hurry if we're going to make the tide."

"Excellent!" Then she paused. "Um...can Sam come along?"

Conall was surprised, but not disappointed, the sassy brunette wanted to join them. He was even more surprised Ellen was okay with it. "Sure. No problem."

"She made me ask," Ellen added glumly. "She said she'd shave my head while I was sleeping if I didn't get her invited."

"Oh," was all he could manage to say. It looked like his day was about to get a lot more interesting, if that was even possible.

He picked them up at their apartment, which turned out to be an old triple-decker sitting on a hill overlooking the harbor. They wasted no time zipping down to the IGA to pick up lunch and something to drink. Once again, Lottie was standing at the cash register. When she saw him with Ellen and Sam her eyes twinkled. "Nice to see you again so soon, Conall...and I see you've made some new friends." She gave him a wink.

The girls both gave him a look. "You know Lottie?" asked Ellen skeptically.

"Of course, doesn't everybody?" he answered with a straight face.

That got a chuckle out of Sam. "Yeah, I guess they do."

The three of them hustled back to the car with their goodies, which included a six-pack of beer, and headed immediately for the causeway. They arrived just in time. The water was inches from the road surface.

Ellen was gleeful. "It's even more fun when the water just covers the road!"

Conall shook his head and looked in the rearview mirror just as Sam was doing a serious eye roll. "Well, maybe another day," he sighed.

The weather was just clearing as they emerged from the trees and entered the meadow surrounding the manor. Ellen began squirming in her seat she was so excited. "I can't wait, I can't wait."

"Chill out, girlfriend, or I'm going to have to throw a bucket of cold water on you," warned Sam, sounding exasperated.

Conall pulled up to the front door and turned off the car. "Everybody out, the tour is about to begin." Ellen let out a delighted squeal. As soon as he unlocked the door Ellen shot by him and into the great room. Turning slowly to take in the wonders all around her, she gasped a long, drawn-out, "Wowww."

Sam was more circumspect. "Nice bachelor pad, Conall. You really gonna live here?"

"That's the plan."

"You're going to need a maid," observed Sam.

"Or two?" he snarked.

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah, you wish."

Ellen was oblivious to the banter, being much too absorbed gawking at everything.

Conall returned to the business at hand. "Okay, like I said on the way here, getting the electricity turned on is job one. First, I've got to find the breakers."

"And where might they be?" asked Sam.

"According to Oliver...the basement." He let the last word hang there, dramatically.

"The basement?" gulped Ellen.

Sam gave her a look. "Yeah, you know, the floor beneath the first floor? The place all the monsters hide." Ellen didn't respond, but gave Conall an apprehensive look. Sam just smirked.

"Come on scaredy-cat," he said. "It's no big deal." They wandered around until they found the basement door; it was off the kitchen. Now he was kicking himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight. Then he noticed a hurricane lamp sitting on a table next to the door. A butane lighter sat next to it. It looked out of place in a room that screamed of times gone by, but he was very grateful for the small favor. The lamp had oil and looked to be in good working order. He removed the glass chimney and lit the wick. The flame bloomed and he quickly replaced the chimney...and there was light. He grinned proudly as if he had just invented fire. "Follow me."

Conall led the way, creeping carefully down the stairs and brushing the spiderwebs aside. Ellen hunched down behind him, while Sam brought up the rear. The basement wasn't quite as primitive as Conall assumed it might be, no doubt due to the efforts of Oliver and his forebearers. He spotted a gray metal box to his left; it definitely looked like a breaker box, and not one from the 1920's...thank God. He walked up to it and handed the lamp to Ellen. "Here, take this," he said. In the flickering light he could see her eyes were wild. "Easy does it, Ellen. It's all good." She nodded, but remained mute.

Just then Sam moved closer. "What's _that_!" she yelled.

Ellen shrieked and almost dropped the lamp. "You _bitch_! Don't do that!" Sam was laughing too hard to respond.

"Okay, everybody chill," said Conall impatiently. He popped open the door to the electrical box and examined the switches. It was fairly modern...no round fuses. At the top were two heavy-duty switches labeled "main breaker". Conall was no electrical expert, but this seemed like the ticket. He threw them to the right and...voila.

"Yes!" hissed Ellen as the basement was flooded with light.

When they got back upstairs Conall went over to the kitchen sink and opened the taps. There were some rumblings and gurgling, but water was soon pouring out of the tap. At first it was murky and smelled a bit off, but it soon ran clear; another small step in bringing Castletown Manor back to life...and it felt good.

They went back outside and were pleased to see the sun was now shining brightly. "Hey," said Conall, "what say we grab the sandwiches and eat lunch out by the cliff?"

"I could eat," agreed Sam.

Ellen nodded. "Sounds good."

They got the food from the car and went out to the sitting rocks, then tore open their sandwiches and cracked a beer. Ellen looked at the fire pit in the middle. "Totally great party place," she said while munching on her sandwich.

He studied her for a moment and instinctively knew this was not the first time she had been on the island. "Partied here before?" He saw the guilty look on her face. "It's okay, Ellen," he reassured her.

"Well, yeah. Growing up everybody would sneak onto the island to party."

"On the beach by the old wharf?"

"You know about that?"

"Yes," he grinned. "Ever lose any clothes?"

She laughed and scrunched up her face. "Maybe a pair of panties?"

"You bad girl," said Sam in mock dismay. "Why didn't I get invited?"

"You were the new girl," she replied defensively.

"New girl? I moved here in the second grade!" Sam was suddenly fuming. Ellen looked the other way and didn't respond.

Conall decided this might be a good time to shift the conversation. "How about we go check out the mausoleum after lunch?"

"Yeah, sure, I'd love to," Ellen replied, grateful for any opportunity to divert discussion about the party beach.

"What mausoleum?" asked Sam, her curiosity piqued.

"It's where my ancestor, Shamus, is buried, along with his two girlfriends, or lovers, or whatever."

Sam gave him a puzzled look. "Girlfriends? As in plural?"

"Apparently so."

"I've got to see this."

After lunch they headed over to the mausoleum. Sam was fascinated. "This is so romantic... and a hundred years ago? That must have been unheard of." Ellen seemed lost in thought, twirling her long blonde hair with her fingers.

Once again, Conall had that strange feeling, like the first time he was here. He noticed both Sam and Ellen had faraway looks in their eyes. It was a moment they all seemed to silently share. Conall finally broke the spell. "Um, would you mind if we head back to the house? I need to figure out what I have to do if I'm going to live here."

Sam blinked and shook her head. "Sure, Conall, no problem."

When they got back to the manor, Conall walked around making notes. He told the girls to go ahead and explore the house and grounds. Part of his process was to decide which rooms he was going to use and which to leave alone, at least for now. The place was really dusty, so a deep cleaning was in order, especially in the kitchen. A new refrigerator and stove were also on his list of priority items. Then there was the matter of picking out where he was going to sleep. He went upstairs and peeked into several of the bedrooms. The first two were nice, but the third one was amazing. In the center of the room was an enormous canopied bed. The posts were elaborately carved...pretty cool, he thought. All the furniture was antique and probably original. There was an attached and luxuriously appointed bathroom. The tile and fixtures were Art Deco. Nice. There was no doubt which bedroom he'd be using.

As he emerged from the bathroom Ellen and Sam were just coming in. He saw their eyes gravitate to the giant bed. "Looks like plenty of room for company," Ellen tittered.

Sam went over and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "If only this bed could talk," she mused.

Conall had to admit he'd been thinking pretty much the same things but now, with two beautiful women in the room, he suddenly felt a bit unsettled. They gave him, and then each other, uneasy glances. There was a subtle tension in the room. Once more, Conall found way to gently redirect them.

"Let's go out, sit on the porch, and have another beer."

"I'm in," said Sam, bouncing off the bed.

They spent the next hour just relaxing, sipping their beers, and enjoying the view. There was a soft quiet that surrounded the manor; you could hear the surf, the calls of birds, and the steady whisper of the wind sifting through the trees. Conall felt at peace and comfortable with his companions, even though he'd met them only two days ago. He looked over and saw both of them had their eyes closed, relaxed, with the warm sun on their faces. Somehow, it made him feel good...very good.

Shamus O'Keefe – Little Round Island, June, 1926

It was the fourth summer the three lovers had spent at Castletown Manor. Even though Boston was their home for most of the year, their hearts were firmly rooted on the island. It was the only place they felt totally at ease. Arthur would often visit with his wife and children, but they found themselves more and more content to simply share the magic of the island with each other. Erin and Selene would go into town from time to time, but knew the townsfolk simply tolerated them as creatures of Shamus, the town's favorite son. It was a small price to pay for the joy he brought them. As for Shamus, he had finally found the peace he had not found with Norah. He still longed to find his son, Patrick, but knew it might never be.

On this particular afternoon, Shamus was pensive. "What is it, my love," asked Erin.

"Are you happy?" he asked simply.

Erin was taken aback. "Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?"

He didn't reply to her question, but said, "I love you." He turned to Selene, who was sitting close by. "And you?"

"Do I need to take you upstairs and show you?" she answered, lifting an eyebrow suggestively.

She always made him smile. "I suppose not, but perhaps we can discuss it further when I return from my ride."

"We'll look forward to it," she replied with a sly smile, her trademark. Erin just sniggered.

Conall O'Keefe – Reviving the Manor

After Conall dropped Ellen and Sam off at their apartment, he headed back to the Bentley Inn and had something to eat in their dining room. He used the alone time to reflect on another momentous day in his life. The inheritance, the money, the manor...it was overwhelming. Then there were the two women he had shared most of his day with. He found himself intensely attracted to both, which was an obvious recipe for disaster. Later on, up in his room, he organized the notes he took at the manor. Finally, he realized how tired he was and how busy the next day would be. Time to turn in, he thought to himself.

Conall woke up refreshed and ready to tackle the lengthy list of errands he had mapped out. There were stores and contractors to call, as well as a cleaning service. After a getting a muffin and coffee at the breakfast bar downstairs, he dug in. By noontime, he'd made good progress. The cleaning company was sending a crew out the next day. However, while buying a stove and refrigerator was no problem, getting them delivered and hooked up was going to be a lot trickier. He hoped it would come together by the end of the week, but he wasn't counting on it. The refrigerator would be less challenging than the stove, but he still needed an electrician. The stove required more steps and two sets of contractors. Fortunately, everyone seemed hungry for work after a long winter.

Conall referred back to his notes. Even though the kitchen had dishes, flatware, and the like, he was sure to need other items, but he wasn't sure what. What he did need were linens, towels, and various household items. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it was not going to come together as quickly and easily as he had first imagined. He'd just have to be patient.

Before long, it was lunchtime and hunger drove him out of his room. He grabbed a couple of hot dogs from a street vendor near the docks, wolfed them down, and moved on to his first errand of the day. Conall hopped in his car and drove to Frank's Hardware, a quirky little place with a sign over the door that said " _If we don't have it, you don't need it_ ". Nice. He emerged an hour later wheeling a full cart out to the parking lot. There was a large assortment of hand and power tools, flashlights, batteries, cleaning supplies, brooms, and anything else he could think of. Somehow, it all fit in the trunk of his car.

By the time he got back to the inn, it was late afternoon. He had two texts from Ellen and, unexpectedly, one from Sam; they were both working tonight. Despite his better judgement, he knew he was going to MacDougal's.

When he walked in the door, he immediately saw them both... and they were looking back like they'd been waiting for him to appear. Sam was behind the bar and Ellen was waiting tables. Already his life was getting complicated. Where to sit? There was an open stool by the wait station. He made a beeline for it...the closest he would get to neutral territory.

"Hey, big guy, what's your pleasure?" asked Sam with a flirty smile.

"Hey, Sam," he replied. "I'm thinking a beer and a burger."

"Allagash?"

"Sounds good."

Just then Ellen sidled up to him. He half expected her to give Sam a dirty look, but she didn't. Ellen put her hand on his arm. "Hi, Conall. Nice to see you," she cooed, then leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He was a little surprised, but it was nice. Conall looked at Sam, who just smirked. She slid his beer across the bar. "How do you want your burger?"

"Medium rare."

"You got it." Sam turned to the kitchen pass-through and dropped the order slip down. "Burt, order in!" she yelled.

Sitting two seats to his right was Ernie Whitcomb, the lobsterman Ellen had told him about, and one seat further down was his buddy, Ralph. He remembered she called him a stern man, whatever that was. As he sipped his beer, Conall also remembered what she'd said about Ernie, and yes, he did stink of fish, but hey, everybody's got to make a living. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ernie looking at him. It seemed a little strange, but he was getting used to strange; it was his new normal.

Then Ernie spoke. "You the O'Keefe guy everybody's been talking about?"

He turned to Ernie, took a swig of his beer, and placed it down on the bar. "I don't know, how many are there?"

Ernie snorted a laugh. "Jus' one I figure."

Conall nodded. "Yeah, then it's probably me."

Ernie stuck out his hand. "Ernie Whitcomb," he declared.

"Conall O'Keefe," he replied, taking the man's calloused hand in his. Another friendly denizen of Round Harbor?

"Nice to make your acquaintance," replied the gruff fisherman.

"Likewise." Conall expected a conversation to ensue, but the man simply turned back to his beer. Strange. The word was becoming a mantra for him. He looked up and saw Sam grinning, clearly amused by the confused look on his face.

Over the next hour or so he got his burger and fries, which he inhaled, bantered back and forth with Ellen and Sam, and had two more beers. Just as he was thinking about heading out, he felt a hand on his back and a body pressed up against him. He turned, half expecting and hoping it was Ellen, and saw a woman, maybe forty years old, with bleached blonde hair and embarrassingly dark roots. She smelled of cigarettes and beer.

"Hi thur," she slurred. "You're da new guy stay'n down at the Bentley, ain't you?"

"Um, I guess so," Conall replied, trying to remain polite.

"Muh name's Sally. Whut's yours?"

"Conall."

Ellen spotted his predicament. "Sally, I think this gentleman would prefer some space."

"Piss off, Ellen," she snarled. "I wuz just being frenly."

Then Sam piped up. "Sally, I can't have you bothering my customers. Don't make me cut you off again."

"Bitch," she muttered under her breath, then turned and tottered away.

"Thanks, ladies," said Conall, relieved he didn't have to be rude to the woman.

Sam shook her head. "That's Sally Markham...works down at Maddy's Breakfast Nook on the other side of the harbor. In addition to being one of the biggest lushes in town she's also the biggest gossip. She probably wanted to get in your business more than she wanted to get in your pants."

Ellen laughed. "You're lucky we were here to rescue you before she had you in her clutches."

"Then you're my heroes, or heroines, I guess," said Conall sarcastically. For some reason the dynamics the three of them shared seemed comfortable and without the tension he would have expected. It also felt like something had subtly changed between them.

By the time he left the bar he'd filled them in on his day and what he had planned for the next. They seemed almost as excited as he was about the manor project. It was only ten o'clock when he headed back to the inn, but he had another big day ahead of him.

Wednesday morning was overcast and cold. A steady damp wind was coming off the ocean. He got out to the island as soon as he could and unloaded the tools and supplies from his trunk. The cleaning crew arrived soon afterward. They were well aware of the tide issues and had planned accordingly. After explaining his priorities to the crew, they got to work. Conall wondered about the furnace, so he called Oliver and got right through.

"Hi Oliver, it's Conall."

"Good morning Conall. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering about the furnace. Is it safe to fire it up?"

"Yes, but I'd feel more comfortable if someone walked you through it. I'll send the caretaker over to help. He can also familiarize you with any quirks the old place has."

"That would be great! Thanks."

"His name is Jeff Akers. I'll call him as soon as I get off the phone."

Jeff turned out to be a short, wiry, seventy-something year-old man with a permanent, taciturn expression. As he walked Conall through the building utilities he could tell the man had a sense of pride about the place. "Tell me, Jeff, how long have you been taking care of the property?"

The man shifted his baseball cap back on his head and considered the question for a moment. "Lemme see, it was a year or two after I hurt my back, so that'd make it about thirty years."

"Well the place is in great shape. Thanks."

That got a small smile out of the man. "Well she's a grand old lady 'n deserves to be treated right."

"I couldn't agree more."

"I heard tell you'd be living here. That true?"

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it."

"Good. A place like this needs to be lived in."

"And Jeff, just because I'll be living here doesn't mean I don't need help. Are you interested?"

"Sure, I love this place, and I think mebbe you do, too." Conall grinned. The old man was right.

By the end of the day he had the furnace going, mostly to test it, but also to take the chill out of the house. The cleaners had moved through the manor like a whirlwind. The entire place had been vacuumed and the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom were deep cleaned. They were going to return the following day to finish up. The contractors would be arriving then, as well.

When he got back to the harbor it was dinner time, so he parked his car at the inn and walked down to MacDougal's. This time the owner, Mary, was behind the bar and Ellen was waiting tables. He sat at one of the small tables and Ellen came right over.

"Well, if it isn't the lord of the manor," she said mockingly. "How was your day?"

He gave her a smile. "I got the furnace running."

"Good for you. So, did you come in just to see me or did you want something else?" she teased.

"Right now, a beer sounds really good. Then I'll check out the menu."

"The usual?"

"Yeah." As Ellen turned to place his order, he noticed her pull out her phone and start texting.

Fifteen minutes later he was savoring his beer and perusing the menu when Sam came sauntering in the door. She walked right up to him.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked as she pulled out a chair and sat down.

He arched an eyebrow. "Certainly not." He saw a sly look on her face. "Have you eaten?"

"Nope."

"How about I buy you dinner?"

"That sounds like a great idea. I'd love that." She picked up the menu, gave it a quick glance, and put it back down.

"I guess you already know what you want."

"Oh, I certainly do."

The way she said it made him glance over at Ellen, who was standing by the wait station watching and...smirking? What had he gotten himself into? On Sam's recommendation, he got the lobster stew and the fish and chips. She ordered the same thing for herself. Whenever Ellen got the chance she'd pop over to the table and chat. Both women wanted the full update on work at the manor and flirted shamelessly with him, not that he was complaining.

Thursday was contractor day. Conall met with both the electrician and the propane guy. The news was better than he expected. They confirmed they could get right on it and complete the work by late Friday, but offered to return Saturday, if necessary. The stove and refrigerator were being delivered early Friday. The cleaning crew returned, as promised, and finished their job. While all this was going on Conall continued to go through the house making a list of things he needed to buy. A major trip to Walmart was in his future.

That night he went straight back to the inn, got a quick bite to eat in the dining room, and went up to his room. He got several texts from both Ellen and Sam, but replied he was tired. As much as he loved spending time with them, maybe giving it a break for a night wasn't a bad idea. That night he dreamed...and they were powerful, sexual dreams about Sam and Ellen. He woke up confused, sweating, and extremely aroused. He fantasized about what it would be like to have them both as he began to stroke his nine-inch shaft; he was rock hard and oozing precum. In no time he was cumming hard and spurting onto his stomach. Dazed, he got up and took a long hot shower.

Friday was another busy day. The appliances arrived, as promised, and the refrigerator was humming and cooling by lunchtime. The stove installation didn't go as planned. The final hook-up was going to have to be on Saturday. He called it quits after the propane people left and texted both Sam and Ellen he was headed to MacDougal's. It was mid-afternoon and he was looking forward to seeing them.

As he drove towards town, he thought about the two women who were starting to inhabit his dreams, his fantasies, let alone his waking thoughts. He was used to pursuing one woman at a time. It seemed like the right thing to do and definitely less hazardous to his health. But still, it seemed like he was becoming consumed, perhaps obsessed with them.

At MacDougal's he found Sam waiting tables. Mary was behind the bar. Conall took his favorite table, the one by the window. Sam sidled up to him with a big smile. "Hey, Conall, we missed you last night."

"Likewise," he replied.

"I dreamed about you," she said evenly. Conall froze for a moment. The way she said it seemed odd; it was matter-of-fact...not teasing or joking.

"Um, that's weird. I dreamed about you, too."

"And Ellen dreamed about you."

He swallowed hard, visions of his morning release dancing in his head. "Okay, double weird then, since she was in my dream, too."

Then, as if they had just been talking about the weather, she added, "She worked the lunch shift, but she'll be here in a few minutes. You should buy her dinner tonight."

Conall blinked and shook his head. Did he hear her right? "Sure, I'd love to."

Sam smiled. "Good. I'm guessing you'd like a beer?"

"Yeah. Can you read my mind?" he joked.

"Maybe," she said with a sexy tilt of her head.

As Sam predicted, Ellen breezed through the door five minutes later. She came over to the table and sat down. "Hi, Conall. I missed you last night."

He saw her eyes light up and her smile was brilliant. "I missed you too, Ellen."

"I was thinking of you," she said coyly.

"I was thinking of you, too," he replied guiltily.

"Did you miss Sam, too?"

His radar came up immediately. Was this a challenge? Trouble brewing? For some reason he decided to go with honesty. "Yeah, I missed you both."

He was rewarded with a huge smile. "Good," was all she said. Conall suddenly realized he didn't have a clue when it came to women. Strange continued to be his new normal. He was mystified and their behavior only served to further fuel his fantasies about them. The rest of the afternoon was spent sharing the events of the day and relaxing, at least for Conall and Ellen. Once again, he eased into the comfortable connection they all seemed to have. After sharing a pleasant meal with Ellen, he headed back to the inn.

By noon on Saturday the stove was working; Conall was thrilled. Afterwards, he drove to the Walmart in Rockland and bought all the linens, towels, and other household goods. By the time he finished shopping it getting was late, so he got something to eat in downtown Rockland. Driving back, he realized the tides were right. He didn't want to leave his car in the parking lot overnight while it was stuffed to the gills with packages, so he drove directly to the manor to unload. When he was done, he just wanted to go back to his room and chill out.

The plan for Sunday was to get the bedrooms ready, buy food to stock the house with, and move in. He'd also received a call from Oliver, who asked if he could meet with him at the manor. When Oliver came through the front door, Conall was upstairs making the beds with the linens he'd bought the day before.

"Conall?" Oliver called.

"Yeah, upstairs!" he yelled back.

When Oliver entered the master bedroom Conall was just finishing making the bed. He looked around and peeked into the bathroom, which had the door open. "Very nice, Conall. You've made amazing progress with the place. How about a tour?"

"Sure, follow me," he answered proudly.

An hour later they settled into a couple of chairs on the wrap-around porch, beers in hand. It was Sunday morning, but the occasion seemed to demand it. "I'm very impressed," said Oliver. "You've really taken this place to heart."

"I guess I have."

"I was wondering what you would do with the hundred thousand dollars I gave you."

"What did you think I was going to do?"

"You could have just bought a new car or taken a trip to some Caribbean island."

Conall chuckled. "Why would I do that? This is the only island I could ever want. It seems impossible I first saw the manor last Sunday... and it already feels like home."

That raised Oliver's eyebrows. "Interesting." He studied the younger man for a few moments. "You know, I have no doubt Shamus felt the same way. Perhaps there is more to your connection than just blood and the color of your eyes."

"How so?"

Oliver let out a little laugh. "This is a small town, Conall. Ellen and Sam?"

"We're just friends."

"Oh, of course," he replied diplomatically.

After Oliver left, Conall kept at it until everything was set up. The only task that remained was grocery shopping; the manor was ready for him to move in. It was time to spend his first night on the island.

He drove to the inn, packed up his stuff, and checked out. Then he drove to MacDougal's for a celebratory drink and to tell his friends the news. It was mid-afternoon on a Sunday, so the place was pretty much deserted. Sam was behind the bar and Ellen was waiting tables. They both lit up with big smiles as soon as he walked in. To be honest, he was wearing a smile just as broad.

Ellen walked up and gave him a hug. "Where have you been? We've missed you." Then she unexpectedly pulled him in for a real kiss, her tongue probing deeply into his mouth. Conall's cock immediately throbbed with arousal, but he tried to maintain his composure. When she released him, he saw a hungry look in her eyes. He tried to be nonchalant.

"Um, I've been busy getting the manor set up. I came by for a drink and to tell you it's all done, at least for now."

"That's awesome!" squeaked Ellen and gave him a high five.

Sam leaned over the bar and gave him a high five, too. "Congrats. Can't wait to see it, Conall."

"And you won't have to. You're both off tomorrow...right?" Sam nodded. "Then why don't you come out to the island? I'll give you the tour, we can hang out, and I'll cook dinner for us."

"Count me in," Sam replied, trying hard to contain her excitement.

Ellen made no such effort. "Yes!" she squealed, and gave him another hug.

"Let me buy you a beer," said Sam. She poured a pint of his favorite and slid it across the bar.

As much as he wanted to stay, Conall was pushing up against his deadline with the tide and he still needed to go to the grocery store. He said his goodbyes and headed for the IGA.

When he was finished shopping the grocery cart was literally filled to the top. He had to buy everything from salt and pepper to fruits and vegetables. Once again, Lottie was waiting for him at the cash register. Did she ever go home?

"Hi, Lottie," he said.

"Hi, Conall. Oh my, what a lot of groceries you have. Moving into the manor so soon?"

He cocked his head to the side. "You know about that?"

"My goodness, yes. It's kind of the talk of the town."

"It is?" Conall wasn't thrilled about being the center of attention and Lottie seemed to sense it.

"Now don't you fret. As soon as the tourists show up for the season folks around here will have plenty to gossip about other than you."

"I guess, but the answer is 'yes'. I'm moving in tonight."

"I'm so glad for you. Having another O'Keefe in that beautiful old place just seems right."

"Thanks, Lottie."

It was starting to get dark when he reached the causeway. The road was dry, but the water was lapping at the edges. He'd just made it. As he approached the manor, the last rays of sunshine lit up the tops of the turrets. It was beautiful. He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation.

Shamus O'Keefe – The Accident, July, 1926

It was a fine, bright day in July. Even though it promised to be hot as the sun rose higher, a pleasant breeze rolled off the ocean and across the broad porch of the manor. Erin and Selene sat together sipping their breakfast tea and sharing moments from the previous evening. Shamus had fetched Rex from his small barn near the edge of the meadow and was saddling the horse for a morning ride. Both horse and master looked forward to dashing along the bridal paths that wound through the woods and circled the island.

He rode up to the porch to tell Erin and Selene he was off. As he came close Shamus pulled back on the reins and Rex came snorting to a stop. He pawed the ground with a front hoof, anxious to be on their way. Shamus patted his neck affectionally. "Be patient, Rex. We'll be off in a moment."

Erin smiled and placed her teacup down on the table. "Have a wonderful ride, my love, and do be careful."

"Come back to us soon, Shamus," Selene added.

"I will, I promise." He pulled the reins to the left. Rex wheeled, then broke into a fast trot across the meadow. The two women watched as the love of their lives entered the woods and disappeared from view.

When hours had passed without Shamus' return, Erin and Selene were frantic with worry. They sent the butler and other servants out to search the island. When the butler emerged from the woods and walked slowly to the house, they knew. He stood before them at the bottom of the steps to the manor, his head bowed low. "I'm so sorry...Mister O'Keefe and his steed have taken a fall...they are gone. I'm so sorry."

The women burst into tears, hugged each other...and began to wail in anguish.

Two weeks later, dressed in black, Erin and Selene sat in the office of Arthur Raines for the reading of the will. The three of them were the closest Shamus had to family. As Arthur explained the terms of the will, the women just nodded numbly.

Selene, always the strong one, spoke. "We know, Arthur. Shamus explained everything and assured us we'd be taken care of. He had a strong faith that, sometime in the future, his descendants would return to this place and make a home of it, like we did. We have only one regret; Shamus was taken from us before his time."

Then Erin spoke, her voice breaking. "It's not fair, it's not right. We will never accept he's gone. _Never_ ," she declared tearfully.

Conall O'Keefe – The Descendant

Monday morning Erin and Sam woke up earlier than usual. They were both looking forward to their day on the island. As soon as the coffee was ready Ellen grabbed herself a cup and took a big gulp, even though it was really hot. "Damn!" She shook her head. "I needed that."

"What? Didn't sleep well?" Sam asked as she poured her own coffee.

"Yes and no."

"Dreams again?'

"Yeah."

"Conall?"

"Yeah."

"Did it involve him fucking you silly?"

Ellen put her face in her hands, "Yes. I mean, he's a hot guy and all, but..."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Me too."

"Really? You? What's up with that?" Ellen huffed. "I haven't had dreams about a guy, at least not like this, since Jimmy Meyers in the ninth grade."

Sam started laughing. "Jimmy Meyers? Really? He was a freaking dork."

"Fine, _whatever_. Like you never had a crush?" said Ellen defensively.

Sam looked pensive for a moment; her eyes focused somewhere on the ceiling. "Well, there _was_ Sarah Michaels, that girl in tenth grade, but she moved away the next year."

Ellen giggled. "I remember her. She was hot."

After breakfast they got ready for their outing. Ellen spent some extra time in the bathroom putting on her make-up. Then Sam took her turn. When she emerged, Ellen was stunned. "Did my roommate, Samantha Vogel, just put on make-up?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't be a bitch, Ellen. It's unbecoming."

"Sorry, couldn't help myself. You ready to go?"

"Born ready," Sam grinned.

"Just a sec." Ellen returned to her bedroom and retrieved an overnight bag she'd packed. When she came out, she knew Sam would say something...and she did.

"You know we haven't been invited for a sleep-over, right?"

"A girl should always be prepared," she replied indignantly.

"I guess you're right." Sam went into her bedroom and retrieved the overnight bag she'd packed for herself. When she came out, Ellen started to laugh.

"You sly girl you. I guess great minds think alike."

Out on the island, Conall was also awake. Like Ellen and Sam, he'd had a restless night; there were dreams...dreams of them and dreams of times past filled his mind. His cock had been painfully erect all night. Was it because of Ellen and Sam? The names Erin and Selene echoed in his mind. Memories, dreams of those women, had haunted him. He was incredibly aroused, but managed to get to the shower and get ready for the day without jacking off.

Conall had his morning coffee and tried to clear his head. Fortunately, there wasn't much for him to prepare in advance of their arrival, so he went out to the sitting rocks and enjoyed the moment. He stared at the ocean swells as they broke relentlessly against the rocky shore and wondered how the day would unfold.

At nine-thirty Conall got a text; they were sitting in the causeway parking area waiting for the water to recede. He felt a flutter in his stomach. He could hardly wait for them to arrive. Conall sat on the porch and watched the break in the trees where the road emerged from the forest. It didn't take long before Sam's battered green Subaru appeared; he smiled as they approached.

He walked down the front steps to greet them as their car pulled to a stop. Ellen popped out of the passenger door and threw her arms around him. Then she gave him a full kiss on the lips. "Thanks for inviting us," she said breathlessly.

Then Sam came around the back of the car, pulled him in for a hug, then kissed him too, only slower and more deliberately. "I'm looking forward to my tour," she said playfully. Conall felt a chill go down his spine and a stirring in his jeans.

"I'm really glad you're both here," said Conall truthfully, as well as diplomatically. "Let's start in the kitchen."

Both women shrugged. "Okay, the kitchen it is," replied Sam.

Conall wanted to show off his new refrigerator and stove, which he was especially pleased about. "The house is amazing but, if I'm going to live here, I'm not going to cook on a wood stove or haul blocks of ice for the refrigerator."

Sam nodded as she looked around the kitchen. "I hear you. Couldn't agree more. Looks like you're all outfitted here?"

"Yep," he replied proudly.

"Haven't you been the busy little beaver," she teased.

As they moved through the house it was apparent how much cleaner and brighter the place was. "The place smells so much better," Ellen commented. "It was really musty and dusty before."

"Yeah, the cleaning crew did an amazing job, but the job is far from done. They did most of the first floor and three of the bedrooms upstairs. The top floor, where the servants lived, hasn't been touched."

"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Ellen. "Can we go up to the turret? I always wanted to see the view from there."

"Sure. It turns out there's a secret staircase that leads from the master bedroom to the turret."

Sam arched her eyebrows. "Secret staircase? _Really_?"

"I know. Cliché, right?"

"But freaking cool. I wanna see it." said Ellen excitedly.

As he led them into the master bedroom Sam paused to look around. The room was immaculate and she could see there were new linens on the bed. "I love what you're done with the place," she observed in a mocking tone.

"Thanks...and thank you to Walmart. It was hard finding sheets and blankets to fit a bed that big."

"I can imagine," said Sam as she ran her hand along the top of the comforter.

"Come on," urged Ellen, who was chomping at the bit to get up to the turret. "Where's the stairway?"

Conall touched his fingers to his chin as if he was trying to remember. "Hmm, where was that door?" He looked around, as if searching for it. Then with a dramatic flair, he pressed on a section of the wood paneling and the door popped open.

"Cool!" squealed Ellen. She stuck her head in and saw a spiral staircase leading upwards. "Are there spiders?" she asked uncertainly.

Conall laughed. "Not anymore. It's safe."

Ellen immediately scampered up the staircase.

"How did you figure it out...the doorway I mean?" asked Sam.

"The caretaker, a guy named Jeff Akers, showed me."

"I know Jeff. He comes into the bar once in a while. Nice guy."

"I agree."

When Sam and Conall stepped out into the small room, Ellen was gaping out the window. "This is wonderful. You can see the meadow, the forest, and even the ocean. The views are breathtaking."

"Indeed, they are," Sam sighed.

Conall nodded. "Yeah, but the windows still need cleaning. It's on the list."

"Way to focus on a little cloud in a bright blue sky, Conall," admonished Sam.

"Good, point," he admitted. "Shall we move on?" They climbed back down and peeked into the two guest bedrooms he'd cleaned and outfitted.

At the second one Sam nodded her head approvingly. "Nice. Expecting company?"

"Not yet, but it's a big-ass house to be knocking around in all by myself. I don't think the manor was meant for a single person to live here.

"I suppose not," she said thoughtfully.

With the tour of the manor complete, they went outside. "This is a really nice meadow," commented Ellen. "They must mow it."

"They do. Jeff told me this whole area used to be fenced. Shamus would let his horse just wander around in it, munching away at the grass. I guess there used to be a small barn on the property with a stall in it."

"Nice," said Sam. "Even the horse had a cushy life."

"Can't say I blame them. Can you?"

"Hell, no. I'd kill for the life they had." She saw the look on Conall's face. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Of course," he chuckled. "There were bridle paths, too," he added. "Jeff said there was no point to maintaining them, but some are still hiking trails. Want to check it out?"

"Yes!" Ellen replied enthusiastically.

Sam looked to the heavens in a mocking search for patience. "Yeah, love too."

They set out toward the trail head, which was right next to the mausoleum. Conall noticed the base of the stone building was alive with the bright green shoots of spring flowers; they looked like crocuses.

"Oh, they're going to be so pretty," Ellen cooed.

Once again, Conall felt an inner pull...a strange feeling. He looked from Ellen to Sam; they both had a strange looks on their faces. "Uh, let's keep going," he said in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, let's do that," Sam replied.

Once they were on the trail their attention was captured by the beauty of the woods...and their moods shifted. The forest floor and rocks were covered by moss and lichens. Frequent fog pressing in from the ocean had created a sort of northern rain forest...and it was magical. When they emerged on a rocky outcropping near the water's edge, Conall stopped.

"This is it."

"What? What is it?" asked Ellen tentatively.

"This is the place Shamus...and his horse, met their end." He heard Ellen gasp quietly.

Sam stepped up to the edge of the ravine that led down to the water. "Sad," was all she said. Then after a moment, she added, "They missed him terribly. They weren't ready to let him go."

Conall and Ellen both looked at her. She couldn't possibly know that, but they both knew she was right.

"Let's keep going," said Conall. They ambled off along the perimeter trail. Before long, they came upon the party place. "Ellen, what say we go down to the beach and look for your panties."

Ellen blushed slightly. "Um, I'll pass."

Sam considered teasing her further, but was feeling less evil than she normally did. "Anyone hungry?"

Ellen perked up immediately. "I'm starved!"

Conall smiled inwardly, knowing Sam had let her off the hook. "I totally loaded up at the IGA with food and drinks. The manor is a ten-minute walk from here."

As soon as they got back, they headed for the kitchen. There were all kinds of sandwich fixings, chips, beers, potato salad..." They fixed up their plates and headed out to the sitting rocks to eat.

As they were munching away Ellen swallowed what she was chewing and spoke. "Can we do a fire in the pit tonight?"

"Sure," Conall replied, "or we can have one in the living room fireplace. We can see how cold it gets later."

Sam grabbed a chip, crunched down on it, and garbled, "I'm liking this plan."

After lunch, they sat at the cliff edge talking and enjoying the view. The sun was warm and the breeze was light. Then Conall rose and asked if he could get them anything from the house.

"Whatcha got to drink?" asked Sam.

"Whatcha want?" Conall mocked playfully.

She thought for a moment. "Maybe a beer for now, but you got something stronger for later?"

"I can definitely accommodate you," he replied suggestively.

She just looked at him for a moment, then replied just as suggestively, "We'll see about that." Ellen giggled and bounced her eyebrows.

Conall returned with six beers nestled in a bucket with ice. Sam looked up at him. "I appreciate good service," she said dramatically.

"Don't get too comfortable with it, princess, your Subaru could still turn into a pumpkin."

"I think not," she replied dismissively, then sniffed. Ellen giggled again.

They spent the rest of the afternoon just enjoying the weather, sometimes talking about nothing, but also sharing what they wanted to do with their lives. Sam wanted to go to college, but admitted it was probably a pipe dream. Ellen wasn't sure, but knew she liked working with kids. When Conall hadn't volunteered anything, Sam prompted him.

"What about you, mister lord and master of the manor? Going to keep writing stories about fish?"

"Um, they're science articles about marine biology."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Fine, _articles_ about fish."

He knew she was teasing him. "I'd like to devote some time to writing."

"Oh, like what?" asked Ellen, suddenly more interested in the conversation.

"Fiction. I've been working on a novel for a while. It's just a hobby, but I love doing it. Maybe it could be something more than a hobby now that I have the time."

"That sounds great, if that's what you want to do," said Sam earnestly. "I'm guessing the manor would be a pretty great place to write."

"My thoughts exactly. Plus, I'd like to do what I can to restore this place. Then, when the inheritance is finalized, maybe I can figure out how best to use the foundation's money to help people."

"Admirable goals, one and all," replied Sam.

Conall huffed a little laugh. "Be that as it may, it's time for me to start prepping dinner. Let's go in."

"Can we help?" Ellen asked.

"Sure, I'll put you to work." They gathered up all their trash and headed back to the manor.

Half an hour later all the salad fixings were laid out on the central island in the kitchen. Sam and Ellen were busy washing, cutting, and slicing everything up.

Meanwhile, Conall was taking sliced boneless chicken breasts, dredging them in flour, and sautéing them with olive oil and garlic in a huge skillet. When he added lemon slices, there was little doubt what was for dinner; lemon chicken.

"Damn, that smells good," said Ellen with a sigh.

"Yeah, it does," agreed Conall. "It's one of the few dishes I know how to make. Instead of rice, I figured I could just bake a loaf of bread."

Sam looked up from slicing a tomato. " _Seriously_ , you're baking _bread_?"

"Of course." He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a frozen block of dough. He held it up for them to see like it was show and tell. "Heat oven to four hundred degrees, place on baking sheet, insert in oven, then bake twelve to fourteen minutes or until golden brown." Ellen and Sam started laughing. "And you doubted me?" he added.

For dinner, they opened a bottle of red wine. They set the huge table in the dining room, but only on one end. When everything was ready, they shuttled the food out. Conall sliced up the loaf of bread and served it in a bowl; it was still warm.

Sam grabbed a piece and took a bite. "Hey, this isn't bad!" she exclaimed. "I could totally be a baker, too."

After dinner, they cleaned up, then opened another bottle of wine. Conall went to the front door and poked his head outside. There was a stiff breeze and it was cold. He came back inside and reported. "It's pretty cold outside. Why don't we just light a fire in the living room?"

Sam looked him directly in the eyes and raised one eyebrow. "That sounds like a great idea." It made his breath hitch.

Ellen walked over to him and placed a hand on his chest. "I'd like that, too."

Conall had prepped the fire and arranged a couch in front of the hearth the night before, knowing they might end up there after dinner. The women sat down on the couch while he got the fire going. In no time it was roaring and crackling. The soft light flickered over them and they could feel the warmth on their bodies.

He turned around and saw the only place to sit was in the middle of the couch. When he settled in, both women scooted closer. Ellen rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you so much for inviting us, Conall. I loved everything; going up to the turret, the walk, dinner...everything. It's been wonderful."

Sam slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. "Me too, Conall. Thanks." He noticed her voice sounded more serious, not the usual sassy, snarky tone he was used to.

"You're both very welcome, but having you here, sharing all this with the two of you...it's been an incredible day. I don't see how it could be any better."

The two women said nothing, but snuggled closer. They watched the fire for a long time, sitting together in companionable silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Conall felt himself getting groggy, mesmerized by the fire. His vision blurred and then went dark.

When the fog receded, he turned to Ellen and lifted her chin with his hand. "Erin, my darling, you're so beautiful."

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. "I've missed you so much, my love!" she said breathlessly.

He turned to his right and smiled at the sight of the striking brunette. "Selene, my love, I've returned, as I promised I would."

Tears formed in her eyes. She leaned forward, kissed him slowly, then rose to her feet. "Come with us, beloved. Let us say the goodbye that's been denied to us for so long."

They walked hand in hand up the stairs to the bedroom they shared for so many glorious nights. Erin drew him close and stared up into his amber eyes. "I knew it. I knew you would come back to us. Selene...look."

Selene wrapped her arms around them both and gazed into his eyes. "It's true. You really have returned," she said with a lusty smile then reached down and felt the bulge between his legs. "And ready to give us what we crave."

"What we both crave, my love," he replied in a husky voice.

While Selene kissed him Erin quickly unbuckled his pants and let them drop to the floor. When his enormous phallus emerged fully erect, Erin sighed contentedly. "Oh, Shamus, your manhood is just as magnificent as I remember."

Selene looked down and grinned. "We will feast tonight, sister."

Erin nodded and slowly took his throbbing cock down her throat. Selene kneeled beside her sister succubus and joined in, licking and sucking him until he was almost ready to explode.

"Lay back on the bed, Shamus," Selene murmured. When he did, she mounted him, easily sliding his cock into her hot, wet sex.

Erin straddled his face so he could lick her dripping pussy. She leaned back and turned to kiss Selene as their magnificent stallion bucked beneath them. Erin grabbed his hair and pulled him in tight, smothering him with her sex. "Come for us, Shamus! Let us drink you in."

With a muffled cry he let loose with a tremendous orgasm. Selene felt him spurt powerfully deep in her cunt.

"Yes!" she screamed as her climax washed over her like a crashing wave. Erin shuddered uncontrollably and gurgled incoherent sounds as she reached her own peak.

When Shamus opened his eyes, they were glowing softly. He smiled, knowing they had taken their fill of him. "Are you happy now, my loves?"

Erin slid off to one side and snuggled up to him while Selene remained straddling him, his cock still firmly planted inside her. She gently moved her hips back and forth, trying to arouse him again. "We're happy, Shamus, but it's been a long time...and I think you can make us even happier. Would you like that?"

"Nothing would please me more," he replied, thrusting his still hard cock up inside her.

Erin saw what Selene was doing and slapped her on the thigh. "Hey! My turn."

Selene rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Just a sec," she replied, as she ground herself down on their forever lover.

Consciousness slowly retuned to Sam's sleeping form. Bright sunlight was shining on her face. She blinked and her eyes fluttered open. One look confirmed she wasn't dreaming; she was in Conall's bedroom...in his bed. However, the peacefully sleeping form next to her had a cascade of blonde hair covering the pillow. It wasn't Conall...it was Ellen.

Sam reached out and shook Ellen's soft shoulder. "Ellen," she whispered.

There was a groan and a mumble. "Five more minutes..."

Sam shook her again, more urgently. "Ellen, wake up!"

"Wha...what is it?" she replied groggily. "Where are we?" Suddenly, her body stiffened. "Oh my God! What are we doing here?"

"Come on, Ellen. Don't give me that 'I don't remember anything' crap," said Sam, clearly annoyed.

Ellen slowly closed her gaping mouth, her memory of the prior night returning. "Um, did we...?"

"Yeah."

Ellen gulped. "And Conall?"

"Oh, _yeah_."

Ellen covered her face in her hands. "Talk about a walk of shame. He must think we're horrible."

Sam laughed. "I sincerely doubt that."

"I wish I had a hangover."

"Huh?"

"Then I'd have a decent excuse."

"Yeah, too bad about that sweet lips."

Ellen stuck her tongue out at Sam. "Wait a minute. Was he calling me Erin last night?"

"Yep."

"And he was calling you Selene! That's kind of demeaning, don't you think?"

"Maybe, but then you, or should I say we, shouldn't have been calling him Shamus all night."

Ellen grimaced. "Good point. So, where is our lord and master of the manor?"

"Don't know. How about we get some clothes on and go look?"

Ten minutes later they went down to the kitchen where a hot pot of coffee was waiting for them.

"Coffee," Sam gasped. "Thank God." She quickly poured two cups and handed one to Ellen, who was reading a note sitting next to two coats on the counter. "What does it say?"

Ellen was wearing a big smile. "It's a note from Conall. He says to bring our coffee out to the sitting rocks. I guess it's cold so he laid out coats for us."

Sam took a sip from her coffee and nodded. "Sounds like he doesn't think we're so horrible after all."

When they got out to the cliff, Conall was just sitting there, staring out over the ocean. Sam walked up and stood over him, holding the warm mug of coffee in both hands. "Hey," she said quietly.

He looked up, a small smile on his face. "Hey," he replied and nodded to Ellen, who just smiled shyly.

After a moment, Sam spoke. "What's my name?"

"Huh?"

"Humor me."

"Sam."

She cocked her head toward Ellen. "And her?"

"Ellen."

"Good. I'm glad we got that straight, Shamus." She saw his eyes go wide and laughed. "I mean Conall."

He saw she was teasing him. "I don't know what to say about last night. It was very strange... amazing, but strange."

"You think?" Sam chuckled. "I'd say it registered an eleven on a scale of ten on the strange-o-meter." Ellen giggled, something she obviously excelled at.

"Can't disagree with that," he said wistfully. "You know, when I got up and came out here, I went to the mausoleum." They watched and waited for him to continue. "Those flowers we saw yesterday, the ones we saw all around the perimeter? They were in full bloom. It was beautiful."

"I'd like to see that," said Ellen softly.

Sam looked thoughtful. She turned to Conall. "Do you think they're happy now? Do you think they're at peace?"

Conall became pensive, then looked out over the sea. "Yes. I think they are...finally."

Epilogue – One Year Later

Ellen heard a car pull up to the manor and ran to the window. "He's home!" she yelled excitedly.

Sam put her laptop down and rose from the living room couch. "Okay, okay, don't get your panties in a twist." As much as Sam tried to play down the moment, she shared Ellen's excitement. Conall had lived in the manor for just over a year; the final stipulation of the will had been fulfilled. He'd gone Oliver's to sign papers turning over the deed to Little Round Island and the O'Keefe Foundation to him.

Conall came through the door wearing a big smile. Ellen flew into his arms. "Oh, honey, did it go alright?"

"It did. You are now looking at the proud owner of Castletown Manor."

Sam sidled up to him and gave him a kiss. "And of the O'Keefe Foundation?"

"Yes, it's done," he sighed. "So how was your day?"

Sam laughed. "Well, nothing like yours, but I took my test for 'Introduction to Macroeconomics' today."

"How did you do?"

"Grades get posted later this week."

"Great, something to look forward to. You still liking your course work?"

"I am, and not having to work at the same time makes it a joy, thanks to you."

"Da nada," he replied. "What about you, Ellen?"

"I met with the county commissioner for child support," she said proudly.

"How did it go?"

Ellen scrunched up her face. "She was kind of a bitch when she saw I was some twenty-something hottie."

"Really? I would consider that a major plus," Conall chuckled.

"Well, she changed her tune when I said I was a representative of the O'Keefe Foundation."

Sam sniggered. "I would have loved to see the look on her face."

"Sounds like everyone had a good day today," said Conall.

Ellen moved closer and pulled him in for a hug. She rubbed her big firm breasts against his body, clearly enticing him. "It's kind of an anniversary for us, too, isn't it," she said shyly.

"I guess it is. Maybe I should have bought flowers?"

Sam moved closer and licked his face. "Fuck the flowers." She reached down and felt his erection. "I know a better way to celebrate. We're going upstairs to our bedroom right now and fuck each other until we can't walk. How does that sound?"

"Yes!" Ellen squealed.

Conall paused to savor the moment. He thought of Shamus and how he had cherished his two loves. Was it the spirit of the three lovers that brought him together with Ellen and Sam, was it fate, did it have something to do with his amber eyes? He would probably never know. He no longer felt the presence of Shamus or that of Erin or Selene, but somehow his life had evolved into something much like what Shamus had known; and he had no complaint.

"Yes. That sounds great. Shall we?"

Then, wordlessly, Sam and Ellen each took one of his hands and ascended the stairway to their own little slice of heaven.

###

### About the Author

Arden Masters is a pen name to protect the innocent, or the guilty, depending on your point of view. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. Please check out my Smashwords page. All my stories are free and all comments are welcome.
