Mister Gabe Ch. 01

Shortly Mike's mother and sister rejoined them in the kitchen. Mike said that Sara was looking hot in a tight black tube top and florescent orange skirt. "Mom looked pretty ok too," he said.

It was about 7p.m. when "C" excused herself and said she would return immediately. A couple of minutes later the patio door opened again, and in strode a giant of a black man, wearing black dress pants over jodhpurs, and a gleaming white button-up dress shirt. No tie or jacket, but his sleeves had large gold cufflinks with embedded onyx stones gleaming in them. He paused at the doorway looking at all of my family. "C" entered quietly behind him and stood stiffly in the doorway.

He moved towards Molly and taking her hand, raised it to his lips and gently kissed it murmuring, "good evening Molly. I am Gabriel Black. It is a pleasure to meet you." He then asked her a few questions about school, her friends and life.

Mike had been standing protectively close to his sister while this gentle interrogation was going on, and he was next. The black man released Molly's hand and he stepped sideways to offer his hand to Mike. Mike glanced at it and then shook it. Mike said the hand was dry and the handshake firm and friendly. "Mike" the giant said with a smile that revealed even, and brilliantly white teeth, "I am Gabriel Black. I see that your father is not here, so you must be the man of the family at the moment."

Mike blurted, with typical teenage male bravado, "Why does she (pointing at "C") call you Mister Gabe?, and what kind of name is "C"?"

Mister Gabe grinned and explained, "as I said, my name is Gabriel. My friends call me Gabe. I have tried to insist that Cynthia," and he pointed at "C", "is a friend, but she cannot seem to stoop to that and insists that she refer to me as "Mister". Hence, for her, "Mister Gabe". Michael I hope that we can become friends as well as neighbors, so please call me Gabe." He paused, and Mike nodded to him. Continuing, he said, "Cynthia is my personal assistant, and organizes my sometimes complicated life for me. Without her I would be adrift and far at sea. She considers that role to be akin to a concierge at a good establishment, and takes pride in the title. Therefore I do not dissuade her from calling herself my concierge. However, being a man," and he winked at Mike, "concierge is a cumbersome thing to call someone so I have taken to calling her simply "C"... which she has also adopted with some pride."

Mike nodded his understanding. "Now Mike, may I call you Mike?" Mister Gabe queried. With a further nod from Mike, "I understand that you and Molly have things to do. I am going to acquaint myself with your older sister, her fiancé, and your mother. We will be imbibing adult beverages and discussing adult topics, none of which will interest either of you. It is time for you to depart. Have a good evening."

With that, Mike said, he and Molly rushed to the door and left, joining their friends for an evening out - all on Mister Gabe.

It was shortly after 10 and he and his sister weren't planning on being home until just before 11. He told me not to worry. Mister Gabe was a cool guy, and his mom and sister were with Brock, and probably just having a good time on the patio. I hung up the phone somewhat relieved by my conversation with my son. The new neighbor seemed interesting. I was actually looking forward to meeting him. I got ready for bed and then lay down with the lights off in the hotel room. I must have dozed off, because it was close to midnight when I was startled awake by the sound of my phone.

Jennifer's voice came over the phone, and even in my slightly fogged state I could tell that she sounded... sultry. It was thick, and alluring, and sexy, "David my darling" she said to me. "I am so sorry that I wasn't able to answer the phone earlier. We were busy meeting our new neighbor."

"Tell me about it," I asked, as I gathered my wits, "and what's up with your voice? You sound... odd."

Jen giggled throatily at me for a moment, and then started talking about her evening.

First she talked about when "C" came over early in the evening. "C" instructed everyone on where they were to stand, how they were to stand, and the order in which Mister Gabe would greet them - first the younger kids, then Brock, then Sara and finally Jennifer. "C" went on to tell them "how" to talk with Mister Gabe - respectful and polite, but to make sure that they were attentive to every word as Mister Gabe did not repeat himself and would quickly get angry if ignored in any instruction. Jen said that she could see Mike rolling his eyes through most of this and she was slightly worried about how he would deal with the new neighbor.

"C" ended her instruction session by sending the kids away to "dress better", and telling Brock that what he was wearing - a golf shirt and slacks - was going to be acceptable. She then turned to Sara and Jen and spent a moment appraising them. She said that Mister Gabe was particularly interested in meeting the two of them - and glaring at Jen she said, "since you disobeyed a direct instruction to have your husband present, do not be surprised if Mister Gabe decides you need to be chastised." Jen became very worried about that! Finally, "C" stepped back from the two of them and declared, "you both need to change. You are to wear light, comfortable clothing. Either it is to be skin tight, or loose and blousy. Buttons on the top are preferred, but not required. Skirts are also preferred. You are not to wear underwear - and I know from our previous discussion that neither of you are on your period, so this topic is not up for debate!"

My wife described Sara as looking stunned. "I can't believe she said that. What did you do? Why didn't you just throw her out?" I asked her.

"Nothing. She was just so much in command... so demanding... that I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I just listened and nodded every time she said something," was my wife's response. Jen's voice had taken on a little-girl quality to it, and I couldn't interrupt.

"C" finished her instructions, "Mister Gabe is not a man to be trifled with. He tells you to do something, and you do it!" Brock apparently had started to protest the dress code when "C" had swung around to stride over to him, ending nose tip to nose tip, "you, mister, will not interfere. Your father may own this building, but while Mister Gabe resides here, it and all of its contents, including you, are his!"

Jen grabbed Sara's arm and pushed/pulled her to the stairway to go to their rooms to change.

My wife described how she pushed Sara towards her room at the top of the stairs and then rushed into her dressing room pulling the suit jacket that she had left on after work off as she ran. She said that she didn't really consider "not" following her instructions. She peeled out of her blouse and skirt and pushed her panties to her feet and then turned to look at herself in the wall-size mirror in the room. She saw a middle-age woman who still looked very good. Full breasts high on her chest with only a slight sag that suggested experience rather than age. Her stomach was flat and firm, as were her legs. Her pussy was obscured by a thick thatch of blondish hair. She turned to observe that her ass was also tight, and while not the bubble butt that Sara had as an eighteen year old, was still damn good looking. As she spoke to me, I could imagine her self-appraisal in the mirror and found myself growing hard while I lay on the hotel bed listening to her description.

Jen said that she grabbed her favorite sun dress off of a hanger. It was a floral pattern with a skirt that flounced around her mid-thigh. It was pulled in by elastic bands sewn into the waist to emphasize her womanly hips. Above the waist it was more or less an apron that buttoned up the front with spaghetti straps over the shoulder that crisscrossed down the back to rejoin the skirt above her ass. It was a light, white material with small, multi-coloured butterflies on it. I knew the dress well. She could not wear a bra under it. "Did you wear panties Jen?," I asked, "or did you follow "C"'s orders?"

I could hear my wife draw a deep and somewhat ragged breath, "I did what I was told." She didn't ask me how I felt about it. I couldn't state my displeasure and found the fact that I was now stroking myself in bed to be somewhat confusing. Shouldn't I be yelling at her, or demanding an explanation?

She said she met Sara at the top of the stairs and repeated Mike's description of Sara, including the "hot" comment. My wife called her daughter "hot". Mentally I had to agree, and while I didn't often think of Sara in those terms, there had been times while out at the pool and looking at Sara and her friends in their bikinis to think of her in those very un-fatherly terms.

They went down to the kitchen and waited with the kids and Brock for the grand arrival.

Jen echoed Mike's description of Mister Gabe's arrival, and his greetings with Mike and Molly, followed by their departure for an evening with their friends.

After they left, Mister Gabe turned to look at my wife, appraising her slowly, head to toe and back, obviously pausing at her breasts and then smiling slightly as he looked her in the eye. Jen couldn't hold the gaze, averting her eyes to Brock for a moment. Mister Gabe then turned his eyes to my daughter, Sara. Again he slowly took in her petite figure, staring for a long time at her breasts, and nodding slightly, again with the small smile.

""C" didn't ask this question, so I will," he softly spoke to Sara, "are you still a virgin?" Sara's eyes widened suddenly, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Turning abruptly to face Brock, "have you fucked her, boy?" he demanded harshly.

Brock was obviously still disturbed by the lecture he had received from "C", and the sudden unexpected question shocked him further. He stood with his hands clenched at his sides and a glare on his face as he stared silently at the huge black man. Mister Gabe strode to Brock, stopping inches from him. He was towering over Brock and glared down at him, "so you think that beautiful young thing is yours? You have fucked her, haven't you? You've drilled your hard cock into that sweet cunt already." Brock's expression was answer enough for everyone in the room. "Well, let us deal with that immediately, shall we?" Mister Gabe murmured in a menacing tone. "She is not yours until her father gives you to her. In his absence I tell you that you are not to fuck her again until that happens. I will enforce that rule. Do you understand?"

Brock regained his voice, "who the fuck do you think you are you bast... ", and Mister Gabe grabbed him by the shirt collar and with one hand lifted him off of the floor.

"Your daddy may be the man I am renting this house from, boy, but while I am here I own everything in it. That means that I have responsibility for setting and enforcing the rules. A prime rule is that a man's daughter is not to be fucked until that man consciously gives her hand over to someone else. In Sara's father's absence, I am enforcing that rule." Mister Gabe swiftly slapped Brock twice across the face with his open hand, and then let him go. Brock stumbled to regain his balance and stepped back from the towering black man.

"Do... you... understand?" Mister Gabe demanded.

Sara unfroze from the spot she had been rooted in while watching the scene unfold, and rushed towards Brock. Mister Gabe stopped her by placing his huge left hand around her throat and tightening just enough to exert control. Still staring at Brock he awaited his answer.

Slowly Brock nodded his head as, in the face of the dominating personality in front of him, the fire visibly left his eyes and body. He bowed his head slightly and nodded again more firmly, "yes Sir. I understand."

Mister Gabe visage changed swiftly to a small but sincere looking grin. "That's better son. Now let me elaborate a bit." He removed his hand from Sara's throat and drew her body into his. "You do have some freedoms with my permission. Let me demonstrate." With that Mister Gabe bent down and pressed his lips to Sara's, parting her lips with his tongue and driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Sara struggled briefly, but could not move in his firm grip. After a moment she started to move her tongue against the black man's that was raping her mouth so effectively. Brock could see Sara's body change in the moment that she accepted Mister Gabe's probing, going from tense to soft and pliant in a second.

Mister Gabe terminated the deep kiss and stood erect, twisting Sara so that she was standing in front of him, facing Brock but with her back pressed tightly to Mister Gabe's body. "This, as well, is acceptable." With that soft statement, there in front of her fiancé, and her mother, Mister Gabe moved his left hand up from her waist to her breasts and the right hand down to the front of her tight shorts. Everybody's eyes were one the left hand as it firmly grasped Sara's left tit and began to lightly kneed it through her tube top. In a second, Mister Gabe had pulled the top below her tit and grasped her puckered nipple, pulling it away from her body causing Sara to gasp. At the same time, his right hand had quickly undone the button to her shorts and drove below her waistline. In the same second that it took for her breast to become exposed he had her shorts below the level of her pussy, and was spreading her cunt lips with his fingers.

Brock's eyes darted from Sara's tit to her cunt, and back again. He was flushed and holding his breath. Jen was holding both of her hands in front of her face and seemed frozen in the act of stepping in to stop the mauling of her daughter. In fact, "C" had stepped up behind my wife and was firmly holding her in place, one arm around her waist, and the other snaked under Jen's arm with her hand under the apron-top of my wife's sundress, holding her by the left tit. She was squeezing Jennifer's tit hard to keep her still.

"This," and Mister Gabe roughly shook Sara's tit, "you can play with. This," as he drove his index finger into Sara's cunt, causing her to moan loudly, "you cannot."

With that he abruptly released Sara. She fell forward into Brock's arms. As she clung to her man, Mister Gabe raised his finger to his mouth and sucked Sara's juices from it, smiling as he did. "Very nice," he murmured softly, and continued, "you do understand the rules Brock? Good. You are both dismissed for the evening. I will talk with you more at anouther time." He waived them towards the doorway.

Brock half carried and half led Sara to the stairs, and then up to her room on the second floor.

I could barely contain my rage as my wife told this tale, "what the fuck! Why didn't you stop the bastard?" I yelled at her through the phone.

There was silence on the other end, broken only by Jennifer's heavy breathing. I could tell that she was gathering herself. Then, in a very small voice, "I couldn't. Dave, I just couldn't. Like he said, he was making the rules for Brock and Sara only because you weren't there. There was nothing I could do," and then I heard her sob, and my rage turned to heartache.

"Jen, love, I am sorry I wasn't there. Is Sara ok?"

"Yes. Yes she is. I just finished talking with her... after Mister Gabe left a little while ago. Sara and Brock talked about the rules, and they agreed that there was to be no more... fucking. No more fucking until you gave Brock permission. She... they are ok. I asked her how she felt about what Mister Gabe actually did to her and she would only say that it left her breathless. She is ok."

"Fine. I'll talk to that bastard myself when I get home this weekend. What happened after Sara and Brock left?"

Jen then continued with her story about the night, and it seemed pretty benign considering Sara's encounter with our new black neighbor. Mister Gabe had watched Brock and Sara depart and then turned slowly to face my wife. "Release her," he instructed "C". "C" dropped her hands from my wife and stepped back to the patio entrance. Holding his hand towards my wife, Mister Gabe simply stated, "it was unfortunate that David had not already set that situation straight. It had to be done. Now that it is, I would like to get to know you better Jennifer."

Flushed, my wife took his hand and he led her out to the patio. She observed "C" cross the patio in front of them to stand in the darkness near the entry to Mister Gabe's side of the property. There was a fire crackling in the fire pit, and a bottle of wine with two glasses sitting on the table. Drawing my wife towards the couch before the fire, he indicated that she was to sit. "I understand that you 'like' all types of good wine, but prefer the Pinot Blanc?" he asked her. She nodded her head as she sank into the couch.

He poured two glasses, offered her one, and then sat down right beside her with his body facing towards her, his one leg drawn comfortably into the space on the couch between them. Reaching forward he lightly tapped his glass to hers and softly spoke, "well met Mrs. Dane. I trust that we can enjoy my time here in this house." He took a sip and motioned with his hand for Jennifer to do the same. When she had, he held his glass slightly aloft and Jen was startled to see "C" there, taking it from him. "C" also reached down and gently took Jen's glass from her, turning to put both on the table nearby, and then once again merging back into the shadows.

Mister Gabe said, "I took a liberty earlier that I should not have." Jen presumed he was referring to the way he handled Sara, but he was not. "I called you by your first name, Mrs. Dane, and I should not have made the presumption." A soft breath, "may I call you Jennifer?"

My wife gave her permission.

I asked her what happened after that. After a noticeable pause and long drawn intake of breath, Jen answered, "we talked. That is all. He told me about himself, and I answered all of his questions. He already seemed to know a lot about us." My voice was raspy as I demanded more details.

"He is a very rich man. Originally a chemist, he invented something or other that helps psychologists treat their patients. Now he says that he is on sabbatical while he writes a book. He says that he is also working in a lab near town, and will be staying for a while." She paused, and her voice became softer, "he said he was very pleased to meet me and our family. He was holding my hands while we talked, and he said that he was looking forward to meeting you Dave."

I had to ask, "Why do you sound breathless."

She insisted it was simply because Mister Gabe was such an overpowering personality. She was still catching her breath from the experience.

But that was it, according to Jennifer. The night was all about talking. Other than holding her hands, he didn't touch her, or do anything in anyway inappropriate. They continued to drink from the bottle of wine that Mister Gabe had supplied, served by his concierge, "C". My wife told him all about us, our lives together, our hopes and dreams... everything about herself, me, and our kids. I probed Jen for details about what she thought about Mister Gabe, and all she would say was that he was a very handsome, intelligent, and likeable gentleman with her. She said that he was obviously a strong man both in terms of physicality and mentally. I got the impression from Jennifer that she was drawn to the man, and for some reason it made me both nervous and erotically interested, although I didn't pursue that thought with her at the time.

We had been on the phone for a long time, and I had to work early the next day. I reminded her that I would be home later Friday evening and not Wednesday as I had originally hoped as the work with the client was taking a bit longer than I expected, and that was it. The call was over. My family had met Mister Gabe.