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The Gamer Chapter 1380 – End of Construction
🕑 Added 2023-02-04 15:48:56 +0000 UTCThe 30th of May 2019, around 16 hours, John pushed the last shingle into place and then carefully stepped back onto the construction frame. Before him lay a competently crafted roof, with a couple of solar cells serving to reduce their dependence on the distant power plant. Whether they had done everything properly or not, the next couple of weeks would show. Either the roof would collapse on its own weight or not.
John climbed down, then began the work of taking the steel construction apart. Once it was removed, he was truly done. He looked at a finished, if entirely empty, house. With plumbing, but no toilets; water, but no sinks; electricity, but no computers; and insulation, but no air conditioning. An average workday of 9 hours, with help by 20 people, with some superhuman cheating and the best equipment money could buy.
“Oy, stud, want anything specific beef or mixed patty?” Salamander shouted from behind him. John turned around to find his entire harem gathered around a beefy grill. They were on the mundane side, so they were all in their disguises. The camping chairs and coal barbeque were so mundane, the colours of those present ranging from pale to deep brown constricted compared to the fantastical palette of their true forms. Here or there, they were all gorgeous.
“Beef!” he shouted back, before joining them all. In passing, he caressed Nightingale’s hair. The harpy was holding a glass of champagne in her hands, constantly looking at them as if they could not be trusted. Together with Claire, she sat under a parasol, a bit away from everyone else.
The majority of the party, and today deserved that moniker in the celebration sense, was clumped up in several groups around the grill. A mixture of the many haremettes mingling, sometimes in the typical cliques, typically mixed thoroughly. John plopped down on a lounger and enjoyed the sun. Temperatures had dropped the few decisive degrees that transformed a day from scorching to pleasantly hot, with the occasional cloud preventing heatstroke.
It took about three minutes before the first of his women found a break in whatever conversation she was tangled up in and marched over. Marched being the most accurate word for Lydia who strapped her sandals down as tight as she would have military boots. Wearing light brown pants and a plain, red shirt, she was by far the most clothed of all of them. Many did not wear anything at all. It was fortunate that they lived at the end of the street in the middle of nowhere. The only people that drove here were those that wanted something from him.
“Room for me, my love?” Lydia asked and laid down on top of him, after he gestured invitingly at his side. Much as he had prioritized transportability of the furniture, when it came to these loungers, he had been liberal with his funds. Nothing was more important than it withstanding the combined weight of him and up to three haremettes. That and potential sudden and strong movement on top of it.
“Glad you could make it,” John whispered to her.
“It was one of the rare times that you requested my presence in advance. To miss this would have been unbecoming of me,” Lydia responded. They both wiggled around, attempting to find a sweet spot. John’s shoulder became the support for her neck. Elbow resting on his chest, Lydia placed a hand on his left cheek and kissed the right.
The touch of her ruby red lips created condensed happiness in his mind, that then spread like a tingling tidal wave through all of him. With one touch, she refreshed the certainty that he was consistently succeeding. After all, what else but a splendid path could entitle him to where he was at this very moment. One gorgeous woman cuddled up to him. A moment later, two.
Aclysia took his open left with glee. In hotpants and with a sultrily modified farmer’s shirt, the ‘Asian’ maid looked like she’d hopped straight off a porn flick. It appeared she wanted to enjoy this particular aesthetic in its most alluring form for one more day. Tomorrow, they would be packing and returning to suits and gala dresses. Admittedly, for her, the maid uniform would always remain the primary clothing.
Aclysia and Lydia locked fingers on top of his chest, smiling at each other in their elegant ways, and simultaneously pressed another kiss on the corners of his mouth. Where all of this love fit in his heart, John did not know. The moment lasted for an eternity. Their lips latched onto him, in all their softness, and all he could do was hug them both tighter the longer the moment remained.
When they regretfully pulled away, the absence of physical contact was barely missed. How could he miss what was right there? Aclysia giggled in his ear, content as he was, pressing her frame against him. Her legs wrapped around his left, holding tightly onto him. Lydia wordlessly scratched him behind the ear, lying still and close next to him.
It felt so inadequate, that all he could do in response to their little touches was to hold them. Any word that came to mind came short of describing the depth of his appreciation. Any action he wanted to take was impossible in the current circumstances. If he could have, he would have carried them both in his arms up the stairs of a giant cathedral, up to the altar where whichever priesthood they respected was ready to witness their vows.
Blessed was he, for his women were content with him being there. He would reward them for their humility a thousand times over, in whatever ways he could. Every day he accrued a debt. Repaying even a fraction of the interest was always a pleasure. If only all transactions were as wonderful as this one, all woes would melt away into the moment.
“I love you,” John found the only three words that even remotely described what he was feeling. Aclysia’s mind opened up to him like a sunflower, radiating with celestial warmth of its own right. Her face was hidden, pressed against the side of his neck. An approving smile bloomed on Lydia’s lips, so perfect in their colour and shape. The greatest privilege of all was his, to taste her sweetness on his tongue, and know that it was true love’s kiss.
Soon, they lay there, together, in silence, just watching everyone else. Metra was standing next to Salamander at the grill, the two chatting with their tomboyish grins. The apocalypse elemental clacked the tongs repeatedly, while she turned the meat. Lee was comparing her arm to Rave’s, only showcasing how little of a tan she had gained during their stay here. Nia was sitting alone on the side, sipping a colourful drink, her blank face not betraying what she thought. In her eyes, however, John could read her content state with a moment of personal quiet.
Siena, Sylph, Undine and Nathalia were passing between them Gnome’s latest work, showering the artistic season elemental with praises. Claire and Nightingale continued to talk under the parasol. The harpy was demonstrating elegant arm movements, which the maid then mimicked. A lesson on ladylike behaviour, perhaps?
Eliana also was on her own, prowling around the edge of the party, picking up little things from the dirt. Like Nia, she seemed to be recharging her social batteries for a moment. She had stolen one of John’s cargo shirts, and it was long enough that it almost hid the fact that she wore hotpants. A look so breedable, it should be illegal in public spaces.
Beatrice and Momo were talking about something with vivid interest. The passive maid was participating with rare, wide gestures, while Momo was flailing around constantly. Lorelei stood between them, looking a bit lost. Listening in was tempting, but John kept his eyes moving.
The last cluster around was that of Hailey, Scarlett and Delicia. The three crafters were bowed over Scarlett’s smartphone, discussing whatever she showed on the screen.
John’s gaze returned to the two gorgeous women he had by his side, when Salamander banged the tongs against the side of the grill, creating a loud noise. “Alright, suckers, get your grub!” she shouted.
“Thank you for the cuddles,” Aclysia said, quickly getting up before he and Lydia did. As a maid, she had a place not in the row that waited for their turn in getting their burger, but at the table that had all the vegetables and cheese to create the perfect stack of ingredients. Ten minutes later, conversations all around were muffled by everyone stuffing their faces with delicious food.
All ingredients for these burgers had been bought from the local supermarket. That put the quality of the meat below what John was used to and it was still among the most delicious things he had eaten recently. It was not just the burger or the expert preparation; neither the charcoal nor the moderate use of steak pepper on the patty was what made it so wonderful. It was the atmosphere, the jokes exchanged between bites, the honest southern sun, the winds, it was all just nice. With every bite, his mouth was filled with fresh, forest air.
Once they were done and the maids had gathered up the plates, John stood up and cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention. “We’ll sleep here one more time and the evening won’t end here, but I still feel like this is the best point to give an official end to the vacation,” John addressed all of them. “And I want to say that I’m incredibly thankful that you were all here for me. No amount of oratory skills can put into words how deeply I feel for all of you. Luckily, unlike one of my speeches to the public, I can prove to all of you through the rest of our shared lives how committed I am.
“When I was suddenly… overcome – for the lack of a better term – by the burnout, I could not have asked for a more caring reaction from all of you. You were willing to sacrifice your time and energy to make sure I was okay, accompanied me out here even though some of you have no love for the countryside or the lifestyle I wanted to emulate. You accepted any inconvenience or disruption for me, for a whole month. I’m truly glad that I have each and every one of you.”
John smiled at every last one of his haremettes, one after the other. His gaze drifted over Hailey, who had a complicated expression on her face. She was the odd one out and must have felt that.
“Ya better do the same for any of us if we ever need it,” Rave called jokingly.
“Of course!” John was swift to respond sincerely. “If it ever becomes necessary, I’m fully committed. For today, though, if you would allow, I have one more stupidly cliché thing I want to do.”
“Oh?” Momo spoke up for the entire harem. “What secret did you keep, hm?”
“Give me a few minutes,” John said with a broad grin and jogged away in the direction of the barn.
The surprise was dulled a bit because he needed to make more than one trip. First he brought a large board made from hardwood. Then followed skin friendly paint, brushes, and finally a glass pane. The paint alone clued everyone in what he wanted to do. He said it out loud anyway.
“It’s nice to have a physical token for memories,” John told everyone. “So I’d like everyone to leave a handprint on this board and write their name under it. We’ll paint around them, just for the fun of it. Tomorrow, when it’s dry, I’ll put the glass pane in place so it’s all protected from the elements. Then we can hang it up somewhere.”
“I love it!” Rave exclaimed and the entire party started to crowd around it.
John made the start. He used a broad brush to paint his hand in the same dark blue that decorated his hands in so many rings. In the centre of the top half, he put down the imprint of his right hand. In carefully written cursive letters, he put his name down. “Just write down whatever name you prefer.”
Rave put her left in pink next to his. She drew her hand back a bit too quickly, smudging the imprint, but that only added to the charm. She used the smudge as the spine of the R of her nickname.
Coordinating with the other maids, Aclysia first put her hand down in black, then Beatrice followed in white, Claire in crimson, and Delicia in green. Momo needed a moment to paint her hand equal parts white and black, before taking her place in the overlapping imprints that curved around the right side of John’s hand. They each added their names at an aesthetically pleasing, Beatrice-measured angle. Aclysia and Beatrice wrote in the exact same hand; Claire tried to emulate, but her hand was not quite as elegant, for a lack of familiarity with their letters; Momo had the most beautiful calligraphy of them all, even if that was wasted on her short name; and Delicia just put her name down in bold letters, as if she was writing a label.
Nathalia turned her head around, made certain no one was looking, and then burned the imprint of her hand into the wood with magic, near the centre of the bottom half. The move got her some ridicule, but it also set a precedent others were thankful for.
Eliana painted her hand with a pattern of purple, light blue, red, and white. When she pressed it on the wood, it came out looking like a white tree with red leaves, against a sky at dusk. It was impressive and she bashfully basked in the praises she got for it.
Gnome put her hand on the northern edge of the board and convinced the rest of the elementals that they should do it in the Fusion symbol order again. It was cliché and so was the entire situation. Salamander put her hand in the upper right corner. Stirwin and Copernicus left paw prints in the bottom right one. Sylph put hers at the bottom edge. Undine left the deep blue mark in the bottom left. Lastly, Siena put hers in the top left. In their individual styles, they left their names. John wrote for Stirwin, Rave for Copernicus.
Lydia, in copper colour, firmly pressed her hand between the cluster of the maids and Gnome’s imprint. “It strikes me as the correct place,” she reasoned simply, and wrote her name as if she was signing a court document. Her signature was clean and easily readable.
Nia, acknowledging simply what she was, perhaps finding it humorous, brushed over her hand with paint while it was pressed on the wood. The result was a blank spot in a splotch of white. She wrote her name where her palm was. A thin brush, swung with purpose, into three letters.
Metra chuckled, painted her knuckles, and then punched the wooden board. She measured her strength well, leaving only soft indents in the hardwood. The impact had only distant resemblance with a fist and was surrounded by stray bits of the grey she had used. In gold, she wrote her name under it in impatient letters.
Scarlett used the same colour as Claire, the colour of her crimson hair, and placed it seemingly at random, ending up quite close to Metra. The board was slowly filling up with all their hand imprints. She only wrote ‘Red’ down, rather than her full name. “Basic security paranoia.”
Lorelei used gold for her hand imprint. She placed it underneath John’s, and a bit off to the left so she didn’t get too close to anyone else. Just when he thought she was not going to do anything unusual, she wrote down ‘Lorelei, Blessed that she was here’. She blushed intensely without anyone needing to mention it to her.
Lee struggled a bit with her choice of colour. Brown was the obvious choice, but that would have contrasted poorly with the wood. Nia helped her out, by suggesting that Lee do the same thing she did. A suggestion the young Fateweaver accepted. She put her right hand next to her friend’s left. The different shapes of the hands left no illusion that they belonged to different people. Lee wrote her name in the scraggly hand of someone who rarely wrote with their hand.
Nightingale, like Nathalia before her, took a careful look around. She requested the board be moved over to the parasol, just in case there was satellite footage. Under there, she reverted a foot and left it, in deep, deep purple, instead of a hand she so rarely used. The claws settled nicely between the hand imprints. With her talon she wrote her name, quite gorgeously at that.
Not to exclude her, John took a quick trip to the other side and called Velka. The Magryph had no idea what exactly was going on. A lure of some of the spare patties let John get her imprint in the same dark blue that he had used for himself.
“It looks real nice,” Hailey drawled, when he returned to the mundane side.
“Is it finished?” the Gamer asked her.
The country gal hesitated and looked up. Everyone around her had a body part marked by paint, except for her. Everyone around her had put their mark down on the board, except for her. Everyone around her knew what their relation was to John and the harem, except for her.
John put her on the spot, because this was the penultimate day. There was only tomorrow left. “You have every right to put your name down, you did help us build. If you do it, you’ll always be remembered as part of us, here.”
Hailey took a deep breath, fixed her trucker hat, rolled her shoulder, then grabbed one of the clean brushes and dunked it in the light blue paint. With the colour of the Oklahoma state flag, she first left her print among the many others, near Scarlett’s, and then wrote her name on it. The letters were slowly drawn, but did not come out beautiful. Calligraphy was not her strong suit.
“Hey… purrdy man… no, sugar…?”
John got goosebumps at the change in nickname, even if the tone it was delivered in was a bit hesitant. It vanished after he asked, simply, “Yes?”
“Can you come and visit my place tomorrow mornin’? Around 6:30? Right after breakfast? I’d like ya to speak to my parents, paw-paw especially.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” he assured.
“We’ll see about that.” Hailey laughed nervously.
