Welcome to Hidden Hills

Trailer parks get a bad rap -- some justified, some overblown. I lived in one right after college that was a nice little neighborhood and nothing like the stereotype.

But what if there was a really special one, hidden away in a pine grove in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina? One that was protected, and gave back to its residents in some rather special ways?

All sex-having characters are at least 18 years of age.

I do not believe in magic. At least not the wand-waving, spell-casting, witches and warlocks sort of thing. But I also think that there are things that we don't know or understand -- things that have no ready scientific explanation. I'm going to let you in on a closely guarded secret. One of those things is actually a place, in the Sandhills of North Carolina.

I was born in Charlotte four decades ago, to Frank and Antonia Murray. Dad had waited a little while to start a family and was in his early thirties and on his way to becoming quite wealthy. Mom was young, barely 20 years old, when they met at the bank where she was working as a teller and within a year they were married, and I was on my way to becoming.

I was never really told why Dad left when I was three. Mom made it clear that it was her decision, not his, but she didn't really say anything more than that their differences on some subjects were too big to overcome. Dad always said that he had always loved her and still did and that it was her story to tell me when she was ready.

Despite being quite an attractive blonde, Mom never remarried. She threw herself into her work and into giving me the best childhood possible. And she succeeded at both. I was always loved, always looked after, never wanted for anything and was generally a pretty happy kid. Meanwhile Mom rose through the ranks at the bank until she was head of customer service.

Dad moved north of Philadelphia and remarried a few years later. I got along well with my stepmom Randi, maybe a little less so with their son Todd. He was just the wrong number of years younger than me to be of any interest, so we mostly ignored each other when I came up to spend time with my father.

Dad made it clear that he hoped that I would join his investment firm after taking the right courses in college, but I honestly had no interest in investment or finance. I had discovered early on that I had a knack for computers and programming, so I went for a CompSci major at Vanderbilt.

I met Ms. Allen at a departmental mixer on a Friday night when I was a sophomore. She was serious money -- she'd been a trophy wife but after her husband died, it turned out she had a real talent for business and made a ton of money on her own. She was in her fifties and looked it, but that didn't mean she wasn't hot.

She took me home that night, her driver just rolling his eyes at my obvious gawkiness. But when he dropped me off at my dorm that Sunday night, I was a new man. I mean that literally -- I had started the weekend as a barely-non-virginal shy kid and ended it as a confident, sexually experienced, grown-ass man. A different kind of magic, I guess.

We spent a few more weekends together that year before she cut me loose so she could find another project. And I put my new skills, and my new-found attraction to older women, to good use. It was a miracle that I didn't get kicked out of school after being caught with the wife of the Arts and Sciences dean, but I found out for the first time that the need of people in power to hush things up would get me out of a jam almost every time.

I had a number of job offers after graduation and ended up with a tech company in Research Triangle Park back in North Carolina. I was pretty darn good at what I did, met my deadlines, got along well with teammates and management and quickly rose to project lead roles.

I considered myself pretty successful, but I knew that my career was stunted by two things -- my refusal to take on a people management role and the frequency with which my little head took over the thinking from my big head.

I'd been caught at various companies with bosses' daughters, bosses' wives, a couple of hot female bosses, half an HR department and a corporate VP of marketing. My jobs usually ended with a quiet dismissal with a nice package (money, I mean) if I went away quietly. My longest tenure was four and a half years, my shortest eight months.

My friends were convinced that I was going to get terminated in an entirely different way, and I did chip a tooth once when my boss's husband caught me with a sucker punch while I was pounding his wife on her desk. His Duke University class ring caught me square on the jaw. I always hated Dook.

But the biggest problem was that I was running out of places in RTP and the surrounding cities that hadn't already fired me. I was unhappily contemplating moving away, which sucked. I liked where I was, halfway between the beach and the mountains and with tons of stuff to do when I wasn't working my ass off.

I had just turned forty and was sitting out a notice period while job hunting again, and catching some July rays when my mom called me. She never called during the day, so I knew it was something bad. And it was. Dad had been killed in a fall from a horse he was riding, and the funeral was going to be that Saturday.

I was stunned. I couldn't believe Dad was gone. He was seventy-five or so but had more energy than most people half his age. The smoldering looks he shared with Randi when they thought I wasn't looking made me sure that their sex life was still fantastic. I felt really bad for her as I could tell that they were still very much in love.

I was still thinking about my stepmom when she called a little later. We cried with each other a little over the phone and I promised that I'd be up there for the funeral on Saturday and of course I'd be a pallbearer.

I drove down to Charlotte to fly up with Mom early that morning and rented a car for the drive up to Valley Forge. I wasn't sure where things stood between Randi and Mom, and Mom didn't talk much, but when we got to Dad's house the two of them hugged and kissed and cried on each other's shoulder like they were long-lost sisters. I was surprised, to say the least.

The funeral was fine, I guess. People said all the right things, and everybody cried a little and then laughed a little when a couple of Dad's business partners told a couple of funny stories. I was pretty numb through the whole thing, trying to figure out how someone that had been so full of energy and life could just cease to exist so quickly.

I had made hotel reservations for Mom and myself, but Randi insisted that we stay with her. Todd and his wife and kids lived in New Jersey, so they stayed over as well. Todd and I caught up a little bit but our interest in each other's work and lives was minimal at best.

As I was heading to the kitchen for another beer, I walked past the dining room where Randi and my mom were sitting next to each other, a couple of empty wine bottles in front of them. I saw Randi lean over and whisper something, her auburn head right next to my mom's grey-blonde one. Mom leaned back with a laugh and say loudly, "I know, but Lord that man could fuck!" They collapsed, giggling, into each other's arms and I grinned and moved on.

We had an appointment at a lawyer's office on Monday afternoon for the reading of the will, so Mom and I stayed with Randi another couple of days. I spent Sunday going through job websites and trying to figure out what I was going to do next. I didn't see much of my mom and stepmom, and Todd and his family had gone home since they were only a couple of hours away. We would meet Todd in the city the next day for the will reading.

We did get back together, for a wonderful dinner that my moms made together. I was happy (and quite surprised) that they got along so well together. We swapped stories about Dad and had too much wine and had a really nice time.

As I was getting ready for bed, Randi stepped into my room. "Ricky, honey, I need to tell you something." She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me. "You're going to get a surprise during the reading of the will tomorrow. It won't make much sense to you at first. But in time, I think it will. Your dad loved you very much and he's left you something that was dearer to him than anything in the world other than his family. He entrusted it to you because he trusted you to take care of it for him."

I pressed her for more details, but she just gave me a little smile and assured me that it would be better to wait.

Monday morning, I put on the suit that I'd brought for the funeral and drove Randi and Mom in the rental car into Philadelphia. We had lunch at Parc on Rittenhouse Square before walking a couple of blocks to the lawyer's office. It was warming up and I was glad that I'd decided against the tie.

Todd and his wife had arrived before us and by the time we finished greeting each other, we were called into the lawyer's conference room. Mr. Jenkins was an older gentleman and mentioned that he'd been my dad's attorney for many decades.

"Frank was a fine man and a good friend. I feel his loss with you. I think you'll find that he took great pains to ensure that you are all taken care of. I know for a fact that he loved all of you," he said, looking around the room over his glasses. His eyes stopped on me for a moment before he smiled and moved on.

Dad left Randi the house and property, along with a vacation "cottage" in the Hamptons (it was huge) and a large sum of money. Mom was surprised that Dad left her quite a bit of cash, along with a small house up in Blowing Rock in the North Carolina mountains, which delighted her to no end. Todd got Dad's share of the businesses that he co-owned, which made sense since Todd had been working side-by-side with him since he got out of college.

That left me. Mr. Jenkins did that look-over-his-glasses thing again before clearing his throat to read. "And to Richard Murray, my first-born son, I leave the following: the amount of $75,000,000 US dollars and complete ownership of the Hidden Hills Trailer Park in Martin County, North Carolina."

I stared at the lawyer like maybe he'd had a stroke. Then I realized that Mom had gone white as a sheet and slumped down in her chair, groaning. Randi leaned over to whisper something to her, looking past Mom to nod at me, as if to say "I warned you." Todd looked confused and maybe a little sympathetic.

There really wasn't much to say after that. We all got copies of the will and Todd and his wife headed for the door with Randi and Mom close behind. Mr. Jenkins said, "Richard, I need a word before you go." Randi heard and nodded to me. I knew they'd wait downstairs until I was done.

"There is a condition on the bequest that I didn't want to share with the rest of the family. Did your father ever mention Hidden Hills?" Mr. Jenkins asked. I shook my head.

"It was a very special place for him, and he wanted to ensure that it was taken care of after his death. He trusted YOU for that. But I must admit, he also attached some conditions to ensure that his trust was well-placed. You MUST maintain the property as a trailer park for the next five full years or the cash bequest is forfeited. That condition was his insurance policy," he concluded.

I was confused as hell, but I thanked him and picked up my mom and stepmom in the lobby. We were all pretty quiet as we walked back to the parking garage for the rental. Mom hadn't said a single word to me since the reading of the will. Randi looked like she wanted to a couple of times but held off.

When we got back to the house, Mom immediately took to her guest room and closed the door. Randi sighed and motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen. She opened a good bottle of Zinfandel and poured us each a healthy glass. "I'm sure you have questions."

I had a million, but I wasn't sure where to start. Finally, the least interesting one came out. "Why me?"

Randi looked thoughtful. "Frank loved you very much. You reminded him of himself, in many, many ways, even including your penchant for letting your dick get you into trouble and your skills in talking your way back out of it." She grinned as she said it and I didn't take offense.

"You might not have gone into the same business but you both like women, and not just for sex, although that is a big part of it. You both like women for women. That is exceedingly rare. For all of your escapades, I've always understood that you never wanted to hurt anyone. Frank was the same way.

"He found an odd home at Hidden Hills. He bought the land outright while your mom was pregnant with you. He thought he would have it logged and then build some houses or something. But his plans changed. I think if you go visit, you'll understand much better. You should. Visit it, I mean. Like this week. There are people there that loved your father and I know it would mean something if his son paid a visit."

She refused to say any more and I let it drop. I ran out to one of Dad's favorite Indian places and brought home food for the three of us. Mom joined us in the dining room, looking a little more rested and relaxed.

Later I found myself lying in bed, a million thoughts running through my head, looking for answers that I wasn't going to find without a visit to this damn trailer park. I was about to drop off when I heard someone brush past my door. I heard Randi whisper, "Toni? Are you awake?" A door opened and then closed, followed by giggling. Then I was out for the rest of the night.

It was getting towards evening on Tuesday by the time I'd gotten Mom home and then driven to my place in Durham. I had a nice condo in the American Tobacco district and availed myself of one of the many nearby taprooms for dinner and a few beers. I tried to find out anything I could about this trailer park, but it was as if its existence was a secret. It truly did seem to be hidden.

Mr. Jenkins had arranged for a local lawyer to go through the paperwork with me for signing over the inheritance on Wednesday. She shook her head a little at some of the provisions but after a couple of hours and a thousand signatures, we were done, and I had a ridiculous sum of money in the bank. The accountant she had brought in helped me understand the inheritance tax, but I was still going to come out with enough money that I didn't ever have to worry about working again as long as I didn't do anything stupid.

It was mid-afternoon before I finally found a phone number for the trailer park and called. A pleasant and professional-sounding voice answered.

"Mr. Murray! I'm so glad you called. We're all devastated by Frank's passing -- he was loved by everyone here. I'm Elle, the on-site manager, and I'm looking forward to meeting you. We'd love for you to visit as soon as you can!"

I thought for a minute and said, "Look, Elle, I'm still a little bit in shock over all of this but I'm also curious as hell. Nobody's telling me much about this place. Would it be okay for me to come on out tomorrow? I'll need directions -- the place really does seem to be hidden. And it's Rick."

She laughed and said, "You own the place, Rick! You can come out any time you want. But absolutely, we would love to see you tomorrow. Like I said, everyone here is heartbroken about your father. I think it would be a lift to everyone if you were to visit soon." I liked her laugh.

She gave me directions to somewhere between Greenville and Williamston and I told her to expect me some time in the afternoon.

Thursday was a hot one. I should have left early before it got stifling but I found myself suddenly a little nervous about seeing this place, although I had no idea why. Maybe it was the prospect of now being responsible for it. I finally threw some clothes in an overnight bag, stuffed my laptop in a knapsack and hit the road in my aging Civic, thinking that I could now afford an upgrade. Or a fleet.

It took a couple of hours to get to Greenville and find a hotel. It was summer and East Carolina was in short sessions, so there were plenty of rooms available. It suddenly hit me that I could now afford to stay any damn place I wanted to, but the best the town had to offer was a middle-of-the-road Hilton.

I dropped my bag off, kept my laptop with me, and followed Elle's directions out into the flatlands of eastern North Carolina, passing played-out cotton fields and crumbling tobacco barns. After half an hour or so, I found the small sign on the left of the two-lane highway simply marked "Hidden Hills" and turned up a gravel road. I didn't get the "hills" part, but it was certainly hidden!

After about a quarter of a mile and a couple of unnecessary curves, I saw a gate with a keypad and a speaker. There was a small trailer, like a construction trailer, just on the other side, with a small brick ranch-style house behind it. I pushed the button and heard Elle respond through the tinny little speaker. I announced myself and the gate opened slowly.

It didn't feel nearly as hot as I expected when I opened the car door and stepped out. The trailer park seemed to be built in a large stand of very tall pines that created shade, and the breeze that I felt was almost cool, which was a shock. I grabbed my backpack and pushed open the door of the trailer and stepped in.

I was greeted by two of the largest breasts I'd ever seen, barely encased in a denim work-shirt that was mostly unsnapped and tied together under those incredible assets. It took a minute for me to look down far enough to see the well-manicured hand that was held out to be shaken and then to look up to see the grinning face of Elle, patiently waiting for me to get my shit together.

"It's okay," she said as I took her hand. "They have that effect on most people." She came around her desk and pulled me into a hug. "I'm so sorry about Frank. He was the best." She pulled back enough for me to see the rest of her -- she was slender everywhere except her chest, with big blonde hair and tan legs ending in a pair of short, tight khaki hiking shorts. Her wide mouth seemed to break into a smile at the slightest provocation.

In addition to the desk and the normal office cabinets and credenzas on one side of the trailer, there was a sitting area on the other with a loveseat, coffee table and a couple of upholstered chairs. She led me to the loveseat and got me a bottle of water before taking one of the chairs.

As we chatted and got to know each other a little, I managed to stop focusing quite as much on her boobs, which was made easier by her deep blue eyes and her sexy smile. She talked about growing up in and around the park and about her mom. "You'll meet her tomorrow. You'll love her -- she's amazing!" I hadn't been sure I was coming back tomorrow but I didn't say anything.

"Mama and I have a whole orientation program worked out for you," Elle said, "starting with a mini-tour and an overview of the financials and management from me. Then she'll give you the history of this place and why your dad loved it so much and we'll both tell you about some of the... quirks of this place."

If it kept me in close contact with her, I didn't care if we talked about the price of tea in China. I wasn't excited about going back out into the heat, but as we left the trailer, I found that it felt more like a dry 80F than the muggy 95 that I expected.

We walked a few hundred yards into the complex and I started seeing neat, well-maintained trailers, surrounded by foundation plantings, many of them with screened patios or porches. It was a hell of a lot different from the hot, bleak trailer parks that some of my friends at Vandy had lived in.

She gave me a quick tour of a small but nicely decorated clubhouse, big enough for a decent-sized party. There was a laundry room on the back side with a separate entrance, and a well-appointed gym off to the side, with a couple of exercise bikes, three treadmills, a Universal machine and a good selection of free weights and mats.