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Subject: {ASSM} [NEW] Sandcastles Ch. 31-40 (MF MFF bond rom)
Date: Sat, 27 Jul 2002 06:10:04 -0400
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THE USUAL WARNINGS:
This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you are offended by
graphic descriptions of natural and/or unnatural sexual acts, if you are
underage, or if this type of material is illegal where you are, don't read
any further.
This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench on reality a
little when you read it. This is a tale in which physical acts and human
responses are not limited to, nor necessarily based in, reality. Some acts
and responses in this story may be physically impossible and/or
physiologically improbable.
Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this newsgroup, all the
women in this story are beautiful gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused
breasts to droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces. The men (the
leading men, at least) are hung like bulls. They can get it up and keep it
up often and at will. In this special little fantasyland, there are no
STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies. Guilt is a fourletter word. Most
important of all, neither strength of character, courage of convictions,
nor moral belief stand a chance against any erotic stimulus. This can be
as benign as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating as a
whipping on the genitals.
For those of you who didn't understand the preceding statements, GO
AWAY!
This story is intended for the salacious entertainment of consenting
adults. Do not try to do any of the things described in this story. You
could injure yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her
father....
If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story will burn your
eyeballs and fry your brain.
If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where you are, GO
AWAY!
By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for any disgust,
revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that results from reading this
story. If you don't, GO AWAY!
You have been warned!
If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on a <free> site,
at least give me (NightShade) credit for it.
So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the story!....:)
NightShade
Sandcastles
by NightShade Chapter 31
During this time we had been ignoring the symphony concerts for the most
part. There had been other concerts since that first one, but none by
composers either of us wanted to hear. The second major concert of
interest in the symphony season was at the midpoint. This one had some
pieces by one of my favorite composers and I announced that we would be
going. I gave them two weeks notice.
Again, as before, the packages from The Guild began arriving in sealed
boxes shortly after my announcement. Whether they wanted to go hear the
concert or not, they wanted to go just to see what was in the golden boxes.
The day of the concert started early. This time the two women knew what
to expect and they fully enjoyed the pampering and primping that was done
to them. By the time the last technician was done, they were about as on
edge as I had seen them.
I smiled at Sally standing there in her short silk robe. I handed her a
set of headphones and a new CD along with a steaming cup of her favorite
tea. Gleefully she curled up in the over-stuffed chair in my office and
went off into her own world. I could tell she was curious about what I was
going to do to Janey, but she knew I treated the two of them differently.
I led Janey into her room. She was so excited I thought she would
burst. When I selected the first box and handed it to her, she even
squealed. Opening the box she saw a jeweled collar similar to the one her
Mom had worn to the first concert. She looked up at me, eyes sparkling.
"I know you're curious about the other boxes, Janey, but I thought you
should know that the Collar Rules will apply tonight. If you don't want to
wear your collar, that's perfectly OK. I want you to know that. Half of
these boxes are just in case you don't want to wear it tonight."
"Do I still get to keep all the presents?" Typical female.
"Yes," I grinned.
"Wow! Dad, it's beautiful!"
"So are you, Janey. I noticed you haven't been wearing the collar every
chance you get, and I just wanted to make sure it's OK with you now."
"I was kind of looking forward to it, Sensei. These nights are always
so special, and," she grinned impishly, "I don't just mean the presents. I
was hoping you'd think of it, too." With that, she slipped to her knees and
offered me the gift of her collar. She must have been practicing with her
mother, because the gracefulness of her offering was exactly the same. I
fastened the collar and helped her stand.
I slipped off the silk robe she had on and stood back, admiring her
naked body. She was much more comfortable with her nudity now, and reveled
in my admiration of her beauty. I went over and selected a second box, the
largest of the ones she would get tonight. She opened it and gasped.
She pulled out an exquisite corset of deceptively sturdy manufacture.
It felt light as a feather, but I had been reassured by the designers that
the material was strong and that there was no give in it.
Janey stepped into the garment and pulled it up. "Oh, God!"
I grinned. I knew what she was thinking. It didn't cover a thing. The
top of the corset rested snuggly under her youthful tits. The bottom
barely touched the top of her trimmed pubic patch.
I had her lean over, her arms braced on her vanity table, while I
cinched down her waist. As this was her first corset, it wasn't as
restrictive as the ones she would be able to get into later, when her body
had adapted. I pulled the drawstrings as tight as they would go, tied them
off and then zipped up the heavyduty zipper. The zipper gave the garment a
finished, smooth look from the rear.
"Am I supposed to be able to breathe in this thing?" she said, turning
to me.
"Dunno," I grinned at her. "But who cares, really. Look in the mirror
and see what it does for your tits. God, Cricket, you're beautiful!"
She turned, and saw what I meant. The gleam in her eyes told me she
liked what she saw, too. She ran her hands up over her cinched waist and
ended with them cupping her breasts. Her eyes closed and she shuddered as
a minor tremor swept through her.
I pointed to the remaining boxes, kissed her lightly copping a feel or
two as I did - and left to get her mother ready.
I walked in a bit ahead of schedule. I took the opportunity to drink in
the beauty of my love. I hadn't had much time lately to observe her
unobserved. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the music. Her empty
teacup was cradled in her hands. She looked very happy.
She cracked one eye open when the CD was done. "That was nice. Thank
you, Master. I hope you didn't wait long."
I grinned like a schoolboy at her sitting there. I almost hated to ruin
that picture, but there was more to do tonight. I offered her my hand and
she took it, smiling back at me.
I led her to our room. I took her jeweled collar from her jewelry box
and handed it to her. Immediately she knelt down and offered me her
collar, which I locked around her neck. I took her hand and helped her
stand.
I left her standing there and went in to get Janey. She was just
finishing inserting all the Rosen's gadgets. It still embarrassed her to
have someone watch her put them in, so I usually let her do it herself.
She looked flushed, the corset adding extra pressure and making it harder
for her to bend.
I took the last remaining items, a pair of high-heeled boots made of the
softest leather, and slipped them onto her feet. I probably touched her
more than was necessary zipping them up, but she didn't protest. From her
moans and sighs, I would say just the opposite. She just grinned at me
when she saw how tall the heels were. By now she knew of my penchant for
my ladies to wear very high heels, so these were not a surprise to her. I
helped her walk back to where Sally was waiting.
"Oh, my!" was all Sally said when Janey appeared.
Sally looked around for her boxes and realized there was only one on the
bed. I picked it up and handed it to her with a grand flourish. She tried
not to look hurt, but she didn't quite succeed. That all changed when she
opened it. She reached in and pulled out a white leather riding crop. It
was stiffer than any we had in our collection.
I pulled a silk cord out of my pocket. I turned her around and bound
her wrists behind her back. I placed the crop in her hands.
"Don't lose that, my Love, or there will be Hell to pay."
While she was standing I had her stand with her legs about shoulder
width apart. I personally inserted the Rosen's little devices in her.
Sally didn't like them as much as Janey, she said they took too much
control from her. They made her feel too good and they frightened her.
She was trembling when I finished securing the earring posts through her
pierced ears. I sat her down and slipped a pair of hose on her legs, then
a pair of extremely high heels. She was flushed and radiant.
I took another cord from my pocket and motioned for Janey to turn
around. I tied her wrists together as well, and led both of them to the
front door. There I placed the green cape around Sally's nude form and
snapped the closures down the front. I pulled out another blue cape for
Janey and slipped it around her shoulders.
The limo was waiting, so we exited the house and drove to the concert
hall. I made sure we had the same excellent driver. Since Janey was not
my `date' this evening, both my slaves had `equal' status. I quickly
realized that both were very greedy when it came to having possession of my
cock in their mouth. It became a near ugly contest very quickly, with
Janey holding her own.
I pulled Sally to me and kissed her deeply. As I expected, Janey
swooped down and took possession of my swollen prick. "Let the youth do
the work, dearest," I whispered to her alone. Sally giggled as I slipped
my hand inside her cape and took possession of one of her fine breasts. We
made out like teenagers for the rest of the trip.
The driver gave us the two-minute warning by flicking the dome lights as
she approached the concert hall. As mine were the only hands free, I
closed up my fly. Janey actually groaned as it disappeared.
I helped both women out of the car, much to Sally's surprise. She
started to walk behind me, as she had at the first concert, but I would
have none of that. I took both of them by their cape-covered elbows and
guided them up the steps and to our box seats.
The arrangements were similar to last time, but there was only one chair
flanked on both sides by padded prayer benches for the girls to kneel upon.
As I settled them onto their knees I held the remote controls that ran
their devices where they could see them. As I pushed each button, I showed
them. By the second button they knew what to expect and their eyes got
wider as I methodically turned on each device they were wearing to a
moderate level.
Sally was sweating immediately and, after seeking my permission with a
questioning look, gasped through the first of her many climaxes that night.
I knew they didn't really appreciate my favorite music, but maybe in time
they would learn to have whole new appreciation for it. It would certainly
be fun to try.
As the orchestra finished its tuning and warm ups, I leaned back and
prepared to enjoy the music. I nudged the remotes up as the first
bombastic notes filled the concert hall. I don't think either Janey or
Sally heard a single note. I nudged the remotes up another notch as each
selection began. Sally groaned with a mixture of terror and pleasure as
each piece ended. Janey just knelt there, a glazed look of bliss on her
face. I could sense she was riding wave after wave of pleasure. She
wasn't fighting it like her Mom was and her enjoyment was palpable.
Intermission came and I turned their units off. They needed a break.
Janey wasn't pleased with the absence of the stimulation, but grinned at me
after her little pout. I helped her to her feet, then turned to help Sally
stand. Janey wandered towards the front of the box and was looking down
over the audience. I was embracing Sally, feeling her fabulous ass beneath
her cape.
Suddenly, it was like a flash of lightning stuck both Sally and I. We
looked at each other, then turned to Janey. She was ashen and swaying like
she was going to fall. Her eyes were fixed on a point down below us.
I sat Sally down on her bench, then went calmly over to Janey. I helped
her back from the edge of the box and sat her in my chair, away from the
prying eyes below. There was no need to look at what had frightened her. I
knew without looking. Sally knew. I looked just to be sure. I was right.
Gary was back in town.
Chapter 32
When Janey was seated, I went back to the edge of the box. I motioned
for Sally to come up behind me, to use my body as shield from being seen by
anyone below us who happened to look up. She understood and stood just off
my shoulder.
Gary was not hard to pick out. He, too, had two beautiful women with
him. They were as dark and tan as Sally and Janey were blonde and fair.
Upon closer inspection, one was much younger than the other. Another
mother-daughter pair, I bet myself.
"I-I-I know her," came the quiet voice from behind me. Janey had come
up and stood, like her mother, behind me, using my body as a shield.
"She's new to my school, a year younger. She has an accent."
I watched him. He was cocky, confident, and sure of himself. He
obviously dominated the older female and enjoyed terrorizing her by
fondling the younger woman in public. His hands roamed the young girl's
body freely and nearly obscenely, causing more than one matronly gasp from
the staid bystanders. The mother stood meekly, eyes pleading. Strangely,
the daughter was passive, not reacting at all, as if she were a mannequin.
I don't know what it was or if we all came to the same conclusion at
once, but one moment I was standing there despising that man and the next I
was on the telephone. I set in motion an information machine I hadn't
often used since I left the government's service. It would take a few
hours, but by then I would know all there was to know about the man named
`Gary'.
We left at the beginning of the second set. I called the driver as we
left the box. The car was waiting as we exited the building, the driver
holding open the rear door. The drive home was silent and uneventful, each
of us lost in our own thoughts. Janey revived sooner than Sally and I soon
felt her steamy mouth capture the head of my cock as she knelt down at my
feet. I caressed her smooth cheek as she lay her head on my lap.
Her playfulness remained as we returned home. I'm not sure if that was
because she remembered my promise from the last time or if she just figured
that if both Sally and myself were worried about Gary, she didn't need to
be. With both of us on the case, it was bound to turn out right, right?
Ah, the innocent trust of the na<ve.
Inside the door, I relieved both of them of their capes, exposing their
beautiful bodies to my gaze. I took the crop from Sally's hands and
playfully swatted her naked charms, teasing her with light to moderate
snaps on her very sensitive areas. She started to move around the room and
I followed her, finally finessing her down the hallway and into our
bedroom. There I delivered a couple of harder swats to her ass, raising her
temperature several degrees. I laid the crop on the makeup bench and
turned her to me. Her eyes were snapping, all thoughts of that ugly man
pushed to the side.
I made her kneel in front of that bench and face the crop. Her hands
were still tied behind her. "Stay here, please," I asked/ordered her.
Then I left the room
Janey was waiting impatiently, shifting from one booted foot to the
other. She was not facing the door I came through so I was able to watch
for several minutes before she turned and saw me looking at her. Unlike
her mother, Janey blushed a deep, deep shade of red as she realized I had
just been standing there looking at her nakedness. It made her seem all
that more innocent and alluring.
I took her elbow and led her to her own room. She got suddenly shy and
lagged a bit behind. I stopped leading her and quietly took her and held
her in my arms.
"Afraid?"
She shook her head.
"What, then?"
"I don't know. I, I just don't know if I'm ready for this."
"Ready for what?" I teased.
"You know, for- for- it."
"Oh."
She was silent for a while, then with all the enthusiasm of a kid who
hadn't studied for an exam she was about to take, led me into her room.
She lay down on her bed and awkwardly spread her legs. God, she was
beautiful!
"Now what?" I asked her.
"Huh?"
"Now what?" I repeated.
"Aren't you going to, you know, do me now?"
"No."
She looked stunned, then slowly closed her legs in embarrassment. "No?"
"No."
"But you promised. You said..."
"I said that next time it was your turn." I sat down on the bed next to
her.
"Right. I thought..."
"Cricket? Who's in charge here?"
Her slave name brought her up short. "Oh. Right. You are, Sensei."
She lay in shivering disappointment as I removed the various gadgets
from her. Tears began flowing silently as I unzipped and removed her soft
leather boots. It wasn't until I had her second wrist secured to her
headboard by the straps I had installed earlier that she realized that
something was going to happen. She almost choked on her sob of relief.
I waited until she was breathing normally then patted her on her legs,
indicating for her to spread them again. This was a touchy time. The last
time someone had been between them had been traumatic for her. I wondered
if she would do it.
It took her a little time, but she did, smiling bravely up at me,
offering me open access to her most private areas. I moved between her
spread legs and knelt between them. I caressed the smooth skin of her
thighs gently. I could feel her fear and I almost pulled back. I don't
know why I kept on, but I did. I guess I didn't want to waste her courage,
to mock it.
"Now it's your turn, Cricket," I said softly as I bowed my head and
kissed that softest of skin on the inside of her thighs. Nothing more was
said as I proceeded to bring her to heretofore unknown heights of ecstasy
using only my tongue. She was screaming and thrashing her blonde tresses
as she came over and over.
I started to remove her corset when she was sated, but she shook her
head `no', pleading with her eyes. I silently nodded my assent, then
inserted into her cunt and asshole the larger sized appliances that had
been custom made for her by the Rosen's. The diabolical ones. The ones
that plugged into the wall and didn't wear down.
I tied her ankles to the footboard and left her corseted and
spread-eagled for the night. She wouldn't get much sleep. I had
programmed those big vibrators for `simmer.' They would monitor her
biofeedback and keep her at a fever pitch until they were turned off.
About once an hour they would let her go over the edge, then they would
keep her at that higher level until the next push to the next level. By
morning she should be nearly crazy. Of course, she could get loose with a
stiff pull, but she wouldn't do it. I turned my attention to my next task,
my love.
Sally was weeping silently as I came in the room. I knew she was as
unsure as I was of what she had asked me to do with Janey. I opened my fly
and pushed my dick under her nose.
"Taste."
She did, hesitantly. She wasn't sure if I was rubbing it in or what.
She jerked her head up in amazement as she realized she didn't taste cunt
juice.
I leaned down to kiss her. "Taste," I said, smiling gently.
She kissed me gently, then, with the tip of her tongue, tasted her
daughter's juices on my face.
"Forgive me, Master, for doubting you."
"You're forgiven. But I'm still going to use the crop on you tonight,"
I said with a wicked grin on my face.
Sally gasped at that reminder. I thought she got a little paler, too.
As much as she sought the pain and submission, she still feared my
inexperience. I hoped tonight would help her get over that fear.
I helped her kneel in front of the bench with it touching her ass. I
then bent her backwards over the bench as she had been that first night.
This time, however, I tied her wrists to her ankles under the bench. Her
tits were prominently offered to my whims, as was her defenseless twat.
I started lightly, teasing the tips of her tits, flicking it with the
end of the white crop, caressing them, almost. I laid a couple of light
strokes quickly across her taut belly, warming the flesh there. Then I
worked her shoulders to a ruddy glow, avoiding the super sensitive neck
areas. Still, the numerous blows tantalizingly close to her face and neck
made her shudder. Slowly, as I worked the tensions and pain and pleasure
in her higher and higher, she realized I had not misplaced one single blow
with the dangerous weapon. I felt her fears relax as she gave herself up
to the pain and pleasure.
I led her down the path she desired, wringing cry after heart wrenching
cry from her. Still she wanted more and harder from me. Her tits were
blazing red, a mass of mottled color, but without a single welt or drop of
blood. When she was maxed out and could go no higher, I stepped in front
of her and with a vicious but calculated blow, I brought the crop up
between her thighs to land on her swollen and throbbing cunt lips.
I thought she was going to break her back. I had been chasing and
stirring the lights of her aura, teasing her and arousing her with the pain
she sought. But this was like a super nova. I had never seen so bright a
light from either her or Janey's auras. I played the crop off the sides of
her inner thighs, as close to her crotch as I could get. I teased her with
the pain, then I would deluge her with it. She slipped into a state of
mind I don't think she knew existed. She was far beyond the singing stage
that Bala talked about.
If I could not have seen her aura to help her, to watch her, I would
have been terrified for her. As it was, I was able to sense her needs and
guide her as she existed on that sensual plateau. Later, I lay beside her
in bed as she dreamed, or whatever she did. She was so relaxed, yet so
energized. I drifted off to sleep, Sally cradled in my arms.
I woke later to find her watching me with quiet eyes. There was no fear
anymore, only love. I was her Master. I tossed and turned for the rest of
the night, troubled by dark thoughts. I felt Sally's cool touch trying to
sooth me.
I must have drifted off sometime during that short night, as I woke up
alone, the first time in a long time. I remembered why I didn't like it. I
also missed my morning blowjob by Janey, too, but then I remembered I had
left her tied to her bed. Guess I couldn't blame her for not getting up,
huh? Still, I wondered where Sally was.
I shaved and showered, again alone, so I finished in a lot less time. I
missed shaving Sally. She was so appreciative of my attentions afterwards.
I don't know which of us enjoyed doing that more.
I dressed and wandered into the kitchen. I was surprised to see Janey
up and about, dressed and perky. After the night she must have had, I was
amazed she could walk, but I guess they are right when they say that `youth
is wasted on the young.' She saw me come into the kitchen and her smile lit
up the room. I caught her flying body in my arms as she threw herself at
me.
"Ooooooh, thank you, Daddy!"
"I take it you had a good time?"
"Oh, God! I didn't know it could be so good! I mean, I've felt a
little bit of it when you and Mom, uh, do stuff, but - Wow! Oh, yeah,
speaking of Mom, what in the Hell did you do to her last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's like I was feeling great, you know, and then WHAMO, this
tidal wave comes over the link, but it doesn't stop. It just kept coming
and coming." She giggled at her pun. "But it didn't surge like usual, it
just flowed, but not a lot. It's hard to describe."
I kissed her on the nose and gave her my Cheshire Cat grin.
"Oh, not going to tell me, huh?" she teased back. Then, seriously,
"That's OK, Dad. She is incredibly happy. I enjoyed what we did, too,"
she blushed, "not just the licking part - but that was great! - but I
liked wearing the corset and being tied up, too. It was a weird feeling,
good, though. I didn't think I would like it, but I kind of, well, like,
felt secure in it. I mean, I was as good as naked, but it felt good, not
naughty."
"Well, you certainly looked naughty. Lusciously, deliciously naughty,"
I joked.
She giggled, then got serious again. It looked like that was the way
the morning was going. "I don't think I'm ready for what you did to Mom,"
she said quietly.
"You don't know what I did, though, do you?"
"No, that's not what I mean. I meant I'm not sure I could handle how
Mom felt. I don't know I would want to come back down. She's stronger
than I am that way."
I hugged her even closer. "Just say the word and I will stop whatever
it is you don't like or whatever it is you're afraid of, even if it's that
you're afraid it is too good. I almost didn't do anything last night, you
know. You were so scared, but so brave. I'm proud of you, kiddo."
This time it was her turn not to answer. She snuggled into my chest.
"Where is your Mom, by the way?"
"She left about an hour ago, just after she let me up. I didn't want
her to but she was really serious. I wouldn't let her take off my collar,
though. What's going on? She wouldn't tell me anything. She made a
telephone call, then rushed out."
I reached behind her head and unsnapped her slave collar for her. She
sighed as I slipped it into my pocket. We stood for a long time that way,
a father and daughter. I could almost have believed we were a normal
family, until I felt her tiny hand wend its way down to my jeans and unzip
my fly.
"You didn't, uh, get any relief at all last night, did you, Dad." It was
a statement.
"Guy's won't explode if they don't cum, Janey. Regardless of what your
boyfriends tell you."
"Daaad! I don't have a boyfriend," she protested, a bit too strongly, I
thought.
"Well, last night was for you and your Mom. I can wait."
"Well, this morning is for you," she quipped, as she wiggled out of my
arms and down to her knees. She latched on to my cock with the full force
of her mouth and began seriously sucking and bobbing. Even though she had
been doing this on a daily basis, with her nearly naked and in my bed, this
blowjob seemed sexier than any she had ever given me, with the exception of
the first one. This time both she and I were fully clothed, and in the
kitchen. It was somehow highly erotic, highly charged. I held off as long
as I could, but I blew into that luscious mouth in much too short a time.
Janey didn't stop with one load, though. She seemed determined to drain me
of all the excess buildup from last night.
Sally came in carrying a heavy canvas bag while her daughter was still
busy on her knees. She stopped and looked at us and gave me a wry grin.
"Damn, I wanted to say `thank you' first. She beat me to it."
"Uh, I think there'll be more when she's done, Love," I grinned back. I
was amazed there was no jealousy between them. "I missed you this
morning."
She looked appalled, as if she had made a serious miscalculation by
leaving. "I, uh, I just, I..."
"It's OK, Love. I didn't mean anything by that. I just missed you and
our time together. I wanted you to know."
She got all teary eyed and blubbery on me. For the second time that
morning I had to catch a launched body, only this time I had a hot sucking
mouth attached to my groin that hampered me. I managed.
Sally smothered my face and chest with kisses. Then proceeded south. I
don't know how she managed to dislodge Janey from her possessive sucking,
but soon I recognized Sally's talented mouth on my shaft. I cracked open
my eyes and saw Janey standing there, grinning at me.
"Feel better, now, Pops?"
"Pops?"
"Yeah! You shot off so quick this time, like you just `popped', you
know? So... Pops!" She giggled at my responding growl.
I maneuvered my butt over to a chair and settled in it. With Sally on
her knees, Janey busied herself with breakfast. No fancy cooking today.
Today it was dry toast and yogurt. Only by wheedling could I get her to
make the coffee.
Sally swallowed, then stood up. She still looked weepy. I guess she
was still being whipsawed by the emotions from last night. She settled on
my lap after carefully putting away my softening cock. She fed me
breakfast as I held her. I could tell she needed to be held. But there
was something else, too. She wasn't normally this serious.
Janey cleared the breakfast mess and we sat together in silence. When
the last coffee was gone, Sally got up and lifted the heavy canvas bag onto
the table. Unzipping it, she proceeded to set out two semiautomatic
rifles, two very large caliber pistols and several dozen boxes of
ammunitions for each. Talk about breaking the mood!
"Done a little shopping, have you?" I quipped.
"You're going to be gone." Damn that woman! How the hell did she know?
I know for a fact I did not talk in my sleep. How?
"Only a couple of days."
"He was too confident last night." She was referring to that cocky
son-of-a-bitch, Gary.
"I noticed. You want to tell me exactly what you said to him to get him
to leave?"
"Shit!"
We both turned to face Janey, who never used language like that. I
raised my eyebrows in an unspoken question to her.
"You're talking about him, right? Gary?" We nodded. "God, I remember
that night, what happened. I must have only been, what, 11? Anyway, she
didn't say anything to him, Dad."
"Nothing?"
"Nope. Not a word. But we were patching bullet holes in the walls for
months. She must have shot a hundred times."
I turned to Sally. "I thought you said you couldn't shoot?"
Janey chimed in before Sally could speak. "Oh, she can shoot. She just
can't hit anything. She missed the bastard ..."
"Janey! Watch your language!"
"...every single time, except the last one that blew up his car. And
you called him a `bastard' yourself, Mom, along with some other choice
names."
I sat in stunned silence. It takes incredible talent to miss that many
times at such close range. I had seen her shoot. I had suspected she was
too good to have been a novice, even if she had screwed up with the safety
on my gun. My pistol was an unusual model, so she may not have known where
it was or how it operated. Regardless, I knew what it was like to be shot
at. I knew why Gary had stayed away. Up until now.
That didn't tell me why he was back. Or if he had plans for Sally and
Janey. He may have seen Janey's picture on TV after the attack. It could
have stirred old feelings of revenge. I didn't know. I just knew there
was some unfinished business and I hated loose ends. I had to tie things
up.
I looked at the weaponry spread out on the table. Sally had selected
well, if she was going to stop an elephant. Or an enraged man. I also
didn't think she intended to miss this time. I didn't intend to let it get
that far.
I knew what it was to kill a man, what it did to you inside. In the
course of my agency work, I had had to learn to kill. I had done it very
well. Too well, for my taste, even if the targets had deserved it.
Something dies inside of you each time you take a life, though, and there
had been many times. Too many, but even once was too many when it came to
killing - or dying. I did not want that to happen to Sally or, God forbid,
Janey. I, myself, would avoid doing it again if I could. If I couldn't,
well, that was a bridge to cross when I came to it.
"You can't stay here. He knows the house too well."
"I was going to take Janey to Mac and CeCe's place for a while."
I thought about that. "Mac's out of town for a series in Seattle. CeCe
works all over the area and couldn't be there all the time. I'd rather you
go stay with Marion, my sister. She's just moved back into our folk's
house and has plenty of room. Her court isn't in session right now and I
know she'd love the company."
"I don't know her that well."
"My point exactly. Neither does Gary. He may know about your
relationship to CeCe."
"Oh. Right. OK. Will she be OK with those?" She indicated the guns.
I grinned. "She can probably train you how to field strip them,
although something tells me you know how already. There's a target range
in the second basement, too. Oh, and have her show you her assault weapons
collection."
"I thought she was a Federal Judge! Aren't those kinds of guns
illegal?"
"Yeah, but they only get really excited when you wave them around on the
White House lawn. Some of them in the collection are mine, too." She
looked at me even more shocked. "What, I can't have some toys...?" I asked
in mock exasperation.
After that there wasn't much to say. Sally and Janey packed and left.
Just before they drove off, Sally hugged me goodbye.
"Be careful, Larry. Janey's right. He is a bastard. A ruthless and
dangerous bastard"
Janey just squeezed me like she never wanted to let go. I felt the same
way, but things had to be finished. I couldn't let that unknown threat
stay out there. I had to at least know what the man was like.
When they were gone I made my way to a nondescript building in the
center of town. Most towns have one of these quiet structures, those
buildings that look like offices, generally close to the municipal offices,
but no one actually knows anybody who works there. They may have the first
floor or two occupied by small shops to make the building look occupied,
but the buttons to the upper floors are disabled or missing in the
elevators.
The entry to the upper floors in this building was restricted to the
underground garage, another part of the structure most people didn't
remember being built. The entry to the garage was two blocks over, through
the restricted parking garage under the city hall, so the general public
never saw it. Most city employees were too dull to notice the extra cars
disappear through that locked automatic garage door on the second level.
The ones who weren't were too smart to ask questions.
Stepping off the elevator on the top floor of that building, I slid my
ID into the reader. I underwent a retinal scan, a voice scan and had my
fingerprints checked. It always amazed me how much detailed information
the government had and to what extent it went to hide that knowledge from
the public. And all this happened in what was supposed to be a so-called
democracy. If the public had even the smallest clue exactly how much their
government knew about them, they would tear it down, brick by brick. I
used to think it was the price we paid for our freedom. Now I wasn't so
sure. Those nagging unanswered questions were the main reason I was no
longer active for the agency.
I still had full access, however. They liked me. I had done well for
them, and never screwed up, e.g., got caught. I also knew where too many
bodies were buried, literally.
Our local analyst had just finished with the information I had asked
for. He looked up at me as I came through the heavy metal door and grinned.
"Interesting case," was all he said.
That got my attention immediately. Most Americans, 99.99% of them
anyway, live humdrum, mundane lives, those `lives of quiet desperation'.
They are uneducated, unmotivated, apathetic, lazy, boring, bland or any
combination thereof, yet corporately, they have been capable of achieving
some of the greatest feats in history, when properly aroused. Our current
government felt it was their sacred duty to keep the people from becoming
motivated to any action, whatsoever.
The analysts for the agency had seen it all. If agents like me were the
legs of the agency, the analysts were the brains. They spent most of their
waking hours looking at trivial, seemingly unrelated data points and
finding critical patterns. From those patterns emerged their best guesses.
Some of them were able to make very good guesses about the behavior of
certain types of people.
Our analyst was one of the best. We had worked together before and
kidded each other good-naturedly. I accused him about being a closet
voyeur and he was always asking me to introduce him to my ex-girlfriends.
We never saw each other socially, however. It just wasn't done. I think
he grudgingly admired some of the work I had done, or had been able to
accomplish based on his work, as he put it. What these guys never admitted
to was being surprised. So, for a case to be `interesting' to him meant
that Gary was different. To me, that meant he was dangerous,
unpredictable.
He handed me a surprisingly thin file. I took it to a secure office and
locked myself in. I would have to give him back the exact same file before
I could leave the floor. Security was really tight and I didn't object.
The file on Gary was interesting. I reviewed his file, always with the
awareness that there could be some critical piece of information that was
missing, something that the government just didn't know. Nobody could know
everything. I looked through the list of his known girlfriends and the
dates they had been together. I saw Sally's name and cringed. That would
cross-link back to my file. I would have to be extra careful that, if
anything terminal happened, it couldn't be traced back to me.
While he had been with Sally for a long time, there were a number of
others he had also seen during that same time period. He had two-timed
her. I saw that pattern run throughout his relationships. One steady girl,
a lot of flings.
One of the other names I recognized, or thought I did, and it brought me
up short. A name from my past. I got a sinking feeling in my gut. This
girl was the daughter of a friend of mine from Chile. I remembered her as
a high-spirited wisp of a girl, determined to make it in a man's world and
totally unprepared for the consequences. Not exactly spoiled, but naively
unaware of the evils of poverty and the depravity of which mankind was
capable. Juan Miguel had protected his daughter too well.
She had run away from his loving home, come to New York, and then after
a couple of months had gone missing. I was in Chile when she had
disappeared, working with him. I owed him my life, in fact, but that's
another story. He had been distraught when she ran away, especially to New
York, but she was a headstrong girl. Her subsequent disappearance had
devastated him. She called herself `Miki' and pronounced it like the shoe
company `Nike.'
I found the specific piece of information I was looking for buried in a
list of his assets, hidden under an assumed name. He had used several
aliases, which didn't surprise me. That he used them as well as he did,
did. Most people get clumsy and screw up. He didn't. He was too good to
be lucky. Gary had been trained, and by a top group, too, was my guess.
When I handed the file back to the analyst, I pointed out the list of
known associates. I knew several of them, fellow agents or agents with
other agencies. "Is he one of us?"
He grinned at me, always seemingly amused that I could think. "Not that
I could tell. I looked as deep as I could, and that's pretty deep. Hell,
I can get your file. The good one, your operations file."
I was impressed. I couldn't even see that file. "Any chance he's
deeper?"
"Not with his profile. He's interesting, but, well, we know just a
little bit too much about him. If he were any deeper than you were, we
wouldn't know anything. Hell, your file is only two pages long and most of
that is what you told me!" He grinned wryly. "I haven't gotten around to
entering some of it, you know. Just too busy. Of course, if I had a nice
lady to go home to, I would be even busier..." he tailed off, hinting.
I looked up at him sharply. He knew about Sally. I had mentioned her
to him several times, especially since I was living with her now and had to
let him know where he could reach me in an emergency. He paled at my look
and knew he had tread too close to blackmail to suit me.
"Damn, Sampson, you know I'm joking," he blustered lamely. "Besides,
they already know about her," he added softly. "They are really insistent
about knowing everything about you, you know." He glanced around to see who
could overhear us. "I shouldn't even tell you that, though."
"I know. This one just hits too close to home. For a couple of
reasons. But I'm a little touchy about Sally."
"Yeah. I saw that when that bastard spoiled brat of a jock raped her
daughter. He got off lucky only losing one ball." His voice was venomous.
"What exactly did you do to get rid of all that media?"
"You don't know?"
"I tried like the devil, but corporate lawyers are the hardest bunch to
crack for information. We still haven't got a clue."
I told him what I had done, about the letter, the threat.
He just chuckled. "Damn, you play hard ball."
From him, I took it as a compliment.
The key piece of information I had found in Gary's file was an address.
Not just any address. It was an address in a middle class residential part
of town. One of the biggest secrets the government doesn't want you to
know is that the greatest threat to the security of America resides in the
vast middle class neighborhoods. Not from any of the middle class
Americans who live there, but from the enormity of the apathy that does.
No one cares who lives next door as long as they mow the grass, don't make
noise at night, don't park clunkers on their lawns and above all, don't
lower the property values. No one knows who lives next door to them,
either. You could deliver an atom bomb and then hide it in a basement in
suburbia. No one would know. No one would have a clue.
That's what I found here. Gary had discovered the anonymity of
suburbia. I had asked Sally if Gary had ever taken her to his place for a
party or anything. She had said no, only her place, hotels or sleazy bars.
Towards the end, she said, he had been hinting that they could do more
bondage stuff at his special place full time, but kept implying that Janey
was a problem. He had kept trying to get her to pull Janey out of school
and home school her. Sally had refused, insisting that Janey needed the
social interaction. But he had never taken her anywhere that might have
been his safe house.
I was impressed when I drove by the house. He could have qualified to
entertain the president with the high level of security he had installed.
None of it was classified that I could tell, as it was all commercially
available - at a hefty price, too. As it was, it was almost a challenge
for me to break in undetected later that night. Almost. It was good. I
was better. It made me wonder what he had to hide that was worth what that
setup must have cost him.
I was sickened when I found out his dirty little secret. With all the
external security he had installed, he didn't feel he needed a safe. It
wouldn't have done him much good, anyway, so he probably saved himself some
bucks. The bastard was meticulous, all the photos and videos were neatly
labeled and dated. There were several files of photos and videos labeled
`Sally' with dates that corresponded with the time they were together.
There was also one video cassette labeled `Miki.' My guts were in a twisted
knot as I slipped that one into the VCR. I dreaded what I would find, but
even I was unprepared for the brutality of the film.
Miki, beautiful, proud, brave Miki was tied to a bed. The film showed
Gary talking to her, telling her that he just wanted one more thing from
her and then he would let her go. He wanted to make a film with her. She
spit in his face. He slapped her. She spit at him again. He hit her.
Back and forth. He got tired first, but they were both covered with her
blood and spittle when he quit hitting her.
He kept a knife at her throat as he released her wrists, then handcuffed
them in front of her. The next scene showed her dangling from her cuffed
wrists, her beautiful face swollen and bleeding, but still recognizable.
He approached her with a heavy-duty cattle prod. She was screaming in
pain, swearing in Spanish at him. Then he cut her intentionally with his
big knife. Badly, across her face. A look of horror and realization
flooded her proud eyes. As protected as she had been from the seamy side
of life, she still knew what kind of film she was going to be the star of.
To her credit, she refused to cooperate with the bastard.
From that point on in the movie, she made no sound, made no movement at
all that wasn't literally forced out of her body. Oh, he could still get
her to twitch with the cattle prod and moan when he cut her, but for all
practical purposes she was a slab of beef swaying on a meat hook. Then,
just as I was about as sickened as I could get, she mustered her waning
strength. In a clear voice that would have done her father proud, she
turned her face and spoke to the camera.
"My name is Madonna Micheala Lucinda Carmalita de la Fernando. The
souls of those buried here around me are crying out for vengeance. I swear
upon their souls and the soul of my sainted mother that my father, Senor
Juan Miguel de la Fernando, will hunt you to the ends of the earth and
bring you to justice." It had taken all of her strength to say that, and
from then on she just hung there.
I sat there in the darkened house, stunned into immobility as I watched
him callously finish her off, but her final haunting words gave me the
structure of a plan. Before I left, I checked out the rest of the house. I
found the room in which the film had been made. It was the only room in
the basement with a solid floor. The rest of the basement flooring had
been removed, leaving only dirt. I looked over the rows of mounds of dirt
laid out in an orderly fashion. Dozens of graves. One was Miki's. One
might have been Sally's. I vomited and left, taking the several videos of
Sally and the one of Miki, as well as the two thick files with their
photographs with me. Fuck the rules of tampering with evidence. There was
more than enough evidence that I left behind. Even Clinton would have had
a hard time denying this one.
I called Juan Miguel the next day. It was one of the hardest telephone
calls I had ever had to make. I told him straight out I had found what had
happened to Miki. And I had proof who did it. Would he like to see the
proof? I cautioned him it was the worst thing I had ever seen. He knew I
had been in some tough situations and that I had seen a lot of the worst
the human race had to offer.
My bluntness seemed to stir him to life. He wanted to see it. I
over-nighted it to him. He called me back the next day after viewing the
tape. He wanted revenge.
Now that I had his cooperation, over the next couple of days, it wasn't
hard to get Gary to cooperate with my plan. He had one Achilles heel, and
that was he needed money to maintain his lifestyle and his image. A lot of
money. A friend of a friend of a friend told him of a lucrative
opportunity in Santiago, Chile. His friend told Gary that he would do this
himself, but that hands were full, etc., etc., but if Gary wanted to go
down and shepherd this deal through, this big South American honcho would
cut him in for a stiff percentage. Just go down, bring back a fugitive for
someone who couldn't enter Chile for political reasons and so on. In other
words, a political kidnapping. Just the kind of thing to hook a guy who
hung around with black ops guys, a `wanna be.' Gary fell for it hook, line
and sinker.
I told Juan Miguel that Gary would be down the day after next and which
flight he would be on. I had Gary shadowed by someone Juan Miguel knew,
insurance that Gary would arrive in Santiago and also to act as a Judas to
point him out to Juan Miguel's agents. When I told the shadow, an
acquaintance, what was going on he did it gratis.
When the shadow reported back three weeks later, I was pleased to hear
that Juan Miguel had not blown Gary away in the airport. I'm sure he was
tempted to, but he was a better man than that. A beautiful servant girl
had met Gary at the airport. He was ushered to a waiting limo and then
leisurely driven to a hacienda deep in the hills surrounding that beautiful
city. Another agent working for Juan Miguel and known to the shadow had
met the shadow as well. He was offered the opportunity to watch Chilean
justice in action. Curious, he too, was driven to the hacienda, taking a
quicker route. They arrived before Gary and the maid and were waiting in a
private viewing room, watching the proceedings through a one-way mirror.
Gary was visibly impressed with the accommodations. This was real
power. He was seated in a comfortable chair in a place of honor. Seated
where he was, though, he couldn't see the movement of the people behind
him. One by one, the august group of sham politicians who had been there to
greet him left the room and were replaced by armed guards. Juan Miguel
kept Gary focused on him by telling one ribald anecdote after another.
When the last soldier was in place, Juan Miguel told Gary he wanted to show
him a clip of the fugitive. They darkened the room and turned on a huge
wide-screen TV.
The image flickered then became clear. They had cut down the image so
that just Miki's face showed. Her voice came across loud and clear, even
into the room where the shadow was watching. After the short clip, Juan
Miguel stood and said, "Perhaps I should formally introduce myself. My
name is Juan Miguel de la Fernando, and that was my only daughter. I
should also introduce you to Col. Eduardo Perez. He is the commander of a
small government penal facility at the southern tip of my country, outside
of Punta Arenas. He has seen the entire video you made of my lovely
daughter. He will be arranging for your accommodations for the remainder
of your stay with us."
With that, he turned his back on the murderer of his child and walked
proudly out of the room. Gary, true to his nature, tried to fight his way
out when he realized he had been lured into a trap. His brief struggles
ended with his nose meeting a rifle butt. I don't think the rifleman cared
much for Gary, either.
The shadow was invited to observe Gary's confinement. It was brief, but
it left the man shaken to the core. All he said was that Gary, or what was
left of him after living in a rat-infested hole, died in less than two
weeks, a very old man. I knew what he meant.
The shadow then told me that Col. Perez had asked him to relay a
message to me. Apparently Juan Miguel had told him of how he came by the
video. The message was that `between honorable men, all is forgiven.' He
had also extended an offer to visit him in Chile.
I thanked the shadow, my friend, and shuddered to think of re-visiting
Col. Perez. I had already visited him once. That was enough. That small
government facility was a maximum-security hellhole dubiously called a
prison. I had been there, myself, in the same place as Gary, with a collar
the size of a manhole cover locked around my neck. With the rest of my
body crammed into a putrid, rat-infested sewage pipe and the manhole cover
locked to the ground, only my head was visible. I shuddered as I
remembered the horror of trying to defend my weakened body from the attacks
of the ravenous rats I couldn't see. Sleeping under those conditions was
out of the question, too. I could believe he died an old man. You aged
very quickly under those circumstances.
Col. Perez was the only law in that part of Chile. What he said
overruled any other authority within his jurisdiction. He and I had had a
difference of opinion while I was in his town. As a result, he wanted me
to stay in his prison. I did not. I think I am the only person to have
escaped from that place, though I still regret the necessity of crippling
two of the guards in the process. Given the savagery they lived with, it
might have been kinder to kill them outright. I heard later that the other
inmates had found them crippled and had tortured them to death.
That detail of the other inmates killing the guards had been left out of
the report to the local authorities and thus, the search was on for a `cop
killer.' The search ended when I crossed out of his jurisdiction with the
quiet help of Juan Miguel, which is why I owed him my life. Without his
help, I am convinced I would never have made it. I was wounded, exhausted,
penniless and drained of every ounce of energy I possessed. I was down to
my last hope and Juan Miguel came through for me. Giving him closure on
this horrible incident was the least I could do for him.
As a final chapter to the story of Gary, I wrote up my report on the
incident, complete with my involvement and of my relationships with Sally,
Miki and Juan Miguel. I never cut corners in my reports, I never lied.
Sometimes it hurt, but eventually, it had always served me well. I wasn't
about to change now.
I e-mailed my report to the analyst. He called me back almost
immediately and asked a couple of questions, then rang off. A couple of
days later he called me down to the anonymous building downtown.
"Watch this," he said mysteriously. "The show is just about to begin."
I looked at what appeared to be a video feed from a stationary camera. I
recognized the house as Gary's suburban hideaway. Suddenly, like a scene
from the Keystone Kops, federal and local law enforcement vehicles began
filling the screen, lights flashing crazily in the dark. Several agents
with a yellow "FBI" emblazoned like targets on the backs of their dark blue
windbreakers jumped out of a still-moving vehicle and raced up to the front
door, as if eager to be the first ones on the scene. I knew, unless the
analyst had deactivated the alarms, that they had just tripped three
systems, two of which were booby-trapped.
"Did you tip them off?"
"Yep! Set up the camera feed, too, to watch the fuckers screw up.
"Did you tell them about the security?" I asked him.
"Yep! I said the guy had tight security."
"Oh, God! You didn't describe the systems?" He shook his head,
grinning. "You know that to them, `tight security' means the guy has a big
dog."
I watched in horror as the first agent reached to open the door. The
ensuing explosion knocked him and his partner flat on their asses. The
other agents, mistaking the explosion for resistance, proceeded to try to
blow the fucking house apart with small arms fire and teargas grenades.
"You modified the explosives, you bastard," I chided him. He just
grinned. "You're just lucky those two agents had the sense to stay down or
they would have stood up into friendly fire." He stopped grinning.
Analysts don't know or think of everything.
The FBI reported the shootout had been the culmination of years of
painstaking work by hundreds of agents to capture a serial killer. They
produced a credible likeness of Gary and a conveniently bullet-riddled
corpse. The newspapers carried the photos of the dead girls that were dug
up in the basement. Due to the carnage, several of the videocassettes had
been damaged so it wasn't too suspicious when there were more bodies than
tapes. Everyone just assumed one or two had been destroyed in the
shootout.
Miki was finally laid to rest in a proper grave.
Chapter 33
While I had been busy finding and setting up the sting for Gary, Sally
and Janey had also been busy. I should have known better than to leave the
two of them alone with my sister. Although it still isn't clear what part
Marion played in all of this, I suspect it is far greater than any of the
three of them have ever admitted to me, especially considering what
happened as a result.
To begin with, Janey had recognized the girl at the opera as a student
from her school. From there it was a simple task to find out her name,
Simone LeBrech, that she was French, smart and extremely shy. Sally took
it from there and followed her home one afternoon after school and found
where she lived. The day she had done that was the day Gary left for South
America and she saw him carrying his suitcase out of the house and down to
a waiting cab. She had been terrified that Gary might have seen her, but
she knew when he packed like that he would be gone for at least a week.
She used the next week to set up a fictitious meeting with the mother.
Knowing Sally, she couldn't pull off a lie to save her life, and the two
women were soon weeping and swapping horror stories about life with Gary.
Sally had come clean with her, so Nicole confessed she was at her wit's end
as Gary was sexually abusing her little girl after he put Nicole into
bondage. He made her watch each assault. Lately, each time he was getting
rougher and rougher with the girl.
Sally liked Nicole immediately and wanted to help her somehow. Her
heart went out to her and being the kindhearted and generous person she
was, she offered my services, too. The only problem was, she hadn't asked
me first. In fact, I knew nothing of this, as I was busy shanghaiing Gary.
So, there I was, innocently sitting at my desk, forcing myself to work,
or at least look like it. The last week or two I had been out of touch
with my clients and, secure as their investments were, they liked to be
occasionally reminded I was watching out for them. I managed to soothe a
few ruffled feathers and nervous nellies before I just gave up and stared
at the blank fucking wall.
That was how Sally found me when she popped into my office. I was so
preoccupied with not knowing how things were going in Chile that I didn't
notice her until she finally cleared her throat.
I looked at her. She was sitting Indian-style on my blotter and was
offering me something. She looked very serious. I really had been
somewhere else mentally. At first I thought she was handing me her collar,
but I knew this wasn't the position for that.
"What is that, Sally?"
"It is a thong of a bride." I remembered the story Amud had told me
about the thong, and what it was for. Sally's next words confirmed it. "I
, uh, need to ask you for a favor."
"Sally, you know that everything I have is yours. You don't need a
thong."
"Well, uh, it's kind of a special request, Larry. It would require a
thong. Believe me."
I should have known right then that something catastrophic was afoot. I
should have run like the devil himself was chasing me. Did I? Nope! Call
me curious, call me stupid, I stayed.
"Is that your thong?" I didn't think she had had the time to finish one,
even if she had started when we first knew about them.
She paused at that. " Uh, no. I borrowed one from Bala."
"Borrowed?" She nodded. "You've started one of your own to replace it?"
"Yes."
"Borrowing is not a good idea, even from friends. Give it back to her.
Bring me your thong."
"It's not ready yet. This one can be used for singing now."
"Can the favor wait for the thong to be finished?"
"I don't think so."
I thought for moment, making her wait. She squirmed so nicely when she
was nervous. "Bring me yours. I will accept it on the condition that you
finish it."
Sally climbed down off my desk and left the room. Three minutes later
she came back in. Kneeling this time, she offered up her thong to me. It
was still damp from having resided within her vaginal canal.
"You're offering me this as a slave?"
"Yes, Master."
"But you're not wearing my collar! How can I accept this?"
Her hands flew to her neck. Blushing, and unusually flustered for her,
she scampered to the rack that held hers and Janey's collars. Returning to
her knees, she offered me her collar. I fastened it on. Again, she
offered me the thong.
"Are you properly attired, slave?" I asked her in mock severity.
Her look at me was definitely not that of a calm submissive woman. She
realized by now I was teasing her. I think I liked her exasperated with
me. Well, a little bit, anyway.
It took her longer to return this time and I heard other voices being
shushed in the hallway. Still glaring at me, she made her way over to my
chair and kneeled for a third time. Once more, she lifted the thong.
"When was the last time you did your Head Time, slave?" I realized that
she was desperate enough that I could get this to go on indefinitely. This
could be interesting.
Her hands lowered slowly in surrender. She realized I was going to make
her work before I accepted the thong from her. With a heavy sigh of
frustration, she opened my trousers and freed my hardening cock. This
happened far too rarely for me, having Sally in this position. I settled
back and relaxed, ready to enjoy the feeling of utter silence and peace
while having the head of my cock bathed in my lover's mouth.
Sally gave an exasperated grunt as I settled back, but did not break
from her place. I let her wait for a long 15 minutes before I gently
caressed her cheek, a signal she could finish.
"Thank you, Master. I have missed that, too." She knew what I was
thinking? God Damn!
This time, with utter supplication, she held up the thong.
I accepted it, obliging me to honor her request. I lifted the damp
leather to my nose and inhaled the scent of my love. I didn't realize yet
what an expensive bouquet it was going to be, but right then I didn't care.
I was still lost in the arousing aroma of the thong and didn't notice when
two other women entered the room. Sally stayed bowed down, my prick stayed
standing free as she had left it, waving in the breeze.
I think she knew what my reaction was going to be to her request. She
was right to be a little afraid. Pissed would be a nice word for it.
She introduced Nicole and Simone, mother and daughter. They looked
vaguely familiar. When she mentioned they had been the two women with Gary
the night of the concert, it hit me. And I suddenly had an awful feeling I
knew what the favor was going to be. Really pissed would be closer.
Her request was that I allow Nicole and Simone to join the household.
Permanently. Both were aware of our lifestyle and were willing to join.
Eager, in fact. Nicole would be another slave and Simone would be, well,
another daughter, sort of.
I sat stone still, trying to convince myself of my love for Sally,
trying to figure out what in the fucking Hell she was doing. Was she
really offering me another woman? I mean, sure, Nicole was nice to look
at, but shit, Sally and I weren't even married yet! I for damned sure
wasn't tired of her and didn't think I would ever be.
My knuckles were white on the arms of the chair. This one was metal, so
they didn't snap like the one in the kitchen. But they did bend a little.
I tried really hard not to yell at her, to humiliate her in front of the
people she was trying so hard to help. I zipped up my pants for starters,
my erection collapsing as the totality of her request hit me.
God Damn fucking women. Don't they always know when you've reached that
last piece of rope? I was worried about two of my friends, the shadow and
Juan Miguel, and she brings home two strangers. I had just sent a man to
his death, albeit justifiable in my mind, and had put another friend in
possible peril. The waiting was killing me and I wasn't ready for this
right now.
And things with Sally and Janey were going so well, too! How is it that
just when you finally get a good grip on what's going on, they ask you to
do something that totally fucks up the system? And then want you to fix
it? God Damn it all to Fucking Hell!
I managed to do two things. I didn't yell at her and I managed to
remind myself that I loved her. I didn't have a clue what she was trying
to do, but if this was important enough for her to ask for, it was
important enough for me to consider. OK, technically, by accepting the
thong, I had no choice. But, technically, it wasn't our fucking custom,
either.
I reached down and touched Sally's head. I nodded curtly for her and
the young girl to leave. Nicole LeBrech stood before me, her head bowed
down. I looked at her for a while in silence. She was a fine looking
woman, different in most ways from Sally, and I will admit, the sight of
her stirred my blood. I felt guilty, momentarily.
She sat down at my request in one of my office chairs. I asked her to
tell me her story, to be as complete and honest as she felt she could be.
It was odd, but I could not sense her as I could Sally and Janey. It was
like there was a nothingness there, like the feelings had been beaten out
of her. When I thought back, I had sensed something from Simone, but it
felt different than what I sensed form Sally and Janey. Like she was more
stiff or something. I couldn't place it and, right then, I didn't have the
time to think about it. Nicole was talking.
She had been born in a little village outside of Paris, France. Her
mother had died in childbirth, so she had never known her. Saddened by the
loss of his true love, but a proud man, her Papa had refused all help from
the village women and raised Nicole by himself. He was a loving parent,
but refused to dote on her. He was a perfectionist himself and demanded
her very best efforts in all she did, often punishing her for substandard
efforts. He did not punish her for failing when she had given her best
effort.
Nicole had thrived in that atmosphere. She proved to be exceptionally
bright and finished her basic schooling, the equivalent of American high
school, by the age of 15. At the graduation festivities, Nicole got
extremely drunk. Simone was born 9 months later. She hadn't exactly been
raped, but she didn't know who the father was.
Papa took this development in stride. He moved to Paris with her so she
could start University. Simone was born between end of term exams. Papa
found a job at night in an auto factory and helped Nicole raise Simone
until she finished with her Ph.D. work five years later. She had a
doctorate in neurochemistry.
Papa had been killed in an explosion at the auto plant. Devastated and
alone with a young daughter, Nicole had latched onto - her words - the
first man to come along that showed any interest in her. Using her small
inheritance, he brought her to America, but, when the money ran out, so did
he.
Determined to make it, she called one of her Professors who had taken an
interest in her career. He referred her to the president of a small
biotech company near where she was currently living in the US who needed a
neurochemist. For the next year or two, Nicole worked hard, as Papa had
trained her to and she did well. Being beautiful helped and she had more
and more contact with the CEO of the company, an old curmudgeon who had
gone through several wives already. Nicole rebuffed his advances, but the
old bastard really fell hard for her. He prevailed and they married, much
to the dismay of her other suitors.
She continued to do well, the company prospered from her patents and,
predictably, the old man died. He died happy, in bed with Nicole, but it
was traumatic for her. He had left her everything her owned, other than
what went to the other wives and the stockholders. He had been smart
enough to have everything tied up legally so they didn't contest the will.
None of then wanted to fight his lawyers again, it seemed.
Nicole and Simone had been naturalized to US citizenship during this
stint. She ran the company for a while, but it wasn't what she wanted to
do. She missed the lab. She wanted out of the corporate rat race.
Through her own contacts in the industry, she found a buyer for the company
and made several people very rich, including herself.
Being rich, single and beautiful would not seem to present a problem to
most people, but Nicole seemed to attract smooth con men. She had invested
her fortune wisely and had put several roadblocks between it and any
confidence scheme, but that didn't stop the pricks from trying. Most of
them tried the wrong approach, trying to sweet talk or woo her with
flowers. Those she felt comfortable with, as those she could handle.
Gary was the first one to touch her submissive nature, and it rattled
her to her core. Knowing of his quasiintelligence training, it did not
surprise me that he quickly found his way through her obstacles to her bank
accounts and was bleeding them at an alarming rate. But even at the rate
he was going, she had enough to keep him in fresh Gucci's for another four
years or so.
My ears perked up at that. That was serious money she was talking
about. It was also obvious that that represented something more to her than
just security. If she became a part of the household, I would have to make
sure her money was kept totally autonomous from mine. I would handle it
the same way I did with Sally and Janey's funds, but I knew I would have to
take special care to make her feel comfortable that I was not after her
money. It wouldn't be easy. If I had that kind of money, I'd be
suspicious of everyone, too.
She didn't say much about Gary. She didn't have to. I knew what he put
her through. The gentle seduction into bondage, setting the hook, then the
humiliation and degradation. That he was actually abusing Simone sexually
to accomplish this humiliation disturbed me, as I hadn't seen a pattern of
young girls in his profile. Simone was a mature young woman for her age,
that much I could see, but she was still a little younger than Janey.
There must have been something special about her to attract Gary to her.
I had come to realize that I couldn't have been the only person in the
universe to have the ability to `sense' emotions, as I had been doing with
Sally and Janey. I think, on some level, we all do. We just never
recognize it for what it is. I think pheromones, facial expression and
body language get confused in the mix, too. Besides, being `sensitive'
isn't always considered to be a compliment to a male, although I had always
tried to be. I was beginning to realize that Gary must have had the
ability to sense a submissive nature in women. Hell, he may even have had
the ability to project one onto them, but the thought that that might be
possible scared the living shit out of me. He did seem to be able to
`find' a lot of submissive women, though, and I didn't recollect Miki being
like that. I shuddered and put the thought behind me.
Nicole went on to tell me about Simone. It was like watching a train
wreck. Simone had shown early signs of genius. Not like her mother.
Smarter. Off the IQ scale. She was also a pretty child and, for the most
part, well adjusted, especially for someone with her brilliance. If she
had a flaw, it was her instinctual trust in males.
That had led to Nicole's first lover raping Simone at a very young age.
Nicole had not known about the continued sexual assaults on her daughter
until he had run out. Simone's pediatrician had discovered the signs of
sexual activity after a routine exam. Nicole was devastated at this.
Children's services almost took Simone away from her. If she hadn't found
the job at the biotech firm and moved out of state, they would have. By
the time they found her again, she was well established at the company and
the corporate lawyers took care of the legal matters for her. For once,
they were good for something. I made a mental note to find out more about
that law firm. Lawyers with good hearts were rarer than honest
politicians.
Simone's escape from the misery and pain of the betrayal of her trust
was in learning. Books of all kinds were her escape, the more challenging
the better. She was like a black hole when it came to learning. She
sucked in everything she came across from music to medicine, Plato to
physics. Often, she would have trouble applying what she knew, but that
was probably because she knew too much. She had too many choices and,
really, how often in life is there just one right answer? I had to smile
at that. I was facing the same situation right now, but I was desperately
trying to find a suitable alternative.
Nicole had kept Simone in school with children her own age for her
social development. She knew too well what the consequences could be of
being so much younger than all the other kids. It was important for her
that Simone develop a social maturity that could help her through the tough
times she was bound to have ahead of her, being as different as she was
from everyone else in the `smarts' department. Simone had been adjusting
well, trying to find her place in each class, developing a friend or two to
pal around with. It was lately that things began to change.
Gary's abuse of Simone confused her. True to form, she trusted him. He
used that trust against her, then he began abusing her, mentally and
physically. Unlike before, when she had been told to keep what was
happening a secret from her mother, Gary flaunted what they did in front of
her mother.
When Gary began hurting her, her reaction was to withdraw. Nicole broke
down at this point and I had to wait for her to regain a semblance of
self-control before she could continue. Simone hadn't spoken for the last
three weeks, not to anyone, as far as she could tell. At first she thought
it was just a phase. Then the notes from her teachers began to come home,
followed by a quietly panicked phone call from the school counselor. From
her previous experience with Child services, Nicole was frantic, afraid she
would lose Simone for good this time, but didn't know what to do. She had
actually been preparing injections for suicide for herself and Simone when
Sally showed up.
I sat there, stunned that this woman could show such composure with the
trauma she had been though. I wasn't prepared to deal with all her
baggage, though it seemed trite to label her very real emotional problems
that way. Another traumatized daughter was not on my most-favorite list,
either. I remembered the agonizing Sally and I had gone through with
Janey, and that was just last week!
But, like Sally, my heart went out to her. She had no one else. It
touched a chord deep inside me, challenged me to rethink the paradigms of
my own life. This time, it wouldn't just be me, but Sally and Janey would
help, too. Somehow I knew that was what Sally intended, but making them a
part of our family? It was time to call Sally back in.
She entered at my call for her, apparently standing right outside my
door. One look at her face told me she had known everything Nicole had
just told me. There was probably more tragedy, too, but the highlights
were enough for me. She came and knelt at my feet.
"Go sit down, Sally. Consider your collar off for the time being. I
need complete and honest answers to some questions."
I turned to Nicole. "In this house, I insist on openness and honesty,
even when you are in a submissive role. Sally knows that, but I just
wanted to remind her. Now, I have to ask you some questions about how you
see yourself fitting in here. You know, as you can see from Sally's attire
and collar, that she has a submissive role in this relationship. That is,
by the way, her preference, not my demand. Can you deal with that?"
Nicole lowered her eyes, but didn't blush. "What that awful man did to
me gave me the most intense feelings I have ever felt. I was hooked from
the first soft rope he used to tie me up. I am so ashamed of my weakness,
to have wanted it so badly, but I couldn't help myself. It wasn't love. I
knew that. It was worse. I could find love almost anywhere. He was the
only person I knew who could make me feel like that. It was like a drug,
an addicting drug.
"It tore me apart when he touched Simone, but I was helpless to stop
him. I..." she broke down again, "...I orgasmed at first, it felt so
naughty, being so helpless to stop him. At first he only touched her, then
he made her do things. Soon he was fucking her. Three weeks ago he beat
her."
She paused, thinking. "I have thought much about this. I am not an
ignorant person. I realize, since talking to Sally, but not only that,
that I need to be in a submissive role, too. Yes. If this life is
possible, I want it." She looked over at Sally, who took her hand in
support. "I need it."
Shit! They were in this together, already. I still had some questions.
"OK, you want to do this. What about Simone?"
Nicole looked up at me now, her eyes sharp and focused. This seemed to
be more like her normal approach to life. "Sally has told me about how you
are working with Janey..."
In a moment of panic I focused my link on Sally and shot her a
questioning `Everything?' I wasn't sure if it would work, but my heart rate
and adrenaline were high enough that if anything would make it work, it
should now. Amazingly, it did.
"No. Not `everything,'" she replied softly through the link. I think
we were both stunned at what we had just done, but there were more pressing
matters at hand.
"...to help her get over her attack. From what I have seen of Janey,
she seems very well adjusted. I think..." she smile wryly, "...I think
that this time, for some reason, it is me who trusts you. I apologize in
advance, but Simone does not trust you or any man now, and is bound to give
you trouble."
Ah, the magic button. The hook. A challenge. I couldn't resist. Not
after getting walking pneumonia in college, not with the risk of losing
Sally. Not now. Knowingly or not, she had offered me the bait I needed.
What was I thinking? It was going to be a challenge fitting two more
attractive and probably willing females into a sexually charged
environment. What she was telling me about Simone made her an impossible
challenge. With emotional stakes as high as possible. I was hooked.
"Sally, how did you see this working? How did you think they would fit
in here?"
She looked flustered. Thinking of something is one thing. Saying it
out loud, in broad daylight is grounds for commitment to the loony bin.
"They, uh, well, they, er,..."
"Start with Nicole, here. What would be her role?"
"Oh, well, uh, I though we could share, you know..." She just left it
hanging.
"You thought you and I would share Nicole? I don't need another slave."
Sally blushed, and glanced over at Nicole for support. She must have
gotten it, because she actually said it. "No, Larry. I thought Nicole and
I would share you. And before you ask, yes, I have thought about this,
and, yes, we would share you in every way." She was rather abrupt at the
end.
Well excuuuuse me.
"What if she doesn't appeal to me?"
Two sets of eyes widened and stared at me, one in horror that the owner
might be found unsatisfactory, the other pair in the horror that their
owner's master could have voiced such a tactless question. One pair caught
on that I was playing with them.
"Sally, it's OK. He said `what if'."
"Huh?"
"He said `what if'. That means he likes me." Nicole looked at me,
suddenly shy. "I think."
I smiled broadly at having been caught out so easily. Damn, I was going
to have to get sharper in a hurry to stay ahead of this one. And the
daughter was smarter still? Deep, deep shit we're in here, bubba. Deep,
deep shit.
I tipped back my chair and closed my eyes, trying to think this out.
Sally was trying to alter our relationship and I thought I knew why. As
overwhelming as I had found her submissiveness earlier, I had seen
indications lately that she found my possessiveness of her to be equally
overwhelming. There had been hints, even a small rebellion, in her own
fashion.
This was not just another shot across the bows, though. This was her
solution. Served up on as attractive a platter as I had seen, I must
admit, but I didn't like it. I didn't like not having a choice. This
tasted a little like an ultimatum.
"Sally...?"
"I know, Larry. You love me." She stopped, got up and came over to my
chair. She tipped me upright and sat on my lap. "I don't like to shout
that across the desk," she said tenderly. "I love you, too. I always
will. Believe it or not, it won't change because of Nicole, or Simone, or
even Janey. I am absolutely convinced of your heart, of your love, of your
intentions. It is that absoluteness that gives me the freedom to ask this
of you." She didn't add that it was also that total dedication to her that
was driving her crazy. She always did have a kind heart.
"I know this won't be easy," she continued, "but you've never shied away
from the tough things, have you?" She leaned down and whispered in my ear,
digging into my ribs with her fingers at the same time, "This one you can
fuck, too, lover. Really!" She collapsed in a giggling heap as I dumped
her unceremoniously off my lap and onto the floor.
"All right! All right!" I had the attention of both of them. "I'll
agree, but with conditions." Sally groaned. Loudly. It was almost a `God
help us' moan, but I couldn't quite make out the words.
"Nicole and Simone may move in. Until further arrangements can be made,
Simone will move into Janey's room. Agreed?"
Sally nodded. It was always easiest to give away someone else's
privacy. I wondered what the two girls would say to having a roommate.
"Nicole? You will be Sally's submissive. She will be your Mistress."
Sally sat there, open-mouthed, stunned. Speechless, for once.
Chapter 34
The new arrangement didn't work. It was an uneasy arrangement to begin
with. Sally got stressed out in about two days, which made it worse. She
became overbearing, surly, bossy. She couldn't handle being a mistress to
Nicole.
The decision had not pleased Nicole, either, though she was in a
submissive role, as she had wanted. She suffered from a reluctant
mistress, however, and in short order, her more aggressive personality made
the situation worse.
It got a little better for a while after I gathered them together and
told them what had happened to Gary. I called them all into the Free Room.
I answered every question I could. I told them about Miki. We watched the
news coverage of the funerals for the dead girls. Sally and Nicole
understood they owed their lives to their daughters being in a public
school. I thought we were all bonding nicely, and that the roughest part
was behind us. Boy, was I wrong.
Sally tried to assert her dominance, I will give her that. I found her
tactics intriguing and filed them away in case I needed to impress my
mastery over Sally in the future. First, she stripped Nicole of all
clothing. Not a shred of covering. Not that I minded. Nicole was indeed
a beauty, but about as different from Sally as you could get. Where Sally
was petite, Nicole was statuesque. Tall, almost 6 foot. Her dark hair and
olive complexion made Sally seem pale, even with Sally's lightly tanned
skin. Together with her intelligent piercing aristocratic blue eyes, she
was a striking woman.
Nicole did not seem to have an ounce of excess fat on her, now that I
could readily see all of her. That's not to say she wasn't feminine, far
from it. She had all the curves necessary to qualify, and then some. Her
breasts were about the same size as Sally's but seemed smaller on Nicole's
larger frame. Her waist was incredibly narrow. Sally told me it was only
20 inches. I detected more than a little jealousy when she told me that.
Nicole also had that feature that millions of men react to automatically.
She had that natural diamond-shaped open space between her thighs, right at
the top. Prehistorically, that meant a wide carriage for bearing young and
the eroticism of that image was programmed into the male sex chromosome.
Sally had it, too, but Nicole... Oh, my! ...the first time I saw her
silhouetted in the light from the window behind her, I think I began to
finally lust after her. That perfect diamond of light just below her
crotch lit a slow burning fire in me.
Next, Sally had Nicole sleep on the floor at the foot of our bed. This
I found interesting, as well, because, if anything, her presence during our
intimate times added to Sally's stress and distress. She became uneasy
when we made love, to the point I had to remind her who was boss. Well, at
least, who it was who thought he was boss, anyway. I never forced her to
have sex, but she didn't enjoy it as much with Nicole there.
Third was that she had Nicole doing all the shit work. Cleaning,
dusting, scrubbing, shopping - grocery, not clothes, gardening, and so on.
Everything but what she was suited to do, which was to use her brain.
Mindless drivel.
Added to all this was that Janey and Simone were not getting along,
either. Janey only had a single bed in her room, so they were not only
sharing a room, but a bed, too. Simone was jealous of Janey's popularity,
Janey of Simone's brains. There were phone messages that didn't get
delivered, sabotaged reports and tests, and so on. Simone was really
trying to mess with Janey and doing a good job.
For her part, Janey was trying to get along, if only half-heartedly.
She came to me one evening in tears, sweaty from one of the pick-up
basketball games. Simone had begun to put a damper on these events, too. I
really think she wanted to participate, but she was shy and unfamiliar with
basketball. Janey poured out all her woes, blaming everyone, including me,
obliquely, for the crap she had to live with.
I held her on my lap trying to work things out. This mess was largely
my fault. I know, I know. Sally's way would have probably been better,
but it still rubbed me the wrong way to have her decide without consulting
me. Even if she was right.
I asked what Janey had done to make Simone's situation better. She
looked at me funny, as if it was a strange concept that she might have to
do something to help Simone fit in. I asked her if she had ever made her
feel like she was welcome. Again she looked at me funny.
I hugged her to me and, without thinking, I told her that it might help
Simone feel like she belonged if Janey went out of her way to do something
special for her, to make her know she was wanted.
"Like what?" she wanted to know.
"I don't know. Just think about what would make you feel special and
wanted and do that for her." Honestly, I didn't have anything in mind at
the time.
Later that night, I woke to a familiar elbow in my side. "Larry? You
awake?"
"Uh-huh. Now I am."
"Oh, sorry. Did you talk to Janey today?"
"Uh-huh."
"About Simone?"
"Ummm."
"What did you tell her to do?"
Suddenly alert to the edge in her voice, I was now fully awake. And I
sensed it, too, but it was different somehow. We had both sensed when
Janey had an orgasm and we were familiar with that. This one was
different, like it was learning how to feel good.
"God! It's her first orgasm!" Sally whispered to me, after leaning over
and checking on Nicole, just to make sure she wasn't fingering herself.
"Should I check on them?"
"No. Let them finish."
"Them? How can you tell there are two of them?"
I could sense her smile in the dark. "Don't know. I just do. Janey's
giving Simone an orgasm. Again."
We both felt this one, too, stronger, more sure of itself, more welcomed
into the body it was entering.
Janey was diligent, I'll give you that. Simone was cumming like a pro
when Janey finally stopped working her over. I slipped in to check on them
when it had been quiet for a while. I was greeted by a gorgeous tangle of
teen limbs. Simone was zonked. Janey was still awake. I sat by her side
and took her hand.
"What was it you did, kiddo?"
"What you said."
"Uh, I don't think I said to do anything like what just happened here."
She grinned up at me. "You could feel her, too? God, she didn't know
what was happening to her!"
"And what was happening to her, Janey? Inquiring minds want to know."
She sort of snorted when she giggled, most unladylike. "Well, I thought
about what you said, about doing something to make her feel special and
wanted. I thought about what made me feel that way. Then I remembered the
time you did me with your mouth, about how good that made me feel and all.
So I did her."
"She didn't object?"
"Well, uh, I, uh, I kind of surprised her. After a minute, when I
didn't bite, she quit struggling."
"Struggling?"
"Uh-huh! I sort of tied her hands to the bed first, like you did mine."
Oh God, I had created a monster.
"You didn't mind that she was a girl?"
"You mean that lezzie thing?"
"Yeah. People can be kind of mean if they find out."
"Oh. Simone wouldn't tell. And even if she does, that's OK, too. It
was my gift to her. What she does with it is up to her. Isn't that what
you've been trying to tell me all along, Dad?"
I leaned over and kissed this marvelous young woman goodnight, my tears
dripping on her sweaty and slimy face.
"I would have sex with you right now if you wanted, kiddo." I knew she
had not cum and was still sexually aroused.
She grinned up at me, then hugged me tight. I thought for a moment she
was going to take me up on my offer. I wasn't sure if I hoped she would or
if I hoped she wouldn't. She held me for the longest time, then whispered,
"Thanks, Dad," in my ear.
Maybe you had to be there, but I thought it was a Hell of a touching
moment. I went back to my room and went to sleep.
OK. Now, if you came home and heard, `Oh, God, Oh, God, Yes, Yes, Yes.
Oh God that's so big and hard, Do my ass, too, harder, please, please don't
stop,' or various repetitions and renditions thereof emanating from your
daughter's bedroom, screamed in a loud and excited manner, what would you
think? Right! You keep a shotgun in the closet for just such an instance.
Unfortunately, it was Sally and Nicole who came home from a
foreshortened day of shopping, as Nicole was being a real bitch. Unknown
to them, Janey and Simone had decided to play hooky from school to further
explore the territory discovered the night before. What they walked in on
was Simone pounding Janey with a dildo, who was the one screaming. Simone
was eagerly returning the favor Janey had done for her the entire hour
before. The girls thought they were alone in the house and were being as
noisy and raunchy as they wanted. It was all in fun, just girl stuff, sort
of like male bonding. Yeah, right!
Sally immediately knew what was going on through her link with Janey.
She thought it was strange that Janey sounded like she was having a lot
more fun than it felt like she was experiencing through the link, but she
also knew that the other person in the room was not me. We had said
goodbye this morning in the shower, as I had to run up to the Guild for
some business meetings. She deducted correctly that Janey's partner in
passion was Simone, and that was the reason for the verbal encouragement.
Janey and Sally had both commented to me at the seeming inability of Nicole
to feel anything on their link, and that Simone's link felt funny to them.
The way they talked, it sounded as if they really pitied them that loss.
Nicole, however, didn't know who was with Janey, only that Janey seemed
to be getting a good fucking, one of a lifetime, from the sounds of it.
Whether to herself or if she meant Sally to hear wasn't clear, but she
muttered, "The little bitch will be as big a slut as her mother soon." Of
course, she muttered it in French. Then again, maybe it was Sally's fault
for not informing Nicole she spoke fluent French and could understand the
colloquial vulgarisms she constantly used when referring to her and Janey.
Needless to say, the comment didn't sit well with Sally. I had learned
early on that malicious words would wound Sally worse than the whip. Those
words from Nicole cut her deeply. Unbidden, a vengeful anger started to
grow in her heart. Attack Sally and she would fight back, attack her
daughter and she would get vengeance.
Uncharacteristic of Sally, she ignored her anger. I had commanded her
to be a mistress. She was trying to do her best. She also didn't want to
embarrass Nicole by letting her know she understood French. There were
things to do, preparations for the next visit by our friends. Sally still
had to organize two more costumes for Nicole and Simone, and, as she had
discovered, Nicole was domestically worthless. She couldn't cook, clean,
sew, iron, or straighten up. What exactly was she to do with this
worthless bitch?
Amud and Bala's next visit was to be a special occasion. Not only would
Nicole and Simone be introduced to our friends and into the growing
relationship we had with them, it was also the occasion for the first
public dance performance by Janey. Bala had been working them hard, and
Janey had excelled under her teaching. I truly appreciated the practice
drills that Sally showed me, especially when she was impaled on my iron
hard prick. But I think the very fact that she practiced with me defeated
the purposes of the drills. She was still much improved from that first
dance she did for me.
Finally all was in readiness for the evening. The women served Amud and
I a sumptuous dinner, two delectable maidens served the wine, and the
cigars were slowly smoldering down. It had been a delightful evening. My
belly was full, my cock was hard, all was right with the world. I was
beginning to look forward to a wild night with my lover, when the
ching-ching of the music sounded. I leaned back to relax. I had forgotten
about the premier.
The occasion of a first dance was special as the women were allowed to
enter the main tent and sit with the men. Bala sat with Amud. Simone,
Sally and Nicole came to sit with me, although Sally positioned Nicole so
she was not near Amud or myself. I wondered at the intentional slight on
her part, but just then Janey danced through the veiled door. Or should I
say she floated through the door.
Her outfit, if it could be called that, was daring. It was beyond
daring. It was blatant. It displayed all her womanly charms and then
some. It highlighted her coloring. You could see the blush across the tops
of her breasts. Hell, you could see everything! Even that her normally
tiny trimmed bush was now missing. I don't know how that affected Amud,
but my blood was sure boiling.
Her dance was short, but energetic and erotic in the extreme. Even the
women seemed entranced with her sexuality. She twirled and twisted,
wiggled and jiggled. I think it was probably a bit more acrobatic than a
traditional dance, but Bala had worked wonders with what she had to work
with. Looking over at my friends, I wasn't sure she was entirely pleased
with Amud's obvious reaction to Janey's dancing. From the way Bala was
lying across his lap there was no way she could miss his arousal. In fact,
unless I missed my guess, that hand I couldn't see was probably wrapped
around his throbbing swollen shaft. I chucked as I thought of what his
night would be like with that wildcat of a wife.
At the conclusion of her dance, Janey ended up kneeling in front of me,
her head to the ground. She seemed to be waiting for something. I looked
over to Amud for a hint. He seemed to be somewhere else, although his eyes
were still fixed on Janey's almost nude form.
"Amud?"
He started, as if from a dream. I almost hated to bring him back from
where ever he had been. "Yes, my friend?"
"Is she waiting for something?"
He looked at Bala. Something passed between them, then he nodded his
head. "Ah, yes. Bala has told the fresh one of the traditions of the
first dance. In my country it is traditional for the dancer to request a
favor of a sensual nature from her chosen benefactor. It is always granted
if the dance is deemed to be acceptable."
He continued, "You seem to be her chosen benefactor," he sounded rather
disappointed that Janey hadn't chosen him, but a sharp nudge from Bala
cured that, "as she has ended her dance and bowed in front of you." He
sighed, earning him another playful elbow from Bala.
"For my part, if she had chosen me, she would have had her most sexual
of favors granted a million times over. Gladly." He got a rather sharp
elbow for that remark, but the two were now laughing and showing more
affection for one another than ever before in our presence.
I could see Janey blush from his compliment of her and his implication
that he would enjoy doing much more with her. I let her stay bowed for a
while, letting her catch her breath. Also, I was somewhat leery of
granting favors, sensual or otherwise, before I knew what they were. But
some things you just don't learn to resist, and a beautiful woman prostrate
before me is almost always going to get her wish.
"Janey, your first dance is deemed to be acceptable," I intoned with all
the pomposity I could muster. "What is your sensual pleasure?"
I expected her to ask for that car she had been bugging me for. The one
with the leather seats. Or an expensive trinket, maybe. But nope, not my
Janey!
"I want to go to that place you took Mom the night of the concert."
I gasped. Sally paled. No one else in the room had a clue.
"You told me you didn't want to go there."
"I told you I wasn't ready. I am now. I'm not afraid of those feelings
anymore and I am strong enough." I could almost here `I think' or `I hope'
on the end of that.
My, my. My little girl is all grown up. But then I knew that. I had
just seen her dance. Someone was going to be a very lucky man someday, to
have that body, that spirit to come home to each night.
"What place is she speaking of?" asked Amud, thinking that Janey was
referring to a physical location.
Sally told them of the white crop I had used on her, how I had tied her
and pushed her beyond any experience she had had before or since. It was
beyond the singing. It was just beyond.
Bala turned to look at me. In awe she said, "You can see the dancing
lights in a woman as she sings?"
I nodded.
Simone, still puzzled, asked Sally, "Janey wants Larry to whip her with
a stick?"
Sally nodded.
Nicole had passed the point of credulity. Again she muttered, this time
about Janey now being as big a tramp as her mother. Again in French. Bala
and Amud both spoke French. So did I.
It was the last straw for Sally. Remind me to never push her too far.
She was a blinding fury as she pummeled Nicole, screeching and shrieking as
she did so. When Nicole was sufficiently limp, she dragged her by her hair
out of the room. We heard the body thumping down the stairs to the first
floor, then all was quiet.
Embarrassed at the outburst, I apologized to Amud. He gave me a
quizzical look, like I was an idiot.
"Lawrence, my friend. You are a good master, but sometimes you do
stupid things."
I must have looked puzzled.
"Sally, your beloved, is not like Bala. She cannot be mistress, too.
It's is not in her aura. Different lights. Your new beloved, Nicole, is
not mistress. Janey, she is young, she can learn both ways yet. Simone,
she is a special one." He grinned. "You are one lucky son of the bitch, my
friend, but I do not envy you."
He stopped and fixed me with a stare. "Learn to see your women, as a
master. If you see the dancing lights, you are far beyond me in skill.
But maybe I can help you with wisdom, no?"
With that, he indicated I should tend to Janey who was crying with
gathering hysterics on the floor. Her debut was ruined, her request
forgotten.
As I tended to Janey, finally getting her settled down, Amud and Bala
quietly slipped out and drove home. Bala had seemed incredibly agitated,
perhaps aroused, at Janey's dance and the ensuing conversation. Amud, to
my surprise, had not seemed jealous of her attraction to Janey or to me.
When I thought back, Bala may not have been envious of Amud's reaction to
Janey, but could have actually been exciting him with her hand, enhancing
his pleasure of the dance. Such nonpossessiveness was strange to me, but
seeing it in practice made me think it might work.
As Janey quieted down I carried her down to her room. Suddenly she
cried out.
"Oh, God, Dad, she's killing her!"
"Who? Where?" I demanded immediately.
"M-M-Mom is beating Nicole. Downstairs. Daddy? Why is she so angry
with Nicole? It hurts, oh God, it hurts...." Janey rolled over in tears,
holding her stomach.
I dashed down to the dungeon, fully expecting the worst. I just hoped I
wasn't too late to stop her from doing any permanent damage.
What I saw pained me. Sheer anger was being vented in a blind rage. My
meek, mild Sally had strung Nicole up by her wrists and was using the heavy
handle of a whip to bludgeon her face and torso. There was no thought to
her wildly swinging blows, only rage.
My heart cried out to her to stop. I knew I couldn't reach her before
she struck a couple of more times, so I did the only thing I could think
of. I focused as I ran to her, thinking of an iceberg and then wrapped it
around her. As corny as that sounds, it worked. She froze, so to speak,
in mid-blow.
My first priority was to secure Sally where she couldn't harm Nicole any
more. I led her gently over to a set of kneeling stocks and placed her
head and hands in the appropriate half rounds, then closed and locked the
top bar. We had never used this device before, but Sally had commented
that if I ever wanted to punish her, that was the way. It seemed
appropriate.
She hadn't resisted me. As soon as I had touched her she had gone limp.
I knew she knew she had made a grievous error. So had I. Sally had known
her limitations and had tried to tell me. I hadn't listened. I was too
proud. This was my fault, too.
With Sally secured and unable to harm herself or Nicole, I cut down
Nicole. Her wrists were bleeding from the plastic ties Sally had used. I
wondered where those had come from. I hated those evil devices. Not only
could they mark you permanently, they didn't have a lock to pick. I
quickly examined the unconscious woman. As near as I could tell from a
quick field exam, there were no broken bones. I was more worried about her
spirit than her bones, though.
I carried her upstairs and took her into the Free Room. We hadn't had
to use this room much before, but everything was there. A bed, a bathroom.
I took the pistols I had placed there and put them away. I hadn't gone
over everything with Nicole just yet, and didn't want her running around
the house with a loaded gun. After Nicole was settled and as comfortable
as I could get her, I went to find Simone to tell her that her Mom was
going to be OK and to try to explain to her what had happened.
I couldn't find Simone. I looked everywhere. I looked in on Janey to
see if they were together. I checked the dungeon just to be sure. I
searched the house. I checked my security system and ran a check for
infrared heat sources. I could only count four in the house or on the
grounds. I ran the security tape loop.
Three heat sources had left the house at nearly the same time. Two had
gone together, one had slipped out just after the others were in their car.
I watched the tape from the outside security camera as the third heat
source disappeared down the driveway and turned toward the nearest
Interstate. To have been that visible, Simone must have been outside the
car, riding on the rear bumper of Amud and Bala's limousine.
Simone had run away.
Chapter 35
I could have panicked. An underage girl I barely knew and had accepted
responsibility for had just left for parts unknown, and I had only one clue
where she might have gone. Her mother lay unconscious in my guestroom,
beaten senseless by my lover. The unconscious mother would have to be
tended by the daughter of the woman who had just brutalized her. What, me
worry?
After checking on Nicole, I went up to Janey's room. She was already
getting dressed, her eyes still puffy and swollen from crying, but her face
set and determined.
"Janey?"
"Be ready in a minute. Where do you think she went?"
"How'd you know she was gone? Oh, I see. Gee, you're getting pretty
good with your link thing, aren't you."
"Yes, and you should be better than me, Dad. I mean, I can sense
stronger than Mom, but she's real sneaky sometimes about what she knows, so
I can't always tell. Simone and I can hook up pretty good, but she's way
different than I am. Like, the last time we did each other, she was doing
things to me I didn't think anyone but you could do. I made her stop, you
know, it was too much. She's like you that way in that she can tell what
turns me on, but still, she's no match for what you can do."
"What do you mean?"
She turned to me, exasperated but patient, like with a slow-witted
child. "Dad. Stop thinking. Feel. Reach out. God! You can do it when
you don't think about, you know? I felt what you did to Mom downstairs."
I must have looked surprised.
Janey explained, "Don't you know what you did? You were shouting how
much you loved her, how this was all your fault, how you would try to make
things right, but to please STOP! I mean, you weren't making words with
your mouth or anything, you were like shouting in your mind, or something.
It was really clear. You were really scared, not just for Nicole, but for
Mom, too. That sort of made me feel good. Then I got really, really cold.
Stop thinking of pictures, will you? I mean, it works sometimes, but Geez,
an iceberg? Be a little easier on us weaklings, why don't you."
"You got all that, all the way up here?"
"Clear as a bell, Dad. Just stop thinking. Feel. Can you feel Mom
now? Can you tell what she's feeling?"
I stopped and felt. I reached out for Sally. I found her, waiting for
me. A lump formed in my throat. Shit. And I thought I felt bad. I sent
her my love.
"Don't worry. She'll get over it. She knows you love her. That's all
she needs to know right now. She also knows she really screwed up, too.
And that you will fix it. She trusts you. She loves you. I trust you,
too."
She finished tying her shoes. "Where do we start looking for Simone?"
I was taken aback for a minute. "Uh, would you mind holding down the
fort here? I kind of need you to look after Nicole. She's unconscious
right now, but nothing's broken, I hope. But when she comes to, I need you
to make sure she's OK. If she's not, call the hospital and get her there.
"Your mother stays in the basement until I come back home with Simone,
or until I give up. That could be a long time. Tough. Let her out of the
stocks one hour a day for a shower and exercise. You can change her
bondage if you think the stocks are too much for her. I don't know how
long I will be gone, so use your judgement. I do not want to injure her.
"You may give her updates on Nicole's progress and anything I tell you
to relay to her on the telephone. Otherwise silence. No chit chat, no
making her feel better. You'll need to feed her at least one meal while
she's in restraints. She cleans up her own messes on her free hour. It
will stink down there, so be prepared for it."
Janey nodded, agreeing with everything I said, even the tough parts.
"You're in charge, kiddo. I trust you, too. Remind Nicole about the
Free Room rules and that she can stay there as long as she wants. That's
where I put her. Oh, the guns are put away, so you won't need to worry
about her getting a hold of one. Other than that, be sure to sleep when
you can, even if it's during the day. You're going to need it. I'll call
when I can."
She rushed into my arms. "Thanks, Dad, for taking charge. I'm glad
you're letting me do something."
I held her away from me. "You're not disappointed you're not going with
me to look for Simone?"
"That's your job. Besides, if you had to worry about me, I'd just mess
up your sensing thing. You have enough trouble with it, as it is." Always
the critic. At least she was smiling when she said that.
"Good. I'm off then." With that, I turned and left the house, knowing
Janey would take charge. Just like Sally would, if she could.
I called Amud on his cell phone from my car as I headed for the
Interstate.
"Amud, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Simone left the house with you this
afternoon."
"My friend, as lovely as the child is, I did not kidnap her, I swear."
"Amud, again I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you had anything to do
with it. I didn't make myself clear. She left the house riding on your
car. On the back bumper. She has run away."
"Oh, dear!"
"Yes. I need to know the first stop you made after you left the house
that she could have gotten off. Probably in a city or large town."
He thought a minute. "Oh, yes. We stopped in at a leather warehouse
over near the new stadium. From there we are now heading home."
"Thank yo...."
"Lawrence? Lawrence? Hello? Here is Bala. The girl, the new one, she
is missing, no?" From the blustering in the background, I could tell Amud
was not happy that his little wife had snatched the cell phone from him. I
smiled, in spite of the circumstances. He would enjoy reminding her of his
mastery over her. I knew she would enjoy it also.
"Yes, Bala. I have to find her."
"Use the lights, Lawrence. Don't think, just use lights. You great
master, use it. Find the precious one." She then got all soft, unlike the
Bala I knew. "I like her. Please. She is very special."
"I know. I like her, too, Bala. Goodbye, and thank you." I rung off,
slightly puzzled by their comments.
You know, it was beginning to irritate me. With all advice I had been
getting lately to quit thinking, I was beginning to think..., well there I
went again, thinking. Anyway, perhaps people were trying to tell me I did
too much of it, or maybe that I didn't do it well. I wasn't sure. I
decided not to think about it.
I had a haystack, a place to start. All I needed to do now was find the
needle. Piece of cake. Yeah, right.
The warehouse Amud mentioned was in an industrial area, busy on the
weekdays, but almost deserted at night and weekends. I could hear the
ruckus from the tail end of a Heavy Metal band concert in the stadium a
couple of blocks over. This being a Friday evening, I figured Simone got
here just when the streets were empty, the workers gone home, the concert
in full swing. A pretty young girl, alone, would stick out like a sore
thumb on these naked streets.
I sat in my car, at a loss for what to do next. I had driven to the
spot Amud had stopped. I parked in a NoParking zone across from the local
police precinct. Even it was deserted at this time of the week, manned by
just a skeleton crew of rookies. It had been too much to hope that Simone
would be standing there waiting for me. I know it was na<ve of me, but I
had hoped, just a little.
I closed my eyes in quiet frustration and lay my head against the
steering wheel of the car. I may have cried for her, I don't know. I
guess I really had wanted her to be there, tears on her face, cold from the
long ride on the bumper, frightened of the strange darkness, a big van, a
friendly face, old kind of, kind of cinnamon smell, candy, a warm car, warm
blanket, warm up, feels good, food, voices, laugh, a funny laugh, money
through the window, a door opening suddenly, a bad man, fear, scared, ...
I woke up with a start. What the Hell was that? I looked at my watch.
No. I hadn't been asleep. Simone! I knew I was sensing Simone, seeing
what Simone was sensing. Somewhere near, close, but going away now. Then
just blank, like she was drugged. I had felt the needle jab into her leg.
I could sense her drift away, then it was still, not any feelings from her
at all.
I found myself out of my car. I could sense better outside in the open.
I couldn't get a bearing on a direction with this sensing thing and it
frustrated the shit out of me. I just wandered the streets, hoping to
sense when it was stronger, when she was closer. She was so close...
I wandered the streets looking for her, half running, stumbling,
walking. Looking for her senses. Just a trace, anything. I found that the
harder I tried, the fainter she got. I lost all sense of time and of
myself. I immersed myself into her aura, and just kept wandering,
apparently aimlessly.
It happened so suddenly. I distinctly felt it when she woke up, the
pain, the slaps across our cheeks, a kick in the ribs, one broke. I hurt,
she hurt. Too far away, now, she was going away again. Another needle,
another sleepless dream, floating. I followed that dream, walking blindly
through streets.
Then the men started coming. I could see them, what they were doing to
her, to us. We were ashamed, please, no more, not again. The sense from
Simone started to fade, but wasn't moving away anymore. She was going into
hiding, into her shell. It was her only defense, her last hope. I sent
her a message, but I didn't know if she got it. I was coming. Hold on.
Then it was just like static on an open radio signal.
I kept wandering, trying to find her. The streets were empty through
Saturday and Sunday. Monday I had to dodge traffic as I stumbled along the
sidewalks. I don't remember if I slept or not. I do remember I stopped
looking at people as people. I started looking at them as lights. I
wasn't surprised to find most people were pretty dim, if they had any light
at all.
Tuesday came and went and I was getting desperate. Just before I
collapsed in a doorway, I heard it.
"Help me. Please."
Simone! She was close! I looked around and saw her light. There were
no windows in that abandoned building, but I saw her lights. Dimming, but
there. I knew it was her.
I found my way into the building and damn near fell down the dilapidated
steps into the cellar. It stunk of fresh urine and shit. I began a
frantic search for her in the dark cavernous spaces. The lights from her
had gone back out. There was only static again.
I found her. She was naked, bruised and barely conscious. They had
used a staple gun to fasten clumps of her hair to a wooden post. She was
hanging by her hair in a position where she couldn't stand upright or sit
or kneel. The muscles of her thin legs had supported her as long as they
could in the awkward position, but they had given out days ago. The floor
around her was in places several inches deep in feces and pools of urine.
It couldn't have been all hers.
The two men surprised me as I was vomiting. Given their poor fighting
skills, my retching wasn't much of a disadvantage. I disabled the big one
first. He was obviously the bodyguard. The asshole was trying to pull an
Uzi out from under his jacket, if you can imagine that. The clip or barrel
or something got caught on his belt, but by that time, it didn't matter.
His knee when one way, he went the other, shit splashing everywhere as he
landed hard. He dropped his Uzi when he grabbed for his knee. I kicked
him in the head for insurance, then kicked the gun into a far corner.
The smaller man, a pimp by his dress, was smarter. I could tell because
he had chosen a more appropriate weapon. He had his knife out and was
trying to appear as if he was ready for me. I like fighting idiots with
knives. Mainly because most fighters don't know how to use them and it
makes the motherfuckers overconfident. They always get a big one like
Rambo or that crocodile guy and the weight tends to throw them off balance.
Then they fucking hold them upside down, like I'm going to be stupid enough
to step inside his down-swinging arm. This pimp with the yellow hat had
really overcompensated for his inadequacies with the monster blade he was
holding. I left him writhing on the floor, the knife buried to the hilt in
his thigh, right where he had it aimed. The knife had driven clear through
his leg with the tip stuck firmly into the wooden floor. I knew he wasn't
going anywhere for a while.
I was trying to get Simone free when the third guy jumped me. He would
have had me clean, too, but he slipped in the shit trying not to get too
close. A little schmutz, and I would have been dead. As it was, he still
got my arm good with the deadly little knife he was using. I think he
thought he had me, now that I was wounded, but he was wrong. He made the
fatal mistake of letting me get too close to him. Once I'm in close, well,
he died surprised. As I pushed his lifeless body off me, I gave a start of
recognition. It took me a moment, but I finally placed him. He had been
in some of the pictures Gary had taken of Sally during her humiliation.
I managed to free Simone using the knife I pulled out of my forearm. I
simply cut her hair free from the staples and picked her up. They had not
tied her arms and she latched on to my neck with what seemed to be all her
feeble strength. I thought I felt her sob once, but wasn't sure. Sensing
the urgency of flight, I kept trying to find my way to the stairs but my
head wouldn't seem to work. Every time I tried to look for the door out of
the room, my nose kept turning back to the same dark corner. I would take
a step to turn, and my head would swing like a compass needle pointing
north. Same damn corner, every time.
I finally realized Simone was yanking on my ear, forcing me to look at
that particular corner. Understand, I was brain-dead, tired, stabbed and
trying to escape, my survival instincts in complete command. My mission
was over. I had Simone. It was Miller time. I was like a horse headed
for the barn, ASAP. I did not want to look in that stinking corner.
She was insistent, and my ear was starting to hurt. I went over to the
fucking corner. Nothing. I started to turn away. My ear just about got
torn off.
"What the fucking hell do you want!" I yelled at her in my mind.
"Please. Hidden. Shiny. Silver. Important," came the faint reply
over our link. It wasn't exactly words but images. I didn't really
understand.
I shuffled around in the debris piled in the corner until my foot kicked
into an aluminum case. It was heavy, and now my fucking foot hurt, too. I
picked it up with my good hand. Simone grasped my neck tighter, easing the
work I had to do with my injured arm. Where she got the strength I don't
know.
My ear released from her grip, I found an exit. On the way out and up
the stairs, I stumbled. I tripped over a lit kerosene lamp one of the men
had left on the stairway. It fell to the basement floor and broke open.
The old newspapers that cluttered the floor caught fire easily. The old
dry timbers of the crumbling warehouse exploded into flames, engulfing the
three bodies in the cellar.
I heard screams as I walked away, carrying Simone. It didn't bother me
at all.
As I cleared the killing zone, as I thought of it, I had to stop and
think where I was. I realized I was many miles from my car. I was in the
middle of an area I didn't recognize right away. I couldn't see the
stadium. I couldn't see any landmarks or familiar buildings at all until I
got to the next large intersection. God! I was two towns over from where
I had parked.
It was night, there were no buses running in this part of town. No
taxis were going to stop for me, not with the way I looked after four days
of wandering around, bleeding from a big gash in my arm and carrying an
unconscious naked stinky little girl. I headed for the one safe house I
knew in this town.
Mac didn't recognize me at first when he opened his door. I just hoped
he would take over now. I collapsed in his doorway.
Chapter 36
I woke up in a hospital. I knew that before I opened my eyes. I could
smell the familiar antiseptic odors. My arm felt stiff and sore. I could
feel the bandaging they had used on the stab wound. Oh well, another
battle scar.
I kept my eyes closed and tried to link to Simone. I was startled to
find her so close. She was in the bed next the chair I was sitting in.
Sensing she was safe, I drifted off to sleep again.
When I woke up again, it was dark. Simone was still asleep, resting
easy. I had been having some very weird dreams. When I noticed she was
holding my finger, much like Janey had done when I had sat by her bed, I
suspected Simone and I had been communicating over a similar link between
us. I seemed to know her better now. She was, indeed, a special person.
The dream had seemed so real, interactive. I had been on a beach, and
thousands, millions of others were there, too. The fine white sand seemed
to stretch for eternity in both directions. When I looked down, I couldn't
focus on the sand around me, but it seemed so real I could feel it between
my toes. Most of the people along the beach were building sandcastles.
Some castles were bigger than others were, as those people had others
helping them. Some others were struggling by themselves to build one that
could stand against the relentless waves.
Some people along the beach were raging at the sea, kicking at the
water, trying futilely to keep the waves from their sandcastles. As I
watched, the waves would come and wash away their castles or the castles of
the people near them. They were trying to stop the waves. The waves would
strike at random. You could never tell when the waves would come, who
would have to start over, who would be wiped out, or whose castle would be
touched. Some sandcastles were barely touched by the waves, some the waves
wiped out. Wherever the water touched a sandcastle there was sadness.
Sometimes the people would stop building and just wander out into the
waves, to become a part of the vastness. Most of us just kept building our
castles. Like I was doing.
I had a bucket in my hand full of sand. When I examined the sand in the
bucket carefully, though, I saw the grains were made up of the faces of
Simone and Nicole. When I looked at my sandcastle, I and I saw that the
sand there, too, was made up of faces, faces I knew. I saw my parents, my
sister, Sally and Janey. Mac was there, as were others, some alive, some
long dead. I put the new bucket onto my castle and Nicole's and Simone's
faces became part of the whole.
Looking up, I saw Simone was there on the beach beside me. The remains
of two small ruined sandcastles were visible beside her as she bravely
attempted to build yet another around the face of her mother. I saw in her
sand the face of an elderly gentleman that I knew was the man she called
Papa. The other man in the ruins was younger. It looked as if she had
kicked that pile over herself, her tiny footprints visible in the white
sand, long deep scars where she had tried to kick the face of that evil man
away form her. But that sand, that face, was still a part of her castle, a
part of her.
Simone wasn't raging at the waves as were many others in less tragic
conditions. The waves had touched her as it had them, yet she persevered.
I could also see she was being very careful now, selecting the material for
her castle with greater care. She stood holding an empty bucket, another
was off to one side. Janey's face was in her castle now, the new sand
still bright and shiny. I could see my face in the bucket she had set
aside. She was scared to mix it in with her mother's sand. Unsure.
Suddenly, in my dream, I was telling a story, teaching a history class.
When I would turn to look at the students, they would all have the same
face, the face of Simone. All of them asked different questions, throwing
them at me faster than I could answer as if time was running out. I tried
to answer as many as I could, but some of them I knew I wasn't allowed to
answer, secrets from my past I could not share. Some of the questions were
easy. Some were hard. Others I didn't know the answers to. The bell rang
and the questions stopped.
We were back on the beach. Simone was turning to me smiling. Both
buckets were empty. My face was in her castle. I waved my hands and a
space opened in the walls of my own castle. When I looked around I could
see that Sally had her castle right next to mine, each adding support to
the other. Janey's was there, too, as was Nicole's. I invited Simone to
place her own castle within the protection of mine, of my family's. I
could tell she wanted to, but she was hesitant, afraid. It was not a
feeling she was used to.
We were in the delicate and difficult process of moving her sandcastle
closer to mine when I woke up.
I tried to sit up. A pair of strong hands was there immediately to help
me.
"I called your house. Janey answered. She said to tell you someone
named `Bala' came over to help out. Said you would want to know everything
is OK and that Sally is still in the basement, whatever that means.
Nicole, whoever she is, is awake and responsive and didn't need to go the
hospital. Now that you know everything is OK, Lar, you want to tell me
just what the fuck's going on? Who are all those people?"
I relaxed as I heard the rapid-fire reassurances from my friend. All
the little things I hadn't been able to think of, he had. Damn, it was
good to hear his voice.
I smiled. "Mac! You should really watch your language around
impressionable young kids, you know?" Mac had grown up on the streets in a
very rough neighborhood. Ever since high school I had ribbed him about his
rough language, helping him smooth out some rough edges. In return, he
taught me to fight dirty and about the hard facts of life in the real
world. We both learned and improved, better individuals for our friendship.
He punched my arm, the good one. "Damn you, Lar, I've been stuck in
here for three days waiting for you to wake up and tell them I had nothing
to do with this. Whatever this is. What is this, anyway, and who the Hell
are you and what have you done with my friend Larry Sampson?"
"Oh, God, Mac, where do I start..."
"He can't tell you."
The two of us turned our heads as one to look at the clear, sweet voice
coming from the bed. Simone was awake.
She repeated, "He can't tell you. He has integrity." She said that last
word as if it were the most important thing in the world that a man could
have. She may be right.
"Damn, Lar, who is the beautiful woman who uses big words with such a
lovely accent?"
"Excuse my manners. Mac, this is Simone. Simone, Mac."
He stuck out his hand, "Hi, Simone." His trademark grin that had won him
more than one fair maiden lit up his face.
"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Mac." She said his name with her
delightful accent, and giggled at his response to her. I had seen Mac in
many situations, but I had never seen him this flustered. I swear, he even
blushed.
"I can get her to explain any big words you don't understand, OK,
lughead?"
"Fuck you!"
"Monsieur Mac!" That reprimand came from her, followed by another laugh.
I had never observed that particular behavior they called coquettish
before, but it was truly amazing to see this teenaged girl keep Mac
tonguetied and off balance.
After several minutes of valiantly waging a losing battle, he turned to
me for rescue. "Help me out here, please! So help me God, I want to take
her home with me. But if you dare tell CeCe I said that, I'll make you pay
for our lunches for the next 10 years."
"I'm tempted to tell you to go fuck yourself, Mac," I laughed, grinning
at him. "But I don't think I could afford you for the next 10 years with
your new contract." Mac had gone on a tear at the plate the last month of
the season. It hadn't been enough to get the team into the play-offs, but
it sure brought up the gate receipts, which is wha