A sequel to the classic "Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer (available on Fictionmania.tv). All-pro quarterback Josh Thomas, now teenage dancer/whore Honey Sweet-Lay, has been working at Anthony's club for three years since her transformation when a mysterious man comes into her life. Indicated elements apply to entire story. Chapters 1-5 of 48.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
FORWARD
Several years ago I read a story written by Janice the Dreamer titled “Team Spirit”. It was wonderful, inventive, and involving, with compelling characters. There was no hero or heroine, just damaged people seeking justice … as defined by them. This story stuck with me and I found myself asking the classic question, what happened next? I kept creating my own sequel to the original story in my mind. Finally, I was able to contact Janice the Dreamer and ask for permission to attempt to actually write a sequel. Janice was gracious enough to let me try but there was one proviso, that I not make Amy Hanson a hero.
It took me more than two years to complete this story, which starts out a little raw but don’t let that put you off. Since completion, I have had the invaluable editing help of Geoffrey Kidd, djkauf and Stanman63. I also need to give thanks to femur of TGComics.com for his comments, encouragement and kind words. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the original “Team Spirit”, I strongly suggest that you read it before starting this story. I pick up the story approximately three years after its end and do not attempt to summarize it in this story. You will find my story much easier to follow if you do so. The original “Team Spirit” is available at Fictionmania.tv and is well worth your time to read even if you decide not to read my sequel. All comments will be gratefully accepted.
CHAPTER ONE
If I’m lucky, really lucky, this guy will kill me.
I’d thought about it a lot, killing myself, just putting an end to all the pain and misery, all the humiliation, all the torture. I even once collected a bunch of pills I “found” in the dressing room over a month’s time. Didn’t know for sure what they were but since a few of the other dancers do some pretty heavy drugs, I figured that the ten I was able to scavenge would be more than enough to do the job. Unfortunately, when it came time to take them, I couldn’t do it.
Maybe I’m a coward; maybe deep down in my heart I think that there may be some way to escape. I don’t know why but I ended up flushing them down the toilet. You’d think that after three years, I’d have realized that that there is no escape. Hanson has me truly trapped.
That’s why I’m hanging from a hook in my room at Anthony’s club, tied up twenty ways to Sunday, while this greaseball jams his cock down my throat. He’s got my arms and legs tied together and I’m bent doubled over, ropes everywhere, with all kinds of knots. It took him almost forty five minutes to get me just the way he wanted and he had a hard-on the entire time. There’s no doubt what kink he’s into. After hanging me from the hook, I was just dangling in front of him, unable to move at all, my mouth and pussy level with his cock. He’s been poking both holes for the last fifteen minutes. The worst part is that I’m begging him to fuck me, when he isn’t gagging me with his dick.
I haven’t had Anthony’s semen for almost twenty two hours and I’m so horny that it’s hard to concentrate on anything but my burning need to be screwed, good and hard. The anticipation while he finished hogtying me was almost unbearable, and now that he’s finally getting down to business, he’s too slow and small to satisfy me. If he knew what to do with his cock, it wouldn’t be so bad but it’s clear that he knows a lot more about knots than nookie. He pulls his cock from my mouth so I try to encourage him.
“Come on stud, take that big cock and fuck my hot cunt. Just stuff it in there and show me what you’ve got.” He takes his dick in his hand and slaps my cheek with it a couple of times.
“Is this what you want whore? Is this what you WANT?”
“Oh yeah, stud, that’s what I need!”
“Beg for it.”
That is too much! This piece of shit wants me to beg him to fuck me? Four years ago, I’d have beaten this son of a bitch to death for even touching me. I was a thirty nine year old all pro quarterback then. Unfortunately, I’m a weak, teenage female whore now, helplessly tied up and about ready to go nuts from a pussy screaming to be screwed. I didn’t think that I had any pride left to swallow, but I do. So I swallow it and beg.
“Please fuck my cunt. I need it bad. I need your big ... enormous dick in my hot, tight pussy. Pleeeaassee fuck me, help a horny girl out, please.”
The smile on his face makes me sick to my stomach. “Since you said the magic word, sure whore, you can have it, all the way to my balls.”
He spins my around several times, the nausea from the motion joining the nausea from my begging. He stops me, lines me up with his cock and then plunges in. I try to squeeze his small dick with my pussy to maximize my satisfaction. It’s almost adequate. He may not be good, but he’s better than nothing.
“Oh yea, that’s the stuff! Pound my cunt ... oh yeah ... fuck me hard ... keep going.”
I can feel an orgasm building, my pelvic muscles start to twitch. I’ve got to get off before he does. Johns don’t give a damn about my needs and I need this orgasm, it’ll take the edge off my horniness for a little while. I’d be rubbing my clit right now if I had my hands free but he does know his ropes, so I’m stuck with his little cock and my experienced muscles.
He picks up his pace and that helps a lot, though it also means he’s getting closer. I arch my back, which changes his angle of penetration so that his cock gets closer to my clit, hitting it about every fourth thrust. That’s all that I needed. It’s not much of an orgasm but it will do. The greaseball cums a few seconds later, but it’s just a nuisance to me now. As the high from my orgasm fades, the pain from the ropes starts to build in my arms and legs.
“You’re just as good as promised, Honey, maybe even worth paying for next time.”
This was a FREEBIE?! He picks up my discarded panties, wipes his cock clean, puts his underwear, pants and shirt back on and gives me a final spin. I spin rapidly to the right until the rope winds tight and then spin back, at first slowly, but the speed quickly builds until the rope goes tight again and then I spin back the other way. This cycle goes on for several minutes while my queasiness gets worse. It’s all I can do to keep from throwing up. As the spinning finally comes to an end, I can’t see the greaseball anywhere. He’s left me tied up and hanging, my body burning with pain.
“Help! Is anyone out there? Please, someone, anyone, please help me! Hello? Please, I’m dying in here!”
I keep shouting for help but no one comes. I can hear the music from the stage through my closed door so maybe nobody can hear me. I try to shout louder but the ropes are so tight around my chest that I can’t get a lot of air in my lungs. By now, my arms and legs are starting to go numb but my cunt is starting to itch again. After going this long without Anthony’s’ semen, normal sex only gives me temporary relief. If I could get free, I’d masturbate with the vibrator that Dr. Hanson gave me but I can’t even feel my hands, let alone get them to move. I hear my door open. Thank God!
“Son of a BITCH! He really did a number on you didn’t he, Honey?!” I’m slowly spun around until my eyes meet Anthony’s. He’s squatted down to my level.
“Yes, Sir.”
“How long you been hanging there?”
“I don’t know, Sir.” I can’t ask him to let me down and release me, Anthony doesn’t like it when I ask him for anything, a lesson I learned years ago.
“You want me to let you down?”
“Yes, Sir, please, Sir.”
“I’ll take a few pictures first, if that’s OK with you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He takes a small digital camera from his pocket and snaps several pictures. He spins me once and keeps shooting. I think he’s switched to video mode. He does this every once and awhile, usually after a particularly bad client. I’ve got no idea what he does with them and I’d never ask. He puts the camera back in his pocket.
“Mr. Smith suggested I give you a try before letting you down, said you were a great fuck. I always like to get positive customer feedback about you, Honey. What do you think, should I let you down or fuck you first?” He doesn’t care what I think. He just wants to hear me say one thing.
“Whatever you want, Sir.” He laughs.
“That’s right Honey, whatever I want.” I hear his zipper and then his belt. I really do need to be fucked and right now. He spins me around and his semi-hard cock comes into my view. He puts its bulbous head against my lips. “Get me good and slick, whore.”
“Yes, Sir.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I just received an email from Anthony, complete with attachments. They are photos and videos from after Honey’s latest exotic customer. I originally enjoyed the results of all of her encounters with Anthony’s clients, but that became boring after awhile. These men, if you could call them that, were very unimaginative. The occasional one showed some initiative, showed something different or uniquely painful but it was routine sex mostly. I instructed Anthony to document Honey’s condition after any particularly trying encounter but these photos and videos are just not enough.
The most enjoyable times are the Wranglers’ post Super Bowl parties. To see Honey passed from man to man, eagerly fucking, one, two, even three at a time is the highlight of my year. The look of horror and disgust on her face while she bounces and writhes on every available cock is just priceless. It is a shame that the team refuses to let me record the event, then I could relive it time and time again. I completely understand why they won’t permit it; they don’t trust me enough to take the chance that the video wouldn’t end up on the internet or some scandal rag. Truly unfortunate though, some of those players are particularly brutal.
I close my laptop and prepare to leave the Gold Club Lounge. I still have at least an hour to kill before my connecting flight to Dallas. The preferred flier facilities are a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle of the terminal, but I have been sitting for two hours and need to stretch my legs. I leave my bags behind and stroll out to the food court area. I’m not particularly hungry, just bored. The treatments may maintain my youthful appearance but it is still necessary for me to watch my diet and exercise regularly. Those Cinnabons are tempting enough that it is probably better if I get my exercise elsewhere. I leisurely walk towards the stores in the retail concourse. They are full of overpriced merchandise, typical for airport stores and their captive customers. As I pass the Hammacher Schlemmer store, something in the window catches my eye. I step in and get the attention of the sales clerk. He steps out from behind his counter and walks towards me.
“May I help you, madam?”
“Yes, that clock radio in the window. Am I correct that it contains a video camera?”
“Yes, a wireless color video camera with sound. It broadcasts to a receiver, which can be anywhere within three hundred feet of the camera. The receiver connects to a TV, VCR, computer or DVD Recorder. We have one set up in the back as a demo.”
I follow him to the back of the store where there is another clock radio on the shelf and a plasma TV displaying the view from the device.
“Where is the camera?”
“Right here.” He points to a clear plastic plate next to the time display. “It can transmit on one of four channels to avoid interference, should you want to use more than one camera.”
“Wouldn’t more than one clock radio in a room be suspicious?”
“Uh ... yeah, but most people put one each in up to four separate rooms.” Of course. I had been thinking of multiple views in the same room. Well one, properly placed, should be more than adequate. “Many people use these as nanny cams to monitor how their children are treated when they aren’t around.”
I smile. “Almost exactly what I have in mind.”
CHAPTER TWO
Business is a bit slow today. The lunch crowd was light and the evening crowd is starting out the same way. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are always the least busy. Thursday booms because it’s union payday. Friday and Saturday are the weekend, which are good days and they carry into Sunday. Mondays aren’t great but not nearly as bad as Tuesdays. If this was a sports bar, Mondays and Sundays would be better but games take attention away from the dancers and the drinking they promote. One of the new girls is performing. She’s not bad, needs to make better eye contact with the crowd though, such as it is. I can see most of the room from my seat at the bar.
“Hello Anthony.”
I turn to look at whoever’s calling my name. It’s Doc Hanson. Odd, she doesn’t usually come to the club, not unless she’s got something new in mind.
“Hey Doc, have a seat. Honey’s entertaining someone in her room right now. You want to see her or me?”
“You first, Anthony. I have an addition to Honey’s room.” She drops a shopping bag on the bar top. I peek in the bag.
“What is it?”
“A video camera disguised as a clock radio.”
“What for?”
“I want you to install it in her room and put a VCR in your office. I have decided to record her ‘private encounters’ for posterity.” Posterity my ass. You just want to get your rocks off watching her getting fucked.
“How’s this help me, Doc? Most guys aren’t interested in having someone record them visiting a whore, particularly if they’re married or have a girlfriend, too many chances of it falling into the wrong hands.
“Then don’t tell them.”
“What do you plan to do with the tapes?”
“Keep them completely private, I assure you.”
“I don’t know Doc, seems like it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“You may have noticed Anthony that I did not request that you to do this for me.”
“I noticed.”
“Then we understand each other. I will show you where to put the camera once Honey is free. There is one other thing. I may occasionally send people to you to sample Honey’s talents. They will identify themselves by use of a code word or ticket, I haven’t decided yet. Either way, they are to have full access to Honey without any supervision on your part.”
“Whoa, hold it right there! Who’s paying for this? Also, I can’t guarantee Honey’s safety if I can’t screen her clients. I know that you want her to suffer but I keep the real crazies away because I can’t afford to have her out of commission for any length of time. If she ain’t fucking, I’m not making money.”
“From this moment on, let the crazies in. They can do nothing to her that I can’t fix. I will increase the frequency of my maintenance treatments to keep her fresh and on the job.”
“Even if I think they might kill her?”
“Certainly, if you think that is a realistic possibility, but, other than that, they get access to her.”
“And the money?”
“Consider it the cost of doing business.”
Every time she gets a bright idea, it costs me money. I can’t really bitch too much, Honey’s expenses are insanely low and I take 100% of her income and tips, so she’s pretty much pure profit. Don’t want to point that out to the Doc, so it’s good to complain a little before she gets what she wants.
“You’ve got to guarantee me that she won’t miss more than twenty days a year. Any more than that and I’ll hardly be breaking even.”
“Do you think I’m a fool? Honey’s presence in your club is the same as your own private cash machine. You feed her crap and I pay for her clothes and costumes.”
“Only because you want to control how she dresses.”
“Regardless as to why, it is one less expense for you. Besides, you enjoy my choices. As for her down time, it should be no worse than thirty days, max.”
I don’t really have a choice and she knows it. “Fine, I’ll give it a try but if there are too many problems, we stop it.” She smiles, seeing through my half-hearted objections.
“Agreed. Who knows? If this goes well, I may decide to grant your request to enlarge Honey’s breasts.”
She always says that to smooth over any hard feelings on my part but she never does anything about it. What’s wrong with a pair of 38’s? I notice Honey’s latest customer leaving the hallway to her room.
“I think we can get into her room now. I suppose you’re wanting to try that camera.”
“Yes, the sooner it is installed, the sooner I start getting my videos.”
She picks the bag up off the bar and we walk back to Honey’s room. I stop to knock but Hanson scoots by me, pushing the door open. Honey is standing at the sink, naked, washing herself with a cloth. She barely reacts when we come in.
“Hello, Honey.”
“Hello Dr. Hanson.” Her voice is flat and unemotional, like she is either not surprised or doesn’t care anymore.
“I have a present for you.”
“Thank you very much, Dr. Hanson.” That same flat tone.
“Don’t thank me, you haven’t seen it yet.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Hanson.”
She takes the box out of the bag, opens it and removes the clock radio. “Anthony told me that you were having a hard time getting up on time each morning so I thought that this might help you. I don’t want you getting in trouble for being late. You need to keep Anthony happy, don’t you?”
“Yes, Dr. Hanson, thank you very much.”
“Now, where is the best place for this?” She looks around the room. There’s so little furniture here, not much to choose from. “I think the dresser is perfect if we shift its position slightly. Anthony, would you please move this...” she stands next to the dresser and swivels her head around until she finds the angle she wants “...here, parallel to the bed.” It’s mostly empty so it’s easy to move. “A little further please Anthony ... perfect.” She sets the clock radio on the top of the dresser, shifts it slightly to the right; then plugs the cord into the electrical outlet. “There! It’s just right! Now, when the alarm goes off, you’ll have to get out of bed to shut it off, no hitting the snooze button and falling back asleep. Leave this just like this, Honey, until Anthony can permanently attach it. You will see to that won’t you, Anthony?”
“Sure, Doc, no problem, thanks.”
“Oh, no thanks are necessary, Anthony, I am happy to help out. Anything for my Honey. Isn’t that right, Honey?”
Honey looks confused for a second or two, like she doesn’t know what she should say to keep Hanson from getting pissed at her. In the end, she falls back on the old reliable.
“Yes, Dr. Hanson.”
“That’s a good girl. Well, I must be off and I am sure that you have several customers waiting for you, such a popular girl. Anthony, please join me at your office and we can install your gift. Do not touch that yet, Honey, Anthony will be back to set the time and alarm. Goodbye. I will see you later.” We leave the room and I close the door behind us.
Hanson laughs wildly all the way to my office.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The alarm goes off and I reach over to shut it off. I glance at the face of the clock, it reads 7:30 a.m., time to get up and exercise. I toss my blanket off, sit up and swing my legs off the cot, letting my feet hit the cold floor. Dr. Hanson doesn’t waste money on heating my cell at her clinic. I’ve been here three days, getting treatments to keep me looking young and beautiful. The life of a whore is often short and brutal. Mine is certainly brutal, particularly this last couple of months, but Hanson wants to make sure it isn’t short. I don’t know where some of the johns have been coming from recently but they’ve really worked me over. Most of them are my regulars but there is the occasional guy who's into totally weird shit ... and I do mean shit. It’s gotten so bad that I actually look forward to just regular sex with the Neanderthals that come through my door.
I slip on a robe and step into pair of heels. Hanson won’t let me go barefoot or wear anything with less than a 3” heel. Walking down the familiar halls, I head for the exercise room. When I get there, I go to the locker room, twist my hair into a long ponytail; then change into a pink crop top, panty shorts, white tights and 5” heels. This isn’t a regular exercise routine. I hear the hand claps.
“Come on Honey, shake a leg! Time to get started!” It’s Ms. Baker. Hanson brought her back to teach me a new routine while I’m here for my treatments, “Killing two birds with one stone,” she said. I hurry out of the locker room; you don’t want to keep Ms. Baker waiting.
“I’m ready, Ms. Baker.” She looks me up and down.
“I just can’t get over how beautiful you are Honey. I wish that I had you on the Wrangler Girls squad full time, you’d be my lead dancer for certain.”
I can’t keep from blushing at her praise. I know that she was in on the whole plan to change me from Josh Thomas to Honey Sweet-Lay but she also treated me like a professional. She’d yell at me if I screwed up a routine but it was always constructive criticism, she just wanted me to be the best dancer/cheerleader she could make me. If I did it right, she’d let me know that too, encouraging me to keep improving. I can respect that. She’s the only person here at the clinic who doesn’t treat me like crap. I wouldn’t call her a friend but I feel comfortable around her.
“Thank you, Ms. Baker, I’d like that too.” Anything to get out of the club.
“No time to waste, let’s start the warm ups, dear.”
I quickly drop to a mat and begin my stretching routine. Whoever Hanson got my DNA from, one of them must have been a contortionist. My body is very flexible, partially due to my dancing, partially my bedroom acrobatics but also a natural aptitude. Dropping into the splits is second nature, along with back arches and hand stands. After about fifteen minutes of stretching all the major muscle groups, I’m ready to start.
“Let’s pick up were we left off yesterday Honey. We will concentrate on the pole moves today and tomorrow and then tie everything together on Friday.” Hanson had added a stripper pole to the room since I was last here. “Before we start, I need to mention something. There are some similarities between dancing for the Wrangler Girls and dancing at the club. The rotation of the hips, the strut, the tit jiggle, the prance, all moves that work at both venues. Of course, there are differences too. There are not many stripper poles at NFL stadiums ... at least where the public can see them. However, the major difference is not physical, it is mental. A Wrangler Girl is playing to an impersonal crowd of tens of thousands. There are so many people that they cease to be individuals, they are just ‘the crowd’. She strives to appear both sexy and innocent, that she is so happy to be there, so pleased to be young and beautiful that the sexiness is second nature. Dancing at the club is almost the complete opposite. You are performing in front of individuals, so close that they can reach out and touch you, and often do. Sexiness is primary, not secondary but it is more than just sexy, it is seduction. You are trying to seduce every man in that club with each step, each bump, each grind, each jiggle, twist and thrust. So far, you have done very well learning the physical moves of the new routine but you lack the proper attitude. You have the big smile of a Wrangler Girl who is stripping.”
“But that is what I thought you wanted?”
“I know, I didn’t bother to correct you because it was an unnecessary complication, but I believe that you can handle it now. You have the basics of the routine down, it is just a matter of refinement at this point and one of those refinements is your attitude on the stage.”
“I ... I ... don’t ... know if ... I can do ... what you want. Slapping a big smile on my face is one thing but actually ... seducing guys from the stage ... I don’t know.”
“You seduce Anthony, don’t you?”
“Not really, I just do what he wants me to do?”
“And how do you know what he wants?”
“Are you kidding? He wants what all men want.”
“Then you know what you need to do on stage. If you can’t find it inside yourself, then pick someone in the crowd and concentrate on seducing him, or more than one if necessary. I’ve seen your work, you’re quite good,” There’s that damn blushing again “but there is something lacking. I think it is because you don’t feel it on stage.”
“I don’t!”
“It shows, not that your audience notices, though, they just want to see skin, but a true professional can tell.”
“If they are happy and Anthony is happy, why should I change?”
She slowly shakes her head. “If you wish to accept others’ lower standards, that is up to you. I thought that you preferred to rise to a challenge, to be the best that you could.”
I don’t have to make her happy, just Hanson and Anthony ... then why does it bother me that I’m disappointing her? I’ve been an athlete for too many years, had too many coaches in my life. Some of them have been physical, some screamers and some have been above it all, but the best were the quiet types who were “disappointed” when you didn’t live up to your potential. Damn her!
“I’ll try, Ms. Baker, I will.” She pats my head.
“That’s my girl, now get up on that pole and show me what you’ve got!”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Honey got back from Hanson’s clinic yesterday and she looks goooooddd, actually looks younger than when she left a week ago. I don’t like losing the money, but I will enjoy fucking the new, improved Honey Sweet-Lay. She’s also unveiling her new routine tonight. I got a preview yesterday and it’s a killer! I don’t know who she worked with at Doc Hanson’s but I wish they would do the same with the rest of my dancers. If they were half as good as Honey, I’d be able afford a new building.
The new routine was my idea ... well, I did the music. Doc Hanson said that she had someone who could do the choreography and the costume but without the music, it’s nothing.
Candi has just finished her set, which was pretty good, she’s probably second best to Honey. I dim the lights a bit in the bar, it makes the stage seem brighter, a little melodramatic but I want everyone to pay attention to this. I hold up the start of Honey’s set, to build a little suspense. Honey is standing just inside the stage door, ready to begin. I pick up the microphone and flip it on.
“Gentlemen! I am pleased to present Honey Sweet-Lay, recently returned from a brief tour of Europe! Let’s welcome her back!” OK, she’s never been more than forty miles from this club but they don’t need to know that. I hit “play” on the digital player and her new music starts. It’s “My Wife” by The Who, with a few edits by me.
The guitar of Pete Townsend shrieks, quickly followed by the erratic genius of drummer Keith Moon and the wailing of Rodger Daltrey, all supported by the steady base of John Entwistle. Honey comes charging out the door, attacking the stage. She’s wearing a short, Donna Reed type dress, sunshine yellow, with wide lapels and deep cleavage. The dress hits a few inches above her knees but it has a full petticoat, so it seems shorter while it bounces with each step. Every one can see the garter straps that hold her sheer stockings. She has matching yellow pumps with 5” heels, carrying a big yellow purse, her hair is piled up on her head in a kinda beehive style. Her makeup is bright and bold, red lipstick, dark lashes, ruby cheeks. She’s the image of a 50’s housewife as drawn by Alberto Vargas. Her costume shows a lot less than the usual strippers’ outfit, which somehow makes it sexier ... a lot sexier.
My life's in jeopardy
Murdered in cold blood is what I'm gonna be
I ain't been home since Friday night
And now my wife is coming after me
She circles the stage, looking both proud and angry, head high and turning, as if she is searching for someone. She circles the stage again.
Give me police protection
Gonna buy a gun so
I can look after number one
Give me a bodyguard
A black belt Judo expert with a machine gun
Her head stops moving around and she seems to focus on someone or something in the back corner of the room, a seductive smile spreading across her face. She reaches out, grabs the pole and spins around several times, keeping time with the driving drums. She drops the purse at the base of the pole, bends over at the waist, while keeping her feet together, showing the crowd her perfect ass. She unzips the purse, then slowly lets her legs start to spread apart, dropping into the splits, all the while still bent at the waist. Half the crowd groans with lust, while the other applauds and shouts.
Gonna buy a tank and an aeroplane
When she catches up with me
Won't be no time to explain
She thinks I've been with another woman
And that's enough to send her half insane
Gonna buy a fast car
Put on my lead boots
And take a long, long drive
I may end up spending all my money
But I'll still be alive
She rolls backwards, quickly stands up and then struts around the edge of the stage again, peeling off her dress as she does. It’s held together by Velcro patches and comes apart easily. Underneath, Honey’s wearing a white lace pushup bra, white satin waist cincher with garters and a tiny white thong. The style is again more 50’s housewife, except for the thong. She’s not playing it like a stripper, but like an unbelievably beautiful wife who is stripping for her husband, and every guy in the house is that husband. She grabs the pole, swings around several times with her legs trailing behind in the air, then flips upside down, her hair now free and falling straight down to the ground.
All I did was have a bit too much to drink
And I picked the wrong precinct
Got picked up by the law
And now I ain't got time to think
She crosses her ankles around the pole above her and lies back, the crack of her ass pressed into the pole and her body suspended parallel to the floor. She reaches up to her tits and unsnaps her bra, revealing her amazing boobs, letting the bra fall to the floor. She lies further back until her hands touch the floor. She uncrosses her ankles, releasing the pole. It’s now a handstand with her legs spread wide. She slowly drops to the floor, resting on her stomach, spins around, then rises up, first to her knees, then her feet. She parades around the stage again, playing with the Velcro holding her panties together, shaking her tits and fluffing her hair, swinging her ass.
Gonna buy a tank and an aeroplane
When she catches up with me
Won't be no time to explain
She thinks I've been with another woman
And that's enough to send her half insane
Gonna buy a fast car
Put on my lead boots
And take a long, long drive
I may end up spending all my money
But I'll still be alive
All the while, she has a kind of fire in her eyes and look of both lust and anger on her face, as if she wants to both fuck you and hurt you. Most of the crowd, at least those who aren’t too drunk to pay attention, are mesmerized. After finishing her lap of the stage, she returns to the pole, tears off her thong, jumps up, grasping the pole and spreading her legs, showing her cunt to the world. I made sure that she was very horny before her set tonight, it has been about twenty hours since she’d gotten a dose of my jism. Even though this place is full of foul odors and sweaty guys, I swear that you can actually smell her hot pussy. I’m at least forty feet away from the stage, but I think I can still catch just a hint of that familiar odor. Probably just my imagination.
And I'm oh so tired of running
Gonna lay down on the floor
I gotta rest some time so
I can get to run some more
She drops back down to her feet, then spins around the stage, hips swinging, tits bouncing, her feet keeping time with the manic drum beats. There is a fine sheen of sweat on her skin, giving her a glowing look. When she nears the pole, she stops and bends over again, just as before, this time her moist pussy is on display for all to see. She reaches into the purse and pulls out a penis shaped squirt gun, about 10” long. She strides around the stage, stopping now and then, legs spread wide, pointing it at different guys. If they beg her, she shoots them. After a few shots, she returns to the pole, leans back against it, her feet about three feet apart, knees slightly bent. Holding the squirt gun in her right hand, she slowly pushes it into her pussy, all the way to the trigger, while she kneads her tits with her left hand.
She's comin'!
She's comin'!
This keeps repeating, the crowd joining in on the chorus, as Honey fucks herself with the squirt gun, faster and faster. There’s still that look of anger and lust on her face but lust is winning. You could hear her moan if the music wasn’t so loud. Her eyes roll up into her head and her legs begin to tremble as she repeatedly pulls the trigger, filling her cunt. She collapses to her knees as an orgasm wracks her body, her head flailing left and right, her hair flying about. The crowd cheers and applauds. She slowly stands, pulling the squirt gun from her cunt, then curtseys and smiles at the crowd. She picks up her costume and props; then prances off the stage.
It couldn’t have gone any better. I could charge $100 bucks a head and twenty guys would line up to fuck her tonight. Unfortunately, there’s only time for five guys at best. This won’t last, so I better take advantage while I can.
When I get back stage, there is some woman hugging Honey, congratulating her. When she lets Honey go, I recognize her, she’s the person in charge of the Wrangler Girls, Baker I think.
“Terrific job, Honey! Just terrific!” I say. “There are at least twenty guys ready to fuck your brains out tonight. Get your costume back on and let’s get started.”
She’s still horny, so I should have some satisfied customers tonight and they will spread the word. I can probably milk this for a month or so. The other woman looks at me with disgust.
“You have a true artist here and you abuse her this way? I know that Amy wants her to suffer but there are limits to what a person should have to endure.”
“Look Lady, you got a problem, take it up with Hanson, until she says otherwise, this is the way it’s gonna be. Now, get your ass in gear, Honey.” She glances at the Baker bitch.
“Yes, Sir.”
Baker reaches out and touches her arm. “I am so proud of you Honey. It was an extraordinary performance. I hope to see you soon.”
“Thank you, Ms. Baker.”
I cough and point to the door. Honey scurries off to her room. Baker gives me a look of contempt, then leaves.
Time to make some money.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Anthony has given me good reports about Honey’s new routine and its effect on his clients. The videos that accompanied those reports confirmed that he was correct. It was mostly fairly vanilla sex but the men seemed enthusiastic. Honey was often just as enthusiastic, depending on the time of day. I think I enjoyed the encounters where she was less willing to participate the best. Sometimes I regret making it possible for her to enjoy intercourse so much but it does guarantee my control.
Andrea Baker came by three weeks ago and questioned my treatment of Honey. I politely listened and informed her that she was free to drop out of her “maintenance” program any time she liked. Needless to say, that shut her up in record time. She may have objections about how I do things but she would not jeopardize her own self-interest to help Honey, none of my people would. That is the power that I hold over them.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Things have started to calm down a bit since the new routine was introduced. I’m still getting above average attention but it’s slowly falling back to normal nuisance levels. Being so good up on the stage has pluses and minuses. One of the pluses is that it is an ego boost, proves I’m still good at something, very good actually. Another plus is the time I’m on my feet on stage or in the bar doing lap dances is time I’m not on my back in my room, which brings up one of the minuses. The better I am on stage, the more interest I attract and the more the scumbags line up to fuck me. That’s if I’m lucky. If I’m not lucky, fucking is just the beginning. I could just do the minimum on stage but Anthony has already seen me at my best and he won’t settle for any less now. He can be very persuasive.
Ms. Baker’s advice has been helpful. It is easier to get in the right mood if I can focus on one or two guys instead of the whole crowd. I’m careful to pick different people for each set, don’t want any particular guy thinking I’m coming on to him on a regular basis. That might cause trouble if I pick the wrong guy.
Anthony only has me do the new routine a couple of times a week, he wants to keep it fresh and special, which is fine with me because it’s a bitch. The rest of the time I do my old routines but even they are better with my new focus technique. It is hard to find someone in the crowd who doesn’t disgust or scare me but I can usually find somebody.
There is this one guy though, he’s ... hard to describe.
He’s here a lot, not every day but often three to four days a week, different days of the week for the last couple of weeks. Average height, average weight, brown hair, dresses in mostly gray or dark blue baggy clothes, never sits close to the stage but never at the same table. Always sits alone and doesn’t hire lap dances. The other girls asked him early on but when he turned them down, they stopped asking, looking for more willing targets. He nurses one or two drinks the whole time he’s here. He doesn’t shout or scream but isn’t depressed or frowning. You usually find two types at a strip club, guys ready to party and guys trying to cheer themselves up but this guy is neither, doesn’t smile, doesn’t sulk, just a bland look all the time. But he has bright, alert eyes, like he sees everything. He’s not happy, or sad, or nervous, or scared, or angry, he’s just ... comfortable. He does nothing to stand out, which kinda makes him stand out, if you know what I mean. I tried to use him as a guy I could focus on during a routine but it was no good, he would never react, never give me feedback. It was like playing to a blank wall. To be honest, he is so different from the usual customer; I think he scares me more than the obviously scary guys, at least with them I have some idea what to expect. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was a cop but Anthony pays off a couple of local cops and they ignore him completely.
As I said, he’s hard to describe.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Another relatively quiet Tuesday night. I had to toss a couple of bastards who showed up already nearly drunk. They were just looking to cause trouble, which I’ll tolerate if they’ll buy my booze but you do your drinking someplace else and I’ve got a short fuse.
Honey is just about to finish her new routine, well, new five weeks ago. It still gets a great reaction from the crowd, there’s just not much of a crowd. No matter what I try, Tuesdays and Wednesdays suck. I thought that if Honey did the new routine it might help but even that only added about ten people to the average. Only about three to four guys show any interest in fucking her, or getting blow jobs. At $50.00 a pop, that’s only $150.00 to $200.00 each of the two days. I’d reduce her rates but I don’t think it would help. After a while, customers just get tired of the same old house whore. They need variety.
I hear applause and look up from wiping the top of the bar. Honey’s picking up her stuff while the small crowd shows its appreciation. She did her usual good job, just one of those days. I go back to cleaning the bar. Someone sits down on a stool in front of me and coughs. I glance up at him.
“Can I help you, buddy?”
“Yes you can. I would like to speak with the owner or manager if he is available.”
“I’m both. What do you want to sell me?”
“Nothing, I just have a question. Who is responsible for the music used in that last set?” I give him a closer look.
Probably between 5’ 10” and 5’ 11”, 200 to 220 lbs, hard to say since his clothes are kinda loose on him. Brown hair, brown eyes, average complexion, nothing special. Calm look on his face. We’ll see about that. I rise up to my full 6’ 6” height and lean over the bar, looming above him.
“I am, what’s it to ya? You with the musician’s union or something?” This move intimidates the best of them but he just looks directly up at me, a little crooked smile on his face.
“No, I am not with the musician’s union, just a fan of The Who. It is my understanding that the run time of ‘My Wife’ is three minutes thirty six seconds, give or take, depending on which cut. The one I just heard was over six minutes. Where did you get that version?” I smile at that. I’m pretty good with the digital editing program.
“Made it myself. I needed it to be longer to fit Honey’s routine so I looped the instrumental sections between Daltry’s singing plus looped the end.”
“You certainly did a wonderful job. I have listened to it several times and could not hear a single glitch.”
“Thanks, it’s a hobby of mine.”
“You are certainly proficient.” Proficient? What does that mean. He’s smiling, so it must be good.
“Appreciate it Mr. ...”
“James, Bob James.” He reaches across the bar with his right hand. I take it to shake and give him an extra hard squeeze. He responds with almost the exact same pressure, possibly just a tiny little bit more. Pretty impressive for a guy his size.
“Anthony Coleridge, pleased to meet you, Bob. What can I get you?”
“Miller beer.”
“Light?”
“No thank you, regular please. I do not believe in light beer.” I nod in agreement and pour him a full glass, not the usual partial with extra foam. He picks up the glass, tips it slightly towards me; then takes a swig.
“You know Bob, you’re the first person who’s ever said anything about the music.”
He chuckles. “Not to denigrate your work but I certainly can see why. Your performer is extraordinary, a very attractive girl. I was wondering if she is available for some personal services?”
“Oh yeah, $50.00 and she’s yours for whatever you have in mind for up to an hour.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I have something more extended in mind. Would she be available for a couple of days, including overnights?”
“What?”
“Specifically, Monday evening from closing to opening on Thursday. I have been keeping track of her schedule the last few weeks and that is her slowest time period, rarely more than five clients a day, plus lap dances of course. I would guess that she averages less than $600.00 for the two day period.”
A lot less.
“I am willing to offer $1,000.00 for the same two days...” he opens his wallet, takes out three bills and lays them on the bar, one at a time “...for three consecutive weeks ... in advance.” Each one is a thousand dollar bill. DAMN! “If things go well, I may extend the engagement indefinitely.” GOD DAMN!
I can’t take my eyes off the pile of cash in front of me. A thou a week. That’s over $4,000.00 a month, $52,000.00 a year!
“What does she have to do for that kind of money?”
“Nothing extreme, nothing she has not likely done before. She will be completely safe, I assure you. If either you or she becomes uncomfortable with the arraignment, you can terminate it, no questions asked. Consider the three weeks as a trial period. Assuming it is successful, we go on from there.”
That’s a lot of green for just two days a week, particularly those two days. Sometimes it’s so slow that I have her blow me just out of boredom... OH SHIT! Overnights! She’d go nuts if she didn’t get a dose of my jizz at least once during that stretch. Damn it!
“Look, Bob ... it is Bob, right?”
“Yes.”
“OK Bob, I’d like to work that deal with you but Honey has ... a medical problem. She needs her medicine once a day.”
“It is not AIDS is it? Some other STD?”
“No! No, absolutely not, she’s not contagious or anything, she just needs to get it once a day.”
“That should not be a problem. Send the pills or liquid or injections with her and I will make sure she takes it. I am familiar with syringes so I should be able to handle any shots she needs.”
“Uhhhhh ... it may not be that simple. Let me talk to her doctor and see what she says.”
“I do have other candidates, Anthony, but Honey Sweet-Lay is my first choice, so I can wait up to a week before making my decision.”
“I appreciate that, man, ‘cause I’d like to do business with you if I can.”
“Good.” He slides off the bar stool. “I will speak with you next week.” He sticks his hand out again and we shake. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Anthony.” He picks up his money and leaves.
I hate to see that cash go. Time to talk with Doc Hanson.
CHAPTER THREE
I pulled up to gate in the driveway of Hanson’s house. I’d been here several times before, the first time to plant the drugs that framed Josh Thomas. She had bought the house when the bank foreclosed to collect on the unpaid mortgage. She bought practically everything that was in the house, including all Thomas’ trophies and memorabilia. I’ve brought some more of Honey’s tapes with me to grease the skids. There’s one with this guy who’s into water works that makes me sick to watch. Hanson will eat it up. I ring the bell. It takes a minute or two for the intercom to come on.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Anthony, Doc. I’ve got some new videos for you.”
“Anthony? It is almost ... 9:00p.m. Couldn’t you deliver them to my office tomorrow?”
“I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d save a trip. It’ll only take a couple of minutes, besides there’s one here I think you’ll really enjoy.” She doesn’t respond right away. The intercom crackles back to life.
“Very well, come on in, Anthony.” I hear the lock on the gate click open and it swings back as I drive in and park on the circle in front of the door. By the time I get to the front porch, Hanson is waiting for me at the door.
“Come in, Anthony.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I look around as I walk into the house. She’s removed everything that was here when she bought the place but I hear that it’s all in storage somewhere. New paint, new carpet, even moved the walls around. I stop in the living room. She walks past me and sits down on the couch.
“What do you have for me?”
I hand her the box of tapes. “Mostly the usual stuff but you should check out #3. Made me want to puke.” There’s a sick gleam in her eye. “I do have a quick question, Doc.”
“What is it, Anthony?”
“I and a couple of friends want to go on this week-long fishing trip in Canada, just a bunch of guys, you know. What do you suggest I do about Honey?”
“Simple, take her with you.”
“Your missing the point, Doc,. I don’t want to take her with me.”
“And you are missing my point, Anthony. You do not have any choice in the matter. You and she are joined at the hip. She goes wherever you go, at least if it is farther than a twenty four hour round trip.”
“Can’t you give her a shot or something? She started off just needing anybody’s semen, can’t you temporarily switch her back to that?”
“What you are asking for is not simple. You want me to alter her basic body chemistry for a week, then do it again a week later, just for your convenience. There is no guarantee that I can safely do either. No Anthony, this is the deal that you agreed to when I gave you Honey to punish and profit from. It’s a little late for second thoughts.”
“I really need this vacation from her, Doc. You don’t know what it’s like, having to be there every damn day.” I’m exaggerating quite a lot but the pressure has been nagging at me for some time. Wanting daily sex and being forced to have daily sex are two separate things.
“Sorry, Anthony, I can’t help you.”
Bullshit! She ain’t sorry and she could help me if she wanted, but it’s clear I won’t be getting any useful solutions from her tonight.
“Fine Doc, guess I’ll have to think of something else.”
“Good luck with that,” she says with a smirk. She doesn’t think I can do it, come up with an answer to my problem. Screw her! I leave the house, semi-slamming the door behind me. Looks like she won’t be getting any more tapes for a while, technical difficulties you know.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I’ve been thinking about it for three days but still nothing. I don’t see any way to get Honey through more than forty eight hours without sex with me. She’s only gone about thirty hours a few times and those were for the post Super Bowl parties for the Wranglers, which is pretty much non-stop sex for several hours with more than forty guys. Unless Bob James is an amazing sex machine, she’d wear him out by about hour twenty two. The only choice is for me to fuck her at least once during his time and how the hell do I explain that? Sorry to interrupt you Mr. James, but I need to fuck Ms. Sweet-Lay while she’s on your dime or she’ll go nuts in a few hours... Why? Because she used to be a famous pro athlete, maybe you’ve heard of Josh Thomas? Yes? Well she’s him and she’s addicted to my sperm. How did that happen? Don’t ask man, just don’t ask.
Yeah, I’m sure he’d understand that.
I pour myself another drink, bourbon, neat. Not that crap I serve at the bar but the good stuff I keep in my office. I take a slow sip, savoring the taste and the burn as it flows down my throat. Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. A little of that goes a long way...
Wait a minute ... could it be as simple as that?
There’s one way to find out. I should have all that I need around here somewhere. There’s several empty 8 oz. seltzer water bottles behind the bar, the condom machine is in the bathroom. I leave my office, walk down to the bar, pick up three empty bottles with screw caps and stop at the bathroom to get a condom. When I get back to my office I dig an old copy of “Playboy” out of the bottom drawer of my desk for inspiration, drop my pants, roll the condom over my cock and get down to business.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I had just finished cleaning up after fucking my last customer for the night. It was 2:24 a.m. and I was both tired and buzzed, tired because it had been a busy and long day, buzzed because I hadn’t had a taste of Anthony’s sperm all day. He’d taken to giving me my daily dose at the end of the workday so that I would be hot for my customers during the rush hours. I hear him walk down the hallway to my door.
“Finish up there, Honey, and come down to my office, be quick about it!” If it’s his office, that means it’s probably a blow job. Fucking usually happens in my room, though not always. I slip on a flimsy robe and heels; then rapidly walk to his office. The relief from my last orgasm is fading fast and I can feel my pussy getting wet in anticipation, my nipples swelling and hardening. Anthony’s sitting behind his desk, waiting for me.
“I’m ready, Sir.”
“I can see that, but we’re going to try a little experiment tonight.”
Oh God, what does that mean? He leans back and opens the mini-fridge in the wall behind him, removing an empty seltzer water bottle, one of the small ones. Oh ... wait, it’s not quite empty.
“Have a seat, Honey.” I pull the robe tight around me and sit in the chair opposite the desk. He pushes the bottle across the desk towards me. “Drink this.” I reach out, pick up the bottle, carefully remove the cap and sniff the opening. I can’t smell anything unusual. I want to ask him what this is but I don’t dare. Guess that the best I can do is hope that he doesn’t have a reason to hurt me too bad. After taking a deep breath, I upend the bottle, pour the liquid in my mouth and swallow. It’s a little salty, slightly thicker than water, tastes like ... my eyes open wide in surprise while Anthony laughs.
“That’s right, you guessed it. How do you feel?” I do a quick system check. My horniness is disappearing, falling back to my normal level, just like it always does when I get my dose of his semen. Why did he bottle his semen?
“I feel fine, Sir.”
“Any difference from how you usually feel after we have sex?”
“Not really.”
“Good! Do everything tomorrow just like normal and we’ll try this again. If this works, Honey, it could mean a whole new life for both of us.” He’s smiling like a maniac. I haven’t seen him so happy for some time. What the hell is going on?
“Is there anything else, Sir?”
“No, Honey, that’s it for now. Good night.”
“Good night, Sir.”
I return to my room, kick off the shoes, hang up my robe and climb into my stained and saggy bed. I get to put clean sheets on it in the morning, but I have to sleep in the mess left behind by my customers, in the nude. Another of Hanson’s goddamn rules. Usually, I’m so tired it doesn’t matter, but tonight, my mind is full of questions. What is Anthony up to? Why is he giving me his semen in a bottle? Is that going to change the way it affects me? Unfortunately, no matter how long I think about it, there are no answers, so eventually I fall asleep.
I’m just as confused in the morning when I wake up but I’m feeling OK, the same as usual. The day goes as normal, same routines on the stage, same lap dances, same soulless sex in my room as my need to be fucked slowly increases throughout the day. Anthony calls me back to his office at the end of the day and gives me another bottle from his fridge. Again, it quenches the heat in my pussy, leaving Anthony grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.
“Great! Great! This is going to work! Hanson can go fuck herself. Check with me when you get up, Honey. I want to make sure it’s all good.”
I still haven’t got any good ideas about what is going on but, so far, my life isn’t any worse, no better either, but the best I can hope for is that things don’t go downhill for me. I report to Anthony in the morning that everything seems normal. He couldn’t be happier. A happy Anthony makes my life more pleasant all around. He slaps me on the ass and sends me off to work.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I’m ready for Bob James when he comes back on Tuesday.
“Good day, Anthony. What did Honey’s doctor say?”
“Couldn’t be better news, Bob. She’s good to go. When do we start?”
“I would like to start next Monday evening, assuming my background check is satisfactory.”
“What background check?”
“I assume that you want to check me out, make sure that I do not have a criminal record, review my references, inspect my house, that sort of thing. You certainly have every right to make sure that Honey will be safe while in my company.” Shit! I hadn’t thought about that. Guess I can have one of the cops I’m paying off do some kind of check.
“Sure, of course, I was planning on doing that.” He takes a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and hands it to me.
“This is the important information, name, current address, last three prior addresses, date and place of birth, phone number and so on. If you want additional information, you can contact me. Do you have any questions right now?”
“No ... Yes, why are you doing this?”
“I would like to keep my motives private, at least for now. I can tell you that I am recently retired and looking to make some changes in my life.”
“Retired? Aren’t you a little young for that?” Looking at him, I can’t really tell how old he is but a bit of flattery can’t hurt.
“Early retirement. Anything else?”
“What did you do?”
“You mean my job? I was in shoe sales, importing from overseas and selling to stores in the United States.”
“Good money in that?”
“Enough that I can afford $1,000.00 per week for two days of your girl’s services.”
“Gotcha.”
“Anything else?”
“No, not now. Give me two days and I’ll call you.”
“That seems fair. I will speak with you then.”
After he leaves, I reach for the phone to call my cop.
CHAPTER FOUR
Anthony called me to his office early Monday.
“Have a seat, Honey.” I take the chair next to his desk.
“I’ve worked a deal with a guy who wants you to spend a couple of days each week at his house.”
HUH?
“I had him checked out and he’s legit, seems to be an OK guy.”
You’re gonna drop me at some stranger’s house and leave me?! What if he’s a freak? I could be dead before morning.
“He’s paying me a thousand dollars for Tuesday and Wednesdays, starting late Monday and ending early Thursday. Normally, I don’t like it when you ask me questions about what I’m doing because I’ve got you so well trained.”
He’s right. My first thought in any situation is almost always “What would Anthony like?”
“But since this is something new, I’ll let you ask me a few questions, just so we’re both sure about what I want.”
“Thank you, Sir... Do you know what he wants me to do?”
“No idea, I asked but he won’t say, though he did say that it wouldn’t be anything that you probably hadn’t done before.”
Great, I’ve done so much the last few years, that could be damn near anything.
“Whatever he wants, I expect you to do it unless it looks like he’s going to kill you. Not hurt you, kill you. You can put up with a little pain for $500.00 a day.”
My pain, your money.
“We’ve agreed to a three week trial period so I want you to make him happy, Honey.”
“What happens after three weeks, Sir?”
“Not sure. I think he wants it to continue long term if he can find the right girl. I want you to be that girl.”
He’s already spending the money in his mind. “Am I going to see you each day for my ... uh....”
“Daily dose of my ‘love juice’?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s what my experiments have been about. It occurred to me that while you need a serving of my jism each day, we didn’t know exactly how big that serving needs to be. I’ve been jacking off, catching it in a condom and dividing it up into smaller doses. You’ve been on half rations the last few days but seem to be fine. I had a friend get me some small re-sealable medicine bottles. I’ll put a dose in each bottle and you’ll take two with you. I’ve already told James that you’re taking some kind of medication so you should be golden. Just make sure you bring the empties back with you, I can reuse them.”
“What is my medical problem?”
“You don’t have one.”
“I know, Sir, but what do I tell him if he wants to know why I need medicine?”
Anthony pauses, apparently he hadn’t thought that one out yet, then he chuckles. “Tell him it’s a protein supplement, which is technically true.”
“What if he asks other questions about me?”
“Lie to him Honey, make something up. Don’t even think about telling him the truth, though, because you know what Doc Hanson would do about that.”
I do know. “Yes, Sir. Do I need to take anything with me?”
“He didn’t say.”
Well what the HELL do you know?
“I assume he’ll provide any clothes or costumes he wants you to wear.”
“When am I leaving?”
“Midnight tonight. I’m going to check out his place and then you’re staying if everything is OK. I'll give you a cell phone so that you can call if things get too dicey.”
“Do I know him?”
“His name is Bob James, ring any bells?”
“No, Sir.”
“I can’t say that I recognize him so he may not have been here before or maybe only once before, but he had seen your act and was impressed. He also knew your schedule around here.”
Anyone who sees my act is impressed.
“Are you worried about this deal, Honey?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m sure it'll all work out. Just make sure he’s a happy camper come Thursday morning, you got that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Fine, get back to work then.”
The rest of the day goes pretty quickly because I’m obsessing about who wants two whole days with me and what exactly he is expecting me to do for him. There is no way this can be good. Ever since I became a whore for Anthony, I’d done things I never dreamed of, shit I’d never even considered doing to a girl when I was a man. The one saving grace was that any particular john had limited time. Even if they were into beating me, they only had a short time before Anthony would come and kick them out so the next guy could get a shot at me. Now I’m going from one hour to forty eight or more hours. It could be a long term bondage thing, some kinda extended role play or something really kinky like S & M, and my only protection is a cell phone, to be used only if I’m about to die. How fast is Anthony? How long before he shows up to save me? A cell phone is better than nothing, but not much better.
As Anthony drives to my new client’s home, I look around at the scenery as it rolls by. I don’t get out much, only a couple of times in the last three years. We seem to be heading to one of the northern suburbs. At least it isn’t some isolated farmhouse. After passing several subdivisions, we turn into one of the older ones and pull up in front of an inconspicuous split level with a brick front and two car garage. Anthony opens his door.
“You stay put until I check the place out. I’ll come and get you. If the other guy comes to get you, drive like hell to the cops.” Anthony gets out of the car and I walk around to sit in the driver’s seat.
Anthony walks slowly to the front door, looking around as he approaches the house. He rings the bell and waits. In a few seconds, the door opens. I can’t see the other persons’ face. Anthony steps in and the door closes. Nothing happens for several minutes. I fidget with my dress, pulling the too short hem down my thighs. I couldn’t figure out what to wear so Anthony chose the black mini tank dress. It’s pretty low cut, showing a lot of my cleavage. It’s also very tight, clinging to every curve. The black patent leather shoes have 3 ½” heels, my shortest. I’ve got my purse for some makeup, Anthony’s bottled semen in a small cooler bag, and the phone. Being dressed like a whore in the club is bad enough but being out in the real world is much worse, who knows who may see me.
Suddenly the front door opens and Anthony steps out. He’s smiling so he must be happy. He quickly strides to the car and opens my door.
“You’re up, Honey. Everything looks fine to me. Remember, make him happy.” I slide out of the seat and he slides in, slamming the door shut. “I’ll see you Thursday morning.” He starts the car and drives away, leaving me standing, nearly naked, on the driveway, my arms crossed in front of my chest, hugging my slim shoulders. I look towards the front door. There’s someone standing there, in the shadows. I take a deep breath and walk towards the door. Where else can I go?
The closer I get, the better I can see his face. I pause and squint at him.
OH FUCK JESUS GOD! It’s that scary quiet guy from the club, the one who sits in the back! I could run, but where could I go? What would Anthony do to me when he found me? I’ve got no choice but to go on, just like I have no choice in the rest of what passes for my life. I try to put a smile on my face as I keep walking towards his door. When I reach it, he steps forward, smiling, offering me his hand. I take it and we shake hands.
“Hello, Ms. Sweet-Lay, I am Bob James, please come in.” He steps aside and extends his arm into the open doorway.
“Thank you, Sir.” I walk through the door into a small foyer. He shuts the door and steps past me.
“I will give you a quick tour of the house.” We step into the living room. “Obviously, this is the living room. Down this hall are three bedrooms. The first one is mine, the second is yours, the third I use as my office.” We step into his bedroom, there is a king size bed, a large dresser, a small table on each side of the headboard and a large bookcase on one wall, holding a TV, VCR, DVD Player, Stereo and lots of books. I back out of the room into the hallway and look in the second bedroom. It has a queen size bed, a wooden rocking chair, the same two tables by the headboard, a dresser and smaller bookcase. I walk in and open the closet. It’s empty, so is the dresser. I sit on the edge of the bed and bounce slightly. This is a quality mattress. It also has a private bath. I look up and see Mr. James in the doorway.
“Let’s see the rest of the house,” he says.
He leads me to the kitchen. It’s larger than you might expect for a house this size, nicely equipped, two ovens, gas range, microwave, big fridge. He walks to the sliding glass door, flips on the outside floodlights and opens the door. I look outside. It’s a fenced in yard with a solid wooden eight foot fence, an in-ground pool with attached hot tub and natural stone tile all around. Very impressive. Not as nice as my old house but not bad. I step out and walk around a bit. Mr. James follows me.
“I bought it primarily for the kitchen and the pool, though I have not used either as much as I thought I would. Please come back in, Ms. Sweet-Lay, we have a lot to talk about.” I walk back in and he slides the door shut. “Have you had supper yet?”
Anthony had given me a bologna sandwich to eat on the way over. “No, Sir.”
“It is too late to fix anything, how about pizza?” I haven’t had a decent pizza in years.
“That would be fine, Sir.”
He picks up the phone and dials a number. “What kind of toppings do you like?”
“Whatever you want, Sir.”
“Come now, you must have a favorite?”
“No, whatever you want will be fine.”
He looks skeptical but goes on with his order. “Yes, a large sausage and pepperoni with cheese breadsticks please... No, we have our own drinks, thank you.” He gives them his address and phone number; then hangs up.
“It will be twenty minutes but we can start our talk now. Do you want something to drink? I have Coke, 7-Up, and bottled tea, plus water, of course.”
“No thank you, Sir.” Again, he gives me that puzzled look.
“Very well, we can talk in the living room.”
He walks through the door and I follow. There is a recliner, a love seat and a couch, along with a coffee table, a couple of floor lamps, magazine rack/table, a wall sized bookcase surrounding a 50” plasma TV. He sits in the recliner and indicates that I sit on the love seat. I sit down, smoothing my dress underneath me, keeping my knees together.
“Ms. Sweet-Lay, I am sure that you are full of questions. Even if Anthony told you everything he knew, you should still have questions because I did not tell him much, he seemed more concerned about the money. Do you have any questions?”
“No, Sir.”
“First, please call me ‘Bob’. I am not a ‘Sir’. Will you do that for me, Ms. Sweet-Lay?”
“Yes Si... Bob.” He gives me crooked smile.
“Thank you, Ms. Sweet-Lay. Are you sure you do not have any questions?”
Of course I do but I dare not ask them. “No questions.”
He slowly shakes his head. “Anthony must have done a real number on you. No favorite pizza, no questions. We will see about that later. Since you have no questions, let me start. I have retained your services for the next two days. As long as you are here, you will have your own room, to decorate as you wish, at my expense, within reason. No screwy paint schemes or holes in the wall or original Picassos, but I am flexible. In the morning, after breakfast, we will go out and get you an appropriate wardrobe, again, within reason. There will not be a lot of clothes at first but that can change if things go well. The next three weeks are a trial period, to see how we get along together. If all goes well and you are in agreement, I plan to extend this arrangement indefinitely. Oh, I almost forgot. Anthony said that you had some medication that needed to be refrigerated.”
“Yes Si ... Bob.” He smiles again. It’s not a bad smile, a little crooked, more like a smile/sneer but his eyes are bright and clear.
He stands up. “Hand them to me and I will put them in the kitchen fridge.” I don’t want to let them out of my sight, but they do need refrigeration so I reluctantly hand them to Bob. He walks to the kitchen and I hear the fridge door open with a ‘whoosh’, then it quickly closes. He is back in seconds.
“After clothes shopping, we will go the grocery store and stock up a bit. The rest of the days will involve cooking and cleaning. Can you cook, Ms. Sweet-Lay?”
Actually, I can. When I was in college, the jocks were in either “Sports Management,” “Criminal Justice Studies,” or “Restaurant and Hotel Management,” my major. You had the occasional player who was also a student, but most of us spent our non-practice time at the frats playing video games. The coaches made sure that the fix was in on our grades so no one ever actually went to class unless absolutely necessary. I blew off my share of classes, but discovered that I really enjoyed some of my RHM classes, mostly cooking. My mom always said that if you enjoyed eating, you better learn how to cook. I don’t know if it was the teachers, or the ability to eat your homework or the high babe to male ratio, but I rarely missed a cooking class. I also used that particular skill when I was trying to seduce a reluctant woman. If my charm and good looks weren’t enough, my “Seafood Fettuccini a la Thomas,” a Caesar Salad and a good bottle or two of wine would usually do the trick. It’s been some time since I prepared a decent meal but it’s one of those riding-a-bicycle skills you never lose.
“Yes, I can cook.”
“Good! Glad to hear it. Anyone can clean, you just need the proper instruction, but not everyone can be a good cook.” The doorbell rings. “Must be our pizza, I will be right back.” He goes to the door and I hear a brief, muffled conversation. He’s back in less than a minute with the pizza box.
“Not exactly fine dining but it will do in a pinch. Shall we eat in the kitchen?” I don’t know if that is a question or a polite order but I stand up and follow him to the kitchen. He sets the box on the table, goes to a cupboard for two plates, then opens a drawer for knives and forks. The last things are some paper napkins from a dispenser on the counter. I sit down on the wooden chair.
“Would you like something to drink now?” I would but I can’t decide what. I’ve spent the last three years wearing, eating, and doing what I’ve been told. I’m actually out of practice making decisions about what I want. I just sit there, frozen. Mr. James lightly touches my hand. I look up at him. He smiles back. “Would you like a Coke?” I smile in relief.
“Yes, a Coke would be good. Thank you ... Bob.” He goes to the fridge, gets a plastic bottle of Coke and a can of Sprite, hands the Coke to me and sits down. We eat in silence, studying each other.
He seems harmless enough. In this environment, he’s very normal. I guess the guys you meet in a strip club aren’t exactly a representative sample of men in general. Still ... there’s just something about him. I must be hungrier than I thought because I eat about two-thirds of the pizza. Bob just watches me scarf it down. Once I finish the last piece, he stands up.
“It has been a long day and I anticipate that the next two will also be long and busy. It is probably best if we get some sleep. You do not have any night clothes with you and you may prefer to sleep without any, but I do have an extra large T-shirt you could wear, if you want.” I hesitate, another decision to make.
“Yes, I will. Thank you.”
“You are welcome Ms. Sweet-Lay. I want you to know that you can ask me any question that you wish. I may not answer it but I will never object to you asking it. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. I will show you to your room.”
We stand up and he leads me back to the hallway and into “my” room. “There are towels here,” he opens a cabinet in the bathroom “along with soap, shampoo and conditioner. We can get things more to your liking tomorrow but they should do for now.” He reaches into a bathroom drawer and removes a big T-shirt, handing it to me. “If there is nothing else, I will bid you good night.” He nods his head slightly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I wait a few seconds and then try the door. It’s unlocked. It does have a push lock built into the handle. I push it in. Probably not much of a lock but it does give me a bit of peace of mind. I undress, hanging my dress in the closet, placing my shoes next to the bed and my underwear on the chair. After washing my face, I slip the T-shirt over my head. It’s like a sleepshirt, warm and comfortable. I walk back to the bed, pull down the covers and slide in. The sheets are crisp and cool but quickly warm up. The mattress is firm but soft, just the way I like it, particularly compared to the bag of lumps that I sleep on at the club. I am nearly asleep when there’s a knock at my door.
“Ms. Sweet-Lay? Is everything acceptable?”
“Yes, Bob, very acceptable.”
“Good, I will see you in the morning, then.”
“Bob?”
“Yes, Ms. Sweet-Lay?”
“You can call me Honey ... if you want.”
“Certainly ... Honey, sleep tight.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I had several dreams that night but can’t recall any of them clearly. They weren’t nightmares, which is different from the usual. When I wake up, I’m confused for a few moments, not recognizing where I am, then remember that I’m not at the club. I sit up and look around, blinking the sleep from my eyes. It’s dark in the room, the curtains drawn shut. Crawling out of the bed, I open the curtains, letting the light stream in. The window overlooks the pool, the morning sun bouncing off the ripples moving across its surface. I stare at it for a few minutes, almost hypnotized by the effect. The smell of fresh brewed coffee snaps me out of it. I walk barefoot to the door, unlock it, slowly push it open and then stick my head out. I hear someone moving around in the kitchen. Might as well get the day started. I carefully move down the hall, through the living room and peek into the kitchen.
Bob is at the stove, his back to me. The coffee pot is to his left, popping and hissing as the last few drops drip out of the filter basket and fall into the pot. Suddenly the bread pops up in the toaster to his right. When he reaches over to pick up the toast, I can see that he’s frying eggs on the range, spitting hot oil all around. Bob seems not to notice as the oil hits his forearms.
“Good morning, Honey. Did you sleep well?” He doesn’t even turn around when he says that, how did he know I was there? I step into the room, rubbing my eyes with the back of my left hand.
“Good morning ... Bob. I slept fine. It’s a very good bed.”
“I am glad you were comfortable. Would you care for some coffee?”
“Leaded or unleaded?”
“Leaded, of course. I’m not into healthy eating, particularly breakfast. I am frying eggs, is that acceptable for you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“There are coffee cups in that cupboard, along with plates. If you would set the table, I will finish up here.” He nods towards a cabinet to his right. I open it, remove two cups and plates, place them on the table and get some utensils from the drawer, setting them next to the plates. Bob carries the pan over to the table and slides the eggs onto the plates. He returns to the stove, opens the oven and takes several pieces of toast out, setting three on each plate. “You can pour the coffee, Honey.” I remove the pot from the coffee maker and fill each cup. “I tend to make it a bit strong so you may need to add a little water.”
“I like it strong.”
He grins at me. “Glad to hear it. There is sugar on the table and milk in the fridge.” I sit down, careful to keep my knees together. The T-shirt is long enough, but I’m not wearing any panties. Bob is also wearing a T-shirt plus pajama pants. I add two teaspoons of sugar to my cup and stir. Bob takes his coffee black.
“Dig in, Honey. I am afraid that my eggs taste worse when they cool.” I take a bite. They are more than a little greasy so he’s probably right but I won’t bitch. It’s been some time since I had fresh eggs in the morning. Snarfing them down, I occasionally glance at Bob, who’s watching me, that slightly crooked smile on his face. I finish first but he’s right behind me. He stands up, takes both our plates to the sink, refills the coffee cups and sits back down.
“I know that you have questions Honey, anyone would in your position. But, for whatever reason, you do not feel comfortable asking. Let me explain a few things that might put your mind at ease. I have not brought you to my home for sex or some kind of kinky activity. While you are a very beautiful girl, perhaps as attractive as any I have ever seen, I do not have a need for those kinds of services. What I do have a need for is someone to occasionally cook and clean and some companionship. I have visited many establishments like the one where you work and found you to be the most appealing.” He shrugs. “Do not ask me why, it was just a gut reaction.”
I bet it wasn’t just his gut that reacted. Nobody pays the kind of money he’s paying for someone like me and not expect to get some kind of sex, the freakier the better. I think Bob read the skepticism on my face. There’s that smile again.
“I certainly understand that you may not believe me. I can hardly blame you, given the life that you have led. I can only imagine what it has been like.”
Now it’s my turn to smile. “No, I don’t think you could.”
“Perhaps you are right Honey. Regardless, I hope to earn your trust over the next few weeks, if not your trust, at least the benefit of the doubt. The first step is to get you some appropriate clothes.”
“Like a French Maid outfit?”
“Only if that is what you want to wear. I certainly would not object but was thinking more along the lines of jeans, polo shirt, and comfortable shoes, whatever you are content with. They need to be functional and I have always thought that the classic French Maid costume, while extremely erotic, would be a handicap when scrubbing floors or doing the laundry. But that is just my opinion”
Is he serious? That’s all he wants from me? “You said I could ask any question?”
“Yes, but I also said that I may not answer it. I will have questions for you in the days to come and I do expect answers.” He shrugs again. “I realize that this is not fair but that is the way it will be, at least for now. We have an employer/employee relationship currently, though that could change, I hope it does.”
“OK. What is all this about? Really? This is just too weird to be true.”
“Everything is as I have told you, no funny business.”
“But you could hire cleaners or cooks for less.”
“I am looking for more than a cook or cleaner can provide.”
“What’s that?”
He winks at me. “One of the questions I will not answer ... for now. Are you ready to get a new wardrobe?”
“If you say so, Bob.”
He shakes his head. “We will need to work on that too accommodating attitude, Honey, but that is for later. You get dressed in your clothes from yesterday and we will leave in five minutes.”
I’m uncomfortable in my mini-dress from yesterday. At the club, I blend in with the rest of the girls, but out in public with regular people, I look like the classic whore. Bob drives to a nearby Super Wal-Mart. It’s early on a weekday so the store’s not too crowded. As we walk through the aisles towards the women’s section, I’m looking down, trying to hide behind Bob. When we get to the racks with casual clothes, Bob steps back.
“There you are, Honey, pick out something you like. I would suggest pants of some kind but if you are happier with a skirt or dress, that is up to you.”
I start to browse through the pants, but don’t know my size. Since the change, I’ve worn nothing but short, slutty dresses or stage costumes. Besides, there are so many items to choose from. I’ve spent the last three years doing what I’ve been told to do. Even if I get to decide something, my objective is to do what will keep either Anthony or Dr. Hanson happy. I don’t know what makes me happy, other than not being beaten or tortured. I keep looking through the clothes, killing time, hoping that Bob will tell me what to pick.
“Is there a problem, Honey?”
“No ... no ... I ... uh...” I grab the nearest pair of pants. “What do you think of these? Are they OK?”
He cocks his head slightly to one side. “What size are they?”
I look at the label. “12”
“And what size are you?”
“Uhhh ... I ... I’m not sure.”
“A teenage girl who does not know her own size? I may not be the most astute person in the world when it comes to the opposite sex, but it is my understanding that teenage girls tend to be somewhat obsessive about clothes.”
“I don’t get out much, and I’m not a teenager, I’m twenty two.”
He holds out his hand. “Let me see your driver’s license.” I fish my wallet out of my purse and hand it to him. He flips it open. “Huh, date of birth, April 1, 1986. I stand corrected, though I would have guessed eighteen, nineteen at most, which is odd because your type of career tends to make a woman appear older than she is, not younger. Why are you the exception?”
I can’t tell him the truth, both Anthony and Dr. Hanson would kill me, or worse. Besides, he’d never believe it and I’ve got no proof of anything. “Good genes, I guess.”
“You had a beautiful, youthful mother?”
Actually, she was very pretty. “Yeah … sure.”
“You sound uncertain of that.”
“I’m certain, she was always beautiful and looked young for her age, so did my dad.”
“Really? How lucky for you. Where are they now?”
I’m ready for that one. “Dead, died in a car accident, a drunk driver.” That always gets me a sympathetic apology and a quick switch to a new subject.
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did your parents die? Where did it happen? What was the driver’s alcohol level? What kind of car did they drive?”
I don’t know how to answer him. No one has ever asked any follow up questions before because they don’t really care about the details. “Is all that necessary? Why do you even care?”
I get that crooked grin again, but this time it seems a bit more malicious. “Just trying to get to know you a bit better, Sorry if I upset you, Honey. Perhaps you should take several pairs to the dressing room to determine your correct size.” I grab four pairs and hustle to the changing room.
After closing the door to the cubicle, I shimmy out of my dress, kick off my shoes, remove the pants from the hanger and step into them, pulling them up past my hips. They’re too big and too long. I haven’t been permitted to wear pants since I escaped from Dr. Hanson’s clinic just before my final transformation, and they didn’t fit either. I try on the remaining pairs and find one that actually fits pretty well. Turning in front of the mirrors, I have to admit that I have a spectacular ass and fabulous legs. Anthony might actually like these. Having figured out my size, I put my dress back on, take the other pants back to the rack and find two more pairs that match the first.
“Are you sure that you want three identical pairs of pants? You can get other styles if you wish.”
“No, these fit fine.”
He shrugs. “It is your choice. Now, what about some tops?” We walk over to the next aisle where I grab a couple of different types of shirts, mostly short sleeves. I return to the changing room, put the pants back on and start trying on shirts. Two button front cotton shirts fit best, a little long but really nice across the bust. The blue polo also fits. I leave the changing room wearing the polo and pants.
“Are these OK?”
“Very nice, Honey, very nice. That color compliments your eyes.” I can feel myself start to blush. “You can wear those to the shoe area if you wish.”
“Oh thank you! I felt like everyone was staring at me in that dress.”
He chuckles. “They were, but you may get almost as many stares in those pants, at least from the males. Likely fewer looks of disgust from the females though.”
I go back to the changing room, put my heels back on, pick up my selections and dress, and then head for the shoe area. I chose three pairs of sneakers. It’s been so long since I’ve worn less than a 3” heel, they feel weird at first but the more I walk in them, the more comfortable they feel. It’s hard to believe that I’m strolling through a store in regular clothes, wearing comfortable shoes, among people who aren’t grabbing or screaming at me.
Our next stop is the underwear aisle, where I quickly select some plain white cotton bras, panties and socks. I know my bra and panty sizes, 36 D and 6. I toss them into the cart that Bob picked up.
“That should do for now.” he says. “There is a grocery store here, not exactly gourmet faire but good for purchasing staples. We can get a few necessities and then go back home. Ultimately, I will expect you to do the grocery shopping on your own along with planning meals, but we will do it together for awhile, until you get comfortable.”
Cleaning? Meal planning? If this is sexual, it’s a kink I’ve never heard of. We select some steaks and fish along with fresh vegetables and pasta for the next two days. I’ll need to take inventory when I get back to the house to see what I have to work with and what else I may need to buy. No matter what, I’ll be eating better the next two days than I have the last three years. We check out, load up Bob’s car and drive back to his house. After putting the groceries away, I go to “my” room, unwrap my clothes, hang them up or put them in the dresser drawer. I stop to look at myself in the mirror, turning left, then right. It’s been years since I’ve worn clothes that don’t cause me intense embarrassment. I’d gotten used to the feeling but it never went away. Seeing myself in normal clothes for a girl my age, I felt ... not happy but ... at ease. Maybe that’s part of the plan, get me comfortable then spring the big surprise on me, whatever that is.
I return to the living room where Bob is waiting for me.
“Since supper is going to be simple tonight, I thought that we could start with some basic cleaning, dusting, vacuuming, laundry, that sort of thing. I will help today to give you an idea as to what I want and I will help in the future, if I can.” We start in the living room and work our way through the house until about 1 o’clock. We take a break while I use the pasta and vegetables to make a light lunch. Bob has water but I have a couple of glasses of white wine. He helps me do the dishes and then we return to cleaning. While we work, Bob asks me a lot of questions, just trying to get to know me he says. What kind of movies I like, my favorite foods, sports I played, my hobbies, favorite TV shows, where I went to school and so on. I’d used those types of questions in the past when I was trying to score with a chick but it doesn’t feel like he’s hitting on me. Of course, he doesn’t have to; he’s paying $500.00 a day. I can’t answer all his questions truthfully so I lie when necessary. The house is already pretty clean so there’s not that much to do. Bob doesn’t seem to be interested in deep cleaning, just keeping things neat and well kept.
We’re done by 5:15 p.m. so I start supper. Bob has a gas grill outside in the back. He grills the steaks while I make a salad and asparagus soup. It’s a nice evening so we eat outside by the pool. I have a red wine this time. He keeps asking me questions, always pleasantly. If I don’t have a good answer, he asks follow up questions. Sometimes, I can’t come up with a good lie. He just smiles and moves on to the next question.
“What were your favorite television programs when you were young, Honey? Mine was ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle’.”
“Didn’t the same people do “George of the Jungle’, ‘Super Chicken’ and ‘Tom Slick’? Those were ones I liked.”
“You are correct, Jay Ward Productions did them all. They also did ‘Fractured Flickers’.”
“Afraid that was before my time.”
He smiles again. “Well, there is a slight difference in our ages. That was a delicious meal, Honey, I am quite impressed. You sit and I will clean up.” He picks up the dirty dishes and carries them back into kitchen. I hear the water running as he starts to wash them. I lean back in my chair and prop my feet up in Bob’s empty chair, sipping my last glass of wine. Looking around, I realize how nice the house and pool are. I could definitely get used to this.
It only takes about fifteen minutes for Bob to finish in the kitchen. He comes back outside when he’s done.
“I was planning on watching a movie tonight Honey. There is a fairly extensive DVD collection in the binders on the shelf in the living room. Have you ever seen ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’?”
“Are you kidding? Who hasn’t seen ‘Raiders’? I actually first saw it at a sneak preview that had practically no advertising.”
“You did?”
“Yep. There was an ad in the paper about a sneak preview of the new George Lucas and Steven Spielberg movie starring Harrison Ford. I thought, hey, if it’s even half as good as ‘Star Wars’, I can’t go wrong. So I walked into the theater without any idea what the movie was about. It was like two thirds full and I had a perfect seat.”
“What is your perfect seat?”
“Dead center, one third of the way back from the screen. They also had just installed a new sound system. When that Paramount logo faded into that shot of the mountain and that whip sound cracked from the back to the front of the theater, it just blew me away. My knees were actually weak when I walked out of that movie.”
“So you would not object to watching it tonight?”
“I’d love it. You got popcorn?”
“And palm oil.”
“Oooohhhh, that stuff will kill you, too bad it tastes so good. I’m ready when you are.”
Bob’s popcorn popper was one of those Stir Crazy poppers, six quarts with a built in stirring rod. I made two batches and filled a big wooden bowl, which I carried out to the living room and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch. He dimmed the lights and started the movie. It is a nice plasma TV and a kick ass sound system, nearly as good as the THX system in the theater where I first saw it years ago. Harrison Ford looks really young ... and hot.
Jeez, I haven’t taken my daily dose of Anthony’s semen yet. I can feel my pussy start to get wet as I fantasize about fucking Harrison Ford. I manage to shake that image out of my head but become antsier as the movie continues. I concentrate on eating the popcorn to fight the urge to start rubbing my cunt through my pants. Bob reaches over and touches my arm.
“I need to go to the bathroom. I can pause the movie or let it play. Which would you prefer?”
“Pause it. I need to go take my medication, anyway. It’s still in the fridge, right?”
“Yes. I will be right back.” Bob stands up and quickly walks to his bedroom. That seems a little odd, why the rush? Not my business I guess. I walk just as quickly to the kitchen, open the fridge, remove the little glass bottle, unscrew the top and drink the contents. I can’t taste anything because of the popcorn I’d eaten. There’s a little left in the bottle so I stick my index finger in the mouth of the bottle, swirl it around, remove it and then lick it clean. I screw the lid back on and return the empty bottle to the fridge. Anthony wants the empties back; I guess he plans to reuse them. I pause to check my level of arousal. The treatment seems to be working; my pussy no longer tingles for attention.
I take a bottle of Coke from the fridge and return to the living room. Bob’s not back yet. I go over to his bedroom and knock on the door.
“Bob? Do you want something to drink with the popcorn?” He doesn’t say anything right away.
“Yes Honey, I will have a 7-Up. Thank you for asking. I will be right out.”
I go back to the kitchen and grab a bottle of 7-Up. Bob is back on the couch by the time I return. He pushes “play” on the remote as I sit down and hand him his drink.
“Thank you, Honey.”
“You’re welcome.”
The movie starts again and I reach for another handful of popcorn. Bob hasn’t tried to make any kind of move on me at all, which leaves me confused and ... slightly disappointed. I don’t get a gay vibe from him so why hasn’t he even made the slightest attempt to mess with me? He’s paying lots of good money for my time so he could just order me to do whatever he wants. I get the impression that he’s not the shy type but I don’t know what type he is. No matter what, so far, it’s a hell of a lot better here than at the club.
Damn! Harrison Ford really was hot ... wonder why I never noticed it before?
* * ** * ** * ** * *
My alarm goes off at 7:30 a.m. Bob told me last night that all the meal planning would be my job today, except for breakfast because he’s already ordered eggs, juice, toast and fruit. After breakfast, I’m supposed to inventory all the food supplies and then go buy what I need, on my own. This will be the first time I’ve been out alone in years. I take a quick shower and change into a new outfit, one I bought yesterday. I pull my hair into a long ponytail and head for the kitchen. Bob’s door is still closed.
I start with the fruit, peeling oranges, chopping pineapple, slicing grapes and bananas. Next is the toast because I can keep that warm in the oven. The frying pan is hot and ready when Bob comes into the kitchen. He eats his fruit while I fry the eggs, sunny side up. Once they’re done, I place them on a warm plate I take from the oven. Bob cuts them up and takes the first bite.
“These eggs are quite good, Honey, quite good indeed. Certainly better than mine. You will need to show me how you did that. Aren’t you eating something?”
“I already have. I’ll get to work once the dishes are done.”
“It should not take you all day to complete your assignments. You are free to use the DVD collection, library, internet or pool if you have the time, though you would need to purchase a suit if you plan to swim.”
“It looks pretty private out there, is a swim suit necessary?” My back is turned towards him but I can hear the grin in his voice.
“Well, that is up to you Honey. I do not want the neighbors complaining about a beautiful naked girl in my hot tub, though I suspect that I may only get complaints from the female neighbors.”
“Anthony may not like it if I have tan lines.”
“You would know that better than I. I do know that you make a very good breakfast.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “Here is $300.00. That should cover the cost of what you need to purchase today, including a swim suit if you decide that you need one.” I take the money from his hand and pocket it. “I will expect receipts for all purchases.”
“I should be back in plenty of time to fix lunch.”
“Do not hurry unnecessarily. Just make sure that it is lunch for two, I expect you to eat as well as I do.”
Bob finishes his meal and I quickly clean the kitchen, it really wasn’t much of a mess. By the time I’m done, Bob is in his office. I look in the door before entering. He is sitting in the desk chair, his back to me, but I can tell something is wrong. He is sitting up, head cocked to one side, arms locked, hands grasping the arms of the chair, his body all ... stiff. I don’t think he’s breathing. I watch him for a couple of seconds. Just as I start towards him, he slumps down, relaxing and taking a big breath.
“Are you OK?” He swivels the chair around to the left so that he can see me.
“Yes Honey, I am fine. Just a muscle spasm.” I’ve seen lots of muscle spasms in my time and that wasn’t a muscle spasm, unless it was every one in his body. That looked more like a seizure, but I’m not going to question him, it’s none of my business,
“I need the car keys Bob. Any suggestions about where I should shop?”
“You know where the Wal-Mart is but there is a Super Target two blocks north along with an Albertson’s one block west of that. I believe that there is also a Jerry’s Supermarket and a Kroger in the vicinity. Any of them would do for now.” He reaches into a desk drawer and tosses me the keys, which I easily catch with my left hand. “Nice catch. Drive carefully, Honey.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I walk to my room, grab my purse, then go to the garage, get in the car, adjust the seat and mirrors, push the remote to open the garage door, start the car and drive off. I feel a sense of freedom, though I know I’m not going far. Still, just driving a car gives me the feeling of control, something that has been missing in my life for so long that I can’t clearly remember the last time I felt it.
I like it!
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I stopped at all five stores, not wanting my day out to end. Strolling up and down the aisles, pushing a grocery cart, mixing with normal people, it all felt like a different world. Sure, I attracted a certain amount of attention, how could I not, but nothing like dancing at the club. No one hassled me, fondled me ... fucked me. Time was running out and I needed to get back to Bob’s house.
The last thing I did was to check out swim suits at Target. I wasn’t kidding; Anthony wouldn’t want me to have tan lines. He’d bitched at some of the other girls about it, one of his pet peeves. He couldn’t control them but he sure as hell could control me. But, I could go out after the sun goes down. An evening swimming or in the hot tub would be great. I don’t know what Bob’s got in mind so a suit makes sense. I look through the whole rack, searching for something not too sexy. Unfortunately, anything short of a burlap sack would be sexy on me, and some guys would get off on the sack. There’s this black one piece that’s not too bad, a little high in the leg, a little low in the front, but it’s the best choice of the lot.
After checking out, I take everything to the car. There are a couple of young guys following me, watching my ass as I walk ahead of them. I’ve seen the look in their eyes before, in the eyes of my many “clients”. They both want me bad. Thank God it’s the middle of the day, the parking lot is busy and they’re forty feet behind me. The keys are in my hand by the time I get to the car. I hit the remote which unlocks the doors and quickly toss everything in the back seat, open the driver’s door and jump in, locking it as soon as it shuts.
I glance out the window at my stalkers. I’d caught them by surprise, moving faster than they expected. I stifle the urge to wave at them, no need taking any chances. My hands shaking, I start the car and pull into traffic. Maybe I’m overreacting, maybe they just wanted to talk with me, but my gut says otherwise. At the club, Anthony would have been there to make sure nothing too bad happened, at least until they paid him. Even then, I wouldn’t have been hurt that much. Guess life on the outside can be dangerous too.
By the time I reach Bob’s house, I’m calmer. I don’t know why, but I feel safer here. It’s not just that I’m inside, away from the unknown. My instincts tell me that Bob is an OK guy. We’ve been together more than twenty four hours and he hasn’t done a single threatening thing. He’s been a gentleman the whole time. It could be an act but I’ve seen and experienced a lot in the last few years. I think he’s the real deal. I’m sure that he’s not telling me the complete truth, but I can wait, particularly if I can wait at this house. Bob greets me as the garage door closes.
“Any trouble, Honey?” What can I say; there really wasn’t any trouble, just the possibility of trouble.
“No trouble. I found everything I was looking for. I decided to buy a swim suit. That was OK wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely, whatever makes you comfortable. I will help you unload and put everything away.”
I kept a close eye on him as he carried the bags into the kitchen and unloaded them. He seemed to be fine, no after effects from the seizure I thought I saw. It really isn’t any of my business, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, it would put an end to any chance I have of more days away from the club. It only takes a few minutes to put things away. Bob picks up my swim suit, holding it out in front of him at arms length.
“Very nice choice Honey. Supper is several hours away. Do you plan on using it now?”
“No, I can’t afford those tan lines.”
“I thought that you were joking about that.”
“I wish. Anthony is very particular about my appearance.”
“There is still the au natural option.” A sly smile flits across his face. He’s not ordering me to get naked, leaving it up to me.
“Not this time, maybe next week.” Give him a reason to invite me back. “I thought that I might just swim in the evening.”
“A reasonable solution. The pool is heated so that will work. Since the pool will be later, what do you want to do now?”
“I don’t know. A movie? You feel like a movie?”
“I have some work to do in my study but I should be available in about thirty minutes. You could watch TV until then or perhaps start a book from the library.”
“I’ve never been much of a reader, Bob.” It’s not an admission I like to make but it’s true.
He nods. “I understand. You should find something of interest, I have a satellite antenna.” He hands me the remote and walks back to his study.
I turn on the TV and satellite receiver; then start flipping through channels. There are so many choices. It’s surprising how much things have changed in even three years. After about five minutes, I realize things haven’t changed that much; even with all these channels, there’s still nothing on. I keep flipping. A pro football game comes on. What the hell? No one plays on Wednesdays. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it’s a replay of a playoff game from last year on “The NFL Network”, Minnesota verses New York. I never saw the game, Anthony doesn’t let me watch any television on my own, I just see what may be occasionally playing on the TV in the bar. Settling back on the couch, I prop my feet up on the coffee table and watch. Despite what has happened to me, I still enjoy the game. Even performing as a Wrangler Girl, I actually watched the game instead of primping on the sidelines.
New York seems to have Minnesota’s number. Their linemen can’t pick up the New York blitz packages and their quarterback doesn’t recognize the coverages. He’s a second year guy I never heard of, another overpaid first round draft choice. It doesn’t help that New York is playing keep away with their power running game. I’ve seen them go on two drives that took over ten minutes each. A quarterback’s three best friends are a great left tackle, a decent running game and a kick ass defense. I find myself starting to yell at the screen, calling out the coverages. You can’t really see enough to be sure, the camera doesn’t show the entire field but I’m usually right. We played New York twice a year and they still have the same Defensive Coordinator, so they haven’t changed that much. The first half ends and I notice that Bob is standing in the doorway to the hall, smiling at me.
“You seem to have found something to watch, Honey. I could hear you all the way down the hall and I had my door closed.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt your work! I’ll change channels right now! Please don’t tell....” He raises his right hand slightly and I shut up.
“It was not a problem, Honey. My work for today is done. I am glad that you found a program that you enjoy. May I join you?”
I scoot over, making room on the couch. “Sure, it’s your house, whatever you want. It’s just a replay.”
He sits down. “So, you have seen this game before?”
“No, Anthony won’t let me watch TV. I haven’t seen more than a few minutes of a live football broadcast in about three years.”
“You appear to know quite a bit about what is going on, including the nomenclature.”
“Nomenwhat?”
“The unique terms of the game, Cover Two, Cover Three and so on. How did you learn all that?”
Over twenty years of playing the game. Yea, he’d believe that. “Oh, from family. My father coached so I saw a lot of games.” The second half was starting. Since this was a replay, there was no halftime show to speak of. My attention was once again focused on the game. Minnesota got the ball to start the half and actually had a drive going until they got to New York’s thirty five yard line. It was third and ten, Minnesota went four wide but New York’s strong side linebacker had cheated forward about a yard and slid to the outside shoulder of the tight end. He was acting as if he was going to cover the tight end but he was blitzing.
“Audible to a slant! Audible to a slant!” I shouted. The ball was snapped, the linebacker blitzed, hammering the quarterback for a twelve yard loss, pushing them out of field goal range.
“What was that?” asked Bob.
“New York’s strong side linebacker, Tagert, he’s got a tell when he blitzes from that formation. He always tries to make it look like he’s covering the tight end but he’ll come in tight off his outside shoulder, slowing the end just enough to screw up your timing then going straight to the QB. You need to audible to a slant by the slot receiver to the spot Tagert just left. Everyone else is in press coverage. If the slot can get the jump on his guy, he’s wide open. You hit him in stride and there’s a good chance he breaks it all the way. Minnesota’s QB couldn’t see that.”
Bob looks at me for a few seconds. “And you did. Are you sure that you have not seen this game before?”
“Nope, never seen it. Don’t even know who won. The defense’s first objective is to sack the quarterback. If that fails, they want to force a quick pass to the outlet receiver and then tackle him fast, holding Minnesota to a short gain at worst, that’s why the press coverage. If that slot can break clean, he could go a long way.”
“So why did the Minnesota quarterback not audible?”
“Probably didn’t see it. You can watch all the film you want but it takes real game experience and lots of it to recognize what’s happening and react in time to take advantage. Also, the slot receiver may not be any good.” He chuckles at that.
“Fine, you’re the expert, what happens next?”
I look at the TV. “You mean what play is New York going to run? I’ve got no idea.”
“What? I thought you knew all about football.”
“Sure, but I don’t know anything about their game plan, their players, or Minnesota’s players. If I spent a week watching tape from all their recent games and reading scouting reports, I’d stand a pretty good chance of picking the next play.”
“OK, then what is the defense going to do?”
“Hard to say. The camera angle doesn’t show the whole field. I can’t see the safeties or any of the other guys in the secondary. Can’t see the weakside linebacker either.”
“I think that you are making excuses. You always want more information before making a decision. Go with what you have. What happens next?” I stare at the screen.
New York’s third and five, a tight formation, only one back, unbalanced to the right, which is the wide side of the field. Minnesota is off the line, so they probably aren’t coming.
“They’re probably running to the right, off tackle ... no, the back just went in motion to the right. It’s a screen to the tight end on the left.” They snap the ball.
I was right but they only made four yards.
“Very impressive, Honey. Let’s go again.”
We spend the rest of the game with me predicting each play. I start off hitting about 40% but by the end of the game I’m closer to 70%, which is a combination of me getting a better feel for what each team can do and the options being limited late in the game. I explain to Bob why I make each call, it’s a matter of pride that he not think that I’m just guessing blindly. I’d rather be wrong than lucky. When the game ends, he turns the TV off.
“I must say, that was a very interesting experience, Honey, like having my own private color commentator. You managed to acquire a great deal of knowledge watching your father’s games. Where did he coach?”
Oh God! Not more personal questions! He never really stopped but had slacked off recently. He was so subtle, slipping them in the normal conversation, always about whatever subject we were talking about. He’d keep asking, all nonchalant until I get in trouble with my lies and then he’d move on. I never thought that he was giving me the third degree but he was so persistent. I’d lost track of all the lies.
“Southern Pennsylvania. I didn’t realize it was so late.” I hop up off the couch. “I’ll get supper started right away.” Bob stands up too.
“No hurry Hone...” He stops mid word, his body going stiff, arms and legs rigid. It’s another seizure. Bob’s jaw is clenched, eyes closed. It only lasts about twenty seconds; then he relaxes again.
“Are you ... OK?” I ask.
“Fine Honey, I am fine, just another muscle spasm. I get them a few times a day. They are just like muscle cramps.”
Bullshit. He may not be thrashing around but that was a seizure. I know muscle cramps and that ain’t a muscle cramp. “If you say so Bob. You relax and I’ll get started in the kitchen.” I walk away, glancing back at him. He seems fine again. Whatever they are, they don’t last long and he seems to recover quickly.
It takes me about forty minutes to get everything ready. Bob still slips in a few personal questions while we eat, but it’s mostly about my life at the club. I don’t have to lie on those questions, though I obviously can’t tell him the complete truth either. Some of my answers sugarcoat things a bit, I’m too embarrassed to admit how fucked up my life really is. He takes the last bite of his Chicken and Rice, folds his napkin and lays it on the table.
“I hate to state the obvious Honey, but it seems that you have every reason to leave that club as soon as possible. Why are you still there?”
“I... I ... don’t have a choice. Don’t ask me to explain it, I’d just get into trouble ... really big trouble.”
“If you told me, I might be able to help.”
“Just being here helps a lot, Bob. Please leave it alone. There’s nothing you or anybody else can do about it.”
“You make it sound like an impossible task ... I like impossible tasks. They give me a reason to get up in the morning.” There’s that smirk again, but the look in his eyes is different, more intense.
“Pleeaasseeee Bob, you don’t understand, don’t do anything. That’s the best thing for me right now.”
He stands up, pushing his chair back. “If you insist, Honey, you know what is best for yourself. I will do the dishes and clean up so that you have more time in the pool.”
I look out into the back yard. The sun is low in the sky, only about ten to fifteen minutes from setting, so it is safe for me to go out and swim. I’d been looking forward to this all day. When I was a kid, I practically lived at the local city pool. I was a bit of a troublemaker even back then so the lifeguards kept an eye on me but I mostly just swam. As I got older and puberty struck, I naturally discovered that it was a great hunting ground for babes but swimming was still a priority. Once I became a pro, I’d often give the hotel pool a try whenever the team was on the road. Some cities had quite a reputation for poolside tail, particularly Miami, Tampa Bay and Jacksonville. I’d often score a couple of times before the game ever started. Even then, I always spent at least a half an hour in the water before beginning my hunt.
That was a lifetime ago.
I leave Bob at the kitchen sink and hurry back to my room, unzipping my pants as I go. Quickly stripping out of my clothes, I pile them on the bed and then step into the black, Lycra swim suit, pulling it up my legs, over my round, taut ass, slip my arms through the straps and adjust my boobs in the sewn in half cups. I really should have tried this on before I bought it. I thought that it was a kinda conservative one piece just looking at it on the rack, but now, as I check myself out in the mirror, I see I was dead wrong. The material is very thin and stretchy, making it look more like it’s painted on. The bust is lined, but only push up half cups, so my nipples are only covered by the thin fabric. They are already perkier than I would like and way out there. I know it will get worse as soon as I hit the water. The leg openings rise all the way above my hips, making my legs appear long and lean. There’s way more cleavage than I hoped for and the scoop in the back drops almost to my ass crack. At least it isn’t a thong. If I was wearing heels, I could make this work at the club. Bob’s gonna think I’m trying to seduce him.
Well, it’s too late now. I take one towel from the bathroom and tie it around my hips like a skirt; then drape a second towel around my neck, covering my tits a bit. I walk back to the kitchen barefoot. Bob’s standing at the sink, his back to me, washing dishes. He turns his head to look at me as I come in, his eyes widening a little.
“That looks different than I anticipated.”
“You and me both. Do you need any help?”
“Not at all, I am almost done. You go ahead and I will turn on the lights.”
I walk over to the sliding glass door, push it aside and step out onto the deck. I can feel the residual heat of the day through the soles of my feet. As I walk to the edge of the pool, several lights go on. They are more like mood lights, adding just enough illumination to see what is going on but not enough to light up the whole back yard. When I reach the edge, I bend down and trail my right hand through the water, fingers spread wide. The temperature is just right, cool but not cold. I see a number of lights at the bottom and sides of the pool. This will be like swimming in an aquarium. I stop at the metal table to remove the towels and glance back towards the kitchen window. Bob’s standing there, he waves at me.
Suddenly, I feel a little self-conscious about losing the towels. I spend practically every day of the week dancing nearly naked in front of strangers but now I’m worried about wearing a swim suit in front of one guy. What’s that about? I take a deep breath and then untie the towel from my waist, letting it slide around my hips, and then I hang it on the back of the chair. I lift the other towel off my shoulders and lay it on top of the first. When I look back at the window, Bob isn’t there. I feel an odd mix of relief and disappointment. I shake my head slightly to clear it and then walk around to the deep end of the pool. The sign near the edge says 8 feet. I move to the edge, feet together and toes barely over the water. Bending forward at the waist and flexing my knees, I throw my arms forward and in one smooth motion, dive into the pool.
My body slices through the water, a couple of feet below the surface. There is a soft light all around me. As the momentum from my dive fades away, I kick several times to keep up my speed. I don’t want to come up for air just yet. I’m trying to get all the way across under water. It’s about average size for a residential pool but this is harder than I remember. Probably because the last time I did this, I didn’t have 36D tits. My lung capacity is down a bit too, but so is my body size. Whatever, I’m not going to make it this time so I pop up to the surface, then stand up. The water is about 4 feet deep at this end. I fall onto my back and slowly backstroke to the deep end, luxuriating in the feel of the cool water as it flows by. I’d never swum as a girl; it’s certainly a different experience. More resistance but more buoyancy. When I reach the deep end, I take a deep breath and then dive down, trying to touch the bottom of the pool. I kick and stroke, fighting my body’s natural tendency to float. Stretching out with my right hand, my fingertips scrape the hard surface. I flip forward, rotating my body so that I am squatting on the bottom and push up with both legs. I burst to the surface, my head almost 3 feet above the water, laughing and squealing with joy before I fall back into the water.
Shit! Where did that come from? The last time I sounded like that, one of my semi-regular customers was giving me a particularly good fucking. The guy knows what he’s doing and takes his time, unlike most of them. I swim back towards the shallow end, grab the edge and stand up.
“Very natural, very graceful, Honey.”
I look around. Bob is sitting at the deck table, quietly clapping his hands. I quickly check my suit to make sure everything is where it belongs. Now that it’s wet, it’s even more transparent, my nipples almost as big as my thumbs, plus I notice that I’ve got an obvious camel toe. I slip back down so that only my head is out of the water.
“You appear to have a lot of experience in the water. Did you swim competitively?”
I tread water until I’m back in the deep end. “No, just a rec swimmer. I had a season pass at the local public pool when I was young. A great deal at forty bucks.”
“Which pool was that?”
“Veterans’ Park. It had a big waterslide and a ten foot diving board. I swear it felt like fifty feet when you stood at the end of that board.”
“Did you ever have to go back down the ladder?”
“ME? Never! I dove the first time when I was ten years old, which was the minimum age. Did it on my birthday, couldn’t wait.”
“A birthday present to yourself eh?”
“Yep. They also gave you a free Slurpee on your birthday. It’s a nice pool.”
I roll over and do the freestyle stroke to the end of the pool, make a flip turn and swim to the other end. I’m just cruising, not swimming hard. Since I’m taking it easy, concentrating on the sensation of gliding through the water is easier. My skin feels alive, all tingly. My nipples seem to be switched to high. Swimming as a man was never this sensual. I keep doing laps until my arms start to tire. Gliding over to the steps in the corner, I pause to check my suit again. I look up to see Bob standing at the top of the steps, holding a short, white, terry cloth robe spread out between his arms.
“I thought that you might be more comfortable wearing this when you were done.”
I climb the steps out of the pool. He moves around behind me and holds the robe up so that I can slip my arms into the sleeves. He gently pulls the robe towards my back as my hands emerge from the bottoms of the sleeves, draping it over my shoulders, then wrapping it around my body, practically hugging me from behind. The air has gotten several degrees cooler since I first dove into the pool and I start to shiver just a little, but it is more than the cool air. I can feel the soft cloth against my nipples, shoulders, arms and legs. It’s all surprisingly erotic. My heart is beating quickly and I find it a bit difficult to breathe. Bob lets me go and returns to the table. Taking the sash, I loosely tie it around my waist, wasting a few seconds adjusting it until I calm down.
“Thanks.” I say as I sit down. “It’s a very nice robe.” Bob shrugs.
“It is mine, so naturally it is too large for you but you can buy one for yourself that fits, particularly if you plan on making swimming part of your regular routine.”
“Why didn’t you join me?”
“I was enjoying watching you too much. The view is much better from the deck. Besides, I am not much of a swimmer.”
“Then why have a house with a pool?”
“Therapeutic exercise. Full range of motion with less stress to the joints.”
“You have arthritis?”
“Not exactly.”
“So that explains the hot tub.”
“Actually, I rarely use the hot tub, but you certainly can if you want.” I look at it over my shoulder. There are a few wisps of steam rising form the bubbling surface. I always loved the hot tub at my house ... which is Hanson’s house now.
“You sure?”
“Certainly.”
I stand up, untie the robe, let it fall from my shoulders and hang it on the back of the chair. As I walk towards the tub, I feel Bob’s eyes watching me, probably checking out my ass, which is spectacular. There is a set of steps built into the inside of the tub so I carefully place my foot on the top one and then slowly descend into the tub, pausing a couple of times to adjust to the heat. I used to just jump in but this body is a lot more sensitive than my male body. When I reach the bottom, I turn and sit on the submerged bench that runs around the inside of the tub, laying back with my arms stretched out to the left and right, resting on the padded rim of the tub.
“Oooohhhh yeeeaaa,” I sigh. “This is niiicccce. You sure you don’t want to jump in?”
“Not now, maybe later. Would you like something to drink?”
“Uuuhhhh ... some of that white wine would be nice, but I’ll get it.”
I start to stand up but Bob holds up his hand. “No, I need to go in anyway. You stay and relax. I will be right back.” He stands up and I settle back into the warm, swirling water, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. There are several nozzles sending water my way so I shift my position a little to get comfortable.
Oooooooo, that’s interesting. One of the nozzles is pointed at my pussy, which is being massaged by the jet of warm water. I slide my hips forward a few inches, spreading my knees wider. Uuuhhh my God that’s good! I reach down and pull the crotch of my suit to one side, fingering my cunt as the water pulses. A minute or two of this and I’m nearing an orgasm.
“Here you are, Honey.”
My eyes spring open. Bob’s holding a glass of wine out towards me. He has the bottle in his other hand. How long has he been standing there? Does he know what I’ve been doing? I pull my hand away from my crotch, reach out and take the glass from him.
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome, Honey.”
He doesn’t crack a smile, just a mostly blank look on his face, though there may have been a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. He returns to the table and sits down. I take a sip of the wine. It’s chilled, straight from the fridge. I’ve never been much of a wine connoisseur but I do like it and this one is pretty good, taking the edge off my sexual tension. I wish Bob had waited a few more seconds, I was ready to get off. I take another sip and set the glass aside, again settling back in the tub. I can’t resist positioning my ass so the water jet hits my cunt. With Bob sitting just 10 feet away, I’m not able to masturbate but the water starts to do its job. I pick up my glass and drain it.
“Would you like a refill, Honey?” asks Bob.
What the heck, why not. “Hit me.”
I hold my glass up. He grabs the bottle, walks over to the hot tub and fills my glass to the rim. I carefully bring the glass to my lips for a quick drink so that I don’t spill it. I take another drink, put the glass down and return my attention to my aroused pussy. I don’t know what it is, the swimming, the warm water, or the wine, but I really need to get off ... now. If I go inside to the bathroom, I could take care of this quickly.
“Honey, what time do you normally take your medication?”
Of course! That’s why I’m so turned on. I haven’t gotten my dose of Anthony’s cum yet today. “I should have taken it already. I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.” I stand up and have one foot on the first step, but Bob is already half way to the house.
“Stay. Relax. You have had a long day, Honey. I know where it is, I will bring it to you.”
“No, no. I can take care of it, you don’t need...”
“Please Honey, I have it. You would need to dry off before going inside.” Bob’s already at the sliding door. I can’t stop him from getting my “medicine”. He opens the door and steps into the kitchen, closing it behind him. I sink back into the tub.
That swim should have jogged my memory. There was no way that I should have felt that way from just swimming laps. I’ve got to develop some kind of routine to remind me to take the stuff. At the club, Anthony decides when I drink his jism. Out here, I’m on my own. The sliding door opens and Bob steps out, the vial in his hand.
“Here you are Honey.” He strides up to the edge of the hot tube, handing it to me. I remove the top and glance at Bob. He’s standing there, waiting for me. I really wish that I could do this in private but how do I explain that to him? He thinks that it’s just some kind of drug or something. I bring the vial up to my mouth and chug the contents, ignoring what I know it is. I recap the vial and hand it back to Bob.
“Anthony wants me to bring those back to him. If you set it on the table, I’ll take care of it.”
Bob holds the vial between his thumb and forefinger, about a foot in front of his right eye. “Exactly what was in this bottle Honey?”
I’d been dreading that question. I can feel my heartbeat quicken. “I’m not sure, some kind of protein supplement that Anthony says I need.”
“Why do you need a protein supplement?”
I try to keep a calm expression on my face. “Just some diet problems, nothing serious.”
“Exactly what diet problems?”
He’s not buying it, I can tell. “Uh ... sometimes I have ... you know ... female problems ... and this helps.” Most guys back off when you say “female problems”.
“Female problems?” He stares at me with narrowed eyes, saying nothing for several seconds. I resist a growing urge to say something more. He reaches up and scratches his head. “Well, who am I to question a woman about ‘female problems’?” He places the bottle on the table and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
The dose of Anthony’s semen has done its job and I’m feeling pretty good. The wine has probably had something to do with that too. I finish my second glass and Bob fills it again.
“Why aren’t you drinking?” I ask him. “This isssh very tasty.”
Did I just slur my words? It should take much more that a couple of glasses of wine to affect me. I used to drink people under the table on a regular basis. Admittedly, I weigh more than half as much now as then and am a girl but still, two glasses? It has been awhile since I had any significant alcohol to drink. Even though one of my jobs at the club is to get customers to buy his ridiculously watered down drinks, Anthony doesn’t allow me to drink booze of any kind. I think it’s more Hanson’s rule that Anthony’s. Can’t have me using something to relieve the pain now can we? I occasionally get a sip from a customer during a lap dance when he insists, but that’s about it.
“I never really developed a taste for alcohol.” he replied. “I can either take it or leave it. Tonight I am leaving it.”
“Your loss.” I say as I take another sip from my glass. I don’t know what it is, the wine, the hot water or the after effects of Anthony’s semen, but I am feeling extremely relaxed and comfortable.
Bob pulls his chair closer to the edge of the hot tube. “Let’s talk a bit, Honey.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I wake up in my bed at Bob’s. I’m not hung over, my head isn’t pounding, my mouth isn’t parched. I am wearing the T-shirt from the first night and I can see my swim suit hanging from the bar in the shower. Well, he’s seen me naked, then; I hope he enjoyed it. I don’t think we had sex. I certainly can’t remember it and my pussy doesn’t feel used. Actually, I can’t remember a whole lot from last night after that third glass of wine. I do remember that Bob asked me a whole bunch of questions but I can’t remember what they were and what my answers were. If this is what wine does to me now, no wonder Hanson doesn’t want me to drink. Just then, there’s a knock at my door.
“Honey, are you awake? I fixed some breakfast. Anthony should be here in about an hour to pick you up.” I get out of bed and open the door a crack. He’s standing there just outside the door.
“I’m up. I’ll shower and be right out.”
I close the door and hurry to the bathroom. I need to make sure that I’m completely ready when Anthony gets here, he doesn’t like to wait, particularly on me. I shower, shave my legs and underarms and then dress in the clothes I was wearing when I arrived here. I’d had a chance to wash the lingerie, so it was clean. The dress is surprisingly embarrassing, I’d gotten used to regular clothes so quickly. I walk to the kitchen barefoot, no need to put on those high heels until I have to. Bob’s sitting at the table, reading the paper. There’s coffee, milk, juice and donuts on the counter, along with plates and glasses. I quietly put a couple of donuts on my plate and pour a glass of milk.
Bob sets his paper aside just as I sit down. “About last night, Honey...”
“I know, I’m so sorry! Please don’t tell Anthony! I don’t know what happened! One minute we were having a really nice evening and then...”
Bob holds up his hand and I stop yammering. “It is all my fault, Honey. I often forget what a potent mix alcohol and a hot tub are. I was the one who insisted that you keep drinking, I should have warned you.”
“Did we ... uh ... you know?” I ask shyly.
“Have sexual relations?”
I blush and lower my eyes. “Yes.”
“Unfortunately not.” UNFORTUNATELY! All you had to do was say “Fuck me” and we would have been doing it like rabbits. “Though, I must say that helping you undress was almost as good.” I blush again.
Bob continues speaking. “That did not come out as I intended. You were in no condition to get ready for bed unaided and the swim suit was soaking wet, otherwise I might have just put you to bed as you were. It is not my habit to undress beautiful young women without their permission but there was no other good option last night. If it is any consolation, I do profoundly apologize and guarantee that it will not happen next week or any other week.”
“Is there going to be a next week?” I ask brightly.
“If you want to.”
“OH YES! You have no idea what these few days have meant to me! It’s like ... a two week vacation.”
“Well, there will probably be more work in the weeks to come. This was mostly a ‘get to know you’ kind of visit for both of us.”
“That’s not a problem! Compared to the club, this is Tahiti.”
I finish my breakfast and start to put things away. When I open the refrigerator, I notice that there is only one of Anthony’s jism bottles on the shelf.
“Uh Bob, where is the second medicine bottle? Did it get left outside last night?”
“About that. I was helping you inside and carrying the bottle at the same time. Your knees buckled and I dropped the bottle. It shattered on impact. Do not worry, I will take all the blame with Anthony and pay for a new one, if necessary.”
Anthony isn’t going to like that but there’s not much I can do about it now. Hopefully, he’ll accept Bob’s story and won’t beat me. I take the remaining bottle back to my room and put it in my purse, first wrapping it in toilet paper for padding. I return to the kitchen and finish the dishes. The doorbell rings just as I hang up the dish towel.
My heart sinks, back to the daily grind for me. Bob heads for the door as I go to my room to get my purse and shoes. I pause and look around. Just five more days and then I’ll be back. I can do five days. I slip on my shoes and walk to the front door. Anthony reaches out with a long arm, grabs me around the shoulders and drags me close to his body. “Looking good Honey. Bob here says that you were all that he expected and more. He wants you to come back next week. What do you say to that?”
“Thank you, Sir. I look forward to serving you for as long as you wish, Sir.”
“That’s my girl. You got the bottles?”
I tense up but Bob jumps right in. “Honey told me that you wanted the medicine bottles back but I accidentally destroyed one. Got up in the middle of the night for a drink and knocked it off the shelf. All my fault, simply not used to something being there, you know how it is. I will make sure to be more alert in the future. Naturally, if there is a replacement cost I will be happy to pay it.” Bob reaches for his wallet, and then pauses, looking at Anthony, head cocked slightly to the right. I’m looking up at Anthony from the corner of my eye.
He seems confused for a moment, his usual reaction when things don’t go as planned, then he smiles and pats Bob on the shoulder.
“Not a problem, not a problem, just wanting Honey to clean up after herself. Not your worry, Bob. If you’re happy, I’m happy. See you next week, same time and place, right?”
“That is correct, Anthony.” They shake hands, Anthony firmly grabs my arm and we walk to his car. He lets me go and I get into the passenger seat as he squeezes behind the wheel. We drive off in silence for the first couple of blocks; then he speaks.
“You look OK, no obvious cuts or bruises. So, what did he have you do all those days?”
“Cooking, cleaning and shopping Sir.”
“WHAT!? You mean like a maid or something!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Did he have you dress up in a costume or outfit?”
“No, Sir, just regular clothes Sir.”
“How often did you fuck or blow him?”
“We never had any kind of sex, Sir.”
He seems taken aback. “You mean that he had a hot piece of ass like you around for more than two days and didn’t fuck you once?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What a waste. Son of a bitch must be gay.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Bob closes the front door as Anthony backs out of the driveway. He begins to whistle tunelessly as he returns to his office, his left leg very slightly dragging. Once in the room, he sits down in the swivel chair behind the desk, pulls a key from his shirt pocket, unlocks the desk, opens the large drawer on the lower left side and removes an unsealed FedEx box. He reaches into the box and removes three clear plastic zip top envelopes, one of which contains the missing vial, the other two hold a paper napkin and a wine glass. Laying the envelopes on his desk, he picks up the phone and dials a long distance number. It is answered by an automated system. He starts speaking slowly and clearly.
“Bob ... James ... Alpha, Tango, Three, Seven, Echo, Nine, Victor, Two, Five,”
The voice recognition system accepts his call and passes him on to a secure operator.
“I would like to speak with George Peterson, Lab Director.”
He was put on hold but only for less than a minute.
“Hello George………….retirement is fine, you should try it some time…………….No, Dallas, but only for a short time…………I have a favor to ask, if you are not too busy…………….just three samples, not a rush job……………Well, not exactly. Two are just standard DNA with an ID search, all available databases. The third is a glass jar with unknown contents, it gets the works…………No suspicions, at least nothing I want to tell you, don’t want to skew the results…………I understand, a low priority job, but I will be very appreciative if I can have the results in five days or less……………Tell me about it, I was a budget cut. Do what you can and I will show you my appreciation……...... You know I can not be more specific, Big Brother is listening……………Not too bad, my medications are working reasonably well for now. How is Penny doing?................Give her my best wishes, if her chemo is done, the worst may be over…………..Could you transfer me to Records? Thank you George………….Yes, I would like to speak with Connie if she is available……...... no, I would prefer to hold. Thank you.”
Bob switches to speaker phone and reboxes the samples, sealing the box and adding an address label. The speaker phone crackles to life.
“Hello?” Bob picks up the receiver.
“Hello, Connie?.........Bob James…………Not quite yet, but closer than I would like. Still, each day we are all closer to death………..You never were a sentimentalist Connie…………..I need to play one of my ‘you owe me a favor’ cards…………..my records show at least ten left, not counting this one………...... No, that one was on Jack Bates’ tab, not mine. I was just the messenger…………. a full records search on ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’…………it’s not a joke. S-W-E-E-T hyphen L-A-Y. White, female, DOB 4-1-1985 Social Security Number 452-78-9654 but I would not bet on it being legit. She has a Texas driver’s license, number 4551-563-88967. I have checked the public databases, with little success…………exactly, all of those less public data bases you are famous for…………..anything and everything you can find. George is also helping me so he might come up with an additional name or two for you to check…………five days, if that is possible…………digital copies will be fine, you have my email address and encryption key in your records…………..very funny Connie, we all enjoyed your bawdy sense of humor…………..yes, quite beautiful, fat lot of good that does me………..... no, that is one problem the meds do not help with……………..do what you can Connie, quick as you can but I would rather it be thorough than rushed…………..the Lisbon job was rushed and it nearly killed me so I know what I am talking about…………no grudges Connie, besides, it bought me more than half of my ‘you owe me a favor’ cards, didn’t it?...............Good bye.”
He disconnects and then calls FedEx for a pick up.
CHAPTER FIVE
The week just drags by, like the week before Christmas. Time won’t move fast enough. What’s worse is that all the shit I accepted as inevitable in my life, the dancing, the sex with selfish, filthy bastards, my daily encounters with Anthony have become almost unbearable because I know that there will be a time, short as it may be, that I won’t have to do any of it. I can live like a normal human being at Bob’s ... at least as normal as possible for me.
Anthony kept asking questions about what I did when at Bob’s. Part of it was to make sure I would be safe, has to protect his valuable property. Part of it was simple curiosity. The last part was trying to understand what Bob was up to. I was doing the same thing. There had to be easier and cheaper ways for him to get someone to do his shopping, cooking and cleaning than hiring a whore like me. Whatever questions Anthony asked, I answered truthfully. God help me if I ever lied to him, but that doesn’t mean I have to volunteer any information. I didn’t say anything about the swimming, hot tub or the wine, particularly the wine. I spend my down time at the club reading some of the magazines the other girls leave in the dressing room, searching for recipes I could use at Bob’s. I cut a couple out to take with me. There’s other interesting stuff in them too.
Monday finally arrives and I do the best I can to hide my excitement. Anthony may not care if I enjoy my time at Bob’s but Hanson sure as hell would. I’ve never asked him if she knows what I’m doing and he’s never mentioned it on his own, so she probably doesn’t. If it was painful or agonizing, she’d applaud his initiative but if she knew what was really going on, she’d stop it instantly.
I quickly pack my working purse after the last set and am waiting in my room when Anthony comes to get me.
“Ready to go Honey?”
“Yes, Sir!” I say, a little too loudly. Calm down girl, be cool. I pick up my purse and we walk to his car parked in the back.
I don’t have a watch but the sign outside of the bank says that it’s 2:45 a.m. A few minutes later we arrive at Bob’s and I’m careful to not rush to the front door. I let Anthony ring the doorbell. There’s no response for about half a minute and Anthony starts to reach for the bell again when the door opens.
“Hello, Anthony, Honey. How are you tonight?” He’s standing just inside the door, a cane in his right hand.
“I’m doing good, Bob.” says Anthony. “Better than you it seems. What happened to your leg?” Bob shuffles back slightly and I step in.
“Nothing serious, just an old injury acting up.”
“Well, Honey will take good care of you, won’t you babe?”
I look directly at Bob and our eyes meet. “Yes, Sir, I’ll take very good care of him.” A small smile briefly lights his face and I can’t help smiling back.
“Ain’t she something, Bob?” Anthony can’t resist trying to make the sale.
“She certainly is,” replies Bob, still locked in on my eyes. He smiles again. I manage to resist the unfamiliar urge to giggle, but my left hand does play with the hem of my short dress.
“If she causes you any problem at all, you just let me know and I’ll take care of it right away.”
“I am sure that we will be fine, won’t we, Honey?”
“Yes, Sir, better than fine Sir.”
“Well, I’ll guarantee that, Bob.”
I don’t think Anthony has realized that he’s no longer part of this conversation. Bob reaches out, places his hand on the doorknob and starts to slowly close the door.
“It is late and I am sure you are anxious to get home, Anthony. I will see you Thursday morning. Good night”. The door clicks shut. I’m glad that I’m on this side of the door right now.
“Welcome back, Honey.”
“Thanks, Bob. Are you OK?”
“More or less. It comes and goes. Right now it is here.”
“Are you going to tell me what ‘it’ is?”
“I would prefer not, at least at this time. I have your bedroom ready.” He starts to hobble towards the bedrooms. I don’t follow him.
“Uhhhh, Bob?”
He stops, looking back at me. “Yes?”
“I’m not really tired right now, still a little wired from work ya know, and I was thinking....” I trail off.
“What were you thinking?”
I take a deep breath. “That maybe I could go for a swim? Just a half an hour or so, just to relax?”
“Are you sure? It is late and there will be more work than last week, particularly since I will be helping less due to this,” he raises his cane.
“I know, I’ve been planning all week. It’s only a half hour,” I plead.
He shakes his head slightly. “All right, go ahead. I thought something like this might happen so I heated the pool. I however, am going to bed. Put your medication in the fridge and lock up when you are done. Remember, you are making breakfast this morning.”
I want to kiss him in thanks. I’ve already taken a step towards him before I stop myself.
“Thanks a lot, Bob, I really appreciate this.”
He waves me off. “Not a problem. See you in the morning.” He continues to limp towards his bedroom.
I hurry back to my bedroom, find my swim suit in the chest of drawers, quickly change into it and scurry to the kitchen, pausing to put the two vials in the fridge, switch on the outside lights, then step out of the sliding door and walk to the edge of the pool, shaking the tension out of my arms and legs as I go. When I reach the edge of the pool, I pause, take a deep breath and dive in. I manage to reach the other side this time without stopping for air. When I pop to the surface, I’m ready for my new, temporary, life.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The two days pass much too quickly. They are pretty much a repeat of last week, just more of it. The meals were more elaborate because I had time to plan them. The shopping took longer because I needed more ingredients for the meals. I did more on my own because Bob wasn’t able to help, but I had a much better idea about what he wanted done and where everything was so it all went faster. I also bought some more clothes, not a whole lot, just a couple of nicer bra and panty sets, a few pretty tops and a silk nightshirt. I couldn’t keep wearing Bob’s T-shirts could I? That’s not fair to him. I still had time for some evening swims and the NFL Network. We watched a couple of replays from 2006 and I managed to be right about 60 percent of the time in predicting the plays. Bob was very impressed. In fact, he complimented me quite a lot.
He also didn’t make any moves on me. I first thought that Anthony might be right, that he was gay, but he never gave off that gay vibe. I caught him several times looking at me like he wanted me but he never did anything about it. Maybe he’s just got a lot of self-control, but why bother? He knows what I do when I’m at the club, it’s not like I’m unskilled. I know for a fact that I am one of the best fucks in town. Why won’t he take advantage of the opportunity? It’s not like I need it or anything. Besides, he’s not a great looker himself. Not ugly by any stretch but hardly movie star handsome. Still, he’s a lot better than most of the lousy bums I see at the club. I do enjoy a two day break from whoring, but the whole thing leaves me confused.
I’m physically ready when Anthony shows up Thursday morning, but it’s still hard to leave Bob’s. I manage to put a smile on my face but my heart isn’t in it. I think Bob knows that but he doesn’t say anything. He does give Anthony a glowing report about me, which pleases him. A happy Anthony makes my life easier and I appreciate all that Bob does to keep him happy. Anthony doesn’t have that many questions for me this time when we drive back to the club, but he still can’t believe that Bob isn’t screwing me. I just answer his questions again, not volunteering anything.
I slip back into the routine of the club. One of the other girls, Candi, has been here a couple of weeks and we’ve become friends, sorta friends at least. We talk about the job and things and she’s given me a lot of hair and makeup tips. Hers is always perfect and I got a late start in learning how to do stuff like that. She’s really nice and acts like an older sister or something, though technically I’m almost twice as old as she is. She’s already backstage when I come in on Thursday morning.
“Hey Honey! Where have you been?” I drop my bag on the table and open my locker.
“Anthony has me doing some outside work.” I take out my “Donna Reed” costume.
“Where’s that?”
“Just a guy’s house.”
She steps closer to me. “Soooo, what do you do at this guy’s house?”
“It’s not kinky or anything, I just cook and clean ... oohh and shop too.”
“You’re getting paid to shop?” No, Anthony is getting paid for me to shop. “Need an assistant?”
“Not now, but I’ll keep you in mind.” I sit down and start working on my eyes.
“I see that you’re getting pretty good with your eye shadow.”
“Thanks to you.” I say as I start to apply my mascara.
“You just needed help with the techniques. You’ve got a real knack for knowing what men find attractive.”
I give her a smile. “It’s just experience.”
“How much experience could you have, you’re just a baby.”
“More than you can know Candi, more than you can know.”
“Bullshit, girl! I think you go out of your way to cultivate an aura of mystery.”
She gives me a friendly punch on my right arm. I punch her back as she laughs. I smile at her despite myself, her good humor is contagious. I keep working on my fifties-style makeup as Candi lends a hand with my hair. She’s very good at it.
I change into my stage lingerie and slip into my costume. After checking my purse to make sure the squirt gun is loaded and ready, I sit until it’s my turn. The act is still a killer but the response from the crowd is less than it used to be. If you don’t give men some variety, they get bored. They really don’t appreciate all the hard work we dancers put into our performances. They’d rather see a new routine full of screw-ups than a finely honed, skillfully performed classic. Men just don’t value what we women do for them.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
Sequel to "Team Spirit" written by Janice Dreamer. Honey and Bob have a conversation that changes everyone's lives. Chapters 6 through 10 of 48. Keywords apply to entire story.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF Ch 6-10
By Meps98
CHAPTER SIX
This week is dragging just as badly as the last. It’s like I’m cramming a whole week of crap into just five days. Spending two days at Bob’s doesn’t make the other five any better. In some ways, they’re worse than ever before. I don’t care, it’s worth it.
Candi’s found me a recipe insert from one of the magazines and at least half of them look interesting. I think Bob may have most of the ingredients in stock and I can pick up what he doesn’t on Tuesday morning. I’m packed and ready to go even before finishing sucking my last john’s cock. Try as I might, the guy just won’t blow his wad. He’s hard enough and sounds like he’s enjoying it but he just won’t cum. I’m tempted to stick my finger up his ass but that’s too damn risky. If he likes it and it works, I’m golden. If he doesn’t like it, he’ll probably beat me and so will Anthony. It’s not worth the risk, even though my jaw is starting to lock up. Finally, I feel his balls tense and he grabs my head to make sure I don’t pull back as he shoots his sperm down my throat.
It’s almost an insult. Who does he think he’s dealing with? I’ve sucked bigger cocks and swallowed bigger loads with my hands tied behind my back. Literally. Once he’s done ejaculating, he loosens his grip on my head and I pull back as his softening cock slips from my mouth.
“You’re one fine cocksucker, bitch!”
Next time, I should bite it off and swallow it. “Thank you, Sir. You’re so big, I didn’t know if I could swallow all of it.” Yeah ... and I’ve got a bridge in New York to sell you, too.
“I know, I get that a lot,” he says as he stuffs his shrinking dick into his pants and zips up. “You’re worth every penny I paid. I should be back around this way next month. I may just look you up.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I purr; then I wink at him. He points his index finger at me like he’s holding a gun, pulls the “trigger” and makes a clicking noise in his throat.
“I gotcha’ bitch!” He walks out of the room, whistling.
What a loser! Blowing or fucking these assholes is bad enough but having to butter them up and thank them for the shit they put me through makes me want to puke. Unfortunately, Anthony does the occasional “consumer survey” with the johns after they’re done with me and I hear it from him if they don’t report that I was adequately thankful. You only need Anthony to correct you a couple of times to make sure you toe the line, no matter where that line is. Tonight he comes to the door a few minutes after the last guy leaves.
“Shake that fine ass of yours, Honey, time to go!” I reach under the bed and pull out my bag.
“Ready, Sir.” I start to walk past him to leave the room but he grabs my arm, freezing me in place.
“This is the last week of the trial period, Honey and I want this guy’s business Honey. You will do whatever it takes to make him happy, you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” He’s got no idea how much I want the same thing. He lets go of my arm and we walk to his car. I smooth my short, purple dress under my ass as I settle into the passenger seat. Anthony gets in, starts the car and we drive off.
Bob lives only a few miles away but I can’t get there soon enough. When Anthony pulls into the driveway, I barely wait for the car to stop before throwing the door open and hopping out. This time, Bob meets us at the door as we walk up the sidewalk. I’m practically skipping.
“Good evening Anthony, ... Honey.” He nods towards each of us in turn.
“Hey, Bob, no cane tonight I see,” says Anthony. Bob flexes both legs.
“I am feeling much better this week Anthony.”
“Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. Well here she is, on time and looking good.” Bob quickly looks me up and down.
“She certainly does.”
I manage to not twist and turn like a teenage girl trying to seduce her boyfriend but I can’t prevent myself from blushing a deep red at his praise. He reaches out and gently takes my arm.
“Uuuhh, Bob...”
“Yes, Anthony?”
“This is the third week ... any idea when you’ll let me know if you want to keep the deal going?” Bob pulls me into the house and starts to close the door.
“I will inform you Thursday morning when you pick her up ... but I would not worry about my decision if I were you, Anthony.”
“Hey! That’s great Bob! I just want you to know that...”
He’s shut the door on him again. God, I wish I could do that to him at the club. Of course, if I tried it, he’d kick the door in and beat me with the broken pieces. Bob turns towards me. My hands are behind my back, wrists together, chest thrust out.
“How are you this evening, Honey?”
“Couldn’t be better, Bob.”
“I assume that you would like to take a dip in the pool before bed.”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I do not mind at all, just make sure that you turn off the lights and heater when you are done. I will see you in the morning.” He turns to go to his bedroom, walking normally. I let him get a few feet away before I say anything.
“Are you sure about that? I wasn’t planning on wearing a suit tonight.”
He stops dead in his tracks but doesn’t turn his head. “I guess it would be inappropriate for a host to leave a guest alone to fend for herself. Miss Manners would never forgive me.”
“So, I’m a guest, am I?”
He looks over his shoulder at me.
“For tonight you are.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
My alarm goes off at 7:00 a.m. I had done a little bit of breakfast prep before going to bed last night so things should go quickly this morning. I sit up and stretch both arms. This bed is so much more comfortable than that bag of lumps I sleep on at the club. I slip to the edge of the mattress and let my feet fall to the floor. Standing up, I shuffle to the bathroom, yawning and scratching as I go. I turn on the shower and adjust the temperature until it’s just short of too hot. I pull the nightshirt off over my head, hang it on the hook by the door and step into the soft stream of water, letting it soak my hair and caress my naked youthful body.
I can’t keep from smiling as I replay last nights’ events in my mind
I hadn’t skinny dipped in years and never as a woman. The whole thing was much more sensual than I remembered. Swimming in that well lit pool, naked to the world, under Bob’s very watchful eyes, was extremely erotic. It was both intimate and exhibitionist at the same time. You’d think that all the time I had spent on stage stripping would have prepared me for last night but it was completely different. It was slow and easy, no hurry. Every little move felt seductive. Bob was sitting at the table next to the pool, sipping coffee, but his eyes never left me. I’m not sure he ever blinked. We talked as I swam and floated but I can’t recall a single thing we said. We both acted like I was wearing a swimsuit the entire time. When I slowly climbed the steps out of the pool, hips swiveling, Bob was waiting for me, holding the robe open for me to slide my hands and arms down the sleeves as he draped it over my shoulders from behind. I tied the sash very loosely, leaving the front mostly open, exposing my tits and cunt whenever I moved in my chair. He poured me a cup of coffee and we continued to talk about God knows what. The sexual tension was building but neither of us would admit it. If it had been any other guy, we would have been trying to fuck each other’s brains out ten minutes into my swim, but Bob acted totally cool. Yet I could tell that underneath that cool attitude, he wanted to screw me until dawn.
And I wanted him to give it a try. He’s not the most impressive physical specimen. Hell, I’d seen some pretty buff guys when I played pro ball, but right then, I couldn’t imagine fucking anybody but Bob. Not that he made the slightest attempt to get me into bed. He played it all normal so I did too. By the time we went alone to our respective bedrooms, I was so horny, I had to masturbate to orgasm twice before getting to sleep.
I hadn’t completely recovered from the experience by the time he came into the kitchen for breakfast. I had spent a little extra time to make the plates look good, adding some spiral sliced oranges and arranging everything on the table just so.
“Good morning, Honey, did you sleep well last night?”
“Yes, eventually.”
“Probably should not have had coffee that late at night.”
“Yeah ... must have been the coffee.”
“Everything looks very nice this morning.”
He noticed!
“You do not need to plan anything for supper tonight.”
“Why not?” I’m disappointed; there was this recipe for lasagna I really wanted to try.
“I would like to take you out for supper.”
Disappointment gone. “Really? Where?”
“There is a little place downtown that specializes in Italian, classic Italian, how about that?”
“Sounds great, but I don’t have anything to wear to a nice place.”
“What about that purple dress you wore yesterday?”
“Sure, if you want everyone to think you’ve hired a teenage whore for the night.”
“I see your point. You can buy a more appropriate dress while you are out shopping this morning. The restaurant is not formal, just a little upscale. Men are required to wear jackets but not ties, if that is any help.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” I’d never been shopping for a dress before. Anthony and Amy bought all my clothes at the club and I had only bought mostly casual stuff since coming to Bob’s. I don’t really know where to shop for nice clothes, though I can probably find a store at the nearby Mall.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I’m lost. Completely lost. Who knew that the women’s section of “Macy’s” would be so disorienting. I thought that I could just walk in and find something in a couple of minutes. There’s just so many choices. I slowly stroll through the racks, picking out the occasional dress. I don’t even know what size I am.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to look behind me where the voice came from. It’s a well dressed young woman, twenty five, twenty six years old I’d say. A sales clerk.
“Thank God! Yes, please! I need a dress for tonight. I’m having supper at a nice restaurant with ... someone.”
She smiles knowingly. “Supper with ... someone eh? I’m sure we can find the perfect dress.”
“Not too formal or anything. It’s just dinner, no big deal you know? I just need to look ... nice.”
She nods her head, still smiling. “Nice but no big deal. Gotcha.” She steps back and gives me a quick look over. “How about we start in the Junior area.” We cross the aisle to a more colorful part of the store. The mannequins are dressed in more fashionable stuff, at least I think it’s more fashionable. I only know what I read in the occasional “Cosmo” one of the other girls leaves behind. The dresses are shorter, more flirty, closer to what Anthony likes me to wear for him at the club but not nearly as bad. I take a closer look. At least some of them aren’t as bad. Geez. You mean some girls actually want to dress like that?
“What size are you?”
Her question brings my attention back to the reason I’m here. “Excuse me?”
“What size?”
“Uuummm.... I’m not sure. You see, I haven’t bought anything like this ... in a while and I’m probably not the ... uh ... same size anymore.”
She nods her head again, then leans in closer. “Puberty’s a bitch, isn’t it?” She whispers. “Come on back to the dressing rooms and I’ll take some measurements.”
We walk back to the sales counter against the wall. There’s a doorway with a curtain across it next to the checkout counter. The clerk grabs a tape from behind the counter; then pushes the curtain aside so that I can walk through. It’s a well lit room with several mirrors and curtained stalls along one wall. She has me step up on a small platform and turn to face her.
“Just relax, stand straight, arms out just a little bit so I can get the tape around you.”
She first wraps the tape around my hips, taking measurements at several spots. Pulling a small pad of paper and a pencil from her pocket, she jots down some numbers. She does the same for my waist and then my boobs, doing about twice as many measurements around my chest. She also measures the length of my legs, heel to hip and hip to knee. She puts the tape around her neck, steps back and studies the numbers on her pad, occasionally glancing back at me. She has a frown on her face.
“Is there a problem?”
She looks up at me and smiles again but it seems a little forced this time. “No, not a problem exactly. Some parts of your body are more ... developed than others right now. Eventually, everything will catch up with your uh...” She’s looking at my tits. “But right now you are kind of between sizes.” She chuckles. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it is like you are an assembly of parts of different girls. Weird isn’t it? I’m sure it is just a stage, you’ll grow out of it in no time.”
I force my self to laugh lightly. “Yeah, it sure is weird. I guess that’s why my other clothes don’t fit quite right.”
“Exactly, but don’t worry. I’ve got several dresses that will look great on you.” She starts to leave the dressing room.
“Not too short please. I don’t want to look ... that way, you know, Just comfortable and...”
“Nice” she says. “I’ve got it.” She winks. “Trust me.” She leaves, the curtain flopping across the opening. I’m left with my thoughts and Frankenstein body.
How did she see me for what I am? I guess she spends all day measuring people and looking at proportions. If someone is unusual, she’d probably be one of the few people to notice it. I’ve never gotten any complaints from any of my customers though. Just because I’m different doesn’t mean I’m not beautif.... attractive, right?
The clerk returns clutching several dresses.
“Stand there and I’ll hold them up. Look at that mirror and tell me what you think.” She holds the first one up, a red cotton dress with a wrap around style. It’s OK I guess. She can tell by the look on my face that it’s not the one. She brings it down and lifts the second one. It’s blue with what I think is called a boat neck style. Where do they get these names? It’s better than the first.
“A maybe?” she asks.
“Yeah”
“Ok. How about this one?” It’s a pink, empire waist, knee length. I’ve never liked that style, it makes the girl look pregnant.
“No, not that one.”
“Fine.” She reaches down for the last one. “I’ve saved the best for last. Close your eyes and let me get round behind you to hold it just right.” I feel her hands on either side of my boobs, pulling the dress tightly across my chest. “Alright, open them.”
I look into the mirror.
“Aaaahhhh.”
Her head pops around from behind me so that she can see the mirror. I turn my body a little left and right to see how the dress moves.
“Was I right or was I right? This is your dress.”
It’s an ivory halter sundress, with a red rose pattern on the cotton fabric. It hits about 3 inches above my knees and flares slightly from the waist, a lightly pleated skirt. I could look hot as hell in this dress but still classy. I step off the platform.
“Let me try it on.”
I scurry to an empty changing room and quickly wiggle out of my jeans and remove my shirt. I lift the dress over my head and drop it around me. It’s tight around my waist and holds my tummy in. I have to pull it up a bit to get my boobs in right. The back zips up but I can’t quite get it all the way to the top. I step out of the changing room.
“Here, let me get that,” says the clerk as she finishes pulling the zipper up. I stand in front of the mirror, turning left and right.
“I look ridiculous with this bra.”
“Naturally, you’ll need a strapless bra, maybe a corset style ... or perhaps no bra at all. The dress is fairly stiff across the chest. Someone with breasts like yours should be able to handle it easily.”
I walk around the room, looking in the mirrors at how the skirt falls away from my ass, emphasizing every move, but subtly. It’s a little bit like the dress Marilyn Monroe wore in “The Seven Year Itch”, where she stood over the subway grate and the air blew the skirt up around her, only shorter.
“I’ll take it. Where is the bra section?”
“Are you sure about that? You only have breasts like that when you are young. I’m twenty six and mine are already drooping just a little. I say flaunt it while you got it.”
I was tempted to tell her I spent most of my time “flaunting it” but she might not believe me.
“No thanks, I’d rather use a bra.”
“Suit yourself.” She turned the page on her pad of paper and scribbled some more numbers, tore the page out and handed it to me. “This will give you a start. Tell them Monica sent you. Also, make sure that they see the dress to match the color. Do you have shoes?” I grimace.
“No, I need those, too.”
“If it was me, I’d go with at least a 3” heel. Can you handle that?”
In my sleep.
“I think so. Thank you very much, I’d never been able to do this without your help.”
She patted my arm.
“You’re quite welcome. I enjoy helping young, beautiful women like you. Get them while they are young and we get a ‘Macy’s’ customer for life.”
I ended up buying a cream colored strapless bra, matching thong panty, garter belt, real silk stockings and pumps with 4” heels, plus some new makeup and a perfume that a girl spritzed me with as I walked by. In for a penny, in for a pound.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The reservations were for 7:00 p.m., so I had more than enough time to get my work done that day. There was the laundry, changing the beds, vacuuming the floors and cleaning the bathrooms. Bob’s leg was better so he helped with the floors but he also spent some time in his office, making and taking phone calls. Bob never said exactly what he did. He was supposed to be retired but seemed awfully busy for a retired guy, at least whenever I was there. I did find a big, flat plastic box with lots of little compartments in his bathroom, each compartment holding an assortment of pills. It was like one of those little boxes where you arrange your pills by days, only much bigger. It appears that Bob was taking a lot of medications for something, probably serious given the number of pills. Other than the walking problems and the seizures, I never saw any other symptoms. He never gave me any diet restrictions he had to live by, maybe he just didn’t care. I was curious what it was all about but had learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut and do what I’m told. That was Rule One at the club.
I’d made good progress on my day’s jobs by 5:30 p.m. so I started to get ready for supper. I showered again, but shaved my underarms, legs and pussy this time. Two of them where going to be on display at supper and you never know about the third. After the shower, I rubbed on a new lotion I bought that day; the salesgirl said it was a moisturizer and sunscreen. I liked the smell. After that I put the garter belt around my waist, rolled the stockings and then carefully unrolled one of them up my right leg. The salesgirl warned me that real silk stockings required careful handling. I attached the tops to the garter belt and then did the same thing with my left leg. Once the stockings were in place, I slowly ran my hands up and down my legs, from the tips of my toes to the tops of the stockings. It was like nothing I had felt before, completely different from the cheap stuff I wore at the club. Cool, sinfully smooth. I crossed and recrossed my legs, rubbing them against each other.
“Mmmmmmmm.”
I could do this all day but the clock is ticking. I slide the panties up my legs, setting the strap firmly in the crack of my ass, and then sit down to do my makeup. I don’t actually need much makeup; there aren’t any flaws to hide. Whenever I see it in a mirror, I marvel at how perfect my face is. Big eyes, small pert nose, high cheekbones, full lips, long lashes, smooth skin, pointed chin, everything perfectly spaced and symmetrical. All I need to do is not go overboard and screw things up, particularly tonight. This is real world makeup, subtle, quiet, not stage makeup, which is usually loud and garish. I don’t have to be a whore tonight; I can be a regular person. I apply just a little mascara and a smidge of eye shadow. The important job will be my lips.
The clerk at the makeup counter showed me a trick with lip liner. Candi had never mentioned it before, probably because it works best close up and I never want to get too close to the grabby bastards near the stage. The colors of the liner and lipstick and my fingernail polish are supposed to match the red in my dress. The clerk went through several colors before she was happy but they all looked alike to me. It takes me three tries but I eventually get my lips the way I want them. The only thing left are my nails but I’m running out of time.
I open the bottle and start to methodically cover each nail. My hands, fingers and nails are as perfect as my face. I’ve only got time for one coat so I make sure to get it right the first time. Just as I finish the last nail, Bob knocks on my door.
“Honey, we need to leave in about ten minutes. Are you ready yet?”
“No,” I reply, waiving my hands vigorously in the air to speed up the drying of the polish. “Not yet, but I’ll be ready in time.”
“Alright. I will be waiting in the living room.”
I keep fanning my hands until the polish sets and then I start on my hair. Luckily all I planned on doing is just brushing it out and adding a couple of barrettes. My hair is much longer than I like, though I will admit that it looks great when styled right. Getting it right just takes so damn much time. I’d cut it in an instant if I had a choice, which I don’t.
The last barrette is in place so I stand up to get the bra. As I stand, my legs rub against each other. Uuuummmm, there go those stockings again, a quick shiver racing through my body. I shake my head to clear it. I wrap the bra around my waist, fasten it then spin it around and pull it up into place, adjusting my tits until everything is just right. Pausing to look at myself in the mirror, I am forced to admit it, I am one fuckable bitch. The tits, the ass, the hips, flat tummy, long legs, I may be an assembly of parts but they are damn hot parts.
Stepping into the shoes, I throw the dress over my head as Bob knocks on my door again.
“Honey, I hate to be a bother but we will need to leave in the next two minutes.”
“Just a few seconds.” I pull my hair up and let it fall down my bare back. I look over my shoulder at the mirror. Maybe the hair is worth the trouble.
“I will never understand why it takes women so long to get ready to go out. It should not be so difficult to...” I open the door and his voice trails off when he gets a look at me, smiling up at him. I give him a few seconds to get a good, long look then turn around and gaze at him over my shoulder.
“Could you zip me up please?”
He blinks several times. “What?”
“Could you zip up the back of my dress ... please?” His hands move up, zipping with the right and fixing the clasp with both. I turn back around to face him. His eyes are a little unfocused.
“Thanks. We better get going. Don’t want to be late.”
“What?”
I snap my fingers in front of his face a couple of times.
“Dinner. Reservation. Drive. Late.” He gives his head a sharp jerk and blinks again.
“Yes ... right ... dinner” He turns and heads for the garage. “I just do not understand why it always takes so long...”
“We just want to look our best, Bob.” He looks back at me as he continues to walk towards the garage.
“I certainly can appreciate the results but...” he walks straight into the kitchen doorframe. I stop, turn my head, and cover my mouth with both hands; it’s the only way I can keep from laughing out loud. He bounces off the frame, pauses, twists his head slightly to the right and keeps on walking. I follow.
“You were saying, Bob?”
“Nothing.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was as nice a public meal as I have had in years. Not just since I was transformed into Honey Sweet-Lay, that goes without saying. I’m going back to the Josh Thomas days. When you’re famous, eating out in public can be a pain in the ass. Everyone is watching you, whispering, pointing at you. And that’s a good day. A bad day is when people start pestering you for autographs or giving you advice about what plays to call, or, and this is the worst, bitching about what you did during the last game. The absolute worst is when the guy complaining to you is drunk. I put up with that shit ever since I went pro.
There was none of that tonight. Sure, I drew a lot of stares when Bob and I came into the restaurant. It was surprisingly busy for a weekday and most any guy we walked by gave me the once over, some were more obvious than others. The married ones or the guys with their dates were more careful but they looked. Bob had booked an out of the way table and he sat with his back to the wall, looking out over the entire dining area. My back was to all that. I don’t know if he wanted to keep me all to himself or if he just wanted some privacy, but I appreciated the seclusion.
Our waitress was very nice and I was glad we had a woman. She was an older lady who I think assumed that Bob was my father, maybe a brother. Either way, she didn’t treat us like a couple on a date. In fact, she was almost motherly towards me, which has never happened before. She was full of compliments and little bits of advice. Bob seemed to be enjoying the show. I caught him staring at me more than a few times, but he tried to hide it. He never said or did anything remotely sexual. He was the poster child for politeness, opening the door for me, holding my chair for me, standing when I went to the bathroom, all that old school stuff.
And the meal was delicious! I had Chicken Parmesan with a tossed salad and Italian dressing, Bob had some kind of Tortellini with meat sauce, sautéed mushrooms, and soup. Bob let me try his Tortellini. I need to try making that myself. We shared a bottle of wine but I think I drank more than my share. The waitress insisted on seeing my I.D. before bringing the wine. She eyed me pretty hard before giving in, probably figured that if my father/brother wasn’t going to object, why should she. Besides, the I.D. said I was twenty two, though I didn’t look it. Not at all.
The portions were enormous, at least for me. In the old days I’d have scarfed it all down in a few minutes so that I could get out of there but now I was more interested in taking it slowly, stretching out the experience. Ultimately, I needed a doggy bag, yet when Bob had cheesecake for dessert, I ate more than half of it, one “taste” at a time.
Bob appeared to be relaxed and surprisingly talkative. I don’t know if it was the wine or what but he opened up a little, talking about his childhood. I responded by talking about mine. Of course I didn’t talk about my real childhood but I made enough changes so that he wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong. What was weird was that the longer we talked, the sadder he got. He didn’t cry or anything but it was like he got depressed, quieter. He didn’t stop talking but by the end of the meal, he was sorta withdrawn. I thought that I may have said something that upset him but I couldn’t think of anything. He was still very polite to me and the waitress, leaving her a big tip.
We drove home mostly in silence. I tried to get him to talk but he just answered my questions in one or two words. Eventually I gave up, not wanting to ruin what had been, by and large, a nice evening. When we pulled into the garage and stopped, Bob still came around and opened my door. We walked into the house together, through the kitchen into the living room. Bob stopped and turned towards me.
“Honey ... we need to talk.” SHIT! No one ever “needs to talk” about something good. I hope that I haven’t blown this sweet deal. “If you need to go to the bathroom, I suggest that you do so now, this may take awhile.”
“OK.” I say quietly. I don’t really need to go but he has a better idea about what he has planned so I take his advice. When I get back, he’s sitting down on the couch. He indicates with his hand for me to sit in the chair opposite him. I walk over and sit down, smoothing my dress underneath me as I do. Bob says nothing for a few seconds, he just looks at me with, I think, sadness in his eyes. What did I do or say?
“Honey, as you know, this is the last week of our three week trial. I have never told either you or Anthony what the trial was for. I am looking for someone to be my full time companion.” He pauses; I think he’s waiting for me to say something.
“What do you mean ‘companion’?”
“Someone who would live in my home, full time, do the things that you have been doing for me these last three weeks. Are you ... interested?”
Am I interested?! It’s my second most frequent dream. The first is being turned back into Josh Thomas and ripping Amy Hanson’s heart out through her asshole. The second is getting the hell out of the club any way possible. The problem is, there ain’t no way either one is ever going to happen. Amy is never going to let me go. Bob has no idea what he’s asking for.
“Bob ... Anthony will never let me do this.”
“I can be very persuasive, Honey. Money is a powerful incentive and I have quite a lot of it. The question to you is do you want the job?”
“Bob ... it doesn’t matter what I want ... it’s ... it’s impossible. Can’t we just keep on the way we are?”
“I am afraid not. If you are not interested, I will need to find someone else. Are you sure that you are not interested?”
I begin to cry. It’s all over, the good bedroom, the clothes, the pool, all of it. Surprisingly, the worst part will be losing Bob.
“I’m sorry” I sob. “I ... can’t ... don’t ask me ... to explain ... I just ... can’t.”
He stands up and walks behind my chair. “I am sorry too, Honey. You have no idea how sorry.”
Suddenly, there is a tightness across my chest, below my boobs. Something flashes across my eyes and it gets tighter. Another flash, even tighter. I try to move my arms but they won’t budge. I manage to look to my right and then I see it. Several lengths of rope. Bob has looped rope around me and tied me to the chair!
“What’s going on?!” I shout through my tears. Bob walks back around in front of me and sits back down on the couch.
“Please calm down, Honey. I do not intend to harm you. If I was going to do that, I would have done so by now.”
“Calm down?! Please Bob, whatever I said, I’m sorry. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone!”
“If you will be quiet, I will explain.”
I try to stifle my tears and they gradually stop, despite the big ball of fear growing in my chest. I’ve dealt with crazies before at the club. “I can do this, I can do this” I tell myself. Once the tears end, I manage to get my gasping breath under control. In a few moments, I am outwardly pretty calm. Scared shitless inside but outwardly calm.
“Very impressive, Honey. Most people would be panic stricken at this point but you have controlled your fear. I knew that there was something special about you.”
“I’m not special.”
“But you are. Quite special. Also unusual and confusing. I chose you from all the other girls I have seen because you appeared to be the most desperate. I thought that you would be the most likely to appreciate the opportunity to get away from your current situation.”
“I do want to get away from...” Bob holds up his hand. I shut up.
“This will go a lot faster if you let me speak first. You will get a chance to speak, trust me.” I nod my head. “Good. When I started my quest, I was searching for someone to fulfill a certain role. I anticipated the need for assistance in my life that would arise in the not too distant future. The search has been on going for several months. You are the best candidate, by far. After meeting you and spending time together, the results only confirmed my initial assessment. You are a young, intelligent, beautiful woman desperate to escape from the control of her pimp, in this case, Anthony. You also do not exist.”
I start to remind him of my driver’s license but he holds up his hand again. I fall silent.
“Thank you. I should have been more specific. You did not exist until three years ago. Prior to the issuance of your current driver’s license and Social Security card, there is no record of ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’ anywhere. No school records, no medical records, no employment records, criminal records ... nothing. It is possible for you to have only recently obtained a driver’s license, not everyone starts driving at sixteen, but to get that license you would have needed a certified copy of your birth certificate, yet there is no record of your birth. Surprisingly, there is a record of a birth certificate being issued three years ago, but no actual record of your birth at the place and date listed on that certificate. You would have found it very hard to live without a Social Security number up until three years ago. Oh.... there are also no records for the man and woman listed on your birth certificate as your parents.”
Where did Bob get all this information? How did he get access to Social Security, school or medical records?
“Before offering you this job, I had to check out your history and this is what I discovered: legally, you popped into existence three years ago. I thought that you might have been born out of the country but there are no immigration records. Besides, we are stuck with that clearly fraudulent birth certificate. Perhaps you are an illegal immigrant? Where from? You have no accent beyond a combination of Midwest and Southern, you are not Hispanic, Cuban, or of African heritage. And again, the fraudulent birth certificate. There is the possibility that you are a young runaway who fell into Anthony’s clutches and he used his police contacts to create this miserable excuse of a new identity.”
That sounds good. I can go with that! Bob smiles. I think he read the hopeful look on my face.
“Then you can tell me your real name and place of birth, keeping in mind that I will rigorously check those records.” I don’t say anything. “This is your chance to tell me the truth, Honey.”
I’m screwed. I can’t pick some name and place at random. Why the hell did Hanson have to do such a shitty job when she created “Honey Sweet-Lay”?
“I’m sorry Bob, I can’t.”
“I did not think that you would ... at least not yet. My research discovered other interesting facts, like the actual contents of those glass vials you bring with you each week. I was not aware that Anthony’s semen had medicinal qualities.”
OK, now he’s just playing with me.
“I may not be a medical professional but I do have access to someone who is and he assured me that semen is not a recognized treatment for any known medical condition. Which raises the question, why the hell do you need a dose of his semen every twenty four hours?” He looks at his watch. “Since your last dose was approximately twenty three hours ago, I guess we will soon find out.”
Shit! With all that had been happening, I hadn’t noticed the sexual pressure building inside me but now that he brought up the subject, it jumped up and hit me between the eyes.
“Please Bob, I really do need that ... stuff.”
“Why?”
How could I possibly explain it to him? Even if I did, he’d never believe it. I just hang my head.
“You can not tell me. Very well, I will let nature take its course. While we wait, I would like to deal with possibly the most fascinating part of our situation. You have regularly and consistently lied to me about your past. What you did as a child, where you lived, the places you played, the schools you attended ... everything. Now this is hardly surprising, given the false identity and all, but the curious part is the consistency of the lies. You claim to remember things, seen things, done things that a person your age could not have possibly seen or done. For example, you spoke of swimming at the pool at Veteran’s Park in your home town when you were younger, how you dove off the ten foot board on your tenth birthday. You were allegedly born April 1, 1986. The pool closed in 1991. You would barely have been out of the kiddy pool by then, not diving off the high board. Do you have an explanation for this?”
“Maybe it was some other pool?” I say, not particularly convincingly.
“Perhaps, but you described it in such detail. The only thing you were mistaken about was the time period. In fact, most of your lies involve problems with time. Shall I continue?” He reaches to his left and pulls a manila file folder from behind a pillow on the couch. How long has he been prepping for this evening? He flips open the folder and starts running through the conversations we’ve had since I first came to his house ... practically all of our conversations, including some I don’t remember. Time and time again, he points to one of my many lies and exactly what was wrong about it. Now I know what he was doing all that time in his office, checking out my story. Either this house is bugged in every room or Bob’s got one hell of a memory. He closes the folder.
“In each and every case, the crucial variant was time. It was possible for you to have done or seen what you claimed to have done or seen, just not when you claim to have done it or seen it. That leads me to one of two conclusions. Either you are an incredibly organized and disciplined liar with a lousy sense of time ... or you are telling the truth but just older than you claim to be, possibly much older.” He sets the folder aside and stares at me for a few seconds. “I have not yet decided which is correct.”
I close my eyes and sigh. He knows. At least part of it. He doesn’t know how or why but he knows ... or suspects. Could I actually tell him the truth? OH GOD! I’ve wanted to tell somebody, anybody, the truth for years. If I could only share the pain with someone, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. They don’t have to rescue me, just listen to me, believe me ... comfort me. I open my eyes and look back at him. Bob might be that someone. As I stare at him, he looks right back, each waiting for the other to say something. The stand off becomes more uncomfortable when I realize that my right hand has slid across my body and that I have been unconsciously rubbing my cunt lightly through my dress. I shift in the chair to try and make it look like I was just adjusting my position but I know that it is just a matter of time. One hour, maybe two and I will have my panties pulled down to my knees with my fingers stuffed into my pussy, rubbing and tugging at my clit. I may not be able to raise my arms to reach my tits but I can certainly get both hands on my cunt.
“All I have, Honey, is a large pile of inconsistencies. I can not make any sense out of them. None of the normal explanations fit and the abnormal ones that do are almost unbelievable. The easy answer is to just walk away and start over with a new girl ... but I do not want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“My interest has been piqued, my curiosity aroused.”
“Apparently your curiosity is the only thing about you that can be aroused.”
He laughs at that. “Oh Honey, that is hitting below the belt, so to speak, but I understand why you may think that. I am a puzzle person and your situation is most certainly a puzzle. I think something terrible happened to you or is happening to you, which explains your attitude about your activities at the club. Yet you will not take the opportunity to leave Anthony and you refuse to explain why. It makes no sense. If you are involved in some kind of bad situation, I may be able to help. I am willing to try and help.”
“Why would you help me?”
He shrugs. “You seem to be a nice person.”
“How do you know? We’ve been together like 6 days.”
“Like you, I study people. I could be wrong about you. Heaven knows I have been wrong about others in the past but I am pretty sure that I am right this time. Even if I am not, the puzzle itself is interesting even if you are a mass murderer.”
“So you don’t care about me at all!”
“I do, it is just not the only reason I want to help.”
“And if I still refuse to talk?”
“Then I will find out some other way. I am going to solve this puzzle, with or without your help. I may just ask Anthony outright what is going on.”
“Oh God! No! Please don’t say anything to him about this. If he knew what you ... he’d....” I can’t even warn him without spilling the beans.
“Cause you harm? Attempt to cause me harm? No doubt you are correct. I suspect that there is something quite unusual going on here and that Anthony might take drastic action to protect whatever it is. And still, you will not accept my offer of assistance.” He slowly shakes his head back and forth several times, lips pursed. “I just do not know what to think. Eh.... Honey?”
“Yes?”
“You seem to be fondling yourself again.”
OH SHIT! I quickly pull my right hand away from my crotch. I had been slowly rubbing myself without realizing it. Just like a normal person would unconsciously scratch an itch, I was scratching my steadily growing itch. I can’t look at Bob, it is just too embarrassing to be so out of control of my own body.
“Is that related to your daily dose of Anthony’s semen?”
I keep my eyes glued to the floor. “Just let me go Bob, please. Just let me go back to the club and forget all about you and this place and all we did. Please.”
“I understand what it is like to be at the mercy of uncontrollable biological urges, Honey,” he says quietly.
I glance up at him. “Not like mine you don’t.”
“Probably true, but I can empathize. You have seen through my claim of suffering from ‘muscle spasms’. They are seizures, some small, some large and they have a habit of occurring at the most inconvenient times. Sometimes I can feel them coming on and have time to take precautions. Other times they strike without warning. If I am out in public, I am the recipient of the pitying stares of the bystanders. I know that you have seen the copious amounts of medication I take to deal with my affliction and yet it is barely controlled.”
That was the closest he has ever come to telling me one of his secrets. It isn’t the same as my condition, not by a long shot, but we have traveled along the same road.
“I understand what you are talking about Bob, believe me, but no one uses your ... condition against you, forcing you to ... do things that no ... person should ever have to do.”
“Then stay with me, Honey! I can deal with Anthony. I am sure that he can be bought off. If not, there are always other ways to persuade someone.”
“Oh really” I snort. “You’re what, 5’ 10”, maybe two hundred pounds and probably out of shape. Anthony’s like 6’ 7”, over three hundred pounds and damn good with his fists. I’ve seen him beat three guys at one time, all bigger than you and I’ve been on the receiving end of his punches before. You wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Bob just smiles at me. “Looks can be deceiving Honey, sometimes intentionally so. Besides, I do not believe that it would come down to a physical altercation. I am willing to offer Anthony up to a million dollars for your services. Would he take that deal?”
He’d take one tenth that deal in a New York minute, but Hanson wouldn’t take one hundred times that deal. Ever.
“You have a million dollars?”
“That and much more.”
“You sure don’t live like it.”
“That is why I have it, Honey, a penny saved and all that. Back to my question, would Anthony accept the offer?”
I hesitate. “It’s not that simple, Bob. Sure, Anthony’s in it for the money ... but ... she...” I give up trying to explain, it can’t be done in bits and pieces. I can tell him all or nothing. So it’s nothing. He squats down in front of me.
“So you are unwilling to even let me try to help you, with my money and resources?”
“What resources? I thought you were a retired shoe salesman.”
“I have done more than sell shoes in my time, Honey. Besides, if things are as bad as you hint, how much worse could they be if I tried and failed?”
He has a point there, how much worse could my life be? Here’s a guy offering to help me get away from Hanson’s clutches even though he has no idea what he’s up against. I’m not talking to him because I know it won’t work ... but what if he could figure some way out? Is it worth taking one chance in a million? What am I really risking? He’s already said that he’s not going to let me keep coming two days each week so that’s gone already. If I have to go back to the club 24/7/365, what’s worse than that?
Hanson would probably think of something.
He reaches out, touching my arm gently.
“Consider what you will feel one or two months or years from now, still stuck in whatever hell you are currently stuck in, when you look back and think ‘I had a chance to do something about this when Bob James offered but I turned him down’. Could you live with that?”
He’s right. I’d be kicking myself in the ass every night. The regret would make everything that much worse. I never truly fought back against what she did to me, I never had a chance really, just escaped that one time and discovered what my new life was going to be like when she and Billy Joe Coleson showed up at the motel room and forced me to suck him off to get my first taste of fresh semen. It still makes me gag when I think about it, even though that was like a few thousand cocks ago. That memory brings me back to my pussy, which is aching to be fucked right now.
I’ve been able to keep from masturbating the last few minutes by clutching the hem of my dress with both hands but I’m still squirming in my chair, trying to find some friction somewhere. Bob’s had the courtesy not to point this out but he’d have to be blind not to see it. I’m almost past the point of caring what anybody thinks and can feel that I’m starting to lose what little control I have. The burning need is growing so fast that I’m having a hard time concentrating.
“OK. Let’s say that I tell you everything and you don’t believe me, what then?”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
“Because nobody in their right mind would fucking believe me! It’s too damn fantastic! I wake up at night sometimes and think it’s all a horrible dream until I reach down to my crotch and find nothing there.”
“Why would there be something on your crotch?”
It doesn’t matter if I tell him or not, he won’t believe it. He’ll think it’s just one more lie from a lying teenage whore and he’ll throw me back into the club. I take a deep breath, force my hands to grab my dress firmly, and go for broke.
“I’ll tell you ... I’ll tell you everything, but I’ve got to have one of my bottles NOW!”
“You can have it after you tell me.”
“NOW! In a few minutes I won’t be able to control myself and in about twenty minutes, I won’t even be able to think straight. You’ve got to give me one right now Bob. Please! I don’t want you to see me this way ... no one should have to ...” I begin to cry.
Bob jumps off the couch and rushes to the kitchen. I hear the refrigerator door open and then slam shut. He’s beside my chair in a couple of seconds, the top already removed. I tilt me head back and open my mouth. He doesn’t pour it straight in but comes from the side of my mouth, letting the semen flow in so that I don’t choke. There’s a look of slight disgust on his face. I almost laugh. Bet he’s never poured somebody else’s cum down a girls’ throat before. That ain’t nothing compared to what comes next, Bob old boy. I swallow and wait for the dose to take effect. It seems to take longer than usual but maybe it’s because I got so much closer to the edge this time. I’ve been there before and it’s not fun, like scratching an unending itch that fills your body and mind and if you stop scratching for even a moment, you’re afraid that it will overwhelm you. The actual scratching is pleasant enough for awhile but even that eventually becomes painful, just not as bad as the itch itself.
“How long?” I ask.
“About ten minutes Honey, are you alright?”
“Yes ... for now.”
“Why do you react that way to....” I cut him off.
“This will go a lot faster if you let me speak first. You will get a chance to ask questions, trust me.”
He sits back, smiling. “Touché. Proceed.”
“You were right, I am not a young girl.”
He raises his hand.
“Yes?” I say.
“I know what you just said but there are just a few basic questions and then the floor is yours.”
“Fine.”
“How old are you?”
“Forty-two years old, give or take a few weeks.”
He looks astonished. “Amazing!”
“You’re focusing on the least amazing part of my statement Bob.”
“You said that you were not young, correct?”
“A young girl.”
“Well, forty-two would make you a woman instead of a girl, certainly.”
“I’m not a young female then.”
He brings out his smirk. “Honey, I have seen you naked, from every angle. You are quite clearly female, possibly the most feminine female I have ever had the pleasure of seeing.”
“Well about four years ago, this ‘feminine female’ was the starting quarterback for the Super Bowl Champion Dallas Wranglers.”
The look on his face almost made the pain of this night worthwhile.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bob was true to his word, he let me talk without interrupting. After about ten minutes, he untied me and we sat on the couch together. After another ten minutes he had me pause so that he could get a notepad and a pen. For the next few hours, he stopped me occasionally while he caught up on his notes. At particularly difficult parts of my story, he would hold my hands. When I tried to talk about the post Super Bowl parties and Billie Joe’s dogs, he held me and gently rocked me until I could stop crying and continue with the story. I didn’t stop until almost 5:00 a.m. We both had drunk at least 4 cups of coffee by then. Bob put his pad and pen down.
“I am at an utter loss for words, Honey. There are so many questions to ask, I truly do not know where to start.”
“But, you do believe me, right?”
He takes both of my hands in his and looks me square in the eyes.
“I will not lie to you Honey” Crap! He doesn’t. He thinks I’m nuts! “I neither believe nor disbelieve you.”
“You can’t say that! I pour my heart out to you and you won’t get off the fence?”
He squeezes my hands. “Listen very carefully, Honey. From this moment forward, I will not lie to you. I have said certain inaccurate things tonight, well yesterday to be exact, about my history and childhood to try to get the truth out of you, which was an interrogation technique but the subterfuge ends here, now. If we are to go forward, there can be no lies.”
“So, you’re saying that I’m lying!”
“Not at all! Did I ever say that?”
“Well you hinted that you thought I did.”
“I am sorry that I gave you that impression, Honey. I will be specific. Some of what you told me matches exactly with the information that I already possess. Some of what you said offers a logical but hard to believe answer to some apparent contradictions I am aware of. The rest of what you said ... requires further study. So that is why I neither believe nor disbelieve you, it is too early.”
“Why can’t you just trust me?”
“Do you trust me?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have told you would I?”
“Do you trust me completely?” I open my mouth to answer but he interrupts. “Remember, no lies.”
I frown at him. “No,” I reply quietly.
“Ditto” he says. “But I hope to in the near future. ‘Trust, but verify,’ the saying goes. I will assume that you are telling me the truth, but the verification process will soon begin. However, it is much too late to start tonight.” He glances at his watch. “I mean today. Go to bed and get a good sleep, or at least as much as you can under the circumstances. We will skip breakfast and go out for brunch. There is much too much to do to stick with the previous schedule.”
We stand up. He is still holding my hand. I like the way it feels, gentle but firm, strong, protective. It’s also a little weird. I mean, he knows I was a guy. I want to give him a hug before going to bed. We’d never done that before, but it feels right to me some how. Trouble is, I don’t know what he thinks. Might as well find out now.
“Uuhhh ... Bob, could I uuhh ... we....”
“Could we what, Honey?”
I look away. “Could I hug you good night?” He pulls me towards him, lets go of my hand, slides his arms around my waist, moves his forearms up my back and gently but firmly hugs me. I put my arms around him, lay my head on his shoulder and hug back. We stay that way for several seconds before I lightly push away. Bob lets me go.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“It was my pleasure, Honey.”
“I just thought that you might think it was, you know, weird or something. Me being a man and all.”
“I do not mean to be repetitive, but whatever you were, whoever you were, right now, you are an attractive young woman, the epitome of grace and beauty. Good night Honey.”
I blush and stifle a giggle. “Good night Bob.” He leaves me standing in the hall as he walks into his room with his notes and shuts his door. I turn and step into my bedroom, flip on the light and close the door behind me. I walk over to the bed and flop onto it, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. I just lay there, arms spread, looking up at the ceiling. I close my eyes and quickly fall asleep.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I wake up and shield my eyes from the overhead light. Turning my head to the left, I read the clock on the table by my bed. 6:21 a.m. I’m still dressed in my clothes from supper. Sitting up, I catch my reflection in the mirror by the bathroom door. My hair’s a mess, the dress all bunched up around my waist and both shoes have fallen to the floor, looking like a girl who had been well fucked. Too bad it’s not true. I roll off the bed and get undressed, hanging the rumpled dress in the closet and slipping my nightshirt over my head. I pick up the bra, panty, garter belt and stockings from the bed and floor, open my door and lightly walk down the hall to the linen closet to drop them into the dirty clothes hamper, not wanting to wake Bob. When I get back to my door, I pause to make sure that I didn’t disturb him. I don’t hear anything moving in his room but I can see light at the bottom of the door. Did I wake him? Maybe he hasn’t gone to sleep yet. I want to knock and find out but decide that I’d better leave him alone. I slip into my room, close the door, turn off the light and crawl back into bed, pulling the covers up around my neck. Where is all this going to end? Now that my horniness level has dropped back to normal, I’m having second thoughts about telling Bob the truth. I guess it’s surprising that I held out as long as I did. I have survived the last three years, as bad as they may have been. What happens if this doesn’t work? Hanson will be so pissed, I can’t imagine what she may do. At least now I’m human, she couldn’t change me into some kind of animal could she? I shake my head.
Get a grip, Honey! You’ll drive yourself nuts thinking of all the bad shit that could happen. Think about getting your cock back; think about becoming a man again. But most importantly, get some sleep. I roll over and force all thoughts from my mind, concentrating instead on the feeling of the warm sheets against my skin. I reach down with my right hand and lightly stroke my pussy, not hard enough to get my engine running but enough to drive everything else out of my consciousness. It’s a hell of a lot better than sucking my thumb. I soon drift back to sleep.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
When I wake up again, it’s 11:18 a.m. Good thing I pulled the window drapes shut. I hear the shower running in Bob’s bedroom, so he’s awake too. I push the bed sheets back, slide out of bed and hurry to the bathroom. I need to take a dump. I lift my shirt and sit down on the toilet. Over the years I’d gotten used to sitting down to go to the bathroom. What was harder to get used to was how much women had to undress to use the bathroom, then re-dress and straighten up before leaving. For men it’s just unzip, relax, shake, zip up, wash, dry and go.
After wiping, I strip off my nightshirt and jump into the shower. I want to be quick this morning, there’s a lot to do today. It only takes me about ten minutes before I’m dry and dressed in khaki pants, ballet neck top, and tennis shoes. I’ve pulled my hair into a long ponytail held with a scrunchie. When I get to the kitchen, Bob’s sitting at the table, sipping a cup of his strong coffee, reading the morning paper. I step up behind him.
I want to bend down, put my arms around his neck and give him a “good morning” hug. After all I told him last night, I feel like we’ve crossed a line in our relationship. Relationship? Where did that come from? I stand there, not knowing what to do.
“Good morning, Honey. Would you like a cup of coffee before we eat?”
“Uhh ... yeah, sure ... I’ll get it ... good morning Bob.” I walk over to the coffee pot, thankful that I don’t have to deal with what just happened, at least not yet. I pour a cup then sit down next to Bob. He looks over at me.
“Don’t you normally sit over there?” He points to the chair opposite him. He’s right.
“Sorry.” I start to stand up.
“No, no. Sit down. It was a question, not a suggestion. You may sit wherever you want, Honey.”
“Thanks.” I sit back down and sip my coffee.
“I have been going through my notes from last night and there are a number of things that I would like to have more information about, but I will save that for after we get back from brunch. How do you like ‘Denny’s’?
“That’s fine, wherever you want. Did you actually go to bed last night? I was up and saw a light under your door.”
“To be truthful, no, I did not. I was so energized by what you told me that I spent the night reviewing my notes and doing research on the internet. We have a very interesting cast of characters here.” Tell me about it. “Dr. Amy Hanson is quite accomplished. Given the research papers I have read, she should have received her Nobel several years sooner. A brilliant and possibly extremely dangerous woman, very formidable.”
“Are you saying she’s too much to take on?”
He chuckles. “Hardly, Honey. Everyone has a week spot, usually several. I just need to find hers.”
“But aren’t you afraid of her? After all you’ve read and what I told you?”
“Fear is for the unprepared. Whatever plan we ultimately have, it will be bullet proof.”
He seems so confident, so full of pep, so in charge, so ... masterful. It’s a side of Bob I’ve never seen before. It’s ... kinda arousing. “Do you know how you’re going to help me?”
“No idea whatsoever.”
“WHAT?!”
He reaches out and takes my hand. “Honey, it has been less than seven hours. Give me a chance. I do not have nearly enough information to make even an educated guess. This process can take weeks, possibly months. Once a plan is created, the next step is implementation, acquiring the material and personnel to make it work. There is also the possibility that we may have to wait for a specific window of time to execute the plan. Finally, we are likely to only get one shot at this so it had better work the first and only time”
He’s right of course. I hadn’t thought about any of that stuff but he’s right. It’s like a game plan for football, only much more complicated. And we are the big underdogs. Still, I had hoped that rescue was at hand. My head drops to my chest in disappointment. Bob reaches out with his left index finger, puts it under my chin and tips my head up.
“It is not all bad, Honey. Everything starts somewhere and we have started. Besides, now that I know about your unique situation, you can relax a bit around here. I will keep the weekly visits going and try to relieve some of the pressure at the club, if possible.” He smiles at me. “Have a little hope, Honey.”
I can’t help smiling back at him. “Alright, just a little.”
“That’s my girl.” His praise sends a slight shiver up my spine. “Are you ready to eat Honey?” He pauses a moment. “Excuse me, I assumed that you still wished to be called ‘Honey’, I apologize for that. I could use a different name if you wish.”
I hate the name “Honey Sweet-Lay” with a passion. At first I cringed every time Anthony introduced me. I have gotten more used to it over the years but there is always that moment of embarrassment whenever I meet some one for the first time and they learn my name, just like Hanson planned. Every moment of my existence is a testament to her deviousness. That means we need to be extra careful.
“No, I’ll stick with ‘Honey’ for now. If I ask you to use something else and you screw up and call me something different in front of Anthony, we’d have trouble. It’s not worth it.” He winks at me.
“Good, logical thinking, Honey. But I do not screw up. Let’s go eat.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I overate a bit at Denny’s. It had been something like fourteen hours since my last meal and I was famished. It wasn’t much food for Josh Thomas but it was a hell of a lot for Honey Sweet-Lay. I know that I’ll still be full at suppertime. Bob and I avoid the big subject while eating. He doesn’t ask me anything about it while we are in public. It’s just chit chat but great chit chat. I can’t seem to stop giggling. It’s like an enormous weight has been lifted from my soul. Everything is bright and sunny, the first day in the rest of my life. I always thought that was a stupid, trite saying but now I understand it. Bob seems to be enjoying my giddiness, or maybe just tolerating it, hard to tell with him. Either way, he’s good company and I hate to see the meal end.
On the way home, the questions start. Who, how, what, when, and where. And why. The why is tough for me to admit. At first I just try to call Amy a crazy bitch and leave it at that, but Bob’s way too smart to let me get away with it. He knows that the why may be the most important part of the puzzle. He keeps pushing me until I finally tell him about the rape, or at least what she thinks was a rape, I’ve still got my doubts. I didn’t want to tell him because I thought that he might decide not to help me. I tell him about my fear.
“I am not judge and jury here Honey. I assumed that there was some kind of wrong done to Dr. Hanson, her reaction was too extreme for there not to be something terrible, but there is such a thing as cruel and unusual punishment. Your situation hits the nail on the head for both, in spades. There may be some legal consequences when we are done, hard to say much about that yet.”
After we get home, he goes on to ask me all sorts of technical questions about my medical treatments from Amy. I can’t tell him much, mostly because I don’t know how she did it and later on I was doped up most of the time, except when Ms. Baker was teaching me the Wrangler Girl routines. I tell him about my six month maintenance treatments and their effects but I’m afraid I’m not much help.
Talking about my life at the club is tough. I hate to admit to being so controlled by Anthony, with Hanson’s help of course. I really hate to answer questions about all the things I’ve done and with who I’ve done it and how often. And I really, really hate to admit how much I enjoy the sex. It’s true, lots of times I do like it. There’s that period each day, when my craving kicks in, where sex, practically any kind of sex, regardless how kinky, feels wonderful. I’d do just about anything in those few hours and beg for more. Anybody who fucks me during that time is usually one happy customer. Anthony has gotten quite good at controlling my timing. I’m off the stage and on my back right on schedule. He usually pulls me off duty before the sex becomes painful, unless that’s what he wants. That kind of sexual release can become addictive just by itself.
I don’t tell Bob this, but I miss the sex while I’m at his house. I’m glad that I don’t have to fuck or suck a long line of jerks but doing it with someone I like would be … nice, you know? I mean, if it’s my choice, what’s the harm, right? I can’t say Bob shows no interest. I saw how he looked at me when I went skinny dipping and he appeared to appreciate my dress at supper ... yesterday. Was it just yesterday? It seems like days ago. Either way, he looks but he doesn’t touch and I don’t know why. I’m afraid to ask, though I’m not sure where that fear comes from.
He steers clear of the post Super bowl parties with the Wranglers, probably because of all the crying, but does ask about Billy Joe Coleson ... a lot. The bastard sometimes shows up at the club, usually drunk before he gets there, and barges to the front of the line waiting to see me. The sex is always rough, like he’s pissed about something and he’s taking it out on me. He won’t ever let me forget that he was the one who replaced me, all the success he’s had and that he was the first man I ever had sex with. He thinks he’s this Hall of Fame quarterback but won’t admit that Hanson is ten times more responsible for the teams’ success than he is. What an egotistical jerk! Bob keeps questioning me about him until I’m sick of it and snap.
“What’s the big deal about Coleson? He’s a no talent bum who lucked into a great deal. Any quarterback could win with that group of amped up players, thanks to Hanson. You’ve seen one egotistical quarterback, you’ve seen them all.”
Bob holds a closed fist to the side of his head. “Hello, kettle? This is pot calling.” He grins at me for several seconds before I get it.
“OK, sure, I wasn’t some kind of saint or anything but I wasn’t as bad as he is.”
“Are you positive about that?” Actually, I’m not; except for fucking transformed men. I never did that ... that I know of. There are a lot of similarities between us but I still wasn’t that bad. “I am not trying to teach you a lesson, Honey, though there is one to be learned. I am more interested in Mr. Coleson’s role in this conspiracy. He was in on it from very early on and continues to knowingly participate in it, as evidenced by his semi-regular visits to the club and his ... sponsorship of your appearances at the Wrangler’s ....”
“I know, go on.”
“Thank you. Yet, he does not seem to currently receive any special benefit. It appears that he believes that his current success is related to his talent and not the boost provided by Dr. Hanson. He is not being financially compensated like Anthony and his access to you, while apparently unlimited and likely free, is hardly much for someone with his resources and the other opportunities he probably has with young, female fans.”
“He’s getting those injections from Hanson to keep him at peak shape.”
“So does the rest of the team, yet they are unaware of your situation.” Bob stops, tapping his pencil rhythmically on his notepad. “He must be getting something else out of this but I can not see what it is.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I believe that Mr. Coleson is the weak link in the chain. There is no obvious control by Dr. Hanson, beyond fear, perhaps. No clear benefit to him and a disproportionate benefit to Dr. Hanson.”
“Huh?”
“Dr. Hanson does not seem to be getting much from Mr. Coleson, even though he knows as much as he does. This may be the crack I am looking for.”
“To do what?”
“To acquire information.”
“Billy Joe won’t tell you squat, he’s dumb but not that dumb.”
Bob laughs briefly. “Perhaps you are right, Honey, but much depends on where, when and how the questions are asked. Do you recall our conversation when you first used the hot tub?”
“I remember we had one but I don’t remember what either of us said.”
“Exactly.”
“You mean you’re going to stick him in a hot tub?”
He laughs again. “No, Honey. Every one has a comfort zone, where they drop their guard. It then becomes a matter of knowing what buttons to push and how. I do not know Mr. Coleson’s comfort zone yet nor where his buttons are, but I will.”
He then switches to asking me how things work at the club, the suppliers, who’s on the take, how they get paid and so on. I know a lot about this because Anthony uses my “services” as part of the deal with a lot of his business partners, including the two cops he pays off. We go on like that the rest of the day. We stop for me to make a light supper, soup and sandwiches for Bob, a small salad for me. I’m still full from brunch.
After supper, Bob decides that he has enough info for now, so we watch a movie and I finish the evening swimming for an hour or so and then soaking in the hot tub for about half an hour. Bob made a batch of margaritas and we sipped them, sitting outside at the table by the pool, until bedtime. This time, I didn’t hesitate when we went inside. I stepped in close, wrapped my arms around him, kissed his cheek and told him good night. I don’t know what it was, probably the booze, but it felt like the right thing to do. Bob didn’t say anything until I was almost to my room. He managed to say “good night” but stuttered a bit. I look back at him over my shoulder and smile.
I don’t often surprise him. It’s fun.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
When I wake in the morning, the reality of returning to the club hits me hard. Mentally, I knew that I was going to have to go back, but now I’m getting scared. What if Anthony notices something? What if I slip up? What would he actually do to me? What would Hanson do? God, the possibilities are endless! By the time I get dressed and manage to drag myself to the kitchen, I’m a mess.
“I can’t do this, Bob” I sniff. “It’s impossible. We’ll never be able to pull it off.” I flop down in the chair. “Just forget about the whole thing, it’s hopeless.” I start to cry. He pulls his chair next to mine, putting his arm around my shoulder, hugging me. I keep sobbing for several minutes but I eventually stop. He hands me a napkin to wipe my eyes.
“I was waiting for this,” he says. “I am surprised that it did not happen sooner.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It is quite common for someone who is attempting to escape an abusive and controlling situation to experience second thoughts. They have been under the thumb so long that they can not see how to live any other way. The familiar, no matter how bad it is, becomes more attractive than the unknown. Better the devil you know. It even has a name, ‘learned helplessness’.” He slowly turns my chair until I am looking him in the eyes. “You are a very strong person, Honey. You have endured things that would have driven others over the edge into madness. I can not make you continue with this attempt to escape but I can say that you have been a different person since you chose to tell me the truth, a happier person. I know that the future is uncertain, that success is not guaranteed but you need to ask yourself, how much longer can you go on the way you have? A month, a year, two, ten, thirty ... with Hanson’s treatments, maybe a hundred years ... more?”
“A hundred years?!”
“You say that these six month tune up treatments keep you looking young, like a teenage girl. How long will that continue? Dr. Hanson is forty-two years old, about the same as you, but looks at most half that age. You could be working at the club a very, very long time. A hundred years may be conservative.”
OH GOD! What would I be like after a hundred years of stripping and sex! I’ve barely held on to myself after three years! This has got to end now!
“Do what you have to do, Bob. Get me out of there!”
He pats my arm. “I will do what I can, Honey. Go fix your makeup. Anthony can not suspect anything. Just do whatever you normally do at the club. Leave it to me for now. Everything needs to be dead normal. I will tell Anthony that I am extending our arrangement indefinitely and will pay him the next month in advance. I suspect that $5,000.00 will keep him from asking too many questions.”
“You’re probably right about that. Thanks for everything, Bob. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You are welcome Honey.” I go to my bathroom and fix my makeup, then return to the kitchen. We have a quick breakfast and just finish cleaning the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Bob reaches out and takes my hand as I inhale deeply, hold it, then slowly release it, trying to remain calm. We walk together to the front door. Bob opens it. Anthony is standing there, filling the doorway. God, he’s bigger than I remember. Bob greets him with a smile and a handshake.
“Good morning, Anthony, please come in and have a seat.”
“Thanks Bob, be glad to.” He walks in, giving me a possessive slap on the ass as he passes by. Bob follows, ignoring me. We all sit down in the living room.
“I am happy to tell you that I have been extremely pleased with Honey’s performance the last three weeks. I believe that this is the beginning of a long relationship. I would like to keep the same schedule for the immediate future, if that is acceptable to you Anthony.”
“Oh, it’s acceptable to me Bob, particularly at $1000.00 a week.”
“Speaking of which, here is next month’s payment.” Bob reaches into his pocket, pulls out a roll of bills and hands it to a smiling Anthony, who grabs the roll, quickly counts it and stuffs the money into the pocket of his shirt.
“Thanks Bob, I appreciate payments in advance.”
“I plan on keeping to that schedule in the future.”
“Fine by me, Bob, fine by me.” He stands up. “Pleasure doing business with you, but we got to get back to the club. Come on, Honey; get that pretty ass in gear.” Bob stands up too.
“I do not want to hold you up but I need to let you know that I may be gone next week or the week after, it is uncertain at this time. Either way, I have several things for Honey to do in my absence so I expect her to be here even if I am not. I assume that is satisfactory.” Anthony hesitates, that means he’s thinking. This could take awhile. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, no one’s here to keep track of her...”
“I trust her, Anthony. I have sent her out by herself several times already. Besides, where is she going to go?”
“I guess it’s OK. You are paying for it after all. Just let me know what’s going on.”
“That is certainly a fair request. I will be in touch.”
As Anthony turns his back to leave, I glance at Bob. He winks at me. I smile and wink back.
“Move it, Honey, time is money.” I hurry to catch up with Anthony.
“Coming, Sir.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Bob returns to his office and immediately picks up the phone. After dialing a familiar number, he waits for the automated system to pick up and again provides his identification code.
“Yes, I would like the Records Division please……...I would like to speak with Connie if she is available.... Yes, thank you…………Hello Connie, Bob James………...very useful……...sometimes no information is information Connie……...... If you feel that bad about it, here is a chance to make it up to me. I have three additional names, a little more famous than Ms. Sweet-Lay ...….. Dr. Amy Hanson, Nobel Prize winner…….... Billy Joe Coleson, quarterback for the Dallas Wranglers……...Josh Thomas, most recent ex-quarterback of the same Dallas Wranglers……....The public records give me more than I know what to do with but this time I would like you to concentrate on financial records, also any professional rumors and scuttlebutt...….....every little bit helps Connie....….. Not yet, but getting closer to the truth………...If I am right, never in a million years, Connie.…..I will be waiting….....Thanks, Connie.”
He hangs up.
CHAPTER NINE
Candi’s in the dressing room when I get there to change. She’s sitting in one chair, her feet propped up on a second chair, reading the current issue of “Cosmopolitan”.
“Hey, Honey.”
“Hey,” I reply.
“How was your outside job? Buy anything nice?”
“Fine. There was this halter dress, some new lingerie, oh ... have you ever worn real silk stockings?”
She puts the magazine down. “A couple of times, why?”
“Did they feel ... different?”
“You mean sexy as hell?”
“YES! I thought it was just me!”
“So ... what did you do with those ... feelings?”
“Nothing. Bob wasn’t interested.”
“Gay?”
“Don’t think so. He looks at all the right stuff. Guess I’ll have to keep working on him.”
“Here,” she picks up the magazine and searches the pages, finally bending a page corner back and handing it to me. “This would be a good look for you.”
I take the magazine from her and look at the page. It’s a sequence of pictures of a young girl demonstrating an understated make up job and hairstyle. She is a knock out, but not any better looking than me, probably not as good.
“You’re right, but almost any look is good on me.” Candi chokes a little, then laughs.
“Well somebody is in a good mood today! There must be more happening on that outside job than you’re telling me.” She’s right, I am in a good mood, at least for me.
“I suppose you’re right about the mood. It’s been so long ... but I’ve told you everything about the job, except we did go out and had a nice meal, that’s what the clothes were for.” I couldn’t tell her any more than that.
“Hope the job lasts then, you seem to be enjoying it.” She stands up, opens her locker and starts to change into her costume. I open my locker to do the same.
“Guess I am.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
He has had to force himself to eat and sleep the last three days. It’s been years since he felt this way, fully alive, using all his training and capabilities. And what an unprecedented situation! If what Honey had said was true ... the implications are almost incalculable. First things first though. Job one is to determine the truth. Even if she truly believed what she said, she might still be delusional; a poor unfortunate girl unhinged by the oppressive life that she lives, seeking peace in a fantasy, though the story she told was hardly a peaceful one. It was such a fantastic, implausible tale, but how could she profit from lying? Even if she could claim Josh Thomas’s life, he was a wanted man, his assets sold to pay his numerous creditors. Many things did add up ... but ... it is inconceivable that someone has the ability to change a persons’ sex at the genetic level. That is light years beyond the published research, and he had reviewed quite a bit of it in the last few days, hence the lack of sleep. Every indication was that Dr. Amy Hanson would be one extremely tough nut to crack.
Billy Joe Coleson was an entirely different story. There appeared to be a number of gambits that could work with him. In fact, there was something in that last report from Connie ... where is it ... yes! He carefully reread the bound document recently delivered to his home. A plan was forming in his mind but he needed to check on the availability of some necessary equipment. Picking up his PDA, Bob entered the password and retrieved his address book. Finding the phone number that he was searching for, he paused for several minutes, getting himself in the right “frame of mind” to make the call. Once prepared, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer.
“Hello, I’d like to speak to Albert Cains.........Albert? This is Richard Johnson………….I know, about five years to be exact...…..Not much, kinda semi-retired if you know what I mean.......are you still in the business?...........Great! I need to rent your show RV and trailer rig, if you still got them...…..completely equipped.......yes, everything, though I‘ll be providing my own refreshments and a few extra decorations.......It’s a special client.......no, I guarantee they won’t be shot up this time. You’ve my word on that..........All right, but $5,000 extra seems a little salty..........it only happened once Albert and you know it!............Fine. When can I come by and get a look?..............That’s good, the sooner the better. You still at the same address?............Good thing I asked then, isn’t it? Hold on, let me get a pen and paper.” Bob held the phone from his head for a couple of seconds, then brought it back to his ear. “OK, go ahead..........got it, see you then Albert. Bye.”
After hanging up, a smile slowly crawled across his face, a tight, malevolent smile of anticipation. Bob always felt that Johnson had a bit of a mean streak in him.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Saturdays tended to bring in the golfing crowd, particularly if the weather’s bad. They haven’t actually been golfing and they don’t plan on going after they leave. Golfing is just the excuse they give their wives for being out of the house for several hours, which they spend sitting at my tables in their stupid outfits, paying ridiculous prices for my watered-down drinks and buying lap dances. Thank God for oversexed, competitive married men. They are so hell bent on having a good time and want to prove it to their friends; they’ll over indulge and over spend until time to go home just before dinner. Those guys make great customers because they don’t hang around long enough to get too drunk, particularly with wifey waiting at home to smell their breath, but they do want to spend money for the attention of the dancers. The girls usually take the suckers for quite a ride and I get a good percentage.
This is one thing Honey’s never been particularly good at. She’s the best dancer of the bunch, by far. Really takes pride in giving a good performance, though she is more interested in her act and less interested in getting money stuffed in her costume, which is OK by me. That means if a guy wants to get close and touch her, they gotta pay me direct. Of course, they get to do a hell of a lot more than just touch her. That’s where Honey really performs. Get her at the right time and she’s just a hell of a fuck. She’s damn good all the time but you get her while she’s in the Zone and it’s giddy up time.
Which makes her only being an adequate money maker with lap dances so strange. She’s got the moves, Lord does she have the moves, but her heart just isn’t into it. She just can’t lead a guy on like a good lap dancer can. She can’t suck the money from a mark like a real pro. I think, to be good at that, you gotta hate men, deep down. You have to want to lead them on, to make suckers out of them. Honey doesn’t hate men, how could she? I will say that over the last year, she has gotten better. Maybe all that time she spends on her back or her knees is changing her opinion about her old gender. Right now, she’s on stage, doing what she does best ... well, second best. My cell phone vibrates. I answer it, one hand cupped over my ear to block the music a bit.
“Hello.”
“I would like to speak with Anthony.”
“Speaking.”
“This is Bob James”
“Hey, Bob, what’s up.”
“I will be out of town this week.”
“No problem, you said it might happen.”
“There are still some things I would like Honey to do in my absence.”
“I said it was OK but how will she get in?”
“My neighbor will have the key, she can let her in.”
“It would be easier if you just gave me a key.”
“True, but our relationship has not advanced to the point were I am willing to give you unrestricted access to my home.”
“If it was anyone other than you, I would be insulted, Bob.”
“It is best for all of us that Mrs. Hewlett handles the door for now.”
“No, it’ll be fine, just make sure your neighbor is on time. I don’t want to hang around waiting for some old lady to let us in your house.”
“She is quite conscientious. I will leave a job list on the kitchen table for Honey.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Thank you, Anthony. I will speak with you next week.”
“See ya next week.”
Just then, Honey finishes her routine and heads for the dressing room. I look around to make sure there’s nothing else I have to deal with, then follow her. I push through the curtains, raising a cloud of dust.
I gotta get these cleaned. One of the problems of paying off the health inspector is the standards slip just a little too low. When the pressure of an inspection is on, things get cleaned, repaired and put away. Take away the pressure and everything goes to hell. Oh well, no one’s died ... yet. I open the door to the dressing room and step in.
Honey’s there, changing costumes. She’s talking with Candi, I think they’re friends or something. Two other girls are also getting ready for their shifts. It’s getting close to time to bringing in some new blood. I’m getting tired of seeing the same old tits. If I’m tired, so are my customers. That’s for another day though.
“Honey!” She jumps up, half dressed.
“Yes, Sir?” Candi grimaces when Honey says that, like she doesn’t approve or something. Big fat hairy deal. At least she’s smart enough not to say anything.
“I just spoke with Bob James. He’s gonna be out of town this week but he’ll have a list of stuff for you to do Tuesday and Wednesday. We’ll leave the normal time, got it?”
“Yes, Sir.” She seems disappointed at the news that Bob will be gone. Can’t imagine why.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
There was a round of applause as he came into the bar with his date on his arm. It had been a tougher game than expected. Baltimore had actually beaten the point spread and he had gotten knocked out of the game for a series when Newberry missed a blitzing linebacker and he had taken a shot to the head. That was the third time in two years. He’s thankful for Amy Hanson’s magic injections; there were no signs of any long term harm from the concussions. Now that they had gotten past Baltimore, there wasn’t a whole lot standing between the Wranglers and another undefeated season. He waived to the crowd just a little, to let them know he heard the applause, but not enough to egg them on. He did have a bit of a headache from that hit and wouldn’t get treated by Hanson until Wednesday at the earliest.
Unfortunately his date, Fiona Belasara, lived for these moments of attention. She waived, blew kisses and hugged any one she recognized. Like she had anything to do with the win. She got her face on the Jumbotron a couple of times so it was a good day for her, win or lose. She’s dressed like an attention seeking girlfriend of a sport superstar would dress, short, scant and slutty. Not that he objected. Billy Joe Coleson deserved a fine looking girlfriend. He also deserved the two other women he was seeing on the side, of which Fiona only suspected there was one other potential rival for her spotlight. He moved towards the bar as Fiona worked the crowd and posed for a few photos.
“Nice game, Mr. Coleson” said the bartender as he slid his favorite beer over to him.
“Thanks Tony, we shoulda won by ten, at least.”
“Even the best have their off days, Mr. Coleson.”
Billy Joe liked Tony, he always gave him the respect and treatment a future Hall of Famer deserved. He turned to look at the crowd, leaning back against the bar, resting his elbows on the padded rim. He watched as Fiona gradually worked her way towards him. She was another matter completely. She’d been putting pressure on him to get engaged, like that was ever gonna happen. She was a good looking bitch but just too damn much maintenance. She always wanted to go to the right places, meet the right people and he was her pass into tabloid society. She started out as a moderately successful model but now was recognized wherever she went because she was Billy Joe Coleson’s girlfriend. He chuckled at the thought that her fifteen minutes of fame were about up.
He knew he was going to dump her, it was just a matter of when. There’d be the big splash in the grocery tabloids and crappy magazine’s like “In Person”, “The Star” and shit television shows like “TMZ”. A few months later, she’d do a photo spread for “Playboy”, to show the world she’d recovered from the pain and was moving on with her life to bigger and better things and then she’d drop off the face of the earth, just like always. She was twenty five, twenty six years old, he wasn’t sure. How long did she think he would stay with an aging model? There were lots of candidates to replace her, younger, better looking, and willing to put his interest first. Women who knew their place and how to treat a man like him.
Fiona stepped up to the bar, taking his arm, mistaking his smile for one of gladness to see her instead of one of joy at her future humiliation.
“Baby, let’s go dancing after we’re done here. I feel like celebrating!”
“You always feel like celebrating. You may have noticed that I got whacked pretty good out there today. I feel like shit.” She starts to pout. A year ago that might have worked on me but not now.
“If you feel so bad, why are we at this bar?”
“Because, it’s my lucky bar, you know that. It’s always my first stop after a win. We won, so here I am, but not for long.” I finish my beer and Tony gets me a second one right away. I always have at least two beers, sometimes more but never less. Tonight, my headache says two is my limit, at least for the bar. I’ll probably have a few more at home, you know, to unwind.
“Come on, Billy Joe, you’ll bounce right back, you always do. That Doctor will give you one of those shots and you ...”
“Keep your mouth shut about that!” I hiss. “You don’t ever talk about that!”
She knows the rules but never can seem to follow them. The player’s wives and girlfriends talk about it among themselves I think, particularly the wives of the guys who have recently joined the team. How could they not notice their husbands’ new found interest in sex and their staying power? One of the side effects of Hanson’s treatments. Guys are like teenagers again, hard fast, recover fast, fuck all night. The wives get a lot of the action but so do the chippies that follow the team.
And so does my good friend Honey Sweet-Lay at the inevitable post Super Bowl party. I’ve got great memories of her, fucked to a stupor but begging for more, covered in cum from forty guys, and then I bring out my dogs, King and Killer. They’ve got the only cocks in the room that will have anything to do with her; she’s such a disgusting sight by that time in the party. It’s either them or nothing ... and nothing’s not an option for poor Honey Sweet-Lay. Watching her take on those dogs is the perfect end to a long season. So much for Josh Thomas, God’s gift to football. He thought that he could keep me from my rightful place as starter. Well, soon I’ll have all his old records and then we’ll see who the greatest Wrangler quarterback of all time is.
Some movement draws my attention back to Fiona. She’s been yammering on about God knows what while I’ve been walking down memory lane. Things are getting a little crowded at the bar. There’s this guy squeezing in behind her, trying to get a drink. Tony hands him a glass of beer and he raises it up over his head as he turns away, trying to wiggle his way free of the crowd. It looks like somebody bumps into him or something and he dumps the entire glass down Fiona’s back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eyes go so wide. She just stands there a few seconds, mouth wide open in total shock, like a little kid who hurt himself and is just trying to get enough air in his lungs before he screams bloody murder. The calm before the storm.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE ... ”
Here it comes.
“... EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH! YOU IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO! YOU FUCKING MORON! THIS DRESS COST ... AND YOU STOP LAUGHING!”
I’m sorry, but that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all year. She caught me laughing behind her back and there’ll be hell to pay the next few days, if not weeks.
It was totally worth it.
The guy who spilled his beer is all apologetic, grabbing napkins and blotting her back, leaving pieces of paper all over her as she spins left, then right. It just gets funnier by the second. Since I’m laughing, other people join in.
Despite what she thinks, Fiona’s not exactly a crowd favorite. Most people think she’s a bitch. Everyone else thinks she’s a super bitch. I know she’s a dumb super bitch.
“Ohh stop it! Stop it! Billy Joe, will you dooo something?!”
“Like what?”
“Hit him! Kick his ass! ANYTHING BUT LAUGH YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH!” She storms off to the bathroom, a couple of her “friends” trailing behind her. I look at the poor fucker who started all this, an empty glass in one hand and a wad of torn, soaked paper napkins in the other. He sets the glass on the bar.
“I am so sorry! It was a complete accident! I was just trying to get back to my table and someone tripped me. I can’t apologize enough ...”
“It’s cool man, shit happens. Now, if you had spilled it on me, that would be a different matter but ... ”
“I insist on paying any damages, the cleaning bill, whatever.” He reaches into his coat pocket, pulls out something and hands it to me. “This is my card. Have her contact me once she calms down and I will take care of everything.”
“That may be a couple of months Mister......” I look at his card. It’s black and shaped like a semiautomatic pistol. It reads: Richard Johnson, dealer in exotic and unusual weapons. “... Johnson. Fiona is pretty hot blooded. I’m surprised she didn’t try to kick you in the balls right here. Frankly, I don’t think I’d want to be here when she gets back.”
“Well, you know her better than I do. Just give her the card or you can contact me yourself. I’ll take your advice and be...” he starts to leave.
“Hold on a sec. She’s gonna take a little while in there, you soaked her pretty good. What’s this ‘dealer in exotic and unusual weapons’ about?”
“I’m an independent sales rep for a number of manufacturers of high end niche guns and other weapons, the type of things you would not find in most sporting goods stores or even local gun shops.”
“Really? I’m a bit of a collector myself, got a few nice pieces. A couple of Bernardelli shotguns, a Dessert Eagle 40, an early Winchester 74. You sell that kinda thing?”
“Yes and no. I have access to most of that type of thing, though I leave the collectables to the hobbyist. I tend to deal in more ... specialized items.”
“How specialized?”
He steps a little closer to me and lowers his voice.
“Quasi military items.”
“NO SHIT!” His eyes go all buggy so I quiet down. “You mean machine guns and that shit?”
“Among other things.”
“Dude! I would love to get my hands on a machine gun! You got a store here in town?”
“Sorry, no. I do most of my selling at gun shows and specialty stores around the country. I was just heading to my next stop when I decided to take a break and get a meal and something to drink and then all this happened.”
“You’ve got your stuff in your car, right outside?”
“When I’m on the road, I take an RV and trailer but yes, they are parked just down the street.”
“Hey, could I take a look at what you’ve got? I’d really like to buy a machine gun, something fully auto.” He looks worried.
“I don’t know about that. Opening up the trailer at this time of day in this neighborhood, that’s just asking for trouble. Besides, the best you could do is just look at something. You couldn’t fire off a few clips in downtown Dallas.”
“Yeah your right. It’s a shame though ...” I snap my fingers “I’ve got a great idea. When’s your next stop?”
“Oklahoma on Thursday.”
“Great! You could come to my place tomorrow and still have plenty of time to get there.”
“That won’t help unless ‘your place’ is damn big.”
“Is a three thousand acre ranch big enough?”
I think that impressed him. It’s not that big for a Texas ranch but it is a place to getaway from the crowds ... and Fiona. She hates the ranch. She’s got no problem staying at my mansion though, a city girl all the way. I start to laugh again when I remember that look on her face when the cold beer hit her bare back. Johnson looks puzzled.
“Sorry, just thinking about that beer you dumped on ...”
“Really, I’m as sorry as I can ...” I waive him off.
“No sweat, man. Funniest thing I’ve seen all year. I’ll take care of her if you can take care of me, know what I mean?”
He thinks about it for a few seconds.
“Sure, why not. I could use the practice. What’s the address?”
“I’ll give you directions. Tony, how about some paper and a pen over here?”
“An address should be fine. I’ve got a hell of a GPS setup since I spend so much time on the road. I can be there by 11:00 a.m.” Tony hands me an order pad and a pen. I write down my address, tear off the page and hand it to Johnson.
“Make it 12:30 p.m. I’ve got to get some therapy on my neck even though they give us Monday off.”
“Monday off? Where do you work?”
This guy doesn’t know who I am! I know he isn’t local, but that’s no excuse. Maybe he’s not a football fan. I hold out my hand.
“I’m Billy Joe Coleson, quarter...” He quickly grabs it.
“...back for the Wranglers, of course, I should have recognized you. Pleasure to meet you. I was a really big fan of your predecessor, Josh Thomas. Great player, great guy, what a legend!”
Shit, he’s one of those guys, living in the past.
“Yeah yeah, great guy. You better get going before Fiona sees you and the shit hits the fan again.”
“Good idea. I’ll see you tomorrow at 12:30 then.”
“Yep, 12:30.”
He hurries out. I guess I can put up with one of Thomas’ fans for a few hours to get my hands on that hardware.
CHAPTER TEN
Fiona was pissed when she came back and found out I hadn’t done anything about the accident. Bitch has no sense of humor. The sooner she’s gone, the happier I’m gonna be. I probably need to meet with my publicist to figure the best way to do it. It’d be great if I could catch her with some other guy, make the whole thing her fault. That way, I wouldn’t be the bad guy ... again.
I step out of the house and look up the dirt road. I think I see a dust cloud at the far end, about a mile away. I check my watch. It’s 12:25 p.m. If it’s Johnson, he’s right on time. Standing there by the road, I see that it is a dust cloud and then I catch sight of the black RV. Damn, that’s a fucking big rig! Sucker’s bigger than Madden’s cruiser. Hell, the trailer he’s pulling is almost as big as most RVs. The whole thing looks like a train engine coming down the road. He turns into my drive and comes to an easy stop right in front of me. The door swings open and Johnson hops out.
“Shit man! I didn’t know they made em that big. How many gallons to the mile do you get in that monster?”
“Just the cost of doing business, Billy Joe. Where do you want to do this?”
“How much space do you need?”
He looks around, his right hand shading his eyes.
“If you don’t have some kind of back stop, I’d like about two miles of clear space.”
“TWO MILES?! What you got in there, Patriot missiles?”
He laughs loudly.
“Nothing like that, at least not yet. You’d be surprised how far a wild round will go. This place looks pretty flat.”
“It’s Texas. What did you expect? I do have a big pile of hay bales in the Southwest quarter, keep it for the horses.”
Johnson nods his head. “That should do. Climb aboard, you can show me the way.”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope. I’m fully equipped ... unless you’ve got a favorite pair of shooting glasses or hearing protectors.”
“I don’t need that shit,” I snort.
“Trust me, you will.”
“Fine, I’ll use yours.”
He steps through the door and climbs the steps. I follow him. God Damn! This thing is enormous! Sucker’s bigger than the house where I lived as a kid, and we weren’t poor or nothing. I walk towards the back, checking things out as I go. Nice living room, big screen TV with surround sound system, satellite antenna, big bedroom. It’s even got a full bath. The kitchen’s OK too, not that I cook. There’s something just a little wrong with a guy who cooks. Other than grilling, that’s OK. I open the fridge.
“WHOA! What do we have here?” There’s a case of Bud, my favorite. I pull one out and start to twist off the cap.
“Put that back!” Johnson shouts from the driver’s seat.
“What the hell do you mean ‘put that back’?” Who’s this little shit think he is? If he thinks some 5’ 10”, 200 pound nothing is going to tell me what to do, he’s fucking nuts!
“I mean that alcohol and guns don’t mix. That’s for afterwards.”
“Look, if I want a beer, I’m gonna have a beer.”
“Not if you want to touch my inventory you won’t. This is dangerous stuff Billie Joe. You screw up and someone three miles away dies. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to avoid explaining to the cops how some little kid was killed in his front yard when a drunk idiot let a flyer get away from him.”
“It’s only one beer man.”
“That’s one too many. You can drink and shoot all you want after I leave but until then, we save it for after, got it?”
I want to punch the pious bastards’ lights out, but he’d probably get upset and leave. I’ll play it cool for now.
“OK, man, whatever you say. Let’s get going.”
I sit down as he starts the engine. Sounds like a big rig diesel. He backs up with surprising ease and gets back on the road.
“Which way?”
“To your left, about two thirds of a mile, then to the right. You’ll see a barn. That’s the place.”
We drive on down the road. This thing rides pretty smooth for being on a dirt road. I take a closer look at the decorations. There’s a signed, framed football jersey, one from the wranglers from about ten years ago. I lean in to read the signature. CRAP. It’s Josh Thomas. This guy must really be a fan. I do not want to spend hours listening to some one talk about how great that loser was. I wonder what he would say if I told him what the big man was up to now. That I can fuck him whenever I want, beat his sissy ass, that he’s nothing more than a fifty dollar whore. Maybe I should take that jersey down to Anthony’s club and get a new autograph, maybe have Honey Sweet-Lay give it a big kiss, leaving an impression of her lipstick. Now that would be a one of a kind sport collectible!
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“You were laughing.”
“Oh nothing, just thinking of an old teammate. Hey, we’re here.”
He stops the RV and we get out. He walks around to the back, unlocks the three padlocks keeping the trailer closed, pulls out a built in ramp and swings the double doors open. I’m speechless for at least 10 seconds.
“JESUS CHRIST!”
“Impressive, ain’t it?”
The walls are lined with guns, some I’ve seen in magazines, some in catalogs and a whole lot that I’ve never seen before. Some I can’t even figure out what they are. There’s a four wheeler tied down in the middle of the trailer.
“What’s that for?”
“I use it to set up targets. If you’re shooting at something half a mile away, it’s a hell of a lot better than walking. You grab some of those mannequins and set them out there between 50 and 75 yards. Put a couple of concrete blocks on each base. I’ll take these spinners and auto resets out about 500 and 1000 yards. Don’t touch anything else until I get back. I haven’t turned all the security off yet.”
He throws several metal targets in the rack on the back of the four wheeler along with half a dozen one foot square white cubes, unbuckles the straps holding it down, jumps on, starts it, backs out and drives off. There are four beat up store mannequins in the corner. I grab one in each hand, walk out into the field and set them down. I go back to the trailer, pick up the other two and do the same, After that, I pick up a couple of concrete building blocks from the back of the trailer and set them on the base of each mannequin. I give one a shove to see if it stays put. It moves a little but not bad. Johnson comes roaring back just as I return to the trailer.
“I thought that you could start with some hand guns, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.”
“What about that M16? Why not do that first?”
He points to the nearest dummy. “You hit one of those with a couple of bursts of full auto, there’s not much left. If you want to use the handguns, start while you’ve still got a target.”
“No thanks, I can shoot handguns whenever I want. Give me that M16.”
“Suit yourself.”
He steps back into the trailer and punches some numbers into a lit keypad mounted on the wall. The light goes out on the pad and he walks up to the M16 I had pointed to, unhooks it from it’s bracket and then walks over to a row of big drawers, pulls one out, reaches in and removes a canvas bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He walks back to me and hands me the gun.
“The big thing with autos is muzzle climb. After just a couple of rounds, the muzzle starts to go up. Each shot after that just makes it worse. In seconds, you’re out of control. That’s a bad thing.”
He takes the gun back from me, reaches into the bag, takes a clip out, sets it in the receiver, cocks it, flips off what I assume is the safety, sights and pulls the trigger, ripping off a bunch of rounds, each one hitting the upper third of the farthest dummy. The sound is deafening. I clap my hands over my ears but it doesn’t help. He stops firing, resets the safety, slings it around his neck, muzzle pointed towards the ground.
“That’s why we wear hearing protection. I’ll go get us a pair.” He walks back to the trailer while I wait for the ringing to fade in my ears.
When Johnson gets back, he explains how everything works and how to fight the muzzle climb. He then gets me set up and tells me to fire a short burst at the nearest dummy. I take a deep breath, exhale slowly and jerk the trigger.
The gun is all over the place. I can’t control it. I release the trigger before things get too bad. Johnson shows me what to do again and it’s a little better the second time, though I still don’t hit the dummy. We keep working on it until I’m on target about a third of the time. He stops me and takes off his ear protectors.
“You want something to drink?” I didn’t realize how thirsty I was ... and how tense. Every muscle in my upper body was clenched.
“Yeah sure, how about a beer?” I ask, smiling.
“Now do you understand why I said no drinking before?”
“Yeah, I got it. Doing this sober is hard enough.”
He walks back intro the RV. I lay the M16 on the ground and follow. I have a Coke and he has a Sprite. He sits right in front of the framed jersey, so I have to look right at it as we talk. He gives me more advice about how to handle an automatic and we go back out. This time I try the AK47. It’s not nearly as smooth as the M16, plus it’s louder, if that’s possible, but it feels ... meaner some how. I like it. I’m also a little more accurate. Eventually I also shoot an Uzi and an old Thompson sub-machine gun, like the ones used during Prohibition. That was a kick! I’d love to have one of those at the team Halloween party this year, me dressed as a gangster and Fiona...or her replacement....dressed as a dancer. My hands are aching when I finish with the Thompson. The arms and shoulders also hurt. I asked Johnson why that was.
“Because you’re too tense, you need to relax. Let’s try something that requires a little more skill.” He goes back to the trailer and brings out a portable shooting bench, a chair with a wide base and a rest for the gun to keep it steady.
“What you getting out now?”
“A Barrett Model 82A1 .50 caliber rifle, my specialty.”
He brought out a spotting scope on a tripod, set it up so that you could clearly see his metal targets at 500 yards and then brought out the rifle. It was long, lean, a rail stock with an adjustable pad on the end, fat muzzle brake, a monstrous scope and a short ammo clip, probably only 10 shots. He settled into the chair, set the barrel on the gun rest, fiddled with the scope and stock for about five minutes, then pushed a round into the chamber.
“Center spinner.”
I looked through the spotting scope at the targets. There were five dog bone shaped metal targets, attached to a “U” shaped rod planted in the ground so that if you hit the wide end of one of them, they would spin around the shaft. There was a loud CRACK despite the muffs and I could actually feel the concussion of the bullet as it left the barrel. The center target started spinning in a blur. Another CRACK, another spinning target, Three shots later, they were all spinning wildly, the center one starting to slow up enough so that you could actually see it rotate.
“Damn! Five for five! You are good!”
“Keep watching.”
I look back into the scope. There’s the now familiar CRACK and the center target is rapidly spinning in the opposite direction. That is fucking impossible! There is no way to time that! I look over at Johnson, who’s sitting up with a big smirk on his face.
“No. Fucking. Way.” I say. “There has got to be a trick!”
“You’re right, there is.”
“What is it?”
He picks up the rifle and aims again. I quickly look back at the targets through the scope. The end target on the left has slowed enough that you can see the dog bone spinning. CRACK. The bastard did it again!
“The trick is that you practice....a hell of a lot. Now it’s your turn.”
I sit down in the chair and he makes all kinds of adjustments in the chair, the rest, the butt of the rifle, even the trigger. When everything fits, I start taking shots at the same target.
I’m one for fifty, and the one I hit was not the one I was aiming at. Johnson replaced me in the chair and repeated his performance at 1000 yards. I didn’t even try it.
“What are those cube things?”
“They’re a special target. You don’t need the spotting scope to see if you hit it.”
“That’s nuts! There’s no way you could see something that far away without a ... ” CRACK. BOOOOMMMMM. The fucking thing exploded! A flash of flame and smoke! How cool was that!
“Let me try!” I scrambled into the seat and tried several times to hit a cube but just kicked up a bunch of dirt. I was tempted to drive up there on the four wheeler with the AK47 and blast one but I didn’t want to be a wuss in front of Johnson.
“Hey, don’t worry about it Billy Joe, I’ve been doing this a long time. You probably didn’t complete your first pass for a touchdown. To get good at something takes hard work. If you enjoy it enough, you’ll put the hours in and get good at it.”
“You can keep the sniper rifle, I’ll take one each of the autos.”
“Well, that Thompson’s not for sale, sentimental value, but they are available from other sources. The rest shouldn’t be a problem. The question is, do you have the necessary license?”
“I gotta have a license?”
“For one of those guns or a silencer, yep.”
“You sell silencers?”
“That’s not the point, you want the M16, you need the license first.”
“Couldn’t you just, you know, make an exception in my case, since I’m ... you know.”
“Famous? That means you have to be more careful, not less. I could lose my license, which means I lose my livelihood, and you could get suspended for God knows how long by the League, ignoring the possible criminal penalties. I can give you the name of a local lawyer who specializes in that sort of thing. You should have it in no time. Now for the surprise.”
“What surprise?”
“I saved this for last.” He carried the sniper rifle back to the trailer and returned with a big wooden box, about forty inches by twenty inches. He sat it on the shooting bench, opened the lid and took out another M16 with a short tube, about two feet long, slung under the barrel. It had a separate trigger.
“What’s all that?”
“A standard M16 equipped with an optional ...“ he reaches into the box and pulls out a shell the size of his fist, “... grenade launcher.”
“YOU ARE SHITTING ME! A FUCKING GRENADE LAUNCHER?”
“Yep, and reasonably priced too.”
“How the hell can you legally sell a grenade launcher?!”
“Technically, they are slightly smaller than military grade equipment and they just explode, no fragmentation, though the skilled home handyman can solve that problem. They’re sold for ‘Agricultural Use’, scare wild birds away from crops, that sort of thing, though I guess, if you had enough shells, you could plow a field. Surprisingly enough, while you need a license for the M16, you don’t need it for the grenade launcher. Go figure.”
“God bless the NRA!”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
We blew the living crap out of that pile of hay. Dick fired the first few rounds then he showed me how to do it. I think I hit the pile about fifteen out of twenty rounds, but even the misses were kick ass. The hits left the pile a smoking mess. The horses didn’t like the noise, but they’ll get over it. It took about half an hour to clean up the dummies and put everything away. I was dying for those beers. When we got in the RV, Dick flopped on the couch and I took the chair by the table.
“Now is it OK to have a beer?”
“Now is the perfect time. Allow me.” He stands up, crosses over to the fridge, opens it and tosses me a bottle. I twist off the cap and drink about two thirds in one long gulp. When I put my bottle down, I see that Dick is pouring his into a tall glass.
“Well aren’t you fancy. Why not drink from a bottle like a man?”
“Because this is custom brewed, fermented in the bottle for carbonation. It’s got sediment in the bottom of the bottle. You need to carefully pour it into a glass to keep the bitter scraps in the bottle.” He keeps pouring the dark liquid into the large pilsner glass, flowing through and past the growing thick creamy head.
“What’s wrong with regular beer?”
“Nothing, if that’s what you like. I spent some time in Germany and discovered that I liked the darker, richer Stouts and Porters more than the American style pale pilsners. American beer isn’t even a real Pilsner, that’s just what the big breweries call it. Compared to real beer, American style is fairly bland and weak.” He brings the glass to his lips and takes a slow, drawn out sip, then wipes the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. It actually looks tasty.
“Where’d you buy that?”
“This? I pay a guy to make it for me. He’s a hobby brewer but really into it, got a hell of a set up. This is a special recipe. It costs me about five times as much as buying your brand from the grocery store, but to me, it’s worth it.”
I raise my bottle and drain it. “Well then, pour me a glass so I can see what makes it so damn special.”
“I don’t know about that ...”
“Hey, if it’s money, I can afford it. Hell, I could buy it by the keg if I wanted.”
“Probably not, since he doesn’t bottle it by the keg. I’m not worried about the price. This is something that you have to get used to. The taste is completely different and it’s about three times stronger than what you’re drinking. It packs quite a kick.”
“Are you saying I can’t handle it?” He’s starting to piss me off. I can drink anything he can!
“No, I just wanted to warn you up front. I’ll pour you one if you want to give it a try.”
“Hell yes.”
He goes back to the fridge, reaches in and takes out a big brown bottle with a beige label. He uses an old style bottle opener to remove the cap, then reaches up into the cabinet above his head and takes out another big pilsner type glass. He brings them over to the table, sets the glass on the table and starts to pour. I can actually smell it as it slowly flows from the bottle, I think its hops, but I can also smell ...chocolate? The head starts to form almost immediately, really thick. The beer actually slows up when it hits the head, pooling in places before it falls through.
“You drink or chew this stuff?”
“Real beer has lots of nutrients and vitamins; similar to ingredients in bread, it’s practically a health food. It’s not as thick as a milk shake but thicker than what you’re used to.” He keeps pouring until a little fleck of something comes out and then he quickly stops. He holds it up to the light. “Looks good.” He hands it to me. “Bottoms up.” I hold it up like he did. What was he looking for? Oh what the hell, he’s been drinking this shit and is OK.
I take a swig.
“DAMN!” What is this shit, pure alcohol?!
He’s grinning at me ... not exactly a grin, more like a smirk. “Told ya. Josh Thomas said the same thing when he first tasted it but he came to like it.”
“Thomas?! You a friend of his?”
“No, just a fan. I read that he was a bit of a beer aficionado so I sent him a case of this variety. Turns out that he liked it and started buying it direct from my brewer.” He reaches across the table. “It’s OK if you can’t handle it, not everyone is capable of drinking the real thing. Let me get you another one of the weaker commercial ones.”
I jerk my glass away from his hand. “Hold it! I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I was just … surprised you know?” I take a big drink, stifling an urge to choke. “Smooooothhh,” I gasp.
“So you like it?”
“Oh yeah! You can really taste the ... what is that?”
“Double malted grain. Nothin’ like it.”
He tips his glass towards mine and takes a big drink. I take a deep breath and do the same. This is strong shit. You can’t actually taste the alcohol, but you can feel it. There’s a bunch of flavor’s I’ve never tasted in a beer before. I can’t tell exactly what it is, coffee, chocolate ... something.
The second drink isn’t as bad as the first. Once you get past the shock, it’s not that bad. Really thick in the mouth and tongue. Johnson goes back to the couch, sitting right in front of that damn framed jersey. I tip my glass towards the jersey.
“Why are you a fan of that loser?”
“Josh Thomas is hardly a loser. He had a career winning percentage of almost 80% and holds all the Wrangler’s career passing records. He led the team to five Super Bowl victories and was named MVP in three of them. He was a shoe-in for a first ballot election to the Hall of Fame until he disappeared.”
“HA! I’ll have all his records before I’m done. My winning percentage is the best ever and my four seasons are better than any four seasons he ever had.”
“True, but you’ve had the advantage of an uncanny streak of good luck on injuries. The Wranglers haven’t had a season ending injury to damn near anyone for those four years.”
“We haven’t?”
“Uh-huh. That is almost unbelievable. Thomas never had that happen in any year.”
“That’s not my fault. You can only play the cards you’re dealt, you know. I play my cards better than he ever did!”
“Every year is different. The team keeps changing thanks to free agency. It’s very hard to compare numbers. What is clear is that he was the best of his time ... you want another?”
I look down at my glass. It is empty. I don’t remember finishing that glass. Do I want another of those dark beers? Why not. I feel fine. If Thomas drank those, I sure as hell can. I slide my glass towards Johnson.
“Fill me up bartender, same as before.”
“You sure? They can sneak up on you.”
“You maybe, but not me.”
Johnson gets up, pours another and hands it to me. He sits back down in front of that damn jersey as I take a big swig. “Josh Thomas wasn’t just a great player. He was a real man’s man” he says.
I snort at that, putting my glass down. “A man’s man?”
“Oh yeah. Dating all those different women, exciting hobbies, a take charge kind of guy.”
I laugh out loud this time. “Dating a lot of different people, I can see that. Exciting activities? Yeah, I guess that’s true. Don’t think he’s in charge though.”
Johnson leans back, looking at me, head cocked to the right. “What are you talking about? ... I told you that stuff sneaks up on you.”
“I’m talking about a real man’s woman.”
“I’m cutting you off man.”
He stands and reaches for my glass, but I’m too quick for him, switching it to my left hand and holding it away from him.
“Don’t you want to know the truth about the famous Josh Thomas? Who he actually is, what he does, where he is?” He sits back down.
“I assume he’s dead. I know they never found a body after he disappeared but someone that famous couldn’t hide, not for long, particularly since the government and his creditors took all his assets.”
“What if there was no body to hide?”
“If you haven’t got a body, you’re pretty much dead, like I said.”
“You sure about that?”
“Of course. Look, your starting to talk crazy. Why don’t you give me that beer?”
“You think I can’t handle it? You can and Josh Thomas can but I can’t?”
“I didn’t say that, but listen to yourself. What do you have against Thomas anyway?”
Yeah, listen to myself. Why am I saying anything about Thomas to someone who’s practically a stranger? This is the big secret. I’ve never said anything about it to anyone, never even hinted at the truth, except to Anthony and Hanson, of course. And that choreographer of hers, Baker I think ... and that girl in Florida, but we were both drunk and it guaranteed a score that night. I don’t feel drunk now, but I want to tell Johnson all about his hero, tell him that Josh Thomas is a weak, cum addicted fifty dollar whore, willingly fucking hundreds of guys a year, including me. I want to take him to Anthony’s club and introduce him to the new and improved Josh Thomas, maybe pay for the first blow job. It’ll be one he won’t forget. I want to do all of that ... and more.
But I don’t.
It’s probably the beer. Yeah, that’s it. I’ve been drunk lots of times before but this feels different. I’m ... not exactly alert but aware of what’s going on around me. Everything is sharp, not blurry. I’d be fine if Johnson would just shut up about how wonderful Josh Thomas is ... was ... whatever.
I watch him cautiously stand up and edge closer to the almost empty glass in my hand. He slowly reaches out and grabs the top of the glass. I don’t fight to keep him from taking it. He carefully sets it on the counter top, out of my reach. He steps back to the couch and sits down again. I’m feeling more in control, calmer. He picks up his glass and takes a big gulp, then looks me square in the eyes with that big fucking smirk on his face.
“It’s OK, Billy Joe ... a man’s got to know his limitations.”
I snap, telling him everything, not leaving out a single detail ... including my dogs. I think he believes me, which seems odd when ya think about it.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
Continuing sequel to the classic"Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Dr. Hanson discovers Honey's job at Bob's home. Chapters 11-15 of 48.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When Anthony dropped me off at Bob’s house, there was this little old lady waiting there for us. She gave me quite a looking over, which was hardly surprising seeing as I was dressed for the club in a short turquoise skirt, blue scoop front top, 5” heels and a push-up bra, like I need a push-up. She was a little reluctant to let me in but I talked her into it, showed her my driver’s license to seal the deal.
He had left me a list of jobs sitting on the kitchen table, but they were all minor stuff. There was also $500.00 for grocery shopping. I went to bed right away so that I could get an early start on Tuesday. It was a little unsettling, being alone for the first time in almost four years. Unfortunately, it was windy and I jumped at every creak and groan. Eventually, I turned the TV to a dead station and let the hiss drown out the background noise. That’s a little trick I learned when traveling with the Wranglers, though in the past I turned the TV to the wall so the extra light didn’t brighten the room too much. This time, I left the set facing me, the glow was comforting, like a night light. I was asleep in about fifteen minutes.
The list was finished by Tuesday evening and I did a particularly good job, if I do say so myself. I didn’t want Bob to think I was slacking off because he wasn’t here to supervise me. I made a light supper and went straight to the pool, alternating swimming and sitting in the hot tub until almost 11:00 p.m. It was relaxing but not nearly as much fun without Bob. In fact, the whole day had been a little off without him. I assumed it was because I wasn’t used to being alone but the more I thought about it, the more I missed him. Being here at his house had become more that not being at the club.
At first, it had all been about what I was getting away from, the dancing, the whoring, Anthony. But recently, it was more about where I was going to, to be with Bob, the semi-normal life we lead when I’m here.
I stay up late watching a movie on cable, not wanting to go to bed. I end up falling asleep on the couch and wake up at 3:23 a.m., my head resting on a drool soaked throw pillow. I shuffle off to bed, careful not to wake myself so much that getting back to sleep would be difficult. Thankfully, it works and I drop off right away, warm and cozy.
With all my work done, I decide to dedicate Wednesday to me, to do and eat and watch what I want. It starts off with a long, hot bath with some bath salts I bought yesterday. It’s kinda like the hot tub but smells nicer, no chlorine. I think it’s lilac or rose, either way, not bad at all. I was tempted to get one of those scented candles but decided it was just too girly. After drying off, I sit on my bed and polish my nails. They were looking a little shabby and I never get the time at the club to do them right. Anthony keeps me busy from morning to night and I’m so tired at the end of the day, I just want to crash in my bed and get as much rest as I can before it all starts again the next day, then he bitches and moans about me not keeping up appearances. I barely have time to slap on a coat of polish between sets at the club, but today, I’ve got time to strip everything off and do a quality job.
Once the polish is dry, I get dressed and fix waffles for breakfast, with a couple of sausages on the side, plus a mix of orange and pineapple juice. Bob turned me onto the juice blend, it’s the best. I wonder what he’s doing now?
As a general rule, morning television sucks. It’s full of talk shows loaded with women bitching about men. Could I tell them stories! Some of the cooking shows are interesting but most of the rest is crap. Even the sports shows keep running the same highlights from last night, the same ex-jocks spouting off about the subject of the day. That’s why I’ve picked out a lineup of DVD’s to watch for the next few hours. No popcorn though, I’ll save that for later. The first one is “Live Free and Die Hard.” I heard that it was sorta cartoony but I liked the other three, plus Bruce Willis was looking gooood in the recent issue of “People” so I figure, what the hell.
As the movie plays, I catch myself glancing at the couch where Bob usually sits when we watch TV or movies. I hope he’s alright, whatever he’s doing. He hasn’t called ... not that he said he would or anything. It’d just be nice to hear his voice, make sure he’s safe, you know, find out when he’s coming home. I decide to concentrate on the movie and am soon wrapped up in the fights and explosions, though the female bad guy looks really hot in her costume. I wonder what I’d look like in that outfit? It’d be tight in the ass but my tits would make up for that. The credits are rolling just as the doorbell rings.
What am I supposed to do? No one has ever showed up here since I started visiting weekly. What would Bob want me to do? Maybe it’s Anthony? Maybe the little old neighbor lady, checking on me since she knows I’m alone. I get up and walk to the door, slowly dropping my head down to look through the peep hole. When I see who it is, I scream and throw the door open.
“I did not want to just barge in ...” I cut him off by jumping up and hugging Bob around the neck, my head on his chest. He stands there for a moment, then puts his arms around me. “And hello to you too Honey. Is everything alright?”
I look up at him. “It is now.” I reluctantly let go and we walk inside. He sees the tail end of the credits on the television.
“What have you been doing while I have been away?”
“Everything you wanted me to do. The laundry is done, folded and put away. I washed and polished the kitchen floor. The bathrooms are ...”
“I am sure that you have done an admirable job on all of the tasks I gave you.” I stand a bit taller when he says that. “However, I need to speak with you concerning my recent trip. Please have a seat Honey.” I sit down on the couch and Bob sits next to me, not too close though. He picks up the remote, turning the DVD player and television off, then places the remote on the coffee table and turns a little to face me.
“I have been out and about, attempting to confirm the story that you told me about your ... transformation. I am happy, and in many ways totally surprised, to say that I believe you.”
“OH THANK GOD!” I want to jump into his arms but he reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. Instead, I take my left hand, cover his and start to cry with joy and relief. He lets me go on for a moment or two, then slides closer and hugs me, gently patting me on the back. I turn my head, laying it on his shoulder and return the hug, still sobbing. It’s like a damn burst inside me, releasing all the pent up fear, anger, frustration, and humiliation that has built up since I came to work for Anthony. He keeps holding me and patting my back until the tears end. I push back away from him and he releases me.
“Why do you believe me?” I ask.
“It was a number of things, some large, some small” he replies, settling back to his spot on the couch. “There was the botched attempt to create the ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’ identity that we had already discussed. I managed to get a look at the police files concerning the discovery of drugs at your house and your subsequent disappearance. It both matched up with what you said and was so full of holes that clearly someone created this offense from whole cloth. In addition, I checked out your story about being a Wrangler Girl for the Super Bowl three years ago. Were you aware that there are a number of web sites dedicated exclusively to the Wrangler Girls?”
I shake my head “No”.
“Neither was I, though I guess that I should not be surprised. It turns out that you are a minor celebrity among the group of presumptively men who worship the Wrangler Girls.”
“A celebrity?! How do they even know me?”
“They do not know you by name. You are simply the ‘Mystery Girl’ who showed up out of nowhere, performed at the Super Bowl and then disappeared, never to be heard from again. There are a number of pictures of you on these sights, of varying quality plus some amateur video, also of varying quality, but there is no doubt, taken as a group, they prove that you were there, just as you said, looking slightly older than you do today. These Wrangler Girl ‘fans’ know just about everything there is to know about the objects of their obsession, but to them , you are a complete blank. Some of the sites have interviews with other girls who appeared with you, telling a story similar to yours about how you joined the group for just one game, though there is some rather unflattering speculation as to how you managed that.” He reaches out and pats my knee. “I would say that you performed as well as, if not better than, the other girls.”
I blush. “Thanks. I put in a lot of work.”
“It showed. In reading the blogs and other interactive portions of these sites, I would say that the best of these people are barely above the legal description of stalkers. The worst of them ... well, it is a good thing that your identity as the missing Wrangler Girl is not known to them, otherwise you would be extremely busy at the club.”
I shudder to think about it. I hope Anthony never finds out about this. Bob continues.
“I also did a preliminary investigation of Dr. Hanson, her operation and her staff. They are all female, vary in attractiveness and share one amazing trait, they each look to be half, if not one third to a fourth of their respective ages. There is a woman who works there part time, your Ms. Baker, who would appear to be in her late twenties, but is actually over eighty years old. Good genes can not explain that.” He leans back towards me, taking my hands in his. “Most importantly, I spoke with Billy Joe Coleson. He confirmed everything you said, more or less.”
“No! He’d never talk! What did you do, put a gun to his head?”
“No. I put a gun in his hand.”
“Huh?”
“In researching Mr. Coleson, I discovered he had an interest in guns, fancies himself a good shot. I decided to use that interest to get him alone and question him. I also discovered that he has a home game post-victory celebratory routine where he visits a particular bar for a drink. I managed to cause a small disturbance which got his girlfriend briefly out of the picture and introduced myself to him using the alias of ‘Richard Johnson, dealer in exotic and unusual weapons’. He was interested enough to invite me out to his ranch for a demonstration of my inventory.”
“But you don’t have any of that kind of inventory, at least not around here.”
“Correct Honey, but I have certain contacts who do. I rented some equipment from one of them and played the salesman role. By demonstrating my superior ability and regularly praising Josh Thomas, along with comparing him unfavorably to Josh, I was able to get Billy Joe rather agitated. Throw in a generous helping of high alcohol beer and he said quite a bit about Mr. Thomas, mostly derogatory and insulting, but very helpful.”
“I know Billy Joe, he’s no genius but he should be smart enough not to say anything, no matter how pissed he got. He knows what Hanson might do to him, what she did to me. He wouldn’t risk that.”
“If he was sober, yes, but he was under the influence of a special type of beer.”
“What’s so special about it?” Bob doesn’t answer right away.
“Do you remember the first time you used my hot tub?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recall that we had a lengthy conversation?”
I think a moment. “I know we talked awhile ...”
“But you can’t remember what we talked about.”
“Yeah! ... How do you know that?”
“Because your wine was mildly spiked with a drug, not exactly a truth serum, but it does amplify the effects of the alcohol, making a person more ... talkative while muddling the memory after the conversation is done.” I jerk my hand from his.
“YOU DRUGGED ME?!”
“Mildly Honey, mildly. It was necessary. I needed to find out the truth about you. To your credit, you never said anything about your transformation.”
“But you drugged me! How am I supposed to trust you after you’ve done something like that?”
“To be perfectly honest, I see your point.”
“What? ...You’re just going to agree with me?”
“Well, when you are right Honey, you are right. Keep in mind, of course, that I did not need to tell you about the drug or my use of it on you. Also, that both you and Anthony were keeping a very large secret from me, rather badly it turns out. But if my investigatory techniques, which I am employing to help you, lead you to mistrust me, I am afraid there is little I can do about it.”
I’m not sure, but I don’t think there was an apology in there. He really should apologize for drugging me, even if I wasn’t telling him the truth. It’s not my fault that I had to lie to him. If he hadn’t done it though, we probably wouldn’t be here now, trying to figure a way out for me. What do I say about this? I get a sly idea.
“Apology accepted, Bob. Go one with your story.” He lowers his head slightly and cocks one eyebrow, looking up at me through faintly narrowed eyes.
“Apology accepted?”
“Yes. Now go one with your story.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response. He shakes his head and quietly laughs.
“Fine. Thank you for being so understanding.” He bows ever so slightly towards me. I start breathing again. “The dose that Billy Joe received was larger than yours, not only because of the size difference but I needed him to be more willing to talk. Subtle insults and challenges to his manhood would only go so far but the evidence I tracked down indicated he had a strong need to feel respected or deferred to. Since I had demonstrated I was an excellent marksman, it was unlikely that he would attempt to assault me to try and get back at me for my understated digs. The alcohol and drug combined to create a heightened need on his part to ‘take me down a peg’ and since the only thing he knew about me was my stated admiration of Josh Thomas, he chose to attack me by revealing the truth about you, hoping to crush me by crushing my ‘idol’.”
“I guess that makes some sense.”
“Alcohol, in excess, helps a person do stupid things. Combined with the drug, stupidity is almost assured. The trick was to create the environment where I could influence what idiotic thing he did, which was telling me all about his involvement with Dr. Hanson, Anthony and you. In the end, it was hard to get him to shut up. I had to admit he was right about you being a terrible person and deserving all you got in order to put an end to our conversation. He really does not like you, now or then.”
I remember several of his recent visits to me at the club and how they went. “Don’t I know it. What did you do next?”
“I returned the equipment to my contact, paid the bill and drove home, which brings me to here and now.” He spreads his arms apart, palms up.
“So what happens here and now? Can you help me out of this mess?”
“I would say mess is a gross understatement Honey. But yes, I believe I can. As I suspected, Billy Joe Coleson was the weak link in the conspiracy. I now know a great deal about what happened” he gives me a hard look “and why. Dr. Hanson, for all her brilliance, has made some errors, possibly many errors. Further investigation is needed. This may take awhile Honey, certainly weeks, maybe months. As I told you before, you must be patient, must be strong, but I am confident that you can handle it.”
“OK, Bob” I sigh. “What choice do I have?”
“You can say ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ Honey, the biggest choice possible. If you say ‘No’, you will return to the life you know, the life you have lived for the past three years and will continue to live for the foreseeable future. If you say ‘Yes’, you are placing yourself in my hands, at my mercy if you will, trusting that I will do what is necessary to maximize your chances of escape from Dr. Hanson and return to some kind of normal life. I am not guaranteeing success nor that you will once again be Josh Thomas when this is all over. We are stepping into the unknown, down a dark road that will likely be difficult both physically and mentally. I can not promise anymore than that. It is your choice Honey and I will not try to talk you in or out of any particular option. It is your life.”
“It may be my life but if I say ‘Yes’, you’re going to be taking some big chances with your life. Amy Hanson is stone fucking nuts. God knows what she would do if she found out what was going on. She could kill you ... or worse.”
“It is a risk I am willing to take. Besides” he winks at me “I am retired, I have nothing else to do. Gotta keep busy.”
I so want to fuck him right now. I don’t know if it is the gratitude or what but he seems so ... desirable right at this minute. I close my eyes and wait, hoping the feeling will fade. It doesn’t. I can feel my nipples swelling and hardening with each passing second, my pussy getting moist. It’s not even close to the time for me to drink Anthony’s jiz, so that’s not it. I need to get out of here. I open my eyes and stand up.
“I need to think about this for a bit.”
Bob stands too. “Perfectly understandable, Honey, take as long as you like.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna go to my room to ... ah ... think.”
“Be my guest.”
I hurry to my room, close the door, go to the bathroom, turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Four times. I slowly straighten up and dry my face. The front of my blouse is soaked, but I’m feeling more in control. I close my eyes and picture Bob. There’s something there but it’s not as strong as it was a few minutes ago. It must be my hormones or something. I’d say it was that time of the month but I don’t have periods, about the only aspect of being a girl I don’t get to ‘enjoy’. I’ve never asked either Hanson or Anthony about it, but I never ask about anything, just do as I’m told. I look at myself in the mirror, wet hair plastered to my face.
There never has been a choice, not really. I square my shoulders and march back to the living room. Bob is sitting on the couch. He glances at me as I enter the room.
“Honey, is something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“No.”
“I am confused. Is there or is there not something wrong?”
“No, there is nothing wrong. My answer is ‘Yes’, let’s do it.”
He smiles ... a wide, tight smile. His eyes aren’t smiling though; they are wide open and bright but intense. I’ve seen that look before, on the face of a son of a bitch middle linebacker just before he smacked me to the ground.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I’m between sets early Friday evening. The club is fuller than normal, I think there is some kind of religious convention in town, which always swells our crowd. Dallas isn’t Vegas but it’s as close as some of these guys are ever going to get to Vegas. Away from home, the wife and three point five kids and away from their convention buddies, they come to Anthony’s to practice a little hypocrisy. It’s always funny to watch from the stage when a couple of guys recognize each other and dive for cover. They don’t realize they are protected by Mutually Assured Destruction; Mr. A can’t rat out Mr. B without admitting he was in the same place doing the same thing. Same deal for Mr. B. I’d turn them both in to their priest or bishop or iman or whatever, if I could. Cheating bastards.
Unfortunately, I got a little too close to the crowd during my last set and either Mr. A or Mr. B. got a good grip on my costume and tore it. I’m sitting here backstage trying to repair the damage. We’ve got a decent sewing kit back here for just such emergencies. I’m actually pretty good at this. Some of the other girls ask me to do their repairs, offering me money. What am I going to do with money? Anthony will just take it. I do trade favors though. They’ll do one of my sets for example or sneak me some decent junk food, like Godiva bars. I just adore their chocolate!
My mind keeps drifting back to my last conversation with Bob before I left on Thursday morning.
“Honey” he said. “I will likely ask you many questions in the future about what happened to you while you were imprisoned at Dr. Hanson’s clinic. I will also ask about what is happening currently at the club, what is Anthony up to and so on. It is vital that you tell me the absolute truth, no matter what. My plans will rely on that information so it must be accurate. Regrettably, I will tell you nothing about my plans. Not what I plan to do, when or where. Nothing at all. You can ask, but I am letting you know right now, there will be no answer. I am aware that this is difficult for you but I am more concerned about operational security and ultimate success than any temporary discomfort you may experience. Keep your eyes on the prize. Until I am ready, keep Anthony and Dr. Hanson happy, unless I say otherwise.”
I agreed to do it his way, though I don’t understand why I have to be left in the dark. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone anything, I’m not some dumb blonde bimbo. I test the just repaired seam - it seems tight enough. I might just take some of my club clothes to Bob’s next week. Not an actual costume or one of the dresses, but maybe a short skirt or tight top or both. See if I can get a rise out of him.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I think the time at Bob’s has been good for Honey. Her attitude seems better. Can’t put my finger on exactly what’s different. Her dancing is just as good as before. I get no complaints from her customers, in fact a few say she’s particularly enthusiastic. She does whatever I tell her to do without any back talk, not that she ever would. I solved that problem right away the first week she was here, though the Doc had to work her magic on that broken arm. Something just feels different somehow. Maybe she’s getting along with the other girls better. Honey had always been a little stand-offish when it came to mixing with them, which didn’t make any difference to me. Now, when I go back to the dressing room, she’s likely to be talking with a couple of them, getting tips about make-up or clothes or other girly shit like that.
She also seems to spend more time getting ready for her weekly trip to Bob’s, hair and make up, that sort of thing. Just as long as she keeps him happy and the money rolling in.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
We’re sitting on the couch, at opposite ends, feet propped up on the coffee table, near enough for me to play footsies if I wanted to - which I don’t. Though it would be interesting to see how Bob reacted, purely out of curiosity. The television is on, some PBS program about Afghanistan. Bob’s half watching, half reading some papers in a binder. When I asked him what they were, he just put his index finger to his lips and said “sshhhhsss”, which is his current sign for “I’m not telling”. I understand why but I don’t have to like it. I’m just going to sit here and put on my pouting act, arms crossed, head down on chest, lower lip thrust out. He looks over at me.
“You may change the channel if you wish, Honey.”
“No thanks. It’s your house so we do what you want.” Keep those arms tight.
“As you wish.” He goes back to reading. Shit! Either he didn’t notice or doesn’t care. God! He can be soooo frustrating some times! I give up and pick up the newspaper to read the sports page. An ad insert falls in my lap. It’s from Kohl’s, a three day sale. There’s this very cute dress on the front page so I set the paper aside and start to page through the ad. They’ve got a lot of stuff on sale, some of it very pretty. I fold the page over and put my thumb next to a particularly nice halter style dress.
“What do you think about this?” I hold it out towards Bob. He looks up from his paperwork, reaches out and angles the ad so that he can see it.
“For me or for you?”
“Hardy har har. For me, silly.”
“It seems a little fancy for around the house.”
“Sure, but we might go out for supper again ... maybe. And I could, you know, wear it and ... look nice.”
“But you already have a nice dress, that ivory one with the red in it.”
“OK, I have one nice dress, but I can’t wear it for everything.”
“I do not see why not. It is a perfectly good dress and you look quite attractive in it.”
“But I’d look attractive in this one too.” He looks at me with that cocked eyebrow, pausing as if considering something. He’s silent for like half a minute.
“Yes ...” he says quietly, his eyes not focused on me but looking out in space somewhere.
“Yes what?”
He snaps back to earth. “Yes, go buy your dress and we will go out to eat, probably next week or the week after, I am not exactly sure when but we will do it soon.”
“Great! I’ll do it first thing tomorrow when they open. The girls say you have to be there early to get the best stuff.”
“What girls?”
“You know, the girls at the club, the other dancers. Candi and Sherri and Michelle and ...”
“I was not aware that you were friends with the other performers.”
“Well Candi certainly is. The others are just ... we just talk sometimes, you know. They’re nice girls.” He nods his head.
“I understand.” He returns to his binder. I sigh and get up to fix supper. Men just don’t get it sometimes.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I’m taking my usual swim after supper, dressed in a bikini I bought a couple of weeks ago. If you wear the same suit all the time, it gets worn out quicker. If you alternate, both suits last longer. I’m sure I read that somewhere. Bob’s sitting at the table on the deck, watching me. I keep trying to get him into the pool but he just won’t do it. I’d push him in, but he doesn’t seem to be the type who would find that funny and I’m not ready to take that chance. He’s ready with my robe when I get out.
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome, Honey.” We walk back to the table and he pulls my chair out for me, as usual.
The first time he did that, I didn’t know what to do. It had never happened before. It took me a few seconds to remember that’s what a gentleman does for a woman. Nothing like that ever happens at the club. Here he always opens the door for me, pulls out my chair, all the best manners. At first it felt weird, but now I kinda like it. I used to do that sort of thing with women when I wanted to impress them, but it usually faded away the longer I was in the relationship. Bob never misses a chance, even if he’s using his cane.
The cane comes and goes. Some days he has a real hard time getting around but he does it by himself, won’t take my help at all. It’s male pride, pure and simple. They can be idiots sometimes. Tonight he’s walking fine.
I sit down and he rubs my shoulders through the robe. He’s got surprisingly strong hands but he knows just where to touch and how hard. I bet he could give one hell of a massage. Maybe some day ...
“Would you like something to drink, Honey?”
“White wine if it is not drugged.”
“You will not let that go, will you?”
“No.”
He turns to go to back to the house. “Women” he says with mock disgust. I hope it’s mock disgust. He should know that I’m just kidding. He brings a glass back, looks me in the eye, takes a small sip, smiles and places it in my hand, brushing my fingers with his. I relax; he knows I’m joking around.
He sits down and stares at me as I take a drink. It’s a little unnerving.
“What?” I ask.
“To what are you referring?”
“You’re staring at me like you’ve got something on your mind. What is it?” He doesn’t answer right away but chews on his lower lip a few seconds and drums his fingers on the table top. That usually means he’s undecided about something. It never lasts long with Bob.
“I have some questions for you.” I sit back in my chair and cross my legs, letting the robe slip open, giving him a good look.
“Shoot.”
“These are different questions than before. They have nothing to do with any plans. They are about you personally.”
‘That’s fine, go ahead.”
“Very personal Honey.”
I take another drink. “I got it, ask away.”
“You are in a unique situation, the first in all of the history of the world as best as I can determine. You are a man who lived a full and complete life as a man, with no desire to be anything else other than a man, who became a completely functioning woman, down to your DNA. No operations, no imitation vagina, no breast implants, no artificial hormones. You are as much a woman as any female on the planet, more so than some. You are a woman with memories of being a man.”
I don’t think I like where this is going. It’s not something I think about. In fact, I try not to think about it. Bob keeps talking.
“I realize that you were not raised as a woman. You have no memories of tea parties, dolls, playing dress up or other stereotypical female childhood activities, but you are as close as any man ever has come to knowing what it is like to have been both a man and a woman. You are in the position to answer so many questions men have as to what it is like to be a woman, how do they think, what do they think, what exactly is the view from the other side of the bed, so to speak. Your experiences since the change have been, to be blunt, horrifying, but you may be able to separate those experiences from the basic status of being female and what that means.”
“So, what’s your question?” I quietly ask, pulling my robe across my body.
He leans across the table. “What is it like to be a woman?”
“It sucks.”
“Does it suck to be you, in your situation, or suck to be female in general?”
“The whole GOD DAMN THING SUCKS!” He doesn’t seem to be surprised or shocked by what I just said.
“I apologize for asking you to describe your feelings. I knew that it would be difficult for you to be analytical about your situation, given how you have been treated. Perhaps in the future it may be possible. Once again, I apologize.”
I stand up, pushing my chair back. “I’m going to bed.”
“Good night Honey. Pleasant dreams.”
I don’t reply, just walk straight into the kitchen, through the living room, into my bedroom, closing the door behind me and flop, face first, on the bed. Pulling myself up to the head of the bed, I roll onto my side, hug the pillow and quickly fall into a fitful sleep.
I'm sitting on my bed at the club, dressed in the Naughty Nurse costume, short, white uniform dress, buttoned in the front, lapels cut down almost to top of my stomach. White stockings with elastic tops and 5" "fuck me" pumps. A push up bra has my tits so far up and out that the dress barely contains them. My hair is in a big bun with a white nurse's cap pinned to it. I slide to the edge of the bed, stand up and walk around the room, first checking the window and then the door. They are both locked. I go back to the window and look outside.
The Wranglers are scrimmaging out in the parking lot. I watch a couple of plays, then they all stop, turn towards my window and wave at me. I weakly wave back. The quarterback takes off his helmet. It's Josh Thomas.
I duck down below the window, hoping he doesn't see me but in a few seconds I hear someone in cleats walking down the hallway towards my room. Whoever it is slowly opens the door, then steps inside. It's him ... or me, still in uniform.
"Hello, Honey. I like your outfit." He sits down on the bed and pats it with his left hand. "Why don't you come on over and sit your fine ass down next to me."
"Like hell I will!" I say, but start to strut towards him, rolling my hips and bouncing my tits. I bend way down, sticking my ass out as the dress rises, revealing my thong covered pussy. I edge back until I make contact with the bed, then sit back. Once upright, I wriggle closer to ... him until our legs are touching. I look up at him. He’s not as big as Anthony but he’s still much bigger than I am.
“Now, isn’t that better, Honey?”
“No! What’s going on here? Why are you ... I ...whatever, here?”
“I’m just here because Billy Joe says your one hell of a fuck, thought I might try you out. You must have been expecting me; you know how I love the nurse thing.” He reaches out and grabs my knee. I want to push his hand off, or slap his face but I don’t move, can’t move.
“We can’t do that! We’re the same person. How are you even here? I don’t understand...” He quickly reaches up with his left hand, grabs my hair and roughly pulls me to his mouth, kissing me, forcing his tongue deep into my mouth. I don’t resist at all, just kiss him back, the stubble of his day old beard scraping my face. He turns to face me, still kissing, and forces me back onto the bed, laying on top of me. I involuntarily spread my legs wide as he pushes his hips forward, grinding against my crotch. He breaks the kiss and pushes himself up on his arms.
I gasp for breath. “What are you doing?!”
“Oh, I think you know Honey.” The dress is up around my waist and he gyrates his hips, rocking against my fabric covered cunt. It feels so good, I can’t help moaning, then I bit my lip to try and shut up, but he heard me.
He starts laughing, but it’s not friendly at all. “I knew you were just a whore Honey, just like Billy Joe and Anthony ... and Hanson said.”
“I’m not a whore! She did this to me! To us!” He backs away from me until he’s standing next to the bed. Maybe he’s done and will leave me alone. He starts to unbuckle his pants.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Honey. I’m still here, still all man...” he drops his pants. His ... my ... cock bouncing in front of him, as hard and as big as I have ever seen it “...still with all the necessary equipment to fuck you till the cows come home.” He climbs back between my legs, reaches up and tears my panties clean off in one jerk. He plunges his index finger into my pussy. “And you’ve got the necessary equipment too.” He starts to push his finger in and out as I squirm on the bed.
“No! Stop! You can’t do this! Hanson did it to me, made me a weak girl.” He stops probing my cunt.
“And what did you do to stop her?”
“Huh?”
“What did you do to fight her? To stop her from doing this to you?”
“I don’t underst...” He leaps on top of me, his legs pinning my arms down, his body looming above me, his cock pointing between my eyes.
“YOU DID NOTHING! You just sat there and did what you were told! Day in and day out!”
“I tried to run away but…”
“OH, ‘RUN AWAY’, how manly! You didn’t do shit until it was too late! By the time you ‘ran away’, you were making love to that fucking vibrator fifty times a day. Remember your vibrator? You rubbed that thing up and down that tiny nub of a dick, sticking it up your ass, until you orgasmed, then started right up again. The only time you weren’t fucking yourself with it was when you ate, slept or ... danced.”
“I was just exercising, trying to get better. How was I to know that...”
“’Exercising’ in 4” heels is dancing you idiot! What a fucking pansy! You deserve everything she did to you!”
“What do you know?! If you hadn’t raped her, none of this would have happened.” He slapped me, hard. I started to cry.
“I don’t rape women. Sometimes they may not like it at first but they come around. It’s just a game all you bitches play. I’ll show you.” He reaches down and grabs my throat, slowly squeezing harder. I try to ask him to stop but he stuffs his cock in my mouth, forcing it in as far as it will go. Again, my body is on autopilot and I start to suck, lick and slurp on his dick, trying with all my might to swallow the whole thing. It only takes a few seconds and my nose is buried in his hairy crotch.
“There, didn’t I tell you? You were giving me all this shit when all you really wanted was to suck my cock down to the root. Well, now you’ve got your wish.” He starts to rock his hips back and forth, fucking my mouth. He moves faster and faster, banging the back of my throat with each thrust. I look up at him. He’s got an evil grin on his face. I’ve seen it before. When I had sex with someone and there were mirrors available, I liked to do it so I could watch myself screwing.
That’s the look. It’s a hell of a lot different being the subject of that look. He keeps banging away until I feel his cock swell and he starts shooting his cum down my throat straight to my stomach. He pulls out so that the last few spurts go up my nose. I gag and choke, trying to catch my breath.
“Wasn’t that fun, Honey? Let’s try something else.” He rolls off me, reaches around my waist, flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my hips up until I’m on my knees, face against the mattress. He’s behind me, rubbing the head of his still hard cock against my pussy lips, pushing it in just an inch or so and pulling it back out, over and over.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
“NO! Leave me alone! This is your fault, you bastard! I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been such a jerk! You and your big ego! If you had just given a little thought to how you treated women, I’d still be a man.”
“True but then you couldn’t enjoy this, now could you?” He pushed his big cock deep into my vagina, right up to the hilt, in one continuous thrust. My eyes crossed as I gasped, fighting a losing battle against the rush of pleasure, the electric sensations running up my spine straight to my brain. He held my hips and began a slow, rhythmic fucking, pulling out almost the whole way, leaving just the tip of the head inside, and plunging all the way back in with each stroke. Each time, I pushed back against him, urging him on. I’ve raised my self up on my arms so that my back is parallel with the bed, my boobs bouncing with each thrust. After a minute or two, he starts to increase his pace, grunting with the effort. I push back harder, moaning and groaning as my smoldering pussy catches fire. He leans down against my back, reaches around me from both sides, grabs my dress and tears it apart, buttons flying away, freeing my tits. He grabs them with both hands, mauling and pulling at them as he fucks me faster and faster. It’s getting harder to form complete thoughts, all I can think about is sex, fucking and ... more fucking.
By now, we are both just rutting animals, grunting, groaning, sweating, panting, crying, begging, and cursing. I feel as if I am about to have the greatest orgasm of my life. I’m being man handled by Josh as if I’m a rag doll. Just as I’m about to cum, he leans close to me ear and whispers.
“You’re a cunt, Honey Sweet-Lay, a fucking whore of a cunt. That’s all you were, are or ever will be.”
I wake up, heart pounding and sweaty.
My bikini bottom is down around my knees and my top is hanging around my neck. My left hand is grasping my right boob while my right hand is buried in my wet twat. I quickly pull both hands away, holding them in the air in front of me. I roll my head to the left to look at the clock. It’s 3:12 a.m.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Honey, what are you doing up at this hour?”
I am laying curled up on the couch in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, head resting on a throw pillow, the television turned on, tuned to ESPN but the volume is low.
“I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You did not” he yawns, “I was going to the bathroom and heard the television. I thought that I had accidentally hit the timer or something and came out to check on it.” He sits down on the couch near my feet. “Is there something wrong?”
I sit upright, still clutching the blanket around me. “I had a ... weird dream. I didn’t want to go back to sleep because I might end up in the same dream, so I came out here to watch TV and try to stay awake.”
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Was it a nightmare?’
“Sort of ... it was scary, but that wasn’t the worst of it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I lean against him, so that my back is resting against his chest. He wraps both arms around my waist.
“Not yet, maybe later.” We stay like this for several minutes, him gently holding me close to his chest.
“I cry a lot more” I say quietly, not looking up at him, just staring off into space.
“Excuse me?”
“I said that I cry a lot more. You asked about what it was like to be a woman. I don’t know if it’s because of being at the club and all or just hormones, but sometimes my emotions are just all over the place. Sometimes I’m OK but mostly it’s sadness, so I cry a lot ... at night.”
“You do not have to talk about this Honey, if it upsets you.”
“It’s all I can think about since you brought it up and that fucking dream. I’ve been laying here, practically making a list in my head. Besides the obvious stuff, the tits and pussy, there’s just a whole lot of shit that’s different. I’m so much smaller and weaker than I was, almost everything scares me. If anything bad happens, my first thought is how to get away. When I was Josh Thomas, most of the time I went looking for trouble. I think it hurts more when I get hit. I used to take quite a pounding and get up for more but now one punch from Anthony and I’m down in serious pain.”
“That could just be the size and strength differential. Anthony is nearly three times your weight. You did not run into many 700 lb. players on the field.”
“No, I didn’t” I giggle “But it still hurts.”
“I am not surprised; most studies indicate that women are more sensitive than men. They also are better at picking up emotional cues.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing. I’m better at guessing what someone else is thinking or going to do. I can read a person; particularly Anthony or Hanson, better than I used to, though that could just be survival instinct taking over. Sometimes when I’m on stage, I can point right at the guy who’s likely to give me trouble before I’m thirty seconds into my set.”
“What about emotional relationships?”
“I’ve had hundreds of fifteen to twenty minute ‘relationships’, what do you want to know?”
“That is not what I meant, though your point is valid. Due to your unusual circumstances, you have not had the opportunity to form a healthy relationship with another person.”
I wriggle my back against him. “Until now.”
“I do not know if you could call our relationship a healthy one.”
“Yeah, about that. Why aren’t you fucking me?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.
“Do you ... want me to?”
“Sometimes ... yes ... it could be ... you know ... nice.” He doesn’t say anything for several moments, each one a small pin prick in my heart. He clears his throat.
“Not that I haven’t given the possibility considerable thought ... considerable thought mind you. I came to the conclusion, Honey, that it would be best that we avoid ... romantic entanglements for now. A ... physical relationship could cloud my judgment, something we both want to avoid.”
“You remember I said I’m better at reading people now?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
He laughs. “You could be correct Honey, but it is my decision and it will not change ... for now.” We’ll see about that buddy.
“Fine. Anyway, that’s part of the list why it sucks to be a woman.”
“I beg to differ Honey, there is nothing in that list that leads one to the conclusion that it ‘sucks’ to be a woman verses a man.”
“What do you mean? Women are so much weaker, we can’t defend ourselves. Men push us around, paw at us all the time! If I was still a man, I wouldn’t have to take that.”
“You have valid complaints Honey, but they are limited to your situation at Anthony’s not your status as a woman.”
“But it is so god damn humiliating!”
“Alright, let us start there. Let me ask you a few questions. Do you think you can answer them truthfully?”
“Sure.”
“Good. First question, when Josh Thomas was in a relationship with a woman, do you think she felt humiliated.”
“No, not really ... at least not most of the time.”
“You mean until you did something to humiliate her?”
“Yeah” I reply quietly.
“We will skip that for now. Second question, do you think your partners at that time enjoyed having sex with you?”
“Hell yes!”
“Good. Third question. Do you sometimes enjoy sex as a woman? Remember, be honest, keeping in mind that you just said that you have considered having sex with me.”
I was trapped. “Yes, sometimes I enjoy it but only because Hanson made me that way.”
“I understand, but you admit that sex as a woman can be enjoyable, yes?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“You will see. Fourth question, was Josh Thomas the strongest man in the world?”
“Of course not!”
“The strongest player in the league?”
“NO!”
“The strongest player on the Wranglers?”
“No.”
“The offense?”
“No, look I see where you’re going...”
“The backfield?”
“OK I got it...”
“Answer please.”
“NO!”
“So ... uh ... Ninth question. Do you think that there were women in the world who were physically stronger than Josh Thomas, who were faster, who could lift more weight, run farther and so on?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“So strength of an individual is measured along a continuum, with a mix of men and women ahead of Josh Thomas on that continuum and a mix of men and women behind him.“ I start to object but Bob raises his hand. “Admitting that the ratio of men to women stronger that Josh Thomas is weighted in favor of the men and weighted in favor of the women for those weaker than him.”
“OK.”
“So far, so good. Eleventh question, though that last question was more of a statement on my part than a question ... but I digress. Was your mother a good mother?”
“Hey! What’s my mother got to do with....”
“It is a simple question, was she a good mother?”
“She was a great mother! The best!”
“Was she smart?”
“Very!”
“Loving?”
“Yes.”
“Accomplished?”
“Sure.”
“Attractive?”
“You watch it! Are you saying...”
“Just asking if she was a nice looking woman. I am not insinuating anything.”
“OK. Yes, she was beautiful.”
“Tough?”
“She could be, sometimes, if necessary.”
“Seventeenth question. Would your answers be the same if I asked the same questions about your grandmothers?”
“Uh, wait, let me think... ... yeah, pretty much the same, though I’m not sure how good looking they were, I mean I thought they were beautiful, but every kid thinks that about their Grandma.”
“And tough?”
“Yes. Talk about tough, my mom’s mom, Gram, you didn’t cross her, not if you wanted to see tomorrow.”
“Eighteenth question. Did you know your mother and grandmothers well?
“They all raised me.”
“So ’yes’?” I nod my head.
“Penultimate question. Would you say they were strong, confident, socially well adjusted people, living life to its’ fullest?”
“Absolutely”
“Twentieth question.......ready?”
“Is that the twentieth question?”
“No, just making sure you are prepared to think about it.”
“Go on.”
“Given all the prior questions and your answers, is it not fair to say that one’s sex has nothing to do with your place in life or the world but what you do with the opportunities presented to you. Any human being can live a good or bad life as either a man or a woman ... it is all up to you.”
“But I am a whore at ...”
“We are working on that. Is there something intrinsically humiliating about being a woman? Was your mother humiliated at being a woman? Your grandmothers? Or did they seize the opportunities presented to them. Different opportunities than those presented to men perhaps but men’s opportunities would have been equally limited by their sex and the standards of their world.”
“Is that the twenty first question?”
“No, a clarification of the twentieth question. How about an answer Ms. Sweet-Lay?”
“What was the purpose of all this?”
“You know as well as I do Honey, you are no fool, at least I hope you are not. Men and women are equals, some better than others but it is their individual differences that make them good or bad, not their sex. You say you are weak but that has nothing to do with your sex. I know a number of women who I would think twice about taking on in a fight. You could be as formidable as they are, you just lack training. But strength is not just physical, it is mental, it is moral, it is will power, none of which depends on you being male or female. Plus, you have already admitted that you can enjoy the physical aspects of being a woman, so sex as a woman must be as good as sex as a man.”
“Uhhhh ... maybe ... well, better.” His eyes widen.
“If any one is qualified to make that statement, Honey, you are. I defer to your expertise. Do you have an answer to question twenty?”
“Yes, you’re right. I may not like being a whore at Anthony’s club but I guess there’s nothing wrong with women, in general. I know a lot of really good women.”
“Then I suggest that you use them as role models for now. I have no idea when we will be in a position to attempt an escape from Dr. Hanson, so you might as well start becoming the best person you can be with what you have to work with. No matter what happens down the road, you will be better off for the effort.” He looks over at the clock on the VCR. “It is too late to go back to bed. How about we get dressed and go out for an early breakfast?” I turn to face him, lean in and kiss his cheek, holding it for a second or two.
“You’re on.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
That early morning conversation with Bob stuck with me. How would my mother deal with my situation? My grandmas? Gram would have been kicking ass and taking names from the start. She was about five foot nothing, 100 pounds soaking wet and possibly the toughest person I ever knew, man or woman. If she thought she was right, nothing would stop her. There was this one time when I was sixteen and promised to cut her grass, then blew the job off to go swimming with some friends. When I got back, she was standing in the driveway, legs spread and arms crossed. She started giving me shit about responsibility and keeping promises and I told her to shut up ... though with a little more colorful language. She grabbed my ear, jerked my head down to her level and drug me into the house, damn near tore it off. When we got to her kitchen, she let me go.
I was stupid enough to take a swing at her. She ducked it, came up underneath with a sneaky right and caught me square on the jaw. It was like being hit with a rock. Her old hand was just bone and muscle. I went down on my ass. She grabbed the other ear, told me to get out and not come back until I was ready to apologize.
I was so embarrassed. A seventy year old lady almost half my size had knocked me down. I thought she would call my mom, tell her what happened and then all hell would break lose at home, but the call never came. She kept the whole thing quiet, just between us. It took me two weeks to swallow my pride and apologize. She accepted it and we never spoke about it again but she told me something at the time that I had forgotten all about.
“You’re a good boy” she said, “but you’re headed down the wrong road. Just because you can play football doesn’t make you better than everyone else. If you don’t start behaving yourself, things won’t go well for you. I won’t be around forever to keep you in line.”
She died two years later, lung cancer. Never could kick that cigarette addiction, but she fought to the end.
Turns out, she called it right.
Bob told me not to cause any problems with either Anthony or Hanson, he needed time to think. He didn’t want some kind of conflict between me and them to complicate matters, things were tough enough as they were. I played it normal at the club, did what I was told, what I was expected to do. I started being nicer to the other girls though, talking with them more, helping with costumes, make up and stuff. I didn’t get much of a response at first but they came around a little.
They had thought that I was Anthony’s “favorite”, getting all the best sets, not having to work the crowd as often with lap dances, all my “special” customers. I didn’t tell them the truth. How could I possibly explain not just quitting because of the abuse? It was hard enough for Bob to believe me, the other girls never would, not even Candi. I just told them I’d try to make sure they got better treatment but that ultimately, it was Anthony’s call.
Everything was routine for a couple of weeks. I hadn’t seen Hanson for over six weeks, which was unusual. She’d usually drop in every two to three weeks, just to watch me dance. I think she occasionally brought someone with her for me to have sex with. It would almost always be a bad one, rough, violent and kinky. Then there were the six month check ups when I’d spend a week or so back in the clinic, getting shots and pills and learning new routines from Ms. Baker. But not a sign of her recently. No news is good news.
I was at Bob’s two weeks after that strange dream. I was relaxing in the hot tub, a glass of wine next to me. Bob was sitting at the table, as usual. It had been a bad day for him, more seizures than usual. He’d actually fallen once but caught himself on the couch. He let me help him up, which surprised me. He’d also gotten a phone call, a first since I’d been coming here. He took it in his office and I was vacuuming at the time so I didn’t hear anything. The dream had been on my mind.
“Bob?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think that I could have ... stopped all this from happening to me?”
“You mean all that Dr. Hanson did?”
“Yeah, that.”
He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of water. “Certainly there were several times, mostly early in her scheme, where you could have thwarted her.”
“Gee ... thanks.”
“Did you not want the truth?”
“Sure ... it’s just ... remember that dream I had awhile ago?”
“The one where you did not go back to bed?”
“That one. In it ... someone said I didn’t do anything to stop her.”
“Well, you did not.”
“You’re not helping, Bob.”
“I think that you may be asking the wrong question, Honey. Yes, there are many things that you could have done, but Dr. Hanson’s plan was sheer brilliance. Her infiltration of the Wranglers, her ability to get management on her side, their application of financial pressure on you to comply with her treatment plan, the use of Billy Joe Coleson as a threat to your job, the unqualified success of her treatments on the rest of the team, and finally, her ability to isolate you from the world and accelerate your transformation, all quite masterful. After that, she screwed up left and right but the consequences have not struck home yet. So the question is not could you have stopped her, but were you likely to be able to stop her. The answer to that question is no, you were not likely to have stopped her. She counted on your years of being a team sport player, accustomed to taking orders and following them, not without the occasional grumble and a bit of rebellion now and then but, by and large, you did what you were told. Once you came under her complete control at the clinic, you were done for. It is no small miracle that you managed to avoid your drugs and clear your head. Her people had gotten lax. Of course, by then it was too late. Your semen addiction was fully implemented and all chance of anything beyond a temporary escape was gone. Was this person in your dream accusing you of cowardice?”
“I’m not sure what I … he meant, it’s just haunted me a bit since then.”
“I would not take it seriously, Honey, it was only a dream.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Perhaps this will improve your mood. I have decided, with your consent of course, to take you to dinner tomorrow night. You will get a chance to wear that new dress you bought.”
“That’s great! Where are we going?”
“A little restaurant not too far from here. It does require a reservation so we will need to be there by 7:00.”
“Are you going to be well enough to go?”
“I will manage Honey, I will manage.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It was a very nice place. Bob opened the door for me and we walked in. We had parked around the block and even though he was still using his cane, Bob was getting around a bit better. The lobby had several cushy chairs, but there was no one waiting for a table, Wednesdays aren’t usually that busy for most restaurants. He stepped up to the maitre de, who nodded and bowed ever so slightly.
“Good evening, Sir, Madam. Welcome to ‘Toulouse’, may I assist you?” Bob returned the nod and bow.
“Good evening. We have a reservation for 7:00 o’clock.” The maitre de lifted his head just enough to look over Bob’s right shoulder at me.
I’m wearing the light pink knot front dress I bought two weeks ago. It’s made of matte jersey, with a fit-and-flare style; the skirt is loose and flirty, stopping two inches above my knees but is snug around my hips and waist, wide straps over my shoulders. The bodice is not too revealing, certainly nothing like I normally wear. Some women might think I’m showing more cleavage than I should but Bob likes it and that’s all I care about. He did buy me a red shoulder wrap to wear tonight because the restaurant might be a bit chilly. He said that any place that requires a coat and tie tends to keep the temperature down so that the men are comfortable, which means the women are cold. I never noticed that when I took women out on dates but then I wasn’t wearing a slinky mini-dress and a thong. All and all, I think what I’m wearing is pretty conservative. The maitre de’s face doesn’t react to me but his eyes do, the pupils dilating.
He’s turned on. I turn just a little bit to the left and give him a shy smile. His breathing picks up ever so slightly.
It’s amazing what a pretty girl can do to a man with just the smallest action. I still remember the type of things that got my motor running when I was a guy. It was almost always the little things. A quick brush with the fingertips against the arm, leaning in close to whisper in the ear, the “accidental” bump against the crotch with the grab of the arms to keep from “falling”, the light touch when moving through a crowd. Now that I’m on the sending side instead of the receiving, it’s fun to see what I can do. I don’t get much practice at the club, it’s hard to be subtle on the stage and nothing is subtle when they get me alone in my room. However, when I’m out in public like a regular person, I can try out all the tricks the other girls tell me about. I’ve tried a lot of them on Bob but didn’t get much of a reaction. I thought I was doing them wrong but it turns out that Bob’s just a tough room. I get all kinds of reactions when I go shopping, particularly at the grocery stores. Horny teenage stock boys are like shooting fish in a barrel. This maitre de has seen a lot of great looking women in his time, but I’ve got his attention. Bob slides a few inches to the right, blocking his view.
“The name is ‘James’.”
He reluctantly looks down at his reservation book. “Yes, Sir, please follow me.” He turns and leads us into the dining room. I step up close to Bob, not wanting to take his arm but I want to be close, should he stumble or something. We get a small table near the middle of the room. The maitre de pulls out a chair for me. I gracefully sit and look up at him over my left shoulder, smiling again.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome Madam, enjoy your meal.”
He took the opportunity to enjoy looking down my dress and getting a good view of my boobs. I turn my attention back to Bob. He’s sat down, resting his cane against the chair next to him. He’s smiling at me but doesn’t say anything.
“What?”
“That was very nicely done, Honey.”
“What did I do?” I ask, using my innocent voice, letting the pitch rise at the end. Candi showed me that one. Bob chuckles.
“The way you were working our maitre de. I would have let it continue out of sheer curiosity, but since I am hungry, it was brought to a premature end.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I lean forward a few degrees, improving his viewing angle immensely. His smile grows bigger.
“You really have the coquettish girl down pat. A hint of innocence, the enthusiasm of youth, the barely restrained sexuality … it is all there. If you were free to regularly mix with the general population, most males would not stand a chance.” He takes a sip of water. “I wager that if I could drop you in any high school in the country, you would be the most popular girl there within a month, six weeks at most.” Another sip. “Assuming the other girls did not kill you out of jealousy.”
“Oh I’m getting along a lot better with other women now. I took your advice.”
“Which was?”
“You remember, to try and become the best person I could even with the ‘limitations’ of my situation. I’m just trying to be the kind of person the women in my family would approve of, ignoring what I do at the club, of course.”
“Of course. I am guessing that your presence tonight should guarantee us prompt service, at the very least.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Good evening, Dr. Hanson.”
“Good evening, Andre. My usual table please.”
“Certainly Madam, follow me please.”
I haven’t been here for a few weeks. “Toulouse” is one of my regular stops but I have been out of town for two weeks. I’ve never been much of a cook, why spend the time when you can afford to have someone else do it for you. That means I either eat out a lot, order takeout or pick up prepared food at the grocery store. Normally that kind of a diet would not be good for my figure but that’s not a problem for me. Andre pulls my seat out for me and I sit down. Normally he would fawn over me a little, which is annoying, but his attention is elsewhere tonight, looking towards the middle of the room. My preferred seat is off to the side with a view out the window. It is something to watch while I eat. As Andre strolls back to the front door, he makes a detour to stop at a table with two people, a man and his presumably younger companion, I can’t tell for certain. It is difficult to say how old the man is and all I can see of the woman is the back of her head ... though there is something familiar about her.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Everything is very nice, thank you ... Andre. The waiter came right away and has already taken our orders.”
“I am glad to hear that, Madam. Please let me know if you need anything.” He nods at me and then nods at Bob. “Sir.” He walks away, back towards the front door as Bob helps himself to some bread.
“Told you so” he says between bites.
“It’s like they want us out of here fast.”
“Far from it Honey, they want you to stay the night but they also want you happy, ergo the exceedingly prompt service. I suspect that Andre will check on us at least once more before we are done. I believe that our soup and salads are already here.”
Our water arrives with a platter holding the first course of our meal. Bob ordered a vichyssoise and garden salad. I decided to try their Caesar salad and sautéed mushrooms. The chef must have busted a gut to get everything done so quickly. We eat in silence, but I am aware of the waiters frequently walking by our table. I sneak a quick look at Bob, who’s looking back at me with a lopsided smile. He’s aware of it too. I return his smile.
“This salad is very good. I wish I could make one as good.”
“I imagine that if you ask, Andre would only be too happy to give you a guided tour of the kitchen with a brief lesson thrown in for good measure.”
I’m tempted to do it, if only to see what would happen.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I prefer eating alone. Actually, I prefer doing most everything by myself, never been much of a people person. Perhaps, more accurately, I am not a stupid people person. Compared to me, most people are fools and I do not suffer fools gladly. Certainly I have colleagues, even some whose work I respect, but dealing with inferior intellects is tiring. Sometimes I find it almost unbearable that I can not publish my recent discoveries but the world is not ready to know the truth. Small minds imposing unreasonable rules and regulations on scientific progress forces true visionaries, such as myself, to operate in the shadows, scrambling for funding wherever we can. Thankfully, the Wrangles don’t ask any questions. They just accept the results and reward me for my success.
I look around the restaurant as I eat my meal. It is not very crowded, which is normal for a Wednesday. They are mostly older couples and individuals. I smile to myself. Actually, they are probably younger than I am, you just wouldn’t know it to look at me. The couple that Andre is fawning over is different though. He appears to be some kind of professional and she hasn’t taken her eyes off him, not once that I can see, other than to acknowledge Andre or their waiter. She hasn’t turned her head once, at least not when I have been looking. There is just something about her that seems so familiar, but many girls today dress alike, trying to keep up with the style of the time. I never understood that, even when I was that age. I return my attention to the window and my steak.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Bob’s been asking me about my mother and grandmothers, what they were like, the lessons I learned from them. My mother had died in a car accident five years ago, the other two had died long before that.
It hurt a little to think about them, particularly my mom. She was proud of me, loved me but didn’t approve how I lived my life. We weren’t getting along when she died. I’ve always regretted that. But it does feel good to talk about them, all that they did for me. I was embarrassed by how far I had gotten away from what they had tried to teach me. Our conversation was so engrossing that I had let my shrimp scampi get cold. Luckily, I also like it cold. I can always take it home and reheat it anyway. Bob reaches for his cane.
“If you will excuse me Honey, I need to use the restroom.” He brings the cane in close with his left hand and puts his right hand on the table. He pushes himself up but he’s a little unsteady.
“Do you need help? You could lean on my arm.”
“No thank you. I have just been sitting for awhile. I will be fine.” He starts to step away from the table but his chair moves with him. When he turns, he trips over the chair and goes down, hard.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
There is a loud crash, bringing my attention back to the dining room. I look around and see that the man of that unusual couple is on the ground, laying face down across his upturned chair. He probably had too much to drink. The woman is jumping up from her chair to go help him. Maybe now I’ll get a good look at her. She goes down on her knees next to him and looks up, searching the room for help ... NO! ... NO! NO! NO!
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Are you alright?!” I reach out and grab his waist. “Don’t move! You might make it worse!” He reaches down with both hands, grabs the chair and slowly pushes himself up to his knees. I’m pulling him and turning as he does. Andre comes hurrying to the table, as does our waiter, Sean, I think.
“I am fine” says Bob, holding up both hands. “I just caught me foot on the chair leg and could not get out of the way fast enough. I am sorry for all the fuss.”
Andre reaches out with his right hand and takes Bob’s while I stand and take his left.
“It is not a problem, Sir. Please, allow me to assist you.”
“Thank you.“ Bob pulls himself up, bracing against us. I reach down, pick up his cane and hand it to him.
“Thank you, Honey.” He looks around the room. “I am very sorry for disturbing your meals, I apologize.” There’s a general murmur of acceptances as everyone returns to their food. He lowers his voice. “Once again, if you will excuse me, Honey, I will finish what I started.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! SHE SHOULD BE DANCING NAKED IN FRONT OF HALF-DRUNK IMBECILES OR GETTING WHAT’S LEFT OF HER TINY MIND FUCKED OUT OF THE PRETTY SKULL I GAVE HER!
I start to move towards her before stopping.
This is not the place for a confrontation. I take several calming breaths and return to my table just as Honey sits down, her back to me once again. I keep up the slow steady breathing until my equilibrium returns.
Why is she eating an expensive meal at one of my favorite restaurants instead of performing at Anthony’s? I need to call him right away! It may not even be her, just someone who looks incredibly similar. I reach for my purse, take out my cell phone and begin to call him.
“Pardon me, Dr. Hanson, but we have a no cell phone policy, so the other diners are not disturbed.”
I look up and see Andre standing next to me. “This will only take a second; I am a doctor after all.”
“I understand Madam, but there are no exceptions. You may go to the lobby to make your call, if you wish.”
I clench my jaw and again take a calming breath. I need to think before acting and to think I need information. I return my phone to my purse, grab it and stand up.
“I will be back in a moment.”
“Certainly Doctor, your meal will be waiting.”
I need to get to the lobby but I don’t want Honey to see me, no use making her aware of my presence, at least not yet. I inconspicuously amble along the far wall, keeping my face twisted away from her until I can turn and hurry to the lobby. At the last minute, I see that the man has returned to the table and I pause. He may have seen me, I’m not sure. However, he doesn’t react towards me, sitting down in his chair. I speedily walk the last ten feet and turn the corner, ducking behind the wall, which I then peek around to see if there is any change in their behavior. He seems to be demonstrating how he fell and they appear to be having a big laugh about it.
Taking my phone from the purse, I pull Anthony up on my speed dial and hit “Enter”. It takes a few seconds for the connection to be completed. Some woman answers.
“I need to speak with Anthony immediately, it is extremely important. This is Dr. Amy Hanson.”
“What was that name?”
“Hanson, Doctor Amy Hanson.”
“Sanderson?”
“Hanson. H-A-N-S-O-N.”
“Anthony’s busy, he’s on the floor.”
“I don’t care, go get him right NOW!”
It takes a few minutes for someone to come back on the line. “Hello?”
“Anthony?”
“Yeah?”
“Dr. Hanson. I need to speak with Honey immediately, please bring her to the phone or take a phone to her wherever she is.”
“Well ... uh ... it’s not a good time right now, she dancing.”
“Well, how much longer will she be on stage?”
“At least 15 minutes.”
“I’ll wait.”
“Oh ... well, she’s got some guys waiting to fuck her just as soon as she’s finished. It could be a couple of hours before she’s done.”
“Surely they can keep their dicks in their pants long enough for me to speak with her for just one minute.”
“They’re kind of in a hurry Doc, just traveling through you know?”
“I see ... Anthony, I am going to give you the opportunity to tell me the truth. You will get just one chance at this so do not blow it.”
“Hey! There’s no reason to ...”
“Shut up and listen carefully. I am in the lobby of a restaurant, looking at a girl who could be Honey’s twin eating dinner with a presumptively older man. Now, if you continue to insist that Honey is currently dancing on stage and will be occupied with a long line of customers thereafter, I will be there in less than ten minutes to see for myself. Your choice.”
“OK ... She’s not actually here right now but it’s cool, she’s working with a regular client.”
“And why did you not tell me about this arrangement before now?”
“It’s no big deal; I didn’t want to bother you.”
“I will not discuss this with you over the phone. I will be there in fifteen minutes and you can explain yourself then. And Anthony ... if I catch you lying to me again, heaven help you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“It seems funny now but I was more worried about you being hurt than anything else.”
“I appreciate your concern Honey but I do know how to fall. Unfortunately, I have been getting too much practice recently, though this was the first time in public in the last year or so. My affliction just makes falls more likely, not more harmful.”
“Well, I don’t mind saying that you scared the hell out of me. Do you want some more coffee?”
“No, two cups are sufficient. Do you want anything else?”
“Uh-uh, that chocolate cheesecake has me about to bust out of this dress.”
“I would not want to cause any more of a disturbance than we already have tonight, even if Andre would likely not object if you came out of your dress.”
“I doubt he would complain.” I raise my hand slightly and waive it in the direction of Sean. He hurries over. “We need our bill please.”
“Was everything satisfactory Sir.”
“Yes quite satisfactory.” Sean turns to me.
“And you Madam?”
“Everything was scrumptious.”
“Very good. I will be back with your bill as quickly as possible.” He hurries away, leaving us to review the remains of our meal.
“You know, I really am stuffed. I never get enough to eat at the club, not that I’d want a lot of that swill.”
“I hope you are not restraining yourself at home.”
“No ... No, I just keep the portion sizes down to a healthy level, though I do a lot of taste testing.”
“A chef’s prerogative, Honey.” He reaches out and pats my hand. “I have no complaints.” I can feel the heat in my cheeks.
Sean returns with our bill in a large, gilded folder. Bob reviews it, adds his usual big tip to the charge slip and hands it along with his card to Sean, who scurries off.
I was always a bit of a big tipper myself, back in the day when I had money. It helped guarantee good service the next time, plus it usually impressed my date. Funny thing, once she stopped being a date and became a girlfriend, at least in her eyes, most women started to object to big tips, particularly if it was a waitress instead of a waiter. I think that they began thinking of it as their money too instead of just my money, plus they didn’t want me spending it on another woman.
Sean returns with Bob’s card and receipt. Bob stands up and offers me his arm. “Shall we go my dear?”
I rise up and take it. “Whatever you say.”
We walk to the front door, not too fast but not too slow either. Bob isn’t leaning on me but I’m ready to act should he slip again. As we cross into the lobby, Andre approaches us.
“Did you have an enjoyable meal?” He didn’t say who the question was for but he was looking directly at me. Bob almost imperceptibly moved the arm I was holding, so I answered.
“Yes, we did, everything was very nice.”
“I do wish to apologize again for that fall, quite clumsy of me” Bob added.
Andre waived both hands dismissively. “Think nothing of it, Sir, accidents happen. I am just glad that you were not injured.”
“Well, it almost frightened me to death.” I decided to go out the way I came in, playing the innocent young girl.
“You recovered beautifully, if I may say so.” He couldn’t come at me hard, not with Bob standing right in front of him, but Andre was going to do his damnedest to make an impression before I left. I dip my head ever so slightly and look up at him through my long eyelashes, eyes wide.
“Thank you” I say barely above a whisper.
“We hope to see you again ... soon.”
“I hope so too” I reply. Bob nods and bows, just as he did when we entered. Andre responds in kind. We turn, me still holding Bob’s arm and walk out the door. As soon as we have turned the corner, Bob cocks his head my way and looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
“You are very good.”
I squeeze his arm. “I know. I should have asked for that tour.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I should have known it couldn’t last, the deal was just too damn good. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that Hanson wouldn’t find out or maybe that she wouldn’t care once she did. Either way, she knew now. I’ve had a little warning at least but still haven’t thought of a good story to tell.
What’s the big deal anyway? Honey still spends most of her time here. She’s only at Bob’s on the slow nights of the week. She misses maybe ten sets on stage, counting both afternoon and evening, and five tricks, at most. In return I get a thou a week. Where’s the harm? If I sell it like that, Hanson might see the logic. Just then, she walks into the bar, Ice Queen stare turned on high.
Yeah, she’ll see the logic ... when fucking pigs fly. I take a deep breath to get ready and walk over to meet her.
“Hey Doc, what’s...”
“Don’t ‘hey Doc’ me. Where can we speak in private? Some place with a little soundproofing.”
Shit! “There’s always my office, no one will bother us there.”
“Fine.” She marches off, leaving me to follow behind. Oh yeah, this has started real well.
When I get to my office, she’s already gone in and sat down in my chair, forcing me to take one of the smaller ones on the other side of the desk. She’s trying to put me on the defensive but it won’t work. Just as soon as my ass is in the chair, she’s on me.
“What possessed you to let Honey leave this building, unsupervised?” She’s not screaming but you can tell she’d like to, at the top of her lungs. My maw was like that. Best to go with the truth.
“OK. Before you go ballistic or something, here’s the story. This guy, Bob James, came to me and he wanted to rent Honey for a couple of days a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which are the slowest days around here. He offered a thousand dollars a week! That’s two, maybe three times what I make from her on those two days. I checked him out and he was legit so we did it for a three week trial period, to make sure everything was OK. There weren’t any problems, he didn’t beat Honey or hurt her in any way so we’ve been doing it ever since. He’s happy, she’s happy and I’m happy. End of story.”
“And how do you deal with her daily dose of your semen?”
“That was the tough part. I asked you about that but you blew me off ...”
“WHEN DID YOu ask me about this?” She started to loose it there but brought it back under control.
“I asked you about me taking a vacation with some guys and leaving Honey behind. You said there was nothing you could do to help me and wished me good luck in figuring something out on my own. So I figured something out that works great.”
“And what exactly ‘works great’?”
“I jack off once a day, split the ‘deposit’ in half, give one half to Honey and refrigerate or freeze the other half. At the end of the week, I got seven doses in the bank, so to speak. She uses one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday and I’m still five ahead of the game. I got over two weeks in the freezer right now.”
“Quite ingenious, Anthony. I did not think you had it in you.” Yeah bitch, you’re not the only smart one here. “Unfortunately, for you, that is only a short term solution to your problem. The compounds in your semen that Honey needs degrade rapidly. After just four, maybe five days, your little vials would be useless, even if you freeze them. All of this doesn’t matter though; I am pulling the plug on this arrangement. I just hope the damage is not irreversible.”
“What damage? I told you, everybody is happy. Me, her, Bob.”
“Exactly. She is happy, I saw it for myself tonight. What you apparently do not understand is that I did not put her with you so that she could be happy, she is here so that you can make her life MISERABLE! DAY IN, DAY OUT, HOUR BY HOUR, MINUTE BY EXCRUCIATING MINUTE, MISERABLE BEYOND HUMAN ENDURANCE!”
Whoa! Easy there girl! She’s on her feet, hands splayed across the desk, fingers spread, leaning on her arms, face a few feet from my face, screaming at the top of her lungs.
I don’t react. I’ve seen crazy bitches before, maybe not this crazy, but still crazy. You try to argue with a crazy bitch and she just gets crazier. You just gotta let them wind down on their own and then maybe you can talk with them. Hanson’s got a long way to wind down though. Hope she hasn’t got a knife or something cause if she tries that shit, I won’t be so nice. She starts to walk around the room.
“But NO! You had to come up with a way to make a few extra dollars from my pain and suffering! All that was required was that you keep her at the club. She would have been dancing and fucking for decades to come and all the money going straight into your pocket, the perfect set up. But YOU had to try to squeeze the last dollar from the situation! Honey is MINE! She may work for you but she belongs to ME! I decide where she lives, what she does and who she does it with! You didn’t bother to tell me about this because you knew I would say NO! How you could even contemplate letting Honey leave this soul sucking establishment is beyond my comprehension. Why did you think that this would ever be tolerated by me?”
“It wasn’t my idea you know. James came to me, I didn’t go after him.”
“Yes ... yes, let’s talk about Mr. James. Who is he, what does he really want? More importantly, what does he know about Honey? I assume that you remember that her origin is a closely guarded secret. It’s one thing to give your mouth breathing, moronic clients regular, supervised access to her but an entirely different matter to give someone I know absolutely nothing about 48 hours a week unsupervised contact with her. How long has this been going on?”
“Seven weeks or so.”
“That’s three hundred thirty six hours, more than any one other than you or Baker or myself has spent with her since she was transformed.”
“Truth be told, it’s more like sixty hours, Monday night to Thursday morning.”
“Wonderful! Four hundred twenty hours. Better and better. He’s now second only to you. And how, pray tell, does he spend this time with her?”
“That’s the really weird part. He’s not fucking her, best I can tell. She just does cooking, cleaning, household crap.”
“So you’re telling me that for the past seven weeks, Honey has spent two and a half days each week living a normal, average life with a man we know nothing about.”
“I’m not stupid, you know ...”
“That’s yet to be proven.”
I let that slide for now. “I had him checked out before she ever met him. He’s retired, a salesman, sold shoes to big stores.”
“How old is he?”
“Forty eight, fifty, something like that.”
“A little young to be retired, don’t you think?”
“Maybe, but he’s got some kinda medical problem. I’ve seen him use a cane to get around.”
“What kind of medical problem?”
“How should I know, you’re the doctor.”
“That is my point Anthony, you know very little about him beyond the most basic information. He is using Honey to perform services that could be had for much less cost and better performed by a professional. There are too many unanswered questions that you never bothered to ask because you were blinded by the money! My guess is that Mr. James did this intentionally. When the payment is large enough, it suppresses in-depth investigation.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I do not know but I intend to find out ... very quickly.”
“How you gonna do that?”
She walks back over to my chair and sits down. “Simple, I’ll ask Honey.”
“What if she doesn’t want to talk?” An evil grin slowly slithers across her face.
“Oh, she will talk. I have wanted to try this for some time but could never come up with a good reason beyond my own curiosity. I couldn’t justify it because of the potential harm, possibly irreparable, but I believe the time has come to push Honey a bit.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Do you want to finish the evening with a swim?” Bob asks as we walk into the kitchen from the garage.
“No thanks, I still feel stuffed. I’m just going to change into something more comfortable and watch whatever on TV, maybe a movie if nothing else is on. I’ll probably fall asleep.”
“Start without me. I need to check my email and do a bit of research before joining you.”
“OK” I reply as I head to my room. “Don’t take to long or you’ll have to wake me.”
I close the door behind me and kick off my shoes. They were only 3” heels but I’m glad to be rid of them. I lift my hair from my back, undo the halter strap, reach back and first unhook then unzip the dress.
“Oooohhhh yes” I sigh. That feels so good. I wriggle out, letting it fall to my feet. The things we go through to look good for men. Of course, the dress wasn’t so tight before I ate that big meal. Still, it had been a fun evening. None of my tricks actually worked on Bob, though I’m sure I caught him staring now and then. That SOB seems to know exactly what I’m doing. Either he’s too damn smart or I’m too damn obvious. Messing with Andre and Sean was some consolation. They both were handsome and Sean seemed to be packing an impressive bulge. I reach around my back and unhook my strapless bra, letting it fall to the floor as I rub my tits, starting with the sides and gradually working towards the nipples.
“MMMmmmmm ooohhhuuuu” I groan, rolling both nipples between index fingers and thumbs as I imagine how big Sean might actually be. My right hand releases my nipple and slides down my tummy, under the elastic top of my panty, cupping my cunt while I diddle my clit with my index finger. My eyes close and my breathing slows as I start to surrender to the delicious feelings. Backing up until my ass contacts my bed; I slide up the bed as I pull my panties off and spread my legs, giving me better access to my warming pussy. My left hand alternates between the nipples and aureoles of both boobs while I tug and rub my clit with my right.
I haven’t taken my daily dose of Anthony’s jiz yet but I really don’t care right now. There are some advantages to my addiction and this is one of them. For a few hours every day, my body is so sensitive, so responsive, that I can get orgasm after orgasm without much effort. Just a little stimulation and fantasizing about cocks and I can have as many orgasms as I can stand. This is usually when Anthony has got guys lined up to fuck me, and God help me, I actually have started to look forward to it. As long as they aren’t too abusive and they don’t insist on a lot of oral stuff, I can normally get off and make them pretty damn happy at the same time. Unfortunately, I can’t take advantage of it now. It would just be too embarrassing for Bob to see me like that.
Reluctantly, I stop masturbating, roll to the side of my bed, reach into my lingerie drawer and pull out a red, silk chemise. I sit up and slip the chemise over my head. It falls to my waist, then down to my thighs when I stand up and hurry to the kitchen. The feeling of my erect nipples rubbing against the silk as my tits bounce around starts the whole arousal cycle again. I reach the fridge, throw open the door and search for the vial holding Anthony’s semen.
I don’t see it! It should be right next to the butter tray but it’s not there. The cold air flowing from the fridge isn’t helping my already stiff nipples.
I reach into the shelf on the fridge door and start to move bottles around, searching for the vial. When I pick up the ketchup bottle, I hear something else move on the shelf. Reaching in with my left hand, my fingers make contact with the vial. It had fallen over and rolled to the back of the shelf. I drag it towards the front where I can get a better grip in it, pick it up and twist the cap off. Lucky for me, it hadn’t spilled. There’s just barely enough in there to do the job as it is. I tilt my head back, pour the contents down my throat, then clamp my lips around the bottle, sucking and swallowing and finally running my tongue inside the glass to get the last drop. Sitting down on the nearest chair, eyes closed and head slumped forward, I wait for the semen to take effect. It only takes a few minutes but it feels twice as long, my cunt practically pulsing, demanding to be touched, caressed, penetrated. The older the semen, the less effective it is in quenching my need for sex. This dose takes longer than usual and I’m still just a little buzzed when I stand up. I run my hands down my body, smoothing the silk, as I walk back to the living room and plop down on the couch, legs tucked underneath me. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale to clear my head, then grab the remote and turn on the TV. Rolling through the channels, I quickly rediscover that it’s mostly crap. Infomercials, Judge Judy and her imitators, screaming political shows, Fox News. Fair and balanced my ass! I finally settle on a cooking show about how to use late summer vegetables.
Bob pretty much lets me fix what I want in the way of meals, never complains and often compliments me on how good the food is. I don’t know if he really likes it or he’s just being polite. Sometimes he makes a request, which is actually an order, but he always phrases it as a request. It’s usually basic stuff, meat and potatoes food. I’m not sure how he’d handle a vegetarian meal but this squash and tomato stir fry looks pretty good. I’ll have to remember to ask him to print out the recipes from their website. I reach over to the end of the couch, grab a big throw pillow and lay down on it, cuddling it in my arms, head still turned towards the TV.
I’ve haven’t given it much thought, but Bob treats me really well. He knows the truth about me, but didn’t freak out. He’s still working on a way to help me escape from Hanson. I can wear what I want and buy it if I don’t have it, if I keep it reasonable. The work I do around here is pretty easy and he helps when he can, which unfortunately has been less often the last couple of weeks. I hope he’s OK, and not just for my sake. He’s a nice guy ... a very nice guy. I wish we could do ... more things together. I’m sure he’d enjoy it; I’d make sure he did. The cooking and the cleaning just doesn’t seem to be enough thanks for all he’s done for me. I close my eyes, just to rest them for a moment.
I wake up as my body is jostled. There’s a different show on TV. Bob is sitting near my head, dressed in his pajamas. I pull myself towards him and rest my head in his lap. He caresses my hair and then gently rubs my back.
“How long was I out?” I murmur.
“Not sure, I just got here. Sorry for waking you.”
I snuggle closer. “No problem.”
We stay like this for several minutes, my head on its right side in his lap while he alternately stokes my hair and rubs my back, both of us staring at the TV but our minds are elsewhere.
“Bob?”
“Yes, Honey?”
“Remind me, why aren’t we having sex right now?” His hand stops moving against the small of my back.
“What brought this on?”
“Well ... I like you and I think that you like me ... you do don’t you?”
He starts to rub my back again. “Yes Honey, I do like you, quite a lot in fact.”
“Good. Anyway, I’m very good at what I do...”
“You are an excellent cook.”
“That’s not what I mean, silly. We both know that I’m a good ... uh ...”
“Date?”
I can’t keep from giggling. “Yes, I’m a very good date. Guys pay good money to date me and they have no complaints when our ... date is finished. If I’m in the right mood, I can date a guy’s brains out, date him until he begs me to stop, date him so long and hard that ...”
“I get the picture. We have spoken about this before, Honey and there have been no changes since then. Why bring it up again?”
“I was just thinking that I could show you my appreciation for all that you’ve done for me.”
“That is hardly necessary Honey. I have not actually done anything yet.”
“Yes you have! The time away from the club, the normal clothes, the food ...”
“Which you prepare.”
“But you buy it.”
“For both of us.”
“OK, but I benefit from it.”
“So do I.”
“Will you stop being difficult! I’m trying to tell you what a nice person you are and how much I want to ... date you and you’re arguing with me.”
“That is because I am not a nice person Honey.”
“What are you talking about, you’re the nicest person I know ... at least one of the nicest.”
“You only know one side of me, Honey, there are other sides, much less pleasant sides. I hope you never meet them, for both our sakes.”
“Fine. But why can’t the side that’s massaging my back and me have a little fun ... It’s because I was a guy, isn’t it?”
“Hardly. As far as I am concerned, you are an attractive, beautiful, young woman. Every man in the restaurant tonight would swear to that, as would Andre and Sean, despite your teasing them this evening.”
“You saw that?”
“How could I not?”
“You ... didn’t try to stop me.”
“I was enjoying it too much. A little playful flirting is good for a young woman, particularly for you. I was happy to see some normal behavior from you.”
“What’s normal for me?”
“I suppose that is for you to decide. As for you and I, our situation has not changed. I appreciate the offer, more than you can know, but I feel that it is best not to add a physical relationship at this time. However, that may change in the future and, to be honest about it, I hope it does.”
“Well” I sigh, “Guess we’ll just have to see how things work out won’t we?”
“I guess so.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hanson doesn’t trust me. Maybe she just doesn’t think I can pull it off. Either way, she won’t tell me what she’s got planned.
“Just do what you normally do, Anthony. Pick Honey up and bring her back to the club” she said. “Keep everything normal until she starts to feel the need to feed on your seed.”
Wonder how long she’s been waiting to use that line.
“You can let whoever you want fuck her tonight but you are not to get anywhere near her, no sex of any kind, is that clear?”
Of course it was clear, I’m not some kind of sex maniac, I can control myself, besides, it’s not like I haven’t fucked her hundreds of times before ... God, it has been hundreds, actually closer to a thousand times. No wonder I’m tired of seeing that face, nice as it is.
“Once she starts to get anxious, call me at the clinic and then bring her straight here. I’ll let you in the back. Plan on staying awhile.”
That’s all she’d tell me. I asked several times what she was going to do but she refused to say any more, though she did have a big, shit eating grin on her face and a nasty glint in her eyes. I got a feeling Honey is in for a rough time tonight. Pulling up to Bob’s house, I park in the driveway, walk to the front door and ring the doorbell. Bob’s there in just a few seconds.
“Good morning Anthony, how are you today?” He’s using his cane again.
“Fine Bob, fine. Yourself?” He jiggles his right hand, which holds the cane.
“Not as well as I would like but having Honey here makes things easier.” He turns back towards the living room. “Honey!” he shouts. “Your ride is here!”
“Yes, Sir!” she shouts back. “I’m buckling my shoes.”
Five seconds later, she comes trotting around the corner, dressed in the same lime green dress I dropped her off in. It’s tight, short, and puts her big tits on display, just as I like it. Doesn’t spark my motor at all. She’s a damn fine looking bitch but she’s the same fine looking bitch I’ve been fucking practically every damn day for more than three years. Guess it is possible to have too much of a good thing. I smack her ass as she scurries by me.
“Time’s money babe, get a move on.”
“Yes, Sir.” She keeps moving towards my car, her fine ass swinging with each step. Still nothing. It’s a shame, that’s what it is.
“Anthony, could I speak with you for a moment” asks Bob. I turn my head towards him.
“Sure Bob, what is it?”
He reaches up with his left arm, putting it around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “I believe that Honey’s medication is not as effective as it once was” he says in a low voice. “She seems to be ... agitated after her recent treatments.”
“Has she said something? She giving you trouble?”
“Not at all. It is just my observation. I only bring it up so that you might mention it to her physician the next time you speak with him.”
I can’t keep from grinning at him. “What a coincidence. I should be talking with her later today. I’ll tell her about it.”
He pats my shoulder and lets me go. “That is up to you, I just thought that I should mention it. I will see you next week. Have a good day.”
“You too Bob.” He shuts the door and I turn to my car. Honey is already sitting in the seat, hands in her lap, eyes fixed on me, a blank look on her face. Looks like she’s doing her best not to piss me off. Smart bitch. Probably won’t help her with Hanson though. I slide into the car and shut the door.
“Ready to go home Honey?” She winces slightly when I say that.
“Yes, Sir.”
I start the car and head back towards the club. Honey reaches up with her left hand and rubs her eye. I think she was wiping away a tear. Probably won’t be her last today.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I just finished getting Honey’s room the way I want it when my cell phone buzzes. I always keep it on vibrate. A ringing cell phone puts my teeth on edge. I check the Caller ID. It’s Anthony.
“Yes, Anthony.”
“We’re back at the club. She should be ready around midnight.”
“I’ll be here when you arrive.”
“How horny does she have to be for this to work?”
“It doesn’t really matter that much, it is just a question of time.”
“Well how long will it take?”
“With any luck, she will be tougher than I think she is and it will take hours.”
“Why would that be a good thing?”
“Because I plan on enjoying this, that’s why?”
“What excuse do I give her for this trip?”
“Just tell her that I want to see her, that should be adequate, or tell her nothing, just get her here.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“The Doc wants to see you tonight, says it’s important. Get dressed and meet me by the back door in five minutes.”
Anthony shuts the door and I hear his footsteps fade away as he walks down the hallway. The last guy had just left after a pretty quick fuck, which would normally be disappointing, but I’m in the hot zone right now so it doesn’t take much to ring my bell. Haven’t had my dose of Anthony’s sperm yet but maybe he’ll give it to me before we leave. Yesterday’s bottle barely did the job. My pussy was actually leaking during the last set on stage before the “personal performances” started. A wet cunt on display to fourteen guys is so embarrassing. It also makes them more eager to see me after the set.
I quickly wipe down with a wet wash cloth, then some baby wipes. There’s not enough time for a bath but I do put on clean underwear before squeezing into a white crop top and red miniskirt. After a short makeup touch up, I slip my feet into a pair of heels, grab my purse and dash to the back door. Anthony’s already there. It’s only taken me four minutes but he’s not happy.
“I told you to hurry Bitch!”
“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir.”
There’s no use arguing with him, he’d just smack me across the face. Not enough to bruise but more than enough to hurt like hell. Don’t want to damage the merchandise. He’s got a real skill with those slaps. Even though he’s pissed, I’d like to get today’s semen before we get to Hanson’s. I’m already having trouble keeping my hands away from my clit as it is. If this takes more than an hour, I’ll be masturbating in front of her, which she’d love despite complaining about my unlady-like behavior. Here goes nothing.
“Should I have my treatment before we leave, Sir?” He stares down at me, stepping closer. I start to tense up, waiting for the pain.
“If you can give me a 15 second blow job, sure. Otherwise, get your ass in the car.”
Well, that could have been worse but it could have been better too. No jiz means a pretty uncomfortable visit with Hanson. I step out the door and hustle to the car. Anthony’s right behind me. I just get my seatbelt fastened as he floors it and we charge down the street. I wonder what the hurry is. I haven’t officially seen Hanson for weeks, though she’s been to the club several times and watched me dance. The way she looks at me makes me think she’s seen some of my private performances too. I don’t know how, but it’s just a feeling I get now and then that someone is watching me in my room while I’m being fucked or sucking some guy off, particularly if it’s one of the bad ones with those little cards they give Anthony.
In all the time I’ve been under her thumb, I’ve learned that no matter what it is, Hanson’s always a step ahead of me, I’ve given up trying to guess what she wants, I just try to roll with it when it happens, keep her from blowing her stack.
When we reach the Clinic, I notice that even in the dark, it seems bigger. She must have put an addition on it, paid for by Wrangler money no doubt. There’s only one light on in the building that I can see, along with the lights in the parking lot in the back. Anthony drives around to the back and stops near the door. As we get out, the door opens and Hanson steps out.
“Anthony, I am glad that you were able to get here so quickly. And Honey, how are you this evening?”
“I’m fine Dr. Hanson.”
I keep my head down slightly, not looking her in the eyes but not staring at the ground either. I don’t want to appear to be challenging her but I can’t bring myself to voluntarily be too submissive. Of course, if she tells me to, I’m not dumb enough to fight her about it. Just answer her questions and shut up. Volunteer nothing and do what I’m told, maybe then I can get back to the club and a few hours of rest. I don’t get much sleep any more, I’ve gotten used to my bed at Bob’s, which puts the bag of doorknobs I try to sleep on at the club to shame.
“I’m happy to hear that Honey. This should not take too long. Please come in.”
She’s almost always polite because she knows she doesn’t have to be ... and she knows that I know it too. Sometimes I wish she’d just get down to business and skip the dance. I step through the door with Anthony right behind me. Hanson follows us as I hear the lock click into place. She briskly walks past us.
“Follow me please.”
She walks quickly down the hall. Anthony gives me a boost from behind and I stumble after her. The hallway is familiar. I think we are heading towards my usual room, which is more like a cell. The walls aren’t stone and there are no bars but there are also no windows and I’m always locked in unless there are treatments or training. We pass labs that appear to be larger and better equipped than the last time I was here. What is the expansion for? More research?
Even today, I don’t know exactly how Hanson did what she did to me. I know that she changed my DNA but not how she did it. It doesn’t matter, I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway, I’m not very smart.
We turn a corner and Hanson walks into my cell. When I walk in, I see that there’s been an addition. It’s a heavy chair with straps on the arms and legs along with some kind of machine with a bunch of wires and sensor pads. Anthony doesn’t come into the room, he stops at the doorway, blocking it.
No way is this good news. Hanson sits on the cot and gestures towards the chair with her right hand.
“Honey, take off all your clothes and sit down in the chair.” I hesitate for a moment, glancing at Anthony but he says nothing. “Come now Honey, be a good girl and do what I say or there will be consequences” says Hanson. It’s clear that I don’t have a choice so I step out of my shoes, pull the top over my head, wriggle out of the skirt and panties and finally remove my bra, leaving all the clothes on the floor.
“Very nice” says Hanson, running her tongue quickly across her lips. “Now have a seat. Put your arms on the armrests.”
I sit down, my arms resting on the armrest and my legs in front of the chair legs. Hanson stands up, strides over to the chair and proceeds to strap me in. Tightly. All the while she’s tunelessly humming; at least I don’t recognize the song. It’s no use me asking why she’s doing this so I don’t bother, just try to mentally prepare for whatever happens next. She shakes each arm and leg to make sure they are not going to move, then walks around behind me and wraps another strap across my chest, just below my boobs, and pulls it tight, forcing me to grunt.
“That’s not too tight, is it Honey?”
“No Dr. Hanson.”
“Good, I want you able to breath.” She starts to attach the sensor pads to various parts of my body. They are about 1” around, flexible and sticky. They stay wherever she puts them, my forehead, forearms, thighs, and my stomach just above my pussy. After she applied that last one, she ran her index finger up my cunt lips, causing me to shiver. She sniffs her finger and then wipes it in my hair.
“We are going to have a conversation, Honey ... well, I will be asking you questions and you will be telling me the truth. If you do not, I will know, thanks to this new technology. I wanted to wait until you were in the proper ... mood. I would guess that you and Anthony have not had sex in the last twenty four hours or so, is that correct?”
“Yes Dr. Hanson, it’s been more than a week.”
“A week? ... Oh I forgot, Anthony’s little trick with the vials. Let me rephrase my question. Have you had any of his semen in the last twenty four hours?”
“No Dr. Hanson.”
“Are you beginning to feel in need of his sperm?”
“I’m fine Dr. Hanson.” I’m not fine but I don’t want her to know it.
She reaches around behind me. I lose sight of her hand because I can’t turn my head far enough, strapped in as I am. Her hand comes back into view, clutching a thin latex examination glove. She slips it onto her right hand, reaches down between my legs and starts to massage my pussy, paying particular attention to my clit. This goes on for a minute or so, I lose track of time because I am lost in the wonderful sensations, sighing and gasping as she probes my cunt with her fingers. Suddenly the sensations stop and she brings her hand in front of my face. I can see that the glove is wet with my juices and it smells strongly of my musky odor. She wipes her hand again on my hair and I hear the glove snap as she removes it from her hand.
“I believe that your own pussy is calling you a liar Honey, along with my machine. I will leave you alone for awhile to contemplate what will happen should you lie to me again. And keep this in mind.” She walks towards the door and Anthony steps back, letting her leave. She stops and looks back at me over her shoulder. “You will not receive one drop of Anthony’s semen until I am sure that I have heard the truth. Remember what it was like when you first escaped from this clinic and were forced to call me because of your cravings. The transformation process was not complete at that time so the effects were some what muted. It should be much worse now.”
She turns back around and Anthony slams the door shut, leaving me alone, the dim light from the display of the machine making everything look dark gray instead of black.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Hanson walks back to her office and I follow. She goes in and sits behind her desk. I take a seat on the couch. She shuffles through some papers then starts to type something on the computer, ignoring me completely.
“So what now?” I ask. She looks up like she’s surprised that I said something.
“We wait, of course, Anthony.”
“For what?”
“For Honey to become sufficiently desperate for your semen to truthfully answer any question that I may ask her.”
“Why not let me smack her around a bit. That’s always worked in the past.”
She frowns at that. “How crude. That may be the way you operate Anthony but I believe in a more refined, logical approach. Honey’s body is already crying out for your semen. Her need will only grow over time. Eventually she will not be able to stand it, particularly since she is unable to masturbate to relieve the cravings. I expect that she will be quite accommodating in an hour or so, perhaps sooner.” She sighs and turns away from her keyboard. “Frankly, I was hoping that she would put up a fight. I am curious as to how strong her hunger would become. If she resists, there could be actual physical damage, though likely not too bad ... certainly nothing I could not repair.”
“Why wait. Give me ten minutes and we can all go home.”
She shakes her head. “Sometimes your lack of foresight astounds me. This is an opportunity to further break her spirit. When she capitulates, it will be because her will could not stand up to the demands of her body. It will be all internal, no external force compelled her to answer my questions, there will be no ‘villain’, if you will, for her to blame, only her own weakness. That is a much more crushing defeat because it is difficult to escape from yourself.”
“You don’t think she’ll blame you for this?”
“Certainly, in the big picture but this particular failure should be all hers. Even if she does manage to blame me, it is no worse than you beating the answers out of her and becoming the focus of responsibility, plus if the discomfort is as bad as I believe it will be, the knowledge that the conditions can be recreated in less than a day should keep any future problems with Ms. Sweet-Lay to a minimum. In all respects, my approach is superior to your application of brute force.”
Except I know mine works and quick. Who cares about what will happen in the future? My big right hand will always be there to keep Honey in line. Eggheads get on my nerves sometimes. Still, it ain’t worth it to get in a fight about it now. I’ll let Hanson have her chance. I can always mess Honey up later if it doesn’t work.
“So what am I supposed to do while we wait?”
“I am sorry Anthony. We do not subscribe to ‘Juggs and Ammo’ so there is nothing around here for you to read. Perhaps you can find something to eat in the kitchen. It’s to your left three doors and then right.” She returned to her typing with a smug smile on her face. God, what a bitch!
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It’s been almost ninety minutes since we left Honey alone. I wanted to check on her but Hanson insisted she be left alone. “Let her pussy argue with her” she said, whatever the hell that means. I think that she just wanted to prolong Honey’s suffering. Either way, we’re back at the room, ready to ask questions. Hanson opens the door and hits the light switch. Honey’s covered with sweat, her head hanging down on her chest and her skin is red wherever there’s a strap so she’s been struggling. One of the sensors fell off so Hanson reattaches it. Honey looks up, breathing hard.
“Are you ready to tell me the truth?” asks Hanson. Honey swallows hard and nods. It’s not good enough for the Doc.
“Speak up Honey, I didn’t hear you.”
Honey takes another big breath. “Yes, Dr. Hanson.”
“Excellent. I already know a great deal, Anthony filled me in on his role in this disaster. What I need to know is what went on between you and Mr. James.”
“I did whatever he told me to do. Anthony said keep him happy, so I did.”
“Admirable. Your services did not include sexual favors, is that correct?”
“Yes ... correct.”
“Why not?”
“He wasn’t interested.”
“Didn’t that strike you as odd? I feel a bit insulted. I go to all the trouble to create a beautiful, sexy nymphomaniac and he does not use her as I intended. What did you do for him?”
“Shop, clean, cook ...”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“College.”
“You are clearly a credit to your alma mater. I saw you at a local restaurant wearing this wonderful dress a few days ago.” Honey’s head jerks up. “Yes, that is how I discovered this fiasco. Who chose your clothes?”
“I did.”
“Who paid?”
“He did. He told me to buy what I wanted, not what you or Anthony bought for me. He said they needed to be practical, work clothes.”
“That dress didn’t appear to be work clothes.”
“Restaurant had a dress code.”
Honey appears to be getting worse. Her legs are beginning to tremble and shake. None of the stuff the Doc is asking about is worth all this trouble. I think she notices Honey’s symptoms.
“How are you feeling Honey?”
“Terrible.”
“Describe it.”
“I’m on fire. There’s an agonizing, burning itch deep inside me that I can’t scratch and it’s driving me crazy! Please ... let me have Anthony’s semen!”
“Since you are so desperate, I’ll cut to the big question. Does Bob James know the truth about you?”
Honey looks at me, then Hanson. “What truth?”
“That you were once a man, if you could call Josh Thomas a man.”
“No, he doesn’t know.”
Hanson leans back and looks at a couple of dials on the machine next to Honey, then stands up. “Sorry Honey, that doesn’t appear to be the truth. I guess we will resume this interview later.”
“No, please! He doesn’t know anything! I was just doing what Anthony told me to do. I’ve done nothing wrong!! Please ...” Hanson walks out the door.
“Come along Anthony.”
I switch off the light and close the door. The pleading look in Honey’s eyes as the door shut will stay with me for awhile.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
She’s smiling when we get back to her office. She even slaps my arm in joy.
“Wonderful! Honey is going to put up a fight! I could not have hoped for more!”
“What’s so damn good about that?”
“She can not possibly resist her biology. Her eventual surrender will be all the more devastating the longer she fights. My little toy still has a bit of a backbone. Best to break it now before more trouble develops, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. How do you know she’s not telling the truth about Bob?”
“Oh, she’s not but she will. I just hope it’s not too soon. I still have a couple of things I’d like to try before she cracks. We best not give her more than ten minutes this time. I don’t want her passing out.” She stands up. “I need to go to the bathroom and freshen up a bit. When I get back, we’ll go visit Honey again.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
She’s in worse shape this time. Both legs are all jumpy, like the muscles are out of control. Her breathing is more erratic and she’s sweatier, if that is possible. She’s started to bleed where the straps are rubbing against her skin. Hanson’s brought a big beaker of ice water with her and she throws the water in Honey’s face. She sucks in her breath and her eyes go wide, like she’s in shock. For a second, I thought she was having a heart attack but then she started breathing again, closer to normal. Her legs stopped jumping too. I think the cold water helped, at least for a short time. Hanson asked again if Bob knew the truth about Honey and she said no, that he knew nothing. She asked some other questions about Bob, where he came from, what he did for a living, background stuff that I didn’t know. Apparently, Honey didn’t either. I thought she was telling the truth but Hanson said she was lying again so we left. Honey didn’t beg this time, just moaned.
“Is she going to be OK?” I ask.
“Probably” Hanson replies. “I was a little surprised she did not break that time but thank God for small favors, right?”
“Uh ... yeah ... right.”
Hanson is into this way too much. She’s getting off big time on Honey’s suffering. I got no problem with inflicting pain for a purpose but pain for pains sake is weird shit. I’m afraid if this goes on much longer, I’m gonna have to get rid of a body.
“Look Doc, we have to finish this and now. Honey’s in bad shape. I’m not a doctor and I don’t know what that machine is telling you but if this doesn’t end soon, she’s gonna die!”
“I am afraid that I agree with you Anthony. Her condition is deteriorating faster than I anticipated. If she doesn’t break soon, she will likely become unconscious, which puts an end to my questions. We would have to start all over again tomorrow.”
“What?”
“She can not be permitted to win Anthony, surely you can see that. Once we started down this road, there could be only one outcome, her surrender. Anything less will make the relationship between us and Honey intolerable. I will do this as many days as it takes. As for the machine, it tells me nothing. I just set it up to look impressive and persuade Honey that there was empirical evidence that she was lying. Let’s try again.” She opens the door before I can say anything.
Hanson’s just going on her gut that Honey is lying, she could be totally telling the truth and all of this is a waste of time! I don’t care what Hanson says, this is it! As the light streams into the room from the hallway, it’s clear that the chair has fallen over on its’ side. I hurry in as Hanson hits the lights. I pull the chair upright, Honey appears unconscious, head slumped to the side, eyes closed, arms and legs jerking.
“Help me get her out of this!” I shout.
“Wait just a moment Anthony.” Hanson reaches into her pocket and pulls out a vibrator. She switches it on and sets it on high, its buzzing sound filing the room. She takes it and starts rubbing Honey’s pussy with it. In seconds her head lifts and eyes open. She starts to make this moan/cry/yelping sound that I can’t tell if it’s pleasure, pain or both. She may have had an orgasm, hard to tell with all the extra muscle spasms in her arms and legs. Whatever happened, she seems to be awake again. Hanson gets down in her face.
“Does Bob James know the truth?”
“He ... knows ... nothing” she croaks.
“We will see you in an hour.”
Hanson turns to leave. I reach out and grab her arm. One way or another, she’s ending this right now. I open my mouth to say something but Honey beats me to the punch. With tears flowing down her cheeks, she struggles to talk.
“Bob ... knows ... everything.”
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Bob James and Dr. Amy Hanson finally meet, with Honey Sweet-Lay's future up for grabs. Chapters 16 through 19 of 48. Rating and indicated elements apply to the entire story.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I’ve been here two days, recovering from the “interrogation”, as Hanson calls it. There’s a meal on the folding table next to the cot but I can’t eat.
I failed.
I failed Bob … I failed myself. I couldn’t hold out any longer. The pain was so bad. I knew I was going to die!
After betraying Bob, I think Hanson gave me a shot of something because I don’t remember anything until the next morning. She came in and started asking me all sorts of questions about him. Whatever she gave me, the symptoms were gone and I initially tried to go back to my old story, but then she reminded me that in less than a day I could be right back in that chair. That did it. I couldn’t get back in that chair, never again. It was the worst thing I’d ever been through, worse than the Super Bowl parties. At least with them, there was the constant sex that kept the worse symptoms away until I got what I needed from Anthony. Those hours, days, whatever in that room was the most horrible experience in my life. I told her everything I could about Bob, which wasn’t much, but she seemed to believe me this time.
Why couldn’t I convince her that I didn’t know anything? It was that damn machine! I don’t think it was a lie detector, at least not like one I’ve ever seen before. Whatever it was, I couldn’t get anything past it. Bob will understand. Oh GOD, I hope he’ll understand!
I spent most of the first day crying uncontrollably. My one chance to escape, gone! And now Bob was being drug into the mess too. Kind, gentle, sick Bob. He won’t stand a chance against Hanson or Anthony. They both are pretty pissed at him, pissed at me too, of course, but I think they plan on dealing with him first before getting to me, which is a whole other reason to be crying.
Can’t hardly bring myself to sit up on my cot, I mean, what’s the use? I had several weeks with a few days of something resembling a normal life, at least as normal as possible, and now it’s all gone. It was gone as soon as Hanson found out about it, but I could have saved Bob by just keeping my mouth shut. I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough ... man enough.
I’m just a worthless, spineless, whore!
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I stopped by to see Honey on my way to Hanson’s office. She looks a lot better but her attitude sucked, seems depressed or something. I guess that’s not surprising, given what she went through. I didn’t say much to her and she wouldn’t even look at me. Of course, she’s not the immediate problem, Bob James is.
Hanson called me, asked me to come over to discuss “our mutual problem”. Apparently she’s got some new information. The receptionist passed me through and I headed straight for her office, except for that short detour. Hanson was reading some kinda report when I walked in.
“Shut the door Anthony and have a seat.”
I took the chair across from hers at the desk. “What’s that you got?” I nod towards the papers in her hands.
“It is a report from my sources in the police department, everything that is available on Bob James.” She closes the folder and pushes it across her desk towards me. “It appears that Honey told us the truth ... eventually, at least as much as she knew. Mr. James did not share much information with her, though his life appears to be so bland and uninteresting that I can understand why he would be ashamed to talk about it. A perfect example of a drone. An entire working life selling shoes. At least he traveled a bit ... actually quite a bit. Some of the countries were rather unstable, politically speaking. Syria, Pakistan, Lebanon, Columbia, Northern Ireland. I can’t imagine there is much of a shoe market in Somalia. Regardless, he is here in Dallas now and we have to deal with him.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Unlike Honey, we do not have biology on our side this time.”
“He’s sick right? What info do you have on that?”
“Nothing beyond what Honey told me, which was practically useless. The symptoms she described could be any one of a hundred illnesses, injuries or genetic defects or a combination thereof. No, I am afraid that this time we will have to rely on your expertise Anthony.”
Good. Finally something I can sink my teeth into.
“Do you think you can handle him?” she asks.
“Are you kidding? You ever seen the guy? Piece of cake. I’ll have to be careful not to hurt him too much right off the bat. The guy uses a cane for God’s sake!”
“I would prefer to try and persuade him that Honey was lying to him concerning her situation. If we can do that, it should put an end to our problem.”
“How you gonna try to pull that off?”
“Play up the evidence of mental problems. The actual truth sounds crazy. Would you believe that she was once a professional football player? She would be unable to provide any physical evidence supporting her story so we just need to provide enough evidence of mental instability to cast sufficient doubt on her truthfulness. That should not be too difficult.”
“And what if he doesn’t buy that story?”
“Well then it will be necessary to apply sufficient force to compel him to tell us what he knows, make sure that it matches up with what Honey told me and find out who he may have told.”
“You mean that there could be other people out there we’ll have to track down?”
“I believe that you are now realizing why this little venture of yours was such a bad idea.”
“Hey, how was I to know it would get out of hand.”
“The possibility was clear from the start and that should have been enough to keep you from pursuing Mr. James’ offer.”
“It’s too late now to worry about that.”
“Indeed it is, though this incident may cause me to reevaluate our current arrangement ... after this problem is dealt with.”
Wonderful.
“Let’s say I have to rough him up a bit and he spills his guts. What do we do with him afterwards?”
She leans back in her chair, hands resting in her lap, fingers interlocked.
“Assuming that the leak ends with him and no others have any incriminating information, the safest course is for Mr. James to disappear. According to my reports, he has no family of any kind. No wife, current or past, no children, no surviving parents, no siblings. With my contacts in the police department, any investigation could be either stopped or become perfunctory. I am not happy about it, but it seems to be the most effective course of action.”
“Which means you expect me to take care of him.”
“That particular skill set is one of the reasons you were involved in this affair from the start. It is time for you to pull your weight. Besides, your greed and stupidity created the situation in the first place. I think it is hardly unfair for you to be required to assist in solving the problem. Do you disagree Anthony?”
I’d like to tell the bitch where to stuff it but she’s got a point. I did go along with the deal from Bob. He’s the one who violated it by trying to take Honey away from us. Well, that was his mistake and so it may cost him, plenty.
“When we going to do this?”
“I suggest Monday evening at your usual drop off time. I do not want to give Mr. James any advance notice so I want Honey to stay with me until then. She could use the time to fully recover from her ordeal. In addition, I have been giving her anti-depressants to make sure she recovers mentally.”
“I thought you wanted to break her spirit.”
“I do, but not to the point of suicide. I want her dancing on a fine wire but not falling on the wrong side of that wire. Once I get her past this trauma, I plan to wean her off the medication and let guilt, shame and despair do their jobs.”
I’m not happy about losing the money from Honey’s dancing and fucking until Monday but I can tell Hanson’s not gonna give on this one. She may actually be right about getting Honey straightened out before putting her back in the club. She still isn’t acting right and I don’t think smacking her around is the answer this time.
“Fine, I’ll be back here Monday at 12:30 a.m. to pick you both up and then drive to Bob’s unless something changes.”
“I suggest that you bring a handgun.”
“Won’t need it. I can take this guy with one arm and both legs tied behind my back.”
“I’m sure that you can, but better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”
“Huh?”
“Bring the gun Anthony.”
I stand up and wave my hand dismissively. “Fine. Whatever. See you Monday. Call if there’s any new info or the plan changes.”
Walking through the clinic towards the front door, I resist the urge to check on Honey one last time before leaving. She’s not my problem right now, Bob is. I better concentrate on him
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I had lost track of the days while at the clinic. That happens a lot when I’m here, probably the drugs she keeps giving me. Whatever they are, I’m feeling a little better. I haven’t been crying as much at least. It surprised me when Anthony showed up with an outfit for me to wear. It was one of his favorites, bright red with a scoop neck and tight as hell. Even thought the skirt is short, it’s so tight across my thighs that I still can’t walk normally, I have to take short steps, particularly with the 5” heels he brought.
“Get dressed Honey, we’re going to visit your boyfriend tonight and have a little talk.”
“We are, Sir?”
“Yep. You, I and the Doc. Just a friendly little talk about the weather, the Cubs, the price of oil and how he was planning to help you leave your good friends at the club and the clinic.”
So, this was it. They were going to take him out tonight. I’d tried to figure out in the last few days what they might do to him. None of it was good. The best case I could come up with was they’d beat the shit out of him, warn him to keep his mouth shut and let him go. That was also the least likely one. Everything else was much worse, usually he’d end up dead. His only chance was to play dumb, deny everything, call me a liar and then get away as fast as he could. I’m completely screwed, but there’s a slim chance he might escape if he’s a good enough liar.
Anthony stepped out of the cell and I got dressed, combed my hair and used the makeup he brought. They were the wrong colors to go with this dress. Men never get this right. In the end, I was presentable, but just barely.
It was 1:00 a.m. before we got to Bob’s house. I rode in the back with Hanson while Anthony drove. Hanson said that they brought me along so that I could learn a lesson about what happens when people try to take her property. After parking the car in the street, all three of us approached Bob’s front door. Anthony rang the doorbell. Bob opened the door and greeted as all with a smile, like he was expecting this.
“Come in, come in. I’m so glad to see all of you.”
Bob stepped back away from the front door indicating with his arm that we should all come in. He was dressed in jeans and a big, loose fleece zippered top I’d never seen before. He limped back into the house using his cane for support. Hanson seemed surprised by this greeting. I certainly was. She hesitated before stepping through the front door. We all entered Bob’s living room, Hanson first, then myself, with Anthony bringing up the rear.
“Anthony, have a seat. You have a seat also Honey ... It is so good to finally meet you Dr. Hanson.”
Bob moved into the living room. He sat down in a hard back wooden chair, leaving the couch and love seat open. I sat down on the love seat and Hanson sat on the couch but Anthony remained standing. Everyone one just looked at each other, the silence growing more uncomfortable by the second. Bob broke the ice.
“Would anyone care for a drink? I don’t keep much alcohol in the house normally but I did buy a bottle of wine for this occasion. If you’re not interested in wine, I have Coke and bottled water.”
Hanson took all this in without any obvious reaction but I could tell that she was both angry and confused. This was not going the way she anticipated. She cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, we’re not here for a social visit. After speaking with Honey, I have determined that she has been filling your head with a series of fantastic stories and lies. I thought it would be best for everyone if we met so that we could set the record straight.”
Bob had a slightly amused look on his face, along with that annoying smirk. He slowly shook his head side to side.
“Now Doctor, I would imagine that you did much more than simply speak with Honey. I would guess that you used some extraordinary persuasive techniques on her before you got the information you were looking for. I had to push her rather hard myself to get the truth the first time and, deep down, she wanted to tell me. In your case, she would have been trying to hide the truth at all cost. My guess is that she put up a pretty good fight before finally giving in. Of course, you created her, so you would know the best buttons to push.”
“This is exactly what we need to talk about. I am Honey’s psychiatrist and I have been treating her for years concerning her delusional beliefs. She has been telling these fantastic stories since she was nine years old.”
Bob’s smile grew wider.
“So your position is that her story about once being a Wrangler Girl and appearing in the Super Bowl four years ago is a complete fabrication?”
“That is correct, no doubt about it.”
Bob pushed himself up off his chair, using the cane for leverage. Anthony took a small step back, giving him a clear path to Bob, who was slowly walking to the coffee table in front of Hanson. He bent down and picked up the universal remote, returned to his chair and carefully sat down. Holding the remote in his right hand, he pointed it at the TV and DVD player, switching them both on. As the DVD loaded, he turned towards Hanson.
“The league issues a Super Bowl DVD each year, one of their many promotional endeavors. I purchased this one on Ebay at a substantial discount.” Just then, the main menu popped up. “I spent several hours reviewing it and made some interesting discoveries. Let me show you.” He used the remote to enter a particular time code and hit “Enter”. The DVD went right to the opening ceremonies where the players ran through an inflatable tunnel onto the field. When the Wranglers ran on, the Wrangler girls lined both sides of the runway, jumping and smiling.......always smiling. Bob hit “Pause” and then “Zoom”.
“If I am not mistaken, that is Ms. Honey Sweet-Lay in all her glory.”
There, on the TV, was a perfectly framed picture of me from four years ago, a bright, empty practiced smile on my face, caught in mid jump, my boobs barely restrained by the skimpy top. Hanson leans forward.
“That could be any one of a number of girls, they all dress alike on those squads you know.”
“Do you really think so? Under normal circumstances, I might defer to your expertise, you were a cheerleader in high school after all.” Hanson stiffens when Bob says this. Those are unpleasant memories for a lot of reasons. Bob either doesn’t notice or care. “I had an old friend run the data through a facial recognition program. It was a 99.672% match.” He points the remote at the DVD player again and enters some more numbers. This time, the scene is a sideline shot of the Wrangler’s bench. He pauses and zooms a second time. “The picture is not as clear this time, but there is an 86.75% chance that is you standing next to an 89.06% Anthony.” He’s right; the picture is a little fuzzy on the details but most anybody would say that is Hanson and Anthony standing side by side on the forty yard line. He switches the TV off and sets the remote on the ground next to his chair.
“Doctor Hanson, You have checked me out and I’ve checked you out so let’s cut the crap. You are many things, but not a psychiatrist. You are Nobel Prize winning molecular biologist and geneticist. You have a worldwide reputation for extraordinary work. You are forty two years old, but would appear to be closer to twenty one years old. You have a small private research clinic here locally, funded primarily by grants and consultation fees, the fees are mostly from the Dallas Wranglers, which have increased greatly in the last two years. Your clinic is staffed exclusively by women, which is fairly unusual for the field you're involved in. Even more unusual, no one on the staff would appear to be older than thirty years when records indicate the oldest is eighty two. Obviously, they do not give Nobel prizes to just anyone, but what you have accomplished with Honey is beyond belief. Or it would be beyond belief if I hadn’t checked her story out and found it to be one hundred percent true. “
Dr. Hanson was clearly straining to keep her temper in check.
"As you said Mr. James, I've had you checked out also. You seem to know quite a bit for a retired shoe salesman."
Bob leaned back in his chair.
“I'm sure your contacts with the local police were very thorough but they don't have the resources to really check out my background. If necessary, I'll explain all of this later."
"What do mean ‘if necessary’? " said Dr. Hanson. The volume of her voice was beginning to rise. "Who are you to decide what is necessary? You have yet to provide me with any evidence of any kind to justify why you believe what Honey has told you, beyond your little trick with that DVD. Right now, all you have is a story worthy of a cheap science fiction novel. Unless you have some evidence, no one will believe either you or her."
“Dr. Hanson, I have no intention of telling anyone about this, at least at this time. There's no benefit to me to spread this story. Unfortunately for you, the facts are likely to be exposed in the next few months anyway, regardless of what I do. It may take up to eighteen months for this story to get out, but it will get out."
Dr. Hanson and Anthony exchanged glances. Both were clearly not happy about what they were hearing. Anthony moved a couple steps closer to Bob but he remained sitting in his chair with that infuriating smirk on his face.
"Exactly what facts are you referring to Mr. James?" asked Hanson.
"Well let's start at the beginning. Honey is really Josh Thomas, the missing quarterback for the Dallas Wranglers. You are responsible for changing him into the young girl that we see before us today. I'm not sure exactly how you accomplish this, but it would appear to be some form of genetic manipulation. Your reason for this was revenge for a rape that occurred during your senior year in high school. Josh Thomas raped you after the homecoming game that year. You never reported this to the police but decided to take matters into your own hands. It took years of preparation and research but you were finally ready. You persuaded the Dallas Wrangler management that you could improve the health of their players, giving them an edge over their competition. Your treatments did exactly that, at least for everyone except Josh. From the standpoint of the Wranglers, his treatment was a total failure. Of course for you it was an unimaginable success. Team management was already planning to replace Josh in the next year or two with Billy Joe Coleson, so Josh’s failing health and ultimate disappearance did not upset them in any way. In fact, they were quite happy about it because it saved them his rather enormous salary. Since no one else suffered the same ill effects from your treatments, there was no reason to investigate the situation very closely. Ultimately, Honey went to work for Anthony here as a part-time dancer and a full-time whore. About the only time Honey leaves the club is to be the party favor at the Wranglers’ Super Bowl victory celebration. I believe they have won the Super Bowl the last three consecutive years, going undefeated two of those three years. Oh, I failed to mention that you grew a penis and raped Honey.”
Bob paused and looked Dr. Hanson squarely in the eyes.
"I've been able to confirm aspects of Honey's story by making some discreet inquiries with certain friends of mine, ex-coworkers if you will. But my primary source of information is Billy Joe Coleson”
"Billy Joe Coleson would not dare tell you anything. Even an idiot football player would be smarter than that."
Bob's smirk got slightly larger.
"Thank you for that confirmation Dr. Hanson. Billy Joe did tell me the story but he was under the influence of alcohol and certain special drugs when doing so. You can't really place the blame on him. Over the years, I have found that if more than two people know a secret it's not a secret. Sooner or later, it comes out. Unfortunately, many more than two people know your secret or at least parts of it and more than a few of them are starting to talk. No one other than myself has put the whole story together and I had Honey’s help, so quite possibly no one else ever will, but the parts that are being talked about could lead to investigations which will cause you quite a bit of grief.”
I thought Bob was smarter than this. I had told him all about Amy Hanson and he should have known that you can’t talk to her like this. Either she would do something or she would have Anthony do something. Right now, my money would be on Anthony. I was trying to get Bob’s attention by making small hand gestures to warn him but he either didn’t see them or he was ignoring me. I couldn’t risk doing anything more. I was already in enough trouble. Hanson again looked at Anthony but spoke to Bob.
“Who is saying what and why should it cause me any trouble?”
Amy was really pissed now. It was that damn smirk on Bob’s face. I swear, he could make Gandhi take a swing at him. Whatever he said next was going to be the game breaker.
“Doctor, I am under no obligation to answer your questions. You are a guest in my house and I decide what happens here. Our little conversation today is just a courtesy to you and Anthony. I am inclined to let you pay the price for your foolish mistakes, let nature take its’ course so to speak.”
I physically cringe when I hear this. Why don’t you just call her a stupid bitch and get it over with? The shit has really hit the fan now. Amy is visibly shaking, barely holding back her rage.
“Anthony, would you please give Mr. James a lesson in respect.”
Anthony starts to move towards Bob, who struggles to stand up, leaning heavily on his cane. He gets upright and raises his cane above his head, holding it in his right hand. Anthony towers over Bob, who steps away from his chair, giving him room to maneuver.
“Anthony, I have nothing against you. I promise that I will do my best not to seriously injure you.”
“I really appreciate that Bob” said Anthony with a laugh. He then lunged at Bob, who brought the cane down, aiming at Anthony’s head. Anthony reached up and caught the shaft of the cane with both hands, easily ripping it from Bob’s grip.
Then Bob was gone.
Not really gone, but one second he was in front of Anthony and the next second he was behind him. He had spun on his left foot about two hundred seventy degrees as Anthony went by him. Bob shot his right arm straight down and a thin black cylinder about ten inches long dropped from the sleeve of the top into the palm of his hand. He flicked his wrist as he completed his turn and the cylinder extended out to about thirty inches in length. It was one of those collapsing metal batons. Anthony still held the cane in both hands and it looked like he was trying to drop it yet he couldn’t let go. With a low sweeping backhand motion, Bob struck Anthony in the back of both knees, which reflexively collapsed. Anthony fell to his knees and then pitched forward flat on his face because he still couldn’t let go of the cane. He started to push himself up off the floor on his elbows but Bob stepped to his right and, using the baton, sharply struck Anthony on the side of his head with a glancing blow. Anthony crashed to the ground face first with a loud grunt and lay there motionless. Bob remained poised over him with the baton raised, ready to strike again. The whole thing took about eight seconds. I don’t think I had ever seen anyone move as quickly as Bob when he did that spin move.
Amy leapt from her seat and charged straight at Bob. She was only twelve feet away. As she closed on him, he swung the baton at her. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact.
There was nothing but silence.
I slowly opened my eyes. Amy was standing stock still about four feet from Bob with the tip of the baton an inch from the end of her nose. Bob’s arm was extended straight at her but he was still looking down at Anthony.
“Doctor, I suggest that you return to your seat. You have seen what happened to Anthony and I like him.” He then turned his head towards Amy. “I am not particularly fond of you.”
Amy slowly backed away from Bob and returned to her seat without ever taking her eyes off him. Once she sat down, Bob knelt down next to Anthony and touched his neck, checking for a pulse. He also checked his ears and mouth. I think he was looking for blood. He then quickly patted Anthony down and found his Glock .40. Why didn’t Anthony go straight to the gun instead of going hand-to-hand with Bob? Because he didn’t fear Bob. Hell, I thought that even I could have taken Bob if push came to shove.
Live and learn.
Bob chambered a round, pocketed the Glock and then flipped Anthony onto his back. He was still holding the cane in both hands. Bob picked up the cane by its handle, lifted it up a foot and dropped it. Anthony’s hands never left the shaft. Bob looked at me and said one word.
“Glue.”
He had spread some kind of glue on the cane. When Anthony grabbed it, his hands stuck. It was like he had handcuffed himself before the fight even started.
“Honey, would you please lend me a hand?”
Oh God, what do I do? I immediately looked at Amy. She nodded her head “Yes”, giving me permission to follow Bob’s directions, at least for now.
“We are going to grab Anthony under the arms, lift him and place him in this chair” indicating the wooden chair Bob had originally been sitting in. “Be careful with him. I do not want to injure him anymore than I already have. Also, do not touch the cane.”
We struggled with Anthony, finally getting him settled in the chair. All this time, Bob was very careful to keep Amy in his line of vision. He never really looked directly at her, but she was always under his observation. I think he was trying to tell her he did not view her as a threat but he wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances.
“Thank you, Honey, you can have a seat next to Dr. Hanson for the moment”
I went over and sat down on the couch as far from Amy as possible. Bob opened the drawer of the table next to Anthony and pulled out a metal can, a rag, and several long, thin strips of plastic. He opened the can and poured a liquid onto the rag. There was a distinct gas-like smell. Bob rubbed the rag around Anthony’s right hand, which slowly released the cane. He did the same with the left hand. Once the hands were free, Bob started to tie Anthony to the chair using the plastic strips. They were heavy duty cable ties that zipped tight.
All this time, Amy had said nothing. Now she spoke up.
“What did you put on that cane?”
Bob continued trussing Anthony up. “It is a special quick grab adhesive. Anthony would have been able to get his hands free eventually but it would have cost him some skin. The solvent works fairly quickly, as you saw.” Bob said this in a conversational tone, like he was talking about home repairs. He straightened up and stepped back away from Anthony.
“That should hold for now. Doctor, please come over here and take a look at him. I believe that he probably only has a concussion, but I would prefer a more professional opinion.”
Amy rose from the couch and strode over to Anthony. Bob stepped further back and gently rested his right hand in the pocket he had stashed the Glock. Amy had regained most of her composure since the attack. She began to examine Anthony, checking his pulse, eyes, ears, mouth and nose. She also felt the side of his head where the baton struck him.
“That was a neat trick, feigning infirmity to lull Anthony into a false sense of superiority so he would not view you as a threat.”
“Oh I often do need the cane to get around. I just did not need it today. I took an extra dose of medication to help, which I will end up paying for later.”
As she straightened up, she seemed satisfied. “You are probably right about the concussion, obviously I can’t be certain without a more thorough examination.“
Bob reached into a pocket with his left hand and removed a small box. He tossed it to Amy. “I would like Anthony to be awake for this, if possible and not too dangerous for his health.”
Amy opened the box and removed a large capsule. It is one of those ammonia inhalants you use on the sidelines of a game when someone gets their bell rung.
She snapped the ampoule. “Let’s find out”. She waived it under Anthony’s nose for about five seconds. He started to stir and then awoke with a snort and several coughs. He looked around with a blank stare and tried to move his arms. When he realized that he couldn’t move, you could see in his face that his mind came back into focus and that he was mad as hell. He started to struggle and curse.
“What the fuck is this? What happened? Where the hell is the bastard who did this to me? If I am not free in ten seconds, I am going to rip your head off and stuff it up your ass! When ...”
About that time, Bob pulled the Glock from his pocket and let Anthony see it. That shut him up pretty quick.
“Well, Anthony seems no worse for wear, at least for the moment. Dr. Hanson, if you will sit back down, we can finish our conversation and everyone can be on their respective ways.”
Amy returned to the couch and sat down. Bob backed into the kitchen, reached around the corner, picked up another wooden chair, brought it into the living room and sat down.
“Dr, Hanson, it is clear that you are a genius within your fields. Your general plan of vengeance was diabolical. I mean, it really was a case of the punishment fitting the crime. However, you do not have a good grasp of how the world of professional sports works, nor the inner workings of a strip club. You have created a situation that works in the short term but is guaranteed to fail in the long term.”
Amy had to interrupt him. “You keep saying that but you refuse to provide any proof. Simply repeating something does not make it true.”
Bob thought for a moment.
“It is unlikely that you would believe me, so I will let Anthony explain it.”
Anthony had a shocked look on his face. “Don’t get me messed up with this shit! I want nothing to do with it”
“Now Anthony, this will be relatively simple” Bob said. “I am just going to ask you a series of questions. You just answer them honestly and the truth will reveal itself.”
“Go on Anthony, answer the questions. I won’t hold anything you say against you.” added Amy. Anthony glanced back and forth between Amy and Bob, looking trapped, then he stopped to think, which took a few seconds.
“Fine, let’s get this over with”
Bob seemed delighted. “Excellent. OK, first question. Do you have any personal experience with professional football?”
“Yeah, I played for Baltimore for three years before my knee blew out.”
“What do most players think of their coaches?”
“They’re usually decent guys. Most are ex-players so they know the score, but some can be real bastards.”
“What do most players think of management, the owners, the GM and others?”
“They’re blood sucking mother fuckers who will cut you from the team at a drop of a hat to save twenty bucks. You can’t believe a word that they say and only half of what is written in your damn contract.”
“So, are you saying that there is little team loyalty among the players?”
“Oh players are mostly loyal to each other, as loyal as a bunch of egomaniacs can be. They’re just not loyal to the owners because owners aren’t loyal to them.”
“What has Wrangler management done with their veteran players over the last three years?”
“Some are still with the team. They’ve released, cut or traded a lot of them”
“Why is that?”
“Because they asked for more money after winning all those games and Super Bowls.”
“What have the Wrangler’s done instead of paying the veterans more money?”
“They’ve signed older players at the end of their careers with a low cost, short term contract without a big signing bonus.”
“How can these older, nearly washed-up players keep the team winning?”
“Dr. Hanson’s magic juice makes them young again so you’ve got the best of both worlds, experience and youth.”
“What happens to the players released by the Wranglers?”
“Sometimes they’re signed by other teams, usually a big contract, sometimes they retire.”
“How do the ones who stay in the League perform without access to Dr. Hanson’s ‘magic juice’?”
“Usually not very well. I think the sportswriters are starting to call it the ‘Wrangler curse’.”
“How many players would you say the Wranglers have let go over the last three years that now play for other teams?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know that?”
“I don’t need an exact figure, just an approximate number.”
“Oh … I’d guess … about thirty to thirty five.”
“Is there any reason for these players to remain quiet about Dr. Hanson’s ‘magic juice’? After all, they were cut loose by the Wranglers and there is nothing illegal about it to their knowledge.”
Anthony remained silent for several seconds and then he answered.
“No.”
“If one of their teammates, someone they were friends with, asked them about their time with the Wranglers, do you think they would mention a medical treatment that re-grew lost hair or restored youth or sexual vigor?”
Again Anthony was silent at first, like he was just beginning to realize a horrible truth.
“Yeah … they might say something about it.”
“Would any of these players talk to the press about these same things, perhaps after having a bit too much to drink?”
“Oh Jesus Christ, you know they would. Some idiot would want to be the big man and tell the inside story about the Wranglers.”
“Dallas likes to call themselves ‘America’s Team’. In truth, outside of the State of Texas, how do fans feel about the Wranglers?”
“They hate their fucking guts.”
“What do other team owners think about the Wranglers?”
“It’s worse.”
“What is America’s number one sport?”
“Professional football.”
“If rumor’s surfaced about some special medical treatment the Wranglers were using to keep ahead of the competition, do you think there might be an investigation by the League or even Congress?” Anthony was again slow to answer that one.
“Yeah, probably.”
“If evidence was discovered about Dr. Hanson’s ‘magic juice’, would the other teams rally around the Wranglers or hang them out to dry?”
Anthony was sounding more and more defeated.
“You know the answer to that. The Wranglers would be toast.”
“If the Wranglers were ‘toast’, would their management protect Dr. Hanson?”
Anthony lowered his head to his chest.
“We are so screwed.”
Bob turned to Amy.
“There is your answer. There are actually thirty seven players still in the League who were once with the Wranglers, who received your treatments and are now playing with other teams. Most of these players are performing below expectations. When pushed to explain their poor performance, are they going to take the blame or are they going to talk about those really great shots they got from a certain Nobel Prize laureate?”
Everyone was looking at Amy. I couldn’t read her face and I had gotten pretty good at reading her, purely as a matter of survival. I have to admit, I was enjoying this in an “all hell is breaking lose but at least its not just happening to me” sort of way. Amy took a deep breath and then spoke.
“Alright, let’s say, purely for the sake of argument mind you, that this unlikely chain of events happens. There was nothing illegal about the treatments any of the players received.”
“Except for Josh Thomas” interjected Bob.
“With the possible exception of Josh Thomas” continued Amy. “The treatments did not involve steroids, human growth hormones, blood doping or any banned substance. Even if there is an in-depth investigation, the bottom line is that no banned substances were used and none of my people will say anything about Honey.”
“I think it is quaint you still believe that Doctor. Billy Joe Coleson has cracked once and he will crack again. No one has put the screws to your staff yet. The hold you have over them is that they need you to continue to receive their ‘youth treatments’. If those treatments end, your hold is broken. As I said before, if two people know a secret, it isn’t a secret.”
“And why would their treatments end?”
Bob’s smirk had returned full force.
“Your funding sources raised many questions. Most basic research is performed in Universities, funded by the government, both federal and state, and large foundations. They pay for the equipment, material and space and provide underpaid grad students as slave labor. They also perform oversight and require peer review, two things I believe that you would prefer to avoid. If you are not doing basic research, then it is usually product specific research, developing an idea into a marketable drug or treatment. This is generally funded by corporations, again with close oversight. They want regular progress reports and regular visits by the bean counters. You would likely object to so many eyes looking over your shoulder. If you eliminate those sources of funds, money gets pretty tight, even for a Nobel Laureate. That leaves private investors or paying for it out of your own pocket. You built the lab with the money from your Nobel Prize but needed additional funds to actually run it. Right now, the Wranglers pay you approximately three million a year to keep their players in tip top shape. In fact, you save them tens of millions in players’ salaries. If I were you Doctor, I would hire a new agent and negotiate a better deal.”
“How do you know so much about my private financial affairs?”
“A lot of it can be found in the public records, the Wranglers are a public corporation after all. Just because Skeeter Smith is the majority shareholder does not make it his team.”
“None of that proves anything.”
“Agreed Doctor, but what service could you be providing to the Wranglers that is worth three million dollars a year?”
Amy angrily stares at him, but says nothing.
“Never mind, I believe we all know the answer to that question. Your financial affairs are only circumstantial evidence of questionable activities. There is other evidence.”
“Such as?”
“Again, as I said before Doctor, I don’t know exactly how you transformed Josh Thomas into Honey Sweet-Lay, and I don’t want to know, however I can make certain logical assumptions about your treatments. You are sitting on four, possibly five, of the largest commercial goldmines known to man. You could make Bill Gates and Warren Buffet look like middle income slobs.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Doctor, you are not a fool. Let’s take the least marketable use for your treatment first.
One. You can turn a man into a fully functioning woman and probably the reverse. Sex Reassignment Surgery for both sexes just became obsolete. This should be worth millions on the open market. It would be worth much more if a person could safely switch back and forth.
Two. You can restore youth to both men and women. Re-grow hair, restore virility, putting an end to most of the cosmetic surgery industry. Good bye Viagra, Cialis, botox, and Rogaine. This should be worth billions on the open market.
Three. You grew a penis on a woman. If you can do this, then you should be able to enlarge breasts, fix noses, make people taller, thinner, blonder, pretty much change any physical feature of a person. This brings an end to the rest of the cosmetic surgery industry. Again, worth billions. A truly successful penis enlargement treatment by itself would be worth billions.
Four. You should be able to cure some diseases, and control the symptoms of practically all other diseases. We are talking billions again. And lastly;
Five. You are forty two calendar years old but physically nineteen to twenty three years old. How long can you keep the clock on hold? Taken to the extreme, you might be offering immortality. It is much too early to tell, but the possibility exists. How much would immortality be worth on the open market? You would be the richest person on the planet by a factor of a thousand.”
Bob paused, again looking straight at Amy.
“You would have thought of these uses for your treatments and possibly others, yet none of these have happened yet. The logical conclusion is that there is something either illegal or unimaginably immoral about your process, either a step in the production or the raw materials or both. It isn’t a question about rarity of materials or a complicated manufacturing process, that just makes each treatment more expensive and, heaven knows, there are plenty of rich people ready to pay for perpetual youth. Tell me I am wrong.”
Amy just glared at him, not wanting to reveal any information.
“I am going to assume I am right or close to it. That means that you have something to lose if there is an investigation of your involvement with the Wranglers, ignoring what might happen if they found out about Honey.”
Bob shifted in his chair, stretching his legs a bit. He continued.
“I still haven’t dealt with Anthony’s problems. For that I need to ask Honey some questions.”
Everyone looked at me. Up to now I had pretty much been able to hide in the corner of the couch but now had suddenly become the center of attention. Anthony perked up, seeming to recover some of his old swagger.
“Honey doesn’t know shit about anything.”
“Please, Anthony, Honey is a surprisingly observant and intelligent person.”
Amy snorted a laugh. Bob ignored her.
“I know that you have little to no respect for athletes Doctor, but even an average professional quarterback has to have a very good memory, the ability to rapidly analyze changing situations and chose the best option available to maximize success. Josh Thomas was not an average professional quarterback but an outstanding one. He may have been a poor excuse for a human being, abusive, selfish, borderline alcoholic, and a misogynistic womanizer but he was not stupid. I have spoken at length with Honey and, despite the physical changes, the mental capabilities remain intact. If you will permit her to answer my questions honestly, without fear of punishment for speaking the truth, I believe you will find her responses interesting.”
Amy was looking at me with narrowed eyes, like she was reconsidering her opinion about me.
“Fine. Honey, you can answer his questions honestly unless I tell you not to answer a particular question at all. I promise that neither I nor Anthony will punish you for your answers.”
“Wait a minute, you can’t speak for me.”
I think Anthony was feeling a bit embarrassed, still tied to the chair and all. He had to say something.
“OK. Anthony, do you agree to the same terms?” asked Bob.
“Sure, as long as I can keep her from answering some questions too.”
“Fair enough” said Bob. “Keep in mind that she and I have been talking for weeks and I am not going to ask her a question that I don’t already know the answer to. This is just to demonstrate what she knows.”
Bob scooted his chair closer to me. I tried to sink back into the couch.
“Honey, I’ll only ask you a few questions. Just answer them honestly and there will be no problems. They have promised not to punish you for your answers.”
“Please Bob, leave me out of this. I don’t care what promises are made. Just leave me alone.”
“Honey, you will answer his questions or...”
Bob raised a hand to silence Amy. He reached forward and gently took my hand in his.
“Honey, it is important you answer these questions. You are involved in this situation and you must be part of the solution.”
What does he mean “solution”? Is there still some way out of this for me? I decide to cooperate. How much worse could it be?
“OK, ask your questions.”
“How long have you worked at Anthony’s club”
“Over three years”
“In all that time, have you and Anthony have ever been separated for more than a day?”
“Not until I started spending Tuesday morning to Thursday morning with you.”
“What do you do at the club?”
“You know what I do. Don’t make me say it.”
“It’s important, so please answer.”
“I dance for the customers but most of the time I’m just a whore.”
Amy was enjoying this.
“How many other girls dance?”
“On and off, about ten.”
“And how many of them use drugs?”
Anthony started to object but Amy waived him quiet. I hadn’t realized that Anthony was that frightened of her. I’d never seen them in conflict before. It occurred to me that maybe Amy’s been mostly calling the shots all along.
“Practically all of them use drugs, mainly coke.”
“Where do they get the drugs?”
“I never told you who provided the drugs!”
“I know. I have other sources for that information, besides everyone here already knows that Anthony provided the cocaine that was used to frame Josh Thomas.”
“Yeah, that’s right. OK, Anthony provides the drugs most of the time but the girls also have other dealers.”
“Where does Anthony get the drugs?”
I looked at Anthony but he made no move to object.
“I think he gets most of his stuff from a guy called Ray Tombs.”
“Describe Mr. Tombs.”
“He’s six foot two, two hundred ten pounds, mixed race white/Hispanic, about thirty years old, has several tattoos; tiger on the back of his neck, some kind of Chinese symbols on his bicep and a confederate flag on his ass.”
“How do you know about the tattoos?”
“The same way I know he has a six inch cock.”
Bob actually blushed for a second.
“Have you had uhh ... relations with many of Anthony’s associates?”
“I’m his primary fringe benefit. Anybody who has business with Anthony gets to fuck me for free, whenever they want. I do the beer guy, the paper supply guy, the health inspector, a couple of cops. It keeps his costs down for the reps to be able to stick their cocks in my pussy, ass or mouth for nothing.”
Bob was looking a little uncomfortable. I don’t think he has a whole lot of experience with women like me ... wait, there are no other women like me.
“So you could give a detailed description of practically anyone who does business with Anthony and describe their relationship with Anthony, legal or illegal?”
“Probably.”
Bob released my hand and straightened up.
“Honey has been with Anthony every day for over three years. She’s seen and heard practically everything he has. She has seen everything that has gone on in the club and is uniquely positioned to give a detailed description of every one of his male associates.” I correct him.
“Some females too.”
“Really? You hadn’t mentioned that. Either way, she knows more than enough to get Anthony put away for decades.”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“I would never say anything! Anthony, you know I would never say anything to anybody! I’d die first! You know that, don’t you?”
Bob looked at Anthony.
“Is that true?”
“Yeah, it’s true. The bitch would never rat me out. She knows that I’d kill her.”
“You mean if Dr. Hanson would let you kill her, right?”
Anthony glanced at Amy.
“Yeah, yeah, if the Doc said it was OK.”
“That’s because Honey actually belongs to Dr. Hanson, doesn’t she? You are just her keeper, aren’t you Anthony? Your club is her zoo cage and you are the zoo keeper, giving her a daily feeding of your semen.”
Anthony flexed his arms, trying to break the ties that held him in the chair but they wouldn’t budge.
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“What would happen if Honey was arrested in a raid on the club and thrown in jail for, let’s say, three days?”
Just as before, Anthony appeared to be considering a possibility that had never entered his mind before.
“She’d go nuts. Hell, after one day she would be horny enough to fuck anyone. After a day and a half, she’d be begging to be fucked.”
“Do you think she would tell the police what they wanted to know if someone agreed to have sex with her? Isn’t that pretty much the same technique you and Dr. Hanson used to get her to tell you all she knew about me?”
“That will never happen. That’s why I pay for protection, that’s why those cops get freebies with her.”
“That is true now Anthony, but things do change. A little bad local publicity forces a crackdown on drugs and prostitution, particularly during an election year. If a regular working girl gets arrested, she can do a little time standing on her head, but not Honey. She is an addict and there is only one source for her ‘drug’ of choice ... you. The addiction guarantees that she will never leave your side by choice but terrible things happen if she is separated from you for more than thirty six hours. Unfortunately, someone can give her temporary relief just by having sex with her, but it is only temporary. Can you imagine the number of cops who would line up to fuck her to keep her talking about all the dirt she knows about you and your drug connections. They could never use her as a witness, if only because she would probably be dead in forty eight hours, but she would tell them everything she knows before dying. She is every criminal’s nightmare, an informed witness that you can not keep from talking to the cops if they get their hands on her. You have taken precautions to keep her out of the hands of the police, but you can not guarantee it. God help you if you fail.”
Bob looked back and forth between Amy and Anthony.
“Am I wrong? “
Neither one said anything. Anthony started to say something but shut up. Bob began again.
“So here we sit. Dr. Hanson is facing the likelihood of being outed as the source of the Wrangler’s recent success by using probably illegal treatments and Anthony being forced to keep the best possible witness against him close-by twenty four hours a day, where she just keeps gathering more harmful information about him.”
Amy shook herself out of the funk that had fallen over her.
“What about you? My sources said you are a retired shoe salesman but that is clearly crap. Who are you? Why are you here? Why are you telling me this? Why do you even care?”
Bob again shifted in his chair, stretching both legs this time. I think they might be starting to cramp up.
“Let’s just say that I used to work for the Federal government. My services were required when they wanted a quiet, untraceable, final solution to certain problems with a particular person. I was a trouble shooter, so to speak.”
“Why the need for the secret identity?”
“I actually have several identities. ‘Bob James’ is just the one I chose for this particular trip. Billy Joe knows me as ‘Richard Johnson’, a firearms dealer. All of these legends were useful during my working days so I kept them in retirement, just in case.”
“What is a ‘legend’?”
“Oh, I am sorry Doctor. I did not mean to confuse anyone. ‘Legend’ is a term of art, what my profession calls an alternate identity with a full history and records stretching back many years. It is what you tried to create for Honey after she stopped being Josh Thomas. Unfortunately for you, it was a half-assed job. A new driver’s license and Social Security card? I took me about ten minutes to figure that out. Actually, that was the first thing that piqued my interest when I checked out Honey’s background.”
Amy was starting to show some anger again. No one calls anything she does “half-assed”.
“And why were you checking out Honey and involving yourself in my business?”
“That’s an interesting story Doctor, full of coincidence and fate. You have probably noticed that I can’t really stop moving in this chair.”
“Yes, you appear to be suffering from some involuntary muscle movements, painful I hope.”
Bob smiled at that comment.
“Yes, Doctor, quite painful at times. I suffer from Multiple Sclerosis, MS for short. It is an incurable, crippling but not usually fatal disease. I have the relapsing-remitting form, which means good periods and then it comes back on the attack again. It is a gradual, stair-step decline in my health. Since it attacks the brain, I could lose any of my faculties at any time, sight, speech, mobility, balance, anything. MS forced me into early retirement from my government position, though to be honest, I had grown tired of the work anyway. I have no living family and never been married, so what does a man facing almost certain crippling disability alone do? I decided to look for a loyal companion to assist me as my health declined. I could just hire someone, but I was looking for a relationship beyond employee/employer. I wanted someone who would feel a certain sense of obligation to me, that they owed me something, and of course, it wouldn’t hurt if that person was a young attractive woman.”
Amy frowned at that while Anthony smiled. Typical men.
“So what you were looking for was a sex toy?”
“No, Doctor. That was one of the first faculties MS stole from me. I could manage an erection on a good day, but I am pretty much impotent. It doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate a beautiful woman, I just can’t do much more.”
Well that explains a lot! Why the hell didn’t he tell me this sooner? I’d have understood, we could have cuddled or something. Why are men so emotionally attached to their cocks?
“I had done a lot of distasteful things in my old profession, so I decided to save some poor, unfortunate, desperate girl from a life of degradation and pain. Balance the scales a bit; get some good karma, if you will. I planned to check out the local dives and red light districts, find a girl with the skill set I needed or one who could learn those skills and then buy their freedom from their pimp/manager. I would do this with her agreement, of course and she would be paid a very good wage, but I would hope the girl would have some gratitude towards me due to the rescue from her terrible situation, with more loyalty towards me than just another employer. I have been looking for the last nine months and Honey was the best candidate, by far. I should really congratulate you Doctor, I have never seen a more desperate and distressed person before in my life.”
Bob paused and bowed his head slightly towards Amy. She acknowledged him with a similar bow of her head.
“I contacted Anthony and made arrangements to spend two days per week with Honey at my home as a trial run. He did not know what I was planning, but was paid very handsomely for her time. He declined my offer at first, for obvious reasons, but when he came up with the idea of packaging his semen and calling it her medicine, the problem was solved, at least from his standpoint. I, on the other hand, was extremely curious as to why she needed medication. I could hardly hire someone to help me as my health worsened who had her own serious health problems. Instead of sending Honey to a medical exam, I started with having her ‘medicine’ analyzed. You can imagine my surprise to find out exactly what was in those bottles. I decided to bide my time and let the situation play out. Honey turned out to be a surprisingly good cook and housekeeper. She also had an amazing amount of knowledge about sports, cars and other ‘male’ subjects. There was nothing too unusual about that. Interests vary widely among people of the same sex. Honey, on the other hand, had very clear memories of events that happened before ‘she’ was ever ‘born’. Honey has had no real, extended contact with any other human beings, other than Anthony, you Dr. Hanson and the other dancers at the club, since her transformation. Her interaction with the other dancers was pretty much limited to work subjects like costumes, routines, music, make-up, drugs, what bastards men are and sex, so her uncommon knowledge of older events rarely came up. She never had to hide her true nature from either Anthony or you. In short, she had no practice being Honey Sweet-Lay. That meant that all sorts of inconsistencies popped up whenever I spoke with her for more than twenty minutes. The more time I spent with her, the clearer it became that, while she looked like a beautiful seventeen to eighteen year old girl, something was just not right. That’s when I decided to question her about these inconsistencies and I’m sure that she has told you the rest. I used some mild torture techniques and you probably used some similar but much stronger techniques, all based on denying her access to Anthony’s semen.”
Bob paused and looked around the room.
“I am thirsty from all this talking. Would anyone care for a drink now?”
Anthony shrugged.
“Fat lot a good it would do me.”
“If you promise to behave Anthony, I will release you.”
Anthony glanced at Amy and then looked at Bob.
“OK. You let me go and I won’t cause any trouble. You’ve still got the gun.”
“Quite true. That is acceptable. Honey, please go into the kitchen and make a pitcher of lemonade while I cut Anthony free.”
I wouldn’t trust Anthony as far as I could throw him, but this was Bob’s show. I went into the kitchen and made a pitcher of instant lemonade. When I came out with the pitcher and three glasses, Bob had just finished freeing Anthony’s hand and one arm using some blunt wire cutters to cut the ties. He gave the cutters to Anthony.
“I believe you can finish the job yourself Anthony. Honey, you need one more glass. Everybody should have a drink.”
I went to the kitchen, picked up one more glass and returned to the living room.
Anthony was just finishing with the straps.
“Honey, please pour everyone a drink and have one yourself” said Bob.
I poured four glasses of lemonade and then handed them around. Both Amy and Anthony eyed them suspiciously, but Bob took a big drink. I sat back on the couch.
“Where was I? Oh yes, the discovery of Honey’s true past. Once I found out that she was transformed by Dr. Hanson, the reason for that transformation and the unbelievably abusive treatment she has endured in the last three years, it was clear that Dr. Hanson was never going to release her to me or anybody else. She existed purely for Dr. Hanson’s eternal quest for vengeance. My search would have to continue.”
Amy seemed confused. Angry and confused.
“First, this is not vengeance, it is JUSTICE! That self-centered, egomaniacal moron RAPED ME! He walked away without punishment of any kind. And his treatment of me was no different than his treatment of practically every woman he ever encountered! Women do not have to put up with this any more. I had the power to make sure that Josh Thomas would never hurt an innocent woman again and I used that power. Thomas will never rape another woman and is learning in a direct and unique way the consequences for that kind of behavior. You are in no position to pass judgment on me! We still do not know who and what the hell you are and what you want!”
Bob crossed his arms and just sat for a moment, looking at the floor. Amy was straining forward, barely staying on the couch. Bob sighed.
“Doctor, we can debate the issue of the justification of your treatment of Josh Thomas and if he has suffered enough but that would be a waste of both our time so I will move on to your questions. I am never going to tell you my real name. You can accept me as ‘Bob James’ or not, I do not care. There is nothing you can do to me that will compel me to reveal my true identity. As for what I am, I assume you are not asking if I am male or a human, but what I did for a living before I retired. Trust me when I say that you would not believe me if I told you.”
“I am sick and tired of this superior attitude. I want an answer to my question NOW!”
Bob’s smirk returned full force.
“I was an assassin.”
“WHAT?”
“An assassin. A hit man. A killer for hire. I was one of a small group of experts employed by the US government to kill people that they decided they would prefer not to be alive.”
“You were no such thing!”
Bob shrugged. “Told you so.”
“You do not look anything like an assassin! You’re a complete blank, a nonentity, unremarkable in any way. Your picture should appear in the dictionary as the definition of ‘average’!”
“In other words, the perfect assassin. None of us look or act like ‘James Bond’, Doctor. An assassin wants to blend in, go unnoticed both before and after the kill. The more invisible, the better. You are mistaking an assassin for ‘muscle’. Anthony is the prototypical example of ‘muscle’. His mere presence conveys the threat of harm. Do what he says or else. Occasionally he will need to hurt someone in a very visible way to maintain that reputation. It may even be necessary for him to kill somebody, but everyone must know about it, or at least suspect it, so that his reputation as someone not to fuck with is enhanced. ‘Muscle’ is deterrence, to prevent problems from happening. You call for an assassin when you want the job done quietly, without a trace, no links back to you, no fingerprints.”
Amy was no longer leaning toward Bob, but sitting at the very back of the couch, creating as much space between them as possible. Anthony had also sat back as far as he could.
“I find it extremely hard to believe that you are some kind of super spy. Why would you even admit to that?”
“Again Doctor, you are confusing job descriptions. An assassin does need some of the skills of a spy to be successful, but my primary job was to get in, kill and get out alive, while not leaving any trace of my presence. As for my willingness to admit this to you, I said before, I do not care if you believe me. It is not my job to persuade you that I am telling the truth. You asked the question and I have answered it. You may do what you wish with the information. It really does not matter anyway because I will not be in town much longer. Which brings me to your last question, what do I want?”
“Here it comes” muttered Anthony. “How much?”
“Nothing.”
“You want something other than money?” asked Amy.
“I want nothing from both you and Anthony. To be more specific, I want you both to do nothing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When I discovered the truth about Honey, I had two choices. I could simply disappear, leave town, close the bank accounts, pack up the house and slink off into the night without a trace. I am very good at that. However, if I did just disappear, Honey would have taken the blame for me discovering her secret. You would have none of the information produced by this meeting and would have punished her severely out of fear and anger. So I chose option number two, to meet with you and Anthony, explain what happened and to make it clear that this problem, the revelation of Honey’s origins, and all the future problems that are about to hit you like a ton of bricks are of your own making due to incompetence and a lack of foresight and that Honey is not to blame for any of it. When I say I want nothing, what I mean is that I want you to do nothing to Honey, to not punish her.”
“And what if I decide to ignore your impertinent request and make Honey pay through the nose for the next decade? What will you do about it?”
“I will do nothing.”
My heart actually stops. I can’t breath. What has Bob done to me? He’s got Amy totally pissed-off and now he is leaving with me left holding the bag. I don’t know how my life could get any worse, but I know Amy will spend every waking moment making sure it does.
“I don’t think you have a decade Doctor. I’ve already explained what is likely to happen in the next eighteen to twenty four months. How you treat Honey is your business but your more immediate concern should be taking the steps to avoid the onrushing train. There are things you could do that might save both yourself and Anthony, no guarantees of course, but they could certainly improve your chances. I will be leaving town in the next day or two. I would like to avoid shredding my ‘Bob James’ and ‘Richard Johnson’ legends but I have others. In less than forty eight hours, ‘Bob James’ will cease to exist and you will never be able to find me. I want to make this clear Doctor. I am not promising to keep my knowledge about Honey and your treatments to myself. There is no advantage to me to tell anyone at this time but that situation may change. If it does, be assured, I will reveal all your secrets.”
Amy was clearly shaken by that statement. One hour ago, she was planning on taking care of a minor problem with the help of Anthony’s big right hand. Now, she was trapped. Even if Bob was wrong about the potential problems with the League and all the information I knew about Anthony’s “business associates”, he was an enormous loose cannon with a burning fuse that was about to disappear into the night. She would never know if or when he might go off, but if he did, she was completely screwed. Her reputation, her clinic, her Nobel Prize, maybe her very freedom were at risk.
And all Bob wanted was nothing.
Amy was silent, drumming her fingers on the couch next to her. Anthony was splayed out on his chair, his head laid back, looking at the ceiling.
Bob cleared his throat. “If there is nothing else, I think we are done here.”
Amy looked at Bob and cocked her head to one side. “You say that you want nothing from me. What if I have something that you could use?”
“Anthony may have told you that I am fairly well off financially. You can do amazing things in the stock market when you have advance notice of the deaths of major international figures. Besides, I doubt that you can afford to buy me off. Even if you could, I would be obligated to let you know that you cannot buy loyalty, you can only rent it until a better offer comes along. Sad, but true.”
“I am offering something that money can’t buy. I am offering you your health.”
“You mean a cure for MS? There is no known cure for MS. They don’t even know the cause for MS. The assumption is that it is a combination of both genetic and environmental components but no one knows which genes or what chemical, virus, bacteria, or whatever. Without that information, even your amazing technology cannot help me. I am not going to let you start randomly changing my DNA to see what happens.”
Amy was silent again for a few seconds.
“What if I can offer you a way to control the symptoms without curing the disease? You said it yourself, my technology should be able prevent the symptoms of any diseases it can’t cure. I’ve never tried to do that with MS but it should be relatively easy, in theory. MS causes the loss of the myelin sheath around the nerves in the brain, which leads to short circuits, if you will, and all the physical problems. Repair the nerves and the problems disappear. Even if you still have MS, no nerve damage means no problems. One thing my technology is good for is repairing damaged body parts.”
Bob leaned back in his chair and viewed Amy through narrowed eyes. “To turn your question around, assuming I accept your offer, what do you want?”
“Well, obviously your silence, but I was also thinking about the things you claim I could do to avoid the Armageddon you are predicting will happen to me. I would expect you to provide advice and counsel to keep me out of trouble.”
Bob thought for a moment.
“You have piqued my interest Doctor. I need to think about this before I give you my answer. I will tell you this.... I will not kill anyone. I gave that up when I retired.”
“You mean that you wouldn’t have killed me?” asked Anthony.
“Oh, I would have killed you, luckily that was not necessary. I will kill in self-defense. I am not a saint or an idiot. I just won’t kill to make my life or job easier.”
“I can accept those terms” said Amy as she stood up. “It is late and we all have much to think about. Honey, Anthony, let’s go.”
So that was it. All that yelling and fighting and we were just going to walk out. I was going back to the club and Amy was going home.
Amy reached into her purse, removed a card and held it out towards Bob. “When you have made a decision, call me at this number. It’s my private cell.”
“I already have that number Doctor.”
“Why am I not surprised.”
Bob pulled the magazine from the Glock, emptied it, ejecting each bullet into the palm of his left hand and then took the gun apart, leaving four big pieces. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, put the parts in the bag and kept the ammo. He gave Anthony the bag, who accepted it with a grimace.
With that, we left. Anthony didn’t take his eyes off Bob until the door was closed. He kept his eyes on the door until we pulled away from the house. Once we were a couple of blocks away, he finally spoke.
“You can’t be seriously considering fixing that guy up in return for his help. You saw what he did to me and he’s practically a cripple now. What the hell would he be like if he was healthy?”
“Yes Anthony, I did see. I am seriously considering replacing you, but for now, I suggest you shut up. We have much to discuss but I want to get Honey back to the clinic before we talk.”
“The clinic? I want her back at the club. She needs to get to work and earn her keep. I got bills to pay, ya know.”
“As Mr. James so succinctly put it, Honey is mine. You are her keeper. I let you use her as you see fit as long as it doesn’t interfere with my plans. Right now, we have one big problem, possibly more. I need time to think, to make some plans and I want Honey under my control until I can work this out. As for your daily contribution to her diet, you can send it over in one of your bottles or deliver it fresh yourself in the morning. Let’s just be quiet for now until I can get Honey back home for some beauty sleep.”
We drove on in silence. Anthony was pretty upset, probably both for how Bob whipped his ass and that Amy reamed him out. For now, I was safer with Amy than him. Amy is much worse in the long run but Anthony might just snap and beat me to death tonight.
We arrived at the clinic and Amy locked me in my cell. I felt oddly detached from everything that had happened today. When I first met Bob, I started to find my life barely tolerable. Those two days with him were like a weekly vacation. Then he told me his plan and I thought there was actually an escape from this hell. I had hope. Now that hope was gone but it was replaced with the chance that Amy’s plans and schemes were going to get blown to bits. I don’t know how that would affect me but anything would be better than this, right?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Some days, I felt all of my forty two years. It was like there are two separate ages, externally twenty but internally forty two. I know that it was just stress and fatigue. This evening had not turned out at all like I had expected. Anthony had been less than useless and I was forced to listen while that blowhard Bob James, or whatever his real name is, blathered on about all my alleged mistakes and the dire consequences to come. What does he know about anything? Even if he is not who I thought he was, he is certainly not an assassin! Why would someone like that show up in Dallas? What are the odds that he would become fixated on Honey? Unfortunately, regardless of who he is and what he really wants, he knows way too much to let him simply walk away.
“Anthony, we need to talk. Come to my office.”
He does not move right away, likely still in shock at how easily he had been disabled. He may be less capable than I had originally thought, but I did need his assistance so I had better direct his attention towards the important pending problems. I reached out and touched his arm.
“Anthony, we have some decisions to make and we need to review our options. Let’s sit down, have a drink and calmly assess our situation.”
He turns and looks down on me, shrugging his arm away from my hand.
“Why do you care what I think? I’m just a zoo keeper. You’re going to do whatever you want, regardless of what I say so why pretend what I say will make any difference.”
“That’s not true Anthony.” I touch his arm again. “You are an excellent judge of people and have a keen understanding of what motivates the average person.” A little false flattery should help bring him around. “Mr. James knows more than enough to give us both trouble. We need to come up with a coordinated plan to deal with him. Let’s go have a drink.”
I turn and head for my office. Anthony hesitates and then follows me. We walk in silence until reaching my door. I open it and step aside to let Anthony enter first.
“What would you like to drink? I have vodka, scotch, and white wine.”
“Vodka on the rocks, if you got it.”
I open the mini-fridge, remove the bottle of vodka, pick a glass off the shelf, fill it two thirds with vodka and add two ice cubes. I hand it to Anthony and then pour myself a glass of scotch, neat. If I let him talk first, maybe he’ll think his opinion is important to me.
“What do you think of his story?”
“I think he may be telling the truth. It answers a question that has been bugging me ever since I met him. Practically every one I meet is frightened of me. It’s only natural since I’m so big. Even people who I’m friendly with are a little frightened … including you Doc. Bob was never scared of me, not for a minute. I thought that maybe he was just very good at hiding the fear but now I think that there was no fear to hide. If I was a trained killer, I probably wouldn’t be afraid of many people.”
“That’s an interesting observation Anthony”
“He’s probably making too big a deal out of the possibility of Honey being arrested by the local cops and then spilling her guts. I’ve been paying the right people off for years and you’ve got your own connections. Even if she gets arrested, we can bail her out. That does leave the State cops and the Feds unaccounted for so we aren’t out of the woods completely.”
“There is also the possibility of you being arrested and not being able to make bail. I could treat Honey until you get out, assuming you get out. At least she wouldn’t be talking to the police.”
“Yeah, that’s true, but both you and Bob were able to get her to talk without a whole lot of effort. This addiction to my semen thing may be more trouble than it’s worth.”
Anthony seems a little too willing to give up his biological control over Honey. Why is that?
“I admit that Honey’s addiction can be easily exploited, but you have to know about it to exploit it. She is the only woman on the earth, for now, with that addiction so it is unlikely anyone else would figure it out. How would you control her if it was removed?”
“Don’t worry, I can control Honey with or without her needing a daily dose of my love juice. She’s so scared of me, she’d never betray me unless forced to by her withdrawal problems. Now what do you mean about Honey being the only woman addicted to me for now?”
“Well … I was just thinking that Honey might enjoy having a twin sister.”
“Oh no. No. No. No. NO! You are out of your mind! You tricked Thomas into doing nothing while you transformed him because he didn’t know what was going on until it was too late. You also kept him doped up. Bob will be expecting something like this. I don’t think he’ll take you up on your offer, but if he does, he’ll be on the lookout for some kind of double cross. If he is what he says he is, you do not want to piss him off!”
“Now Anthony, all I need to do is get him into the clinic. Once he is here, I can cut him off from the world and transform him into a carbon copy of Honey. Think of the money you could make with a twin act. Think of the number of men who would pay for sex with twins. I understand that this is a common male fantasy. He said that he has no family so no one will be looking for him. We know about his skills now so we can take the necessary precautions, there won’t be any surprises this time. Plus, you will get twice the sex you do now.”
Anthony actually winced when I said this. What is his problem?
“Doc, Josh and Bob are two different guys. When you transformed Josh, you took away everything that he was. He went from being a famous, big, male, All-American football star to a small, sexy, young girl who has to dance and screw for a living. You transform Bob into a girl and you’ve got a female assassin on your hands, a fucking pissed off female assassin. She’d kill us all the first chance she got.”
“She wouldn’t kill you if she needed your sperm every day to survive and you could use that to keep her from killing any one else.”
“I’m not sure about that at all. If Bob really was an assassin for the government, he’s faced death more than once. He might make an entirely different choice than Thomas when given the two alternatives, cave in or die a horrible death. He could kill us all and then kill himself.”
“I could try to decrease his intelligence so that he wouldn’t be able to clearly remember his past or form a coherent plan to take vengeance on us.”
“You can do that? Why didn’t you do that to Honey?”
“I wanted Honey to remember everything from her prior life. To remember what she had and what I took from her and why.”
“Yeah but Bob didn’t rape you so why change him into a woman?”
“Anthony, I strongly suggest that you do not speak so cavalierly about my rape. That is between Honey and myself so you should keep your nose out of it. As for Bob’s transformation, he did not keep his nose out of my business and now it is time for him to pay the price. No one threatens me and gets away with it. If he has such empathy for Honey, he can join her and share her pain.”
I couldn’t tell if Anthony had bought into my plan or not. I’m sure that I could handle Bob James myself as far as the medical procedures and keeping him isolated until the transformation was done. I needed Anthony after the transformation was completed. Well, if he had no interest, I could always find someone else in the same line of work who would probably jump at the chance of having two young, sexy twins at his beck and call. This time, I’d make certain that the new keeper would be ignorant of their origins, protecting the secret. The real problem then would be what to do with Anthony.
“OK. Let’s say you can get Bob to your clinic, transform him and dumb him down enough that he’s no longer a danger. We’ve still got the problem with the Wrangler’s ex-players telling what they know to other players, their new management or the press. Bob hit the nail on the head on that one. That’s going to happen with or without him.”
“I don’t think the situation is as bad as Mr. James made it out to be. I will certainly change my procedures in the future, possibly disguising the shots as vitamins, vaccines or some other kind of treatment. If the Wrangler’s owners are alerted to the potential problems with the ex-players, they can take the steps to keep it from becoming a problem. After all, they would have a great deal of influence over the League as the most successful team.”
“Doc, he’s got a much better understanding of the real world of professional sports than you do. I doubt the Wrangler’s will be able to help much at all. I haven’t had a whole lot to do with the team so, if things go bad, it’s more your ass than mine. If you insist on going ahead with this scheme, we’re going to have to get him to tell us his plans for solving this problem before you start screwing with his head. Since we got Honey to talk, maybe the same thing will work on Bob.”
It appears that I have a co-conspirator after all, though a reluctant one. I can work with that for now. All that is left is, will Bob James take the bait? There is one other thing I need to do while waiting for that question to be answered. Have a talk with Billy Joe Coleson as soon as possible.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I did not get any sleep the rest of the night after the meeting with Bob James, spending the time in the lab preparing for his eventual transformation, should I get the chance to put my plan into effect. I worked until 7:30 in the morning and then left to go visit Billy Joe Coleson. I had decided to see him in person instead of a phone call, I wanted to see his face while he explained about his contacts with Bob James and why he thought it was necessary to tell him about Honey.
The dew was still on the grass when I pulled up to the security gate outside his ostentatious “McMansion”. Leaning out of my car window, I pressed the button on the call box. There was no answer. I pressed again, then a third time but still no answer. I pressed the button a fourth time but did not release it, holding it down for almost a minute before there was a response.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!!!” the voice shouted from the call box.
Finally. “Good morning to you too Mr. Coleson. This is Dr. Amy Hanson. We need to speak immediately.”
There is no response right away so I lean on the button again.
“Stop that! What do you want?!”
I am surrounded by idiots. “It is Dr. Amy Hanson Billy Joe. Let me in. We have a problem, possibly a big problem. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Don’t make me angry Billy Joe, you know what I am capable of. Unlock the gate and we can talk about it.”
There’s no response. I start to reach for the button again when I hear a loud thunk and the gate begins to slowly open. I drive through and observe through the rear view mirror that the gate has closed behind me. I drive along the circular driveway, eventually reaching the front door. I park the car there, walk up the steps to the front porch and ring the bell. This time he responds promptly, opening the door. When I walk in, Billy Joe has his back turned towards me and is shuffling back into the main area of the house. He is barefoot, wearing a bath robe. He stops and starts to turn towards me.
“So what’s the big fucking problem?”
He’s naked under the robe, hasn’t even bothered to tie it, and sporting an erection, which is pointing right at me.
“Would you PLEASE cover yourself!”
He pulls the robe tighter around himself. “Big fucking deal. You’re lucky I put the robe on at all. Hell, you’re a doctor, ain’t like you haven’t seen one of these before. Just a morning woodie. You got me up before I could take care of it.” He flips the lower part of the robe open, exposing himself. “Care to help a guy out?”
Disgusting pervert! I’d tell him exactly what I think about his “little” performance but I do not need him in too bad a mood ... yet.
“No thank you, not really interested. Since you have plans for later, I will get right to the point. There is a problem, possibly a major problem, with Honey ...” Billy Joe plops down on a sofa and interrupts me.
“I‘m planning to see Honey tonight. Just broke up with my girlfriend last night, think it’s finally over. Thought I might pay her a visit at the club and work off some of those negative vibes, know what I mean? Fiona said some pretty nasty things and I couldn’t hit her, being on probation and all, so I thought of Honey, naturally.”
“Naturally, however Honey is not currently at the club, she is at my clinic and ...”
“Even better! No lines to worry about. I can get there around ...”
“Billy Joe! Shut up and focus! Do you know a Bob James?” He looks up at me for a few seconds, blinking his eyes, a stupid expression on his face. It is a miracle that there have not been problems before now.
“No, don’t think so.”
“Richard Johnson?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know him. Gun dealer, hell of a shot. There was this time when we were ...”
“Fascinating. Did you say anything to Mr. Johnson about Honey?” He does not answer right away, which is never a good sign.
“Like what?” Evasiveness. The moron told him!
“Like Honey Sweet-Lay was once Josh Thomas.” He does not react, just sits there, fiddling with the edge of his robe.
“Why would I do that?” More evasiveness.
“I do not know why you would do it, that will come later. What I want to know now is, did you tell him the truth about Honey?” He looks down, continuing to play with the edge of his robe. “If I have to drag this out of you Billie Joe, it will not end well. Answer my question!”
“What if I can’t?”
“Can’t what?”
“Answer your question.”
“It was a fairly simple question, one most three year olds could answer. Surely you are as advanced as a three year old child.”
His head snaps up and he glares at me. “Screw you! I understand the question! It’s just that ... I ... uh..”
“You ‘uh’ what?”
He glares at me again. “I don’t remember! ... We were sitting around, having a couple of beers. I was drinking some of this dark beer crap he had and he was going on and on about how great Josh Thomas was, what a great guy he was and it pissed me off ... cause of what he did to you and all.”
“My knight in shining armor. Go on.”
“Yeah ... sure. Well he was saying all this shit about Thomas and I wanted to tell him all about Mr. Wonderful ... and ... uh ...”
“I told you not to make me drag it out of you!”
“That’s it! I don’t remember much of anything after that. It’s all blurry. Next thing I clearly remember is waking up on my couch, a grenade launcher in my lap.”
“A grenade launcher?!”
“It’s a long story. I kinda recall telling him about Honey and Thomas but it’s like in a dream, ya know? That beer was really strong.”
“Well, it would appear that it wasn’t a dream. His real name was Bob James ... well that may not be his real name either. Regardless, Mr. James now knows practically everything about Honey, Anthony, I ... and you. Until you hear from me otherwise, you are to stay away from Honey, wherever she is. No contacting either Anthony or I. I will deal with Mr. James and your help is not needed at this time. You have done more than enough for now.” I stand up to leave. “Once this problem has been resolved, there is going to be a general review and reevaluation of the entire situation, including your role in any future activities.”
Billy Joe has a stricken look on his face. The seriousness of our problem appears to have penetrated his thick skull. I walk back to the front door and he follows, robe flapping in his wake. His little friend has returned to a quiescent state. I open the door and step out onto the front porch. Billy Joe stops at the doorway.
“Uhh, Doc?” I pause on the steps and turn around.
“Yes?”
“I ... uh ... will tell you this for nothing. Johnson, James, whoever he is, he’s a crack shot.”
“Meaning?”
“The guy is the best shooter I’ve ever seen, doesn’t miss. What he did with a sniper rifle ...” This is not good news.
“What did he do?”
“He didn’t miss on at least forty shots from 500 and 1000 yards each. He hit things that I could barely see with a big spotting scope. He’s also got more guns and ammo than a small army. And I do mean army, automatic stuff, assault rifles, grenades, silencers, the works. If that guy has a gun in his hand, I’d want to be in another state if I was you ... just thought you oughta know, so you can take ... precautions.”
“Are you volunteering to deal with him?”
“NO! God no! You want me to stay clear and that’s fine by me! No problem. See ya later.” He slams the door shut.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The call came in on my private cell at 8:00 p.m. the next day.
“Hello Mr. James. Have you given my offer some thought?”
“Yes, I have Dr. Hanson. The general concept is interesting, but, as we all know, the devil is in the details. How long do you think it would take?”
Got him!
“Well, that is hard to say. I’ve never tried to reverse the effects of MS before. A relatively healthy person shows positive effects in two weeks but the complete course of treatment takes over six weeks. A conservative estimate would be two months. Are you currently on any kind of medication?”
“I am on all sorts of medication. Rebif, Betaseron, Copaxone and Albuterol plus some others.”
“You will have to stop taking all medication. I can’t have any unaccounted for substances interfering with my treatment.”
“What do my medications have to do with your treatments?”
“I am attempting something that has never been done before. Those medications are variables that I can’t account for. You will need to stop all medications of any kind now and wait two weeks for them to clear your system before I can start my treatments.”
“If I stop all my medications, my physical condition will quickly deteriorate. I am going to need someone to help me.”
“You can come in to my clinic and we can care for you.”
“If it is all the same to you, Doctor, the less time I spend in your clinic, the happier I am.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Trust is earned Doctor. Neither of us trusts the other yet and possibly never will. I am the one taking the risks right now so I would like to set the terms.”
“Alright, how about Honey providing in-home care when you are not receiving treatments at the clinic. You were originally planning on her fulfilling that roll before the truth came out. She can move into your house temporarily.”
“What does Anthony think about this?”
“Anthony will think what I tell him to think. If he objects, I can pay him for her time but he won’t object.”
“And when will you want me to fulfill my end of the agreement?’
“You can provide advice as problems develop.”
“Doctor, we do not want to wait until problems develop. We want to take action now to prevent the problems from ever existing. A stitch in time, you know.”
“Fine. You can start providing advice whenever you trust me enough to do so. I would like to start this as soon as possible. Honey will arrive tomorrow morning.”
“Hold on Doctor, I haven’t said ‘yes’ yet. I needed to know the details before making my decision. What kinds of treatments will I need in the future?”
“There is no way to know. Since we are assuming that this is not a cure for MS, you will continue to suffer damage in the future which means the treatments will likely be needed for the rest of your life. If you stop them, your health will start deteriorating again.”
“I believe that answers all my questions. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Yes, when will I have your final decision? I need to start making preparations. I also need a DNA sample from you.”
“I will let you know my decision by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me, that means I have already disappeared. Good night Doctor.”
My line went dead. The wait continues but I think I’ll hear from him before 9:00 tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I have work to do.
Anthony called about one hour later to see if I had heard from Bob and I told him about our conversation. He seemed more concerned than I was. He was also rather upset about my offer for Honey to move in to Bob’s house to provide care. I reminded him that I only need to get Bob in my clinic once and that I would make any promises to get him there. That seemed to calm him down. I really need to start looking for his replacement as soon as the current problem is resolved. I returned to my clinic to start work on Bob’s special treatments.
My private cell rang at 8:50 a.m. the next morning.
“So Mr. James, do we have an agreement?”
“Yes, Dr. Hanson, we do. You may bring Honey over later this morning and take your DNA sample at that time.”
“I’ll be there by 10:00 a.m.” I ended the call and gave a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. Within two weeks, Bob James would start on the road to becoming ... I hadn’t thought of his new name yet. Well, there will be time for that later.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Amy unlocked the door to my cell and came in.
“You are going to stay at Bob James’ home for the next few weeks for a start, perhaps longer. You will help him while his system is cleansed of his current medication. We will see what kind of nurse you are. I should buy you a uniform, maybe something you can wear on-stage after this is done.”
“Thank you Dr. Hanson but I’m sure Bob will have something for me to wear.”
“Don’t take that attitude with me girl! No matter happens with James, you are going nowhere. There is no rescue, no relief, no escape. After I am done with Bob, you will be right back at the club and Anthony will expect you to work extra hard to make up for the lost income. Do you understand me?”
I shouldn’t have given Amy any lip but I couldn’t resist it. I better back off now.
“Yes, Dr. Hanson. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
“That is more like it. Go out to my car. I will be there shortly. We will stop by the club so you can get your daily dose of Anthony’s semen before going to Bob’s.”
“Yes, Dr. Hanson”
I walked down the hall and went out the back door to the parking lot. I stood by Amy’s Mercedes and waited. She came out with a medical bag and indicated I was to get in the front passenger seat. We pulled out quickly and headed for the club.
There was no sign of any life when we arrived but I saw Anthony’s van around the back. Someone was making a delivery. We parked and walked to the door. There were two guys unloading sealed boxes into the club. Anthony was just inside, keeping count of the numbers.
“Anthony, I need you to give Amy her daily treatment. We are heading to Bob James’ house. Honey will be there for two to three weeks for now. You will need to make sure she gets her daily ’medication’ while she is there.”
“Doctor, I’m kind of busy right now. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it later this morning.”
“I can’t wait for you to make time to do your job. This needs to be taken care of now.”
“Well, I am not in the MOOD right now, if you know what I mean. It’ll get done, just not right this minute. I’ve got more pressing business at the moment.”
“You are supposed to be a man! I thought men were always in the MOOD.”
The other two guys were starting to take an interest in the argument, smiling at the insult to Anthony’s manhood. I think they were waiting for Anthony to smack Amy across the face. Give the bitch what she deserved for saying something like that. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Anthony was going to have to do something or his reputation would be damaged. If you’re in Anthony’s line of work, reputation is everything. He had to put an end to this fight fast, but I don’t know if he recognized this fact.
“Listen Hanson, I am getting sick and tired of you giving me orders! I know what our deal is and I’ll live up to my end of the bargain, but I’ll do it how, when and where I want! If you don’t like it, replace me! Honey isn’t worth all this grief!”
That’s one way to end a fight, with a loud and clear “Fuck You”. Amy wasn’t going to let it go.
“Don’t think for a second that you can’t be replaced. After the ‘beat down’ Bob James gave you, I am beginning to think you are not up to the job! I am not going to leave my fate in the hands of some third—rate drug dealer!”
OK. This was heading downhill real fast. I’d never seen Anthony and Amy fight about anything until Bob showed up and now they were about to go nuclear. And no matter how this fight ends, no matter who wins or loses, all the grief and anger was going to be dumped on me. I am going to have to stop this as a matter of self-preservation. I stepped between them, in the little space there was.
“Wrong place, wrong time” I said quietly.
Amy stepped back, raising her hand to strike me. “What did you say?!”
I looked down at the ground and tried to make myself smaller but nodded my head towards the two guys.
“Wrong place, wrong time” I quietly repeated.
Amy looked around at the two watchers and realized, I think for the first time, that she had an audience other than me. She pauses and collects herself.
“Honey makes a good point. Perhaps we should take this inside.”
Now, if Anthony takes the hint, things might calm down.
“Going inside doesn’t change anything.”
Shit! He’s being stubborn. Well, let’s raise the ante. I step next to him and gently rub my body against his side while I reach around with my right hand and caress the inside of his right upper thigh near his crotch.
“Come on inside Baby. You know that I need you bad right now. Come inside and let me make you veeerrryyyy happy. Please Baby, it won’t take long and you could use a break. Please?”
With that last “Please” I look up at him with my big Doe eyes, tears starting to form, while my hand moves to his crotch, gently rubbing his cock, which starts to stiffen. I may have him. He just stands there, letting me bring him to full erection.
“OK. You guys take a break. This won’t take long. Inside Honey. My office.”
I hurried inside but I let my hand linger on his cock as I left, giving it a gentle squeeze. Anthony followed me and Amy was the last one in. She hesitated after entering the club. Normally, she would insist on watching whatever Anthony did to me. She really enjoys watching me have any kind of sex. I think it is vicarious rape from her point of view. However, she seemed to be unsure if Anthony would welcome her presence since they were screaming at each other just two minutes ago. I looked back at her. She stopped and waived me on. I went into the office with Anthony right behind me. He slammed the door shut.
“OK bitch, down on your knees!”
“Yes, Sir”
I dropped to my knees, facing Anthony. He stepped forward, putting his crotch in my face.
“Take it out.”
I didn’t reply, just unzipped his pants and reach in. He was going commando today so it was easy to pull his cock out. It was about 80% erect. I started stroking it with my left hand while massaging his balls with my right. Anthony always loves it when I pay attention to his big balls. In about thirty seconds he’s at full erection. I keep stroking and massaging but I add licking his shaft to the mix.
He groans. I take that as a compliment. I continue licking but work my way to the tip of his cock, taking the head into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it several times before returning to the licking. Anthony twitches his hips, thrusting his cock at me. So far so good. I alternate the licking and the swirling while still stroking and massaging. I pause the mouth works and look up at Anthony but keep the hand work going. He looks down at me and I smile, running my tongue around my lips a couple of times. I then open my mouth wide and dive onto his cock, going straight into deep throating it. This is a tough move but I’ve had a lot of practice and it’s one of my best. I’m still massaging his balls with my left hand but my right hand is behind his left thigh for leverage. I can feel his cock sliding down my throat but I’ve got a good rhythm going so I can breath OK.
Suddenly he reaches around with both hands and grabs my head, a hand on each side. Up to now, Anthony had let me lead but he decides to take charge. He starts to fuck my face faster and faster. I let go of his balls. It is getting hard to breathe. He is pounding his cock down my throat like a jackhammer. My rhythm is all screwed up, can’t catch a breath, things begin getting fuzzy.
No air. I start to pass out. He pulls my head all the way into his crotch while his cock explodes in my throat, shooting streams of cum straight to my stomach. It seems to go on for minutes, but it stops and then he slowly pulls his cock out of my throat. I’m gasping for breath. He still hasn’t let go of my head. He angles it up so that I am looking at him. He waits until my eyes can focus on him.
“Don’t interfere in my business ever again. You got that bitch? I don’t care if you are right, you do that a second time and I’ll work you over with a cattle prod. It will take Hanson a month to put you back together. You understand me?”
“Yes, Sir, I understand.” I croak. My throat is raw from his abuse. He lets go of my head and I collapse on the floor, still struggling to catch my breath.
Amy would have enjoyed that. The only thing good about it was that she wasn’t around to see it. Some small comfort.
Anthony opens the door and walks out, leaving me on the floor. I reach over to his desk and pull myself upright. I straighten my clothes and walk out into the club. Amy and Anthony are quietly talking but I can’t hear them. Anthony doesn’t appear to be happy. It could be what I did, what Amy said or something completely new.
One of these days, I’m going to die in this place. If I was braver, I’d kill myself and be done with it. Maybe I can talk Bob into doing it for me. Amy spots me.
“Move along Honey, we have work to do.”
I’ll be damned if I’m going to give her any satisfaction from what Anthony just did to me. I square my shoulders, shake out my hair, paste on a smile and head out the door.
“Honey, did you thank Anthony for your daily dose of his semen?”
“No Dr. Hanson, I didn’t have a chance. Thank you, Sir. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
Anthony sneered but I was already out the door. I’ll probably pay for that later but, if I’m lucky, he’ll forget about it by the time I return from Bob’s house in two weeks. Yeah, I’m real lucky.
I walk over to Amy’s car under the lustful watch of Anthony’s two apes. I plop down in the passenger seat and wait for Amy to come out. The two apes start to move my way but Amy came out and they went back to the truck. She got in the car and we drove off.
“Honey, Anthony may not appreciate what you did, but I do. This situation with Bob James has us all on edge. It should be over in a few months and then we can all return to our happy lives. Won’t that be nice?”
“Yes, Dr. Hanson”
I couldn’t afford to say anything else and that was all she wanted to hear. We drove on in silence and reached Bob’s house in 10 minutes. Amy parked on the street and we walked to his front door. Amy had her medical bag with her.
“Ring the bell, Honey.”
I rang the doorbell and waited but there was no answer. I rang it a second time just as Bob opened the door.
“Good morning Honey, it’s nice to see you again. Hello, Doctor.”
“Good morning Mr. James “said Amy. “I see that there is no cane today.”
“A carry over from my medication overdose from yesterday. Don’t worry, in a few days, I will be lucky if I only need a cane. Come in and take your samples.”
Bob stepped aside and let both of us in. Amy opened her bag and took out a 4 long Q tips with plastic caps on them.
“Open your mouth please Mr. James.”
Bob opened his mouth, Amy removed the plastic cap, rubbed the Q tip on the inside of Bob’s cheek and replaced the cap. She repeated the process with the other three Q tips.
“I have decided that I need to take a blood sample to make sure all your current medications have left your system before we start your treatments.”
Bob rolled up the sleeve on his right arm and held it out for Amy to draw some blood. She swabbed his arm, applied a wrap to his upper arm, found a vein, took a syringe and quickly stuck it in his arm. She wasn’t gentle about it but Bob didn’t flinch. She finished taking his blood and packed her bag.
“I will check in with you next week and take another blood sample. Call me if you have any problems. I can let myself out.”
And with that, she left, leaving me alone with Bob.
“Well Honey, make yourself at home. You can change clothes if you wish. There is some pasta in the fridge so you can fix that for lunch. I don’t really have any plans for the rest of the day.”
I reach out and touch him on the arm. “Bob, are you sure you want to do this? I don’t know if they are planning something funny but I wouldn’t put it past them. You know what they did to me, why would you let that crazy bitch Amy Hanson anywhere near you?”
“Honey, unfortunately you will get a first hand look at why I am willing to take that risk. You have never seen me without my medication. Believe me that it will not be pretty. “
He was right, it wasn’t pretty. At first, the changes were subtle. He was using the cane all the time but he still got around. He then started needing to go to the bathroom frequently, without much warning. There were some close calls because he couldn’t move very fast. On Wednesday he pissed his pants because he couldn’t get out of his chair fast enough. By Friday he was wearing adult diapers and using a walker. By Saturday the seizures showed up in full force. Anytime he stood up, his body would go stiff, his muscles locking up. The seizures didn’t last long, only thirty to forty seconds, but they started coming more frequently. He also seemed tired most of the time. I didn’t have to give him a bath or help him in the toilet, thank God, but I was worried that he wasn’t going to survive until Amy was willing to start his treatments. Bob insisted that he was OK, that everything was normal.
How could this be normal?
Amy called Monday to schedule a time for her to take another blood sample. I told her about all of Bob’s problems.
“He seems to be more seriously affected by MS than I first thought. I will be there around 2:00 pm to see him.”
She showed up at 2:30 pm. For the first time in over three years, I was happy to see her. I let her in and took her to Bob’s bedroom. He wasn’t in bed but was sitting in a chair, watching a DVD. He started to stand up and another seizure hit. I quickly moved to his side and grabbed him so that he wouldn’t fall out of the chair. I let him down slowly, settling back into the chair. The seizure started to pass and Bob was able to speak again.
“Hello Doctor. How has your day been?’
“Clearly much better than yours. How often do the seizures occur?”
“They do not happen on any kind of fixed schedule. Any time I move a major muscle group, my legs, my upper body, or I start to stand up, the muscles seize. I have little control over my urination. My mobility is extremely limited. I am fatigued all the time. No real surprises though.”
“I will take another blood sample to the clinic and see if we can start your treatments now. I am sure you would like to begin as soon as possible.”
“I will be ready when ever you are Doctor.”
Amy took her blood sample and left. I hoped that she would call with good news soon. I understood why Bob was willing to give her treatment a chance. I didn’t trust her to keep her word but I could see why Bob was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. I just hope he didn’t live to regret it.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I drove back to my clinic, park the car in my private spot, enter the clinic, unpack the medical bag, remove Bob James’ blood sample and drop it in the Hazardous Waste Disposal canister. Bob certainly looked in bad shape. Surely he will enjoy another week of diapers and seizures. I know I will.
I wait another hour and then call Honey to give her the bad news that Bob’s blood tested positive for drugs. We will have to wait another week to begin treatments.
My injections won’t be ready for two days anyway so we can wait an extra five days. He is no threat in the condition he is in. If I could keep him off his medication, I might just leave him as he is, but that is not an option. Besides, what is the fun in leaving him a man. The appeal of a set of Honey twins is just too great to pass up.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Dr. Hanson begins Bob's treatments but what will be the results? Chapters 20 through 24 of 48. Indicated elements apply to entire story.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bob’s condition stabilized in the second week. He was no worse, but no better. We were able to get a daily routine established. All in all, it wasn’t so bad for me. It was dreamland compared to working in the club. It only took four to five hours a day to take care of Bob and the housework plus another two hours for shopping and meals. The rest of the day I could lounge by the pool, watch TV or DVD’s. I’d missed a lot of the current movies locked up in the club so I had some catching up to do.
Life was not pleasant for Bob though. He didn’t complain about anything and always made a point of thanking me for whatever I did for him, but you could tell he was in pain a lot of the time. He wouldn’t even take aspirin, not wanting to have any drugs in his system for the next blood test.
I’d tried several times to talk him out of working with Amy and being treated by her. You can’t believe anything that she says or promises. He should just go back on his meds and vanish into the night. Amy and Anthony are going to do whatever they want with me whether he is there or not.
“I appreciate your concern Honey, but my medications only slow the deterioration of my health. Sooner or later, if I live long enough, I am going to end up were I am now. There are no current medications that will change that. The only possible existing treatment that can return me to my original health is Dr. Hanson’s. I realize that there is an element of risk, but it is one I am forced to take. Don’t worry, everything will work out for both of us.”
I never realized that Bob was such an optimist. I guess that’s a good trait for an assassin to have.
Amy came by at noon to take another blood sample. We had just finished lunch.
“I think that you can plan on starting the treatments tomorrow. The medications were practically undetectable in the last sample so, unless I am mistaken, your system should be clean by now. I’ll do the test and, if clean, send Anthony by at around 9:00 a.m. to pick you up.”
“If it is all the same to you Doctor, I would prefer that Honey drive me there in my car. I would feel more comfortable having my own transportation available.”
“Still don’t trust me do you?” said Amy, shaking her head in disappointment. “I don’t care how you get to the clinic, just be there by 9:00. I will call in about an hour with the results.”
I followed Amy to the door.
“Dr. Hanson, do I need to bring anything with us tomorrow? A change of clothes, toothbrush, anything?”
“No Honey, just get him there on time. I will take care of everything.”
Then she smiled. I had seen that smile many times before, usually when something very bad was about to happen to me. She was planning to double-cross Bob some how, but I couldn’t figure it out. GOD, I wish I was smarter!
She left with a wave of her hand. I went back into the house. Bob was sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes closed. I reached out and touched his shoulder.
“Bob, are you awake?”
“Yes, Honey. I am just getting prepared for tomorrow morning. I am going to need all of my limited resources if I am to survive this trial.”
I put my arms around him from behind and hugged him, laying my head on the back of his neck. I don’t know why I did it. Maybe because he looked like he needed something and that was all I had to give. He raised his right hand and patted my arm.
“Bob, be careful. I know you are going through with this but I also know Amy has got a surprise up her sleeve. I trusted her once and see where it got me. I just don’t want to lose you.”
Why did I say that?
“Don’t worry Honey. I truly believe that both you and I are going to be fine. Trust me when I say that.”
I let him go and start to clean the kitchen. I had to do something. Bob closed his eyes again and just sat at the table, hands folded in front of him. If I didn’t know better, I would say he was praying.
The phone rang at 12:55 p.m. and I rushed to answer it. It was Anthony.
“Hey Honey, Doc told me to call and let you know that you are good for tomorrow. The test results are all negative, whatever that means. She wanted me to offer my help in moving Bob.”
“No thank you, Sir. I have everything under control.”
“OK fine then. I’ll see you at the clinic tomorrow.”
Why was Anthony going to be there? This deal is getting worse by the minute. I thought about asking him why he needed to be there but decided I couldn’t believe anything he said anyway.
“You still there Honey?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Don’t worry, this will be over soon and we can all get back to normal. Maybe better than normal. Won’t that be great?”
“Yes, Sir, that will be great.” Anthony hung up.
Bob is not getting out of this alive. I have to try one last time to get him to change his mind. I went back to the kitchen and told him about my conversation with Anthony but he didn’t seem either surprised or concerned. He asked me to help him out to the garage and then leave him alone until he called for me. I did and then went back to house cleaning to keep my mind occupied.
Bob called for me around 6:30 p.m. I had supper ready by then so we ate. I knew better than to ask what he was up to. He wouldn’t tell me and I didn’t want to know because we both knew that Amy could force it out of me. I had already betrayed his confidence once; I didn’t want to be in a position to do it again.
After supper, Bob asked me to help him to the bathroom so he could shower. I left him in the bathroom and went back to clean the kitchen. I went to check on him after the kitchen was clean and he was already in bed, asleep on his side. I moved quietly into the room. His body tensed with a seizure but he didn’t wake up.
I knelt on the bed next to him and massaged his back until the seizure passed. He didn’t deserve what was about to happen to him, nobody did. I kicked off my shoes, slid down onto the bed and spooned up against his back, reaching my arms around to pull him tight against me.
I think I did it more to comfort myself than him, to feel that I wasn’t alone in the world.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I had everything in place at the clinic by 8:30 a.m. that morning; always like to be ready well before a deadline. That way I can relax and savor the moment.
Anthony arrived at 8:45. I invited him to make peace for our earlier fight and to watch while Bob James was taken down the first of many pegs.
“Anthony, you need to make sure that you don’t touch or do anything that I don’t directly request that you do. We can’t afford any mistakes now.”
“Don’t worry Doc. I’ll be a fly on the wall.”
“Fine. Please go out front and let me know when they arrive.”
“Don’t you have your staff here?”
“No, I prefer that the fewer people who know about this particular patient the better.”
“So, you’re taking Bob’s advice to heart already”
Here I am offering an olive branch and he makes a tasteless joke like that. His time will come. I will ignore him. For now
“Just let me know when they arrive.”
Anthony went to the front of the clinic and I started to double-check my equipment.
“Hey, Doc! We got company.”
The car pulled around the back and parked next to the window to this room. Honey was driving and Bob was slumped in the passenger seat. She got out, went around to his door, opened it and helped him out. She then opened the door to the back seat and pulled out a folding wheelchair. She opened it, positioned it behind him and eased him down into the chair.
She was surprisingly quick and efficient. Must have been getting a lot of practice. She was also very gentle with him. This couldn’t be working out better.
“Anthony, please meet them at the back door and bring them to this room.”
Anthony strode to the back door and opened it.
“Good morning Honey. I can take it from here.”
“No thank you, Sir. Bob prefers that I do this. It’s no trouble”
Anthony was taken aback by Honey’s assertiveness. It looks like we will have to re-teach her some lessons after Bob James is taken care of. To his credit, Anthony remembered my instructions and did nothing beyond leading them to the examination room.
“Good morning Mr. James, Honey. Please come in. I need Bob to change into this hospital gown.”
I hand Honey an extra small, open back paper hospital gown. Bob will be lucky if it covers his stomach.
Honey looks around for a screen to change behind. “Where is he to change at?”
“He can do it right here. We are all adults.”
Honey looks embarrassed but Bob simply smiles and starts to unbutton his shirt. He stays seated in the wheel chair but manages to strip down to his adult diaper with Honey’s help.
“The diaper needs to go also.’
“Certainly, Doctor Hanson. I expected nothing less.”
He slips the diaper down to his knees and Honey finishes the job. Anthony is standing in the corner of the room with a large smile on his face, clearly enjoying Bob’s discomfort. But Bob is not showing any discomfort. He is just sitting there, naked, but acting as if it does not trouble him at all. Suddenly his body stiffens. It is one of his seizures. Honey starts to move to his side but I stop her. The seizure stops in about 50 seconds and then Bob resumes the same position he had before it started, as if nothing happened.
Well, there is more to come.
“Bob, put on the gown and hop up here on the table. You can help him Honey.”
Honey helps Bob stand and step out of the wheelchair. He puts on the gown, which is more like a tunic top. His penis is exposed, as is his ass. He leans on Honey and they slowly move towards the examination table. He backs against the table, places his hands on Honey’s shoulders while she puts her hands on his hips. They look into each other’s eyes, Bob nods his head and he pushes up while she lifts, neatly placing him on the table.
Damn! They have been practicing! I wanted Bob to have to attempt to crawl up and ask for help.
“Nicely done. You really missed your calling as a nurse Honey. I am sure that you could work for me should Anthony ever tire of you.”
I looked at Honey but she said nothing.
“I need to do a quick exam and then I will give you the first shot. Open your mouth.”
Bob opens his mouth and I exam it and his throat using a tongue depressor. Everything appears normal.
“Now I need you to lie on your stomach with your legs hanging down here. Normally I would have you bend over but I don’t think you could.”
Bob positions himself with his asshole exposed. I think he knows what is coming.
“Just a quick prostate exam and then we are ready.”
I remove a tube of lube and a rubber glove from the top drawer of the table. I snap on the glove and squirt some lube on the both the glove and his rectum. I insert my index finger into his puckered hole, spreading the lube. I look over to Anthony, who is both smiling and wincing in sympathy. Honey is just standing there but has some tears in her eyes.
Could she have feelings for Bob? I push more of my hand into Bob’s rectum. She sobs. This is interesting. I wonder how she will react when Bob becomes her twin sister ... damn, I still haven’t come up with a good name yet.
I finish the unnecessary prostate exam and Bob has said nothing at all. No grunts, groans, screams, no reaction at all. I was hoping to embarrass him with the nudity and exams but apparently I was unsuccessful. Well, it was worth a try and Anthony enjoyed it.
“Alright Bob, hold that position and I will get the injection.”
I turn to the lab fridge and remove a vial marked “BJ 1-40”. It is the first of a series of forty shots that will change Bob’s life. I insert a syringe into the vial and fill it. After swabbing Bob’s left ass cheek with an antiseptic wipe, I prepare to inject him.
My cell phone vibrates. Damn it! It vibrates again. Bob turns his head and looks back towards me.
“You should probably answer that Doctor Hanson.”
“What?!’
Bob rolls over and pulls himself up into a sitting position. The phone vibrates a third time.
“You should answer that before it goes to voice mail.”
I pull the phone from my pocket, flip it open and bring it up to my ear.
“Hello-Doctor-Hanson-we-are-friends-of-Mr.-James. Please-take-his-blood-pressure-now.”
The voice was halting and mechanical, like one of those interviews on television with a person trying to hide their identity and they disguise their voice with electronic manipulation.
“Who is this?”
“Please-take-his-blood-pressure-now.”
I look over at Bob and he has extended his arm, as if waiting for me to take his blood pressure.
“I suggest you comply with their request, Doctor.”
“What is all of this about?’
“Pressure first, answers second. If you please, Doctor.”
I bring the phone back up to my ear. The connection is open but no one is speaking.
“Just put down the phone and take my blood pressure. I will explain everything afterwards.”
This is an unexpected turn of events. I glance over to Anthony but he has a blank look on his face. I decide to comply with the request. I put the phone down, walk over to the supply cabinet and pick up my blood pressure cuff. Bob’s right arm is still extended. I wrap the cuff around it and start to pressurize it.
“Don’t announce the results Doctor, just do the test and return to the phone.”
The cuff is fully inflated now so I start the test. His pressure is 140 systolic, 97 diastolic, pulse 62. I look up from the digital display. Bob gestures towards the phone. I pick it up again and return it to my ear.
“The-pressure-is-140-over-97-the-pulse-is-62. Mr.-James-will-now-answer-your-questions. Good-bye.”
The connection is broken. I return the phone to my pocket and direct my attention to Bob. God, he is smirking again. This can’t be good.
“Apparently you are now going to explain what this is all about.” Bob is silent so Anthony decides to add his two cents.
“What was that call? What did they want?’
“It was someone using an electronically disguised voice claiming to be a friend of Bob James. They requested I take Bob’s blood pressure and then told me what the results were.”
“They were right?” There was fear in Anthony’s voice when he asked that question.
“Yes, Anthony, they were correct.”
“How could they know that?”
“A very good question Anthony. Do you have an answer Mr. James?”
“Yes, I do, but I don’t think it is in my best interest to reveal the exact technology at this time. Suffice it to say that my condition is being remotely monitored at all times. You know that I am not carrying any devices on my person, particularly after your most thorough rectal exam. If you want to x-ray me, you can, but it will be a waste of time. I decided that I needed someone to watch my back while you treated my medical problems.”
“So who did you hire?”
“No one, though I did ask some old associates for help. You see Doctor, people in my past profession that manage to survive to retirement have an informal association, a brotherhood if you will. This group goes beyond national boundaries. We have found that retired assassins have much in common with each other regardless of which countries we come from. For example, our ex-employers would like us dead.”
“What do you mean?”
“We know most of their dirty secrets because we participated in them. Foul, despicable acts ordered by amoral bureaucrats and political appointees. These same Machiavellian bastards would not think twice of ordering the assassin’s death to cover their tracks. They would think of it as ‘doing what is necessary for the good of all’. We, on the other hand, are more concerned about our survival. My brethren and I were smart enough to see these situations coming and had decided that there was strength in numbers. They might be able to take one of us out, but not all of us. Besides, they would have a very hard time recruiting our replacements if it was company policy to kill the entire roster of assassins when done with them. We all reached an understanding with our respective governments. They leave us alone after we retire, we keep quiet. We also keep access to our government resources. If they violate this deal, they have a lot of really upset assassins, not a good position to be in if you are responsible for that violation. If one of us violates the deal, the brethren take care of it because we don’t want to fight the entire government.”
“What does all of this have to do with our situation?”
“Well Doctor, we have found that it is to the advantage of all of us to keep in touch and provide assistance to each other when necessary, it builds Esprit de Core. I decided to have a few ‘friends’ watch my back during the duration of your treatment, at least until I can defend myself.”
“What is supposed to happen should you or they decide to take action?”
“They come in, kill everyone in the building, burn this place to the ground and then kill everyone’s immediate family. You and Anthony receive special treatment. There will be a contest, to see which of you lives the longest as one extremity at a time is removed, without anesthesia of course. I have a thousand on Anthony by the way.”
I am dumbfounded. This is impossible! How could this happen? We took all the necessary precautions. I look at Anthony. He is no longer smiling but slumped against the wall, mouth agape. Honey is smiling.
“Wait, If Anthony and I die, so will Honey. No more daily semen doses … she would tear herself apart.”
“Well, to be technical, Doctor, I would just need to keep Anthony. You are expendable. However, when I say everyone in the clinic dies, I include Honey and myself in that group”
Honey stops smiling.
“I know that Honey cannot survive without Anthony. As for myself, this worse case scenario I have described only happens if you try to transform me into someone like Honey. I will not live that way. I will not let you and Anthony get away with that, so all our deaths are guaranteed should you try it. Honey’s and my deaths will be quick and painless. Yours’ and Anthony’s will be long and unbelievably painful. You will beg to be put out of you respective agonies. Fortunately, the people in charge of your deaths love to hear their victims beg, it turns them on. You don’t want to know what happens to your bodies after you die. Even I find it difficult to contemplate, but that is the price you pay for the best help.”
I feel faint. I sit in the nearest chair. Anthony is sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Honey is leaning against the supply cabinet, head down.
“So Dr. Hanson, hear is the deal. I am ready to fulfill our original agreement. You treat my MS symptoms and I will attempt to save you from the consequences of your many mistakes. If you do not want to completely comply with those terms, I will return home, resume taking my medications and disappear. I am not going to force you to treat me. If we go forward with the treatments, it must be of your own free will, however should you try to double cross me in any way, the consequences for you and Anthony will be certain and horrible. Decide now.”
If I had more time, I might be able to come up with a scheme to take Bob down, but I do not have the time. He wants a decision now. The plan to transform him is out, at least for the present. If I say ‘No’, Honey will wheel him out of here and I will lose him. Who knows what he will say, to whom and when. If I say ‘Yes’, he probably will regain his health and be more of a threat. Wait...what if the treatment doesn’t work on him?
“What happens if the treatment fails, if your condition doesn’t improve?”
“I understand that there are no guarantees here Doctor. If you make a good faith effort to help me but it doesn’t work, we will just go our separate ways.”
Well, he wouldn’t kill me, but he would still disappear, out of my control. If the treatments do take away his MS inflicted disabilities, his continued good health will depend on the continuation of the treatments. It will not be as good as a set of Honey twins, but he will still need to dance to my tune if he wants to be able to walk and not wear a diaper. It is worth the risk.
“I have decided to follow through with our original agreement, my treatments for your advice.”
Anthony struggles to his feet.
“Are you mad! Just let him GO! I don’t want to have anything to do with this maniac! One false step and we are twitching torsos!”
I raise my hand but he doesn’t stop.
“I will not shut up! I am so fucking tired of you trying to control me! It’s my ass on the line here too. I should have a say in what happens.”
“Excuse us a moment”
I take Anthony by the arm but he shrugs me off. I grab his arm again. “Just step outside and we can talk in private.”
I walk out the door of the examination room and Anthony follows, stealing a glance at Bob. I shut the door.
“Do you believe him Anthony?”
“Yes, I believe that he is a crazy mother fucker with a bunch of friends who are even crazier and they are probably watching us right now!”
I had forgotten about the blood pressure demonstration. Damn! I am going to have this entire place scanned for bugs.
“Fine, then let’s keep our voices down.”
I quietly explain my thinking to Anthony and ask him if he has any better ideas. He is not happy but doesn’t have anything to add to our options. Big surprise.
“I’ll go along with what you want Doc, but I want something from you too.”
“And what would that be?”
“Not now, later.”
“I am not going to agree to some unknown request. We can talk about whatever it is later, but I will not guarantee that it will be acceptable.”
We return to the examination room.
Bob is still seated on the table but he has exchanged the hospital gown for his shirt, which provides more coverage.
“Anthony and I have talked and I believe that we all have an agreement, right Anthony.”
“Yeah, we have an agreement.”
Bob nods his head in acknowledgement. “Fine. Let’s start the treatments. Should you exchange that syringe Dr. Hanson?”
That son of a bitch had me from the start. I toss the syringe into the Hazardous Waste container and return to the refrigerator. This time I remove a vial of the standard treatment, fill the syringe and pick up an alcohol wipe. Bob is smirking again but there is something else there too, a look of satisfaction or confirmation. It’s only there for a moment and then it’s gone. Could have been my imagination.
“I need to inject your butt. Roll over.”
Bob rolls onto his side so that he can still watch me but exposing his ass for an injection. I stick him hard. No reaction. Will nothing go my way today?
“Honey, please bring me my clothes and the wheel chair. According to our agreement, Honey is to stay with me until I am operational again. All future injections will be at my home. I am willing to return here for more in-depth examinations, if necessary. If there is nothing else, we will be going.”
Honey hands him his adult diaper, pants, socks and shoes. After dressing, he slides off the examination table and Honey helps him into his chair. She spins it around so that Bob is facing me.
“Doctor, call me when you want to schedule the next injection. I will contact you if there are any problems. Anthony, Honey will be available for however you want to deliver the daily semen dose.”
Anthony grimaced. “I think I’ll stick with the bottle system for awhile. It’s easier on everybody’s schedule.”
Bob nodded. “We will accommodate whatever method you chose. Let’s head home Honey.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I wheel Bob out of the clinic’s back door into the parking lot. It was only 10:12 a.m. We had been in the clinic only about an hour. It felt like five hours. Bob opens the passenger door and I help him into the car, then open the back door, store the chair, walk around to the driver’s side and get in. I check the mirrors to see if there are any suspicious cars around us or people lurking around.
“You won’t see anybody Honey, they are much too professional to be seen. Just start the car and let’s get home.”
I pull out of the parking lot and head back to Bob’s house. Once we are two blocks away, Bob closes his eyes and slumps in his seat.
“Are you OK?”
“Yes, Honey, just tired. This morning took a bit out of me. I’ll take a nap when we get home.”
I drive on for a few miles but I have to know.
“Bob, can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly Honey, I will answer any questions I can.”
“Where you serious back there, are there people watching us?”
“They are watching over me, for now. As long as you are with me, they are watching over you also.”
“And would they have killed everyone at the clinic?”
“If things had gone badly today, it is possible that they would not have killed me, that they would have been able to pull me out of the clinic alive. Everyone else would most certainly have died.’
“Even me?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you need to kill ME? I’m on your side. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I’m innocent!”
“Well, if I kill Dr. Hanson and Anthony, what happens to you? You would be free but still addicted to Anthony’s semen, which would no longer be available. You know what happens to you if denied access to his semen for more than thirty hours. I would think that you would find death preferable.”
“Isn’t that my choice? Shouldn’t I have a say? It’s my life!”
“Luckily, it appears that decision is put off for another day, perhaps forever. We will see what tomorrow brings.”
I didn’t feel that I could push Bob any further. He seemed really tired and he was right, today went OK and tomorrow was another day. I could ask him again later. No matter what he says, it’s clear I need to keep an eye on him all the time. Anybody who thinks like he does is a little nuts. Maybe a lot nuts.
We arrived at Bob’s a few minutes later. I parked in the garage, then helped him into the bedroom.
“Please wake me for lunch and I’ll see if I am hungry. Thank you for your help today Honey.”
“You’re welcome.”
He laid down on the bed and was asleep in ten minutes. I kept looking out the front window to see if I could see any sign of Bob’s “friends” but never saw anything unusual. I guess that meant that they were there.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Amy come over about every third day and gave Bob a shot. He started to show some improvement after a week. Thank God it was his urinary control. In the span of three weeks he went from wheel chair, to walker, to cane, to a halting walk. The seizures stopped after two weeks. It took four weeks for his energy levels to improve.
Anthony came by every third day and delivered three bottles of his “man juice”. I had one each morning with breakfast. He never made any move towards me, never demanded a blow job, never told me to lie down so he could fuck me. It was like he wanted nothing to do with me. It left me both relieved and a little disappointed. With the daily doses, I didn’t have the uncontrollable urge for sex.
Doesn’t mean that I didn’t miss it.
Sex as a woman is so different. It’s not just the multiple orgasms, which are great. It’s that for me to get off, he has to get off. I’m catching, not pitching. Ever since the change, I’ve done nothing but please men, either dancing on the stage or dancing on their cocks, with my mouth, ass or pussy. It is important that they be happy. As a man, the only thing that was important to me was that I was happy. Having had that experience, I have a pretty good insight into what makes a man happy, at least for about fifteen minutes.
For the last three plus years, I had veeerryy regular sex. Often four, five or more times a day. Not counting those damn post-Super Bowl parties. If you have that much regular sex, you get used to it, even look forward to it, if it is good sex. You may be scared of the guy fucking you, sometimes that makes the sex even better. My addiction made most of it reasonably good sex, as far as orgasms go. No emotional connections at all, not even with Anthony unless you count fear.
Since I started working exclusively for Bob about five weeks ago, I’ve gone cold turkey on sex, at least with someone else. I’ve done a lot of masturbating, particularly with that special vibrator Amy had made from a mold of my recreated cock that she used to rape me. Hey, any port in a storm. Even with the masturbating, I’m getting real antsy. Bob has never made a move on me, not even after the treatments started. I don’t know if he can have sex yet. He said that was one of the first things the MS took from him, maybe it will be one of the last things fixed. I think that I have that emotional connection with Bob, not love, but what he thinks matters to me and not because he might beat me. I want to make Bob happy. He praises me when I do a good job and corrects me when I don’t do something right but not by yelling at me. Cooking meals that he appreciates and keeping the house clean and in order are things that I actually enjoy. I don’t know if this is because I really enjoy it or I am trying to convince him to keep me here with him and out of the club.
I’ve been dressing sluttier recently, to see if I can get a rise out of him. I bought some short skirts and midriff tops the last time I went shopping, along with shoes with 3”and 4” heels. I’ve also been sunning topless by the pool. I decided Anthony can talk to Bob about any tan lines. I think Bob may be watching me closer, but I can’t be sure. I wouldn’t play poker with that guy for all the tea in China. Last night, after supper, Bob was sitting on the love seat watching TV. I had changed into a red babydoll nighty that barely grazed the bottom of my ass, with a tie in front. I sat down on the loveseat next to him and pulled my legs up under me. I was snuggled up against him, with my head on his shoulder. He reached an arm around my shoulder and gently hugged me. He continued to watch TV while I ran my left hand slowly up his left leg and across his waist. We stayed like that for a few minutes. I then pulled my hand back from his waist, letting it rest on his crotch. Nothing stirring that I could feel. I moved my head off his shoulder and moved up to his ear. I nuzzled it and nibbled on the lobe. Bob let me do this for a minute or so and then he slowly turned his head to look me in the eyes.
“Honey, I appreciate the attention from a stunningly beautiful and sexy woman such as yourself but I am afraid I haven’t recovered to the point of being able to respond appropriately. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you when you are under Dr. Hanson’s compulsion to have sex. Plus the fact that our current situation is only temporary. As soon as my condition improves, Dr. Hanson is going to insist that you return to the club. I can’t see any way to prevent this from happening and don’t want to give you any false hope about this.”
“Bob, if you can’t perform right now, I understand. Maybe that will change. I do want to have sex with you but it’s because I want to, not because I need it. I know that my time with you is short but I might as well enjoy it while I can. My memories of this time may get me through the rough times to come.”
“Unfortunately Honey, my experience is that past good memories just makes the current bad times more difficult to handle. They remind you of what you have lost. However, it is your life to live and I won’t tell you how to do it. You have been strong enough to survive up to now and you know what works best for you.”
And then he leaned in and kissed me.
It had been years since I was last kissed. Really, truly kissed. You would think that with all the sex I’ve had since the change, there would have been a lot of kissing but that’s not the case. Kissing is an intimate act and the last thing most johns want is intimacy. They have a lot of uses for my mouth but kissing isn’t one of them.
Bob’s kiss was tender and slow, lingering on my lips but not pushing. I opened my mouth slightly and he followed my lead. He was letting me control things. I let my tongue slip into his mouth and then I pulled it back. His tongue followed mine back into my mouth. We kissed for another few minutes, my arms around his neck. I let my right arm slip from his neck and then let the strap of my nightie slip off my shoulder. I pulled the arm free from the strap, returned it to his neck and then I repeated the process with my left arm., never breaking the kiss. Bob reached both his hands around and placed them on each side of my chest, under my arms, lightly against the nightie. I rise up while he holds it, freeing my breasts and sliding it down to my hips. Bob tips his head back and falls back onto the love seat. I roll with him, maintaining the kiss, ending up laying on top of him. I run my hands up his chest and unbutton his shirt. Still kissing. I rub my breasts against his chest. He reaches up and gently massages the sides of each breast, cupping them, then stroking them. His thumbs rub against my engorged nipples. I start giggling, finally breaking the kiss. Bob smiles at me. I look down at him, still giggling, as he continues to stroke my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
“What?’
“That tickles.”
“Just tickles?” He squeezes the nipples a little harder.
“OOOHHHhhhh yyeesss, that’s nice. Don’t stop.”
He slides down lower and starts to kiss my right breast, gradually working closer to the nipple, all the time still tweaking the left nipple with his fingers. He tongues the right nipple, then rapidly flicks it with the tip of his tongue, then sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the nipple. It feels like it is an inch long and his tongue is caressing every fraction of it.
“uuhhhhuuhhhHHH OOOHHHH BOB! HHUUHHAA WWHHEerree did you learn that? OOHHH Please don’t stop”
He switches to the left breast and starts again. I am in paradise. He keeps switching back and forth. I slowly push myself up and away from his grasp.
“Is there something wrong?” he asks.
“No Baby, not at all. I could stay here all night but you can’t be comfortable all scrunched up here.” I stand up and slide my nightie and panties down my legs to the floor, stepping out of them. “Let’s find somewhere a little more comfortable.” I reach out and take his hand, pulling him up off the loveseat. I lead him to his bedroom, making sure that I swing my hips as I walk, looking over my shoulder and smiling at him. We arrive at his bed and I turn him around, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and loosen his pants. I sit him on the bed and then kneel on the floor in front of him. I pick up one foot, untie the shoe, remove it and then the sock. I place the foot on my breast and then do the same to his other foot. I massage both feet for a moment then put them on the floor. I move up and straddle his legs, grabbing the waist of his pants and boxers together in both hands, pulling them down and free of his legs as I back away. I then move up and again straddle him, sitting in his lap, facing him. I kiss him again, arms around his neck as I grind my crotch against his. I can feel his cock but it isn’t hard. If I reach down and touch it, I’d only be emphasizing the point. I won’t embarrass him. I slid off him and around to his back. I pull his shirt down his back and arms until they are free. I start to massage his back.
I’d never really looked at Bob’s body before. Sure, I’d helped him in and out of the shower a few times but I always kind of looked away. But now I was getting a close look. Hardly an Adonis, but a broad back, strong neck, stout arms. Not what you would call good muscle definition. But it was funny, as I slowly ran my hands along his shoulders and back, I could feel the muscles just below the skin. I pressed harder with the palms of my hands. His muscles were very firm, taught and everywhere. He was just one big muscle covered with a layer of slightly fatty skin. If he worked out, he could be amazing. I reached around him from the back and massaged his chest. Same thing, muscles every place I touched. No gaps at all. I reached down to his thighs. They were much bigger than you would think from seeing him dressed.
It suddenly occurred to me. Bob always dressed in baggy clothes. Not stylishly baggy, just one size big, like he was trying to hide his real body size and shape. Why was that?
I didn’t get much time to think about this because he reached down and took my hands in his. He turned to face me, kissed me, then grabbed my waist and picked me up. He put me down on the bed, lay down next to me, reaching around and started playing with my breasts and nipples again. Both his hands and his mouth felt wonderful. This time, he worked his way down my body. His right hand traced circles just above my pussy. I began to get that itch down there that could only be satisfied one way. My legs were spread wide. Bob reached down and cupped my mound, rubbing my clit with his thumb while tonguing my right nipple.
“aaahhh mmmmmm uuuuhhHHH MMMMMMM OOOOHHhhhh You’re goooood.”
I raise my hips to increase the pressure on my clit. Bob picks up the pace, rubbing faster. He lets my breast fall from his mouth and starts to kiss his way down my stomach. He slides over me and down to my crotch, spreading my pussy lips with his thumbs and starts to lick my clit. I reach down with my hands and entwine my fingers in his hair. Bob buries his face in my pussy and I grind it against him, pulling his head closer. He doesn’t let up on my clit for a moment.
“uuuhhh uuuhhhh uuuhhhHHAAAHH AAHH OOOHHH Bob mmyyyy God ooohhh God Bob MMYY CLIT BOB OHH LICK MY CLIT BOB AAH LICK IT HARD!”
I was having trouble catching my breath. I could feel my orgasm coming. Bob took his hands off my pussy, reached up and grabbed my breasts and pulled on my nipples. He clamped his mouth on my cunt and blew hard, like he was trying to inflate me, inhaling through his nose and exhaling repeatedly. My vagina was pressurized. It was a very strange feeling, but a good one. He then went back to licking my clit while keeping the pressure on. I had never felt anything like this in my life. I tried to buck my hips but Bob’s forearms kept me pressed into the bed.
“PLEAASSE BOB UUHHHAHHUU OOOHHHH GOD DON”T STOP I”MMMM CUUMMING GODD CUMMMMING NOW! EEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
The orgasm raced through my whole body, muscles clenching and trembling as I my head thrashed back and forth. It was wave after wave, curling my toes and crossing my eyes. I literally couldn’t see clearly. I tried to raise my head to look down at Bob but I couldn’t focus and then the next orgasm hit me. I threw my head back and cried out again.
“OOOHHH OOHH HHUUHH HUUHH HUUHHAA AAHH FUUCK FUCCK FFUUUCCKK OOHH FFUUCK GOD DAMN OOOHHH!”
Bob lets go of my pussy and I deflate. He’s breathing hard, catching his breath, but he doesn’t stop pulling on my nipples and rubbing my breasts. I’m breathing pretty hard myself. I let go of his hair and prop myself up on my elbows. I still can’t see straight. I blink several times and my eyes start to focus as I look down at Bob. He’s looking back up at me, smiling.
You don’t see Bob smile very often, usually it’s just that annoying smirk. His tongue snakes out and licks my clit again. It is still sensitive from the last session and feels like an electric shock when his tongue touches it. My hips jerk but they are still held in place by his forearms. He is much stronger than he appears.
“No Bob, please, not again, not now. Give me a chance ooowww to rest. Please, please not now nnnoott nnoowww, oohhh mmmmmm ooohh pleeaassee mmmmmm.”
He doesn’t stop and in a few seconds I’m pretty happy that he didn’t. I put my hands on top of his as he keeps working my breasts, nipples and clit. Another orgasm is building.
I’ve had multiple orgasms many times, thanks to the need created by my addiction to Anthony’s semen, but these were different, better. Maybe it was because I wanted them instead of needed them. Maybe it was because someone was trying to please me instead of me trying to please them. Maybe it was because I love....
no, no, no I couldn’t love Bob. I’m a girl now, but I was a guy. I’ve got a guy’s memories. I can’t love another guy, besides I’m going to have to go back to the club soon and ... ooohhhh that feels goooddd!
“Yes, yes, yesssss. Oooohhh AAAhhhhhh YYEESSS! OOOHHH BOB YOUUU STUD YOUU!”
Bob plays me like a piano. I’m awash in orgasms again. Three, four, five, I lose count.
As I come off the high from the last one, I realize that Bob is no longer lying between my legs but has moved up next to me on the bed. I roll towards him so we are face to face. He reaches out around my hips and pulls me closer. I do the same around his neck. I kiss him with all I’ve got. Bob breaks the kiss.
“Does this mean you are ready for round three?”
“NO! Not right now, thank you very much! My clit will be tingly for hours. Where did you learn all those moves? I thought you weren’t James Bond.”
”We did receive training in certain techniques because you never know when they might come in handy, but most of my field work did not involve seducing beautiful women.”
I look away, blushing. He kisses my cheek and then moves to my ear, nibbling it.
“Please stop that. Be serious.” I turn back to look at him. “You know what I am, who and what I was. Why do you treat me so nicely?”
“Well, I treat you so nicely because I think that basically you are a good person and a stunningly beautiful woman. I never knew you as Josh Thomas so I don’t think of you as a man. I know that Josh Thomas appears to have been a rather large jerk but I never met him. I have met you and have found you to be a completely delightful woman, kind, courteous, hard working, and trustworthy, if you ignore your unfortunate inability to keep a secret when being tortured … which is not your fault. Why wouldn’t I treat you nicely?”
“Because I am nothing but a whore! I’ll fuck anything that walks or crawls into the club! I’ll let them fuck me or I’ll suck them off or let them fuck my ass and I’ll probably like it.’ I start to cry.
Bob reaches out and caresses my hair.
“Did you walk into Anthony’s club and say ‘Hello Anthony, I am here to apply for the job of whore’.”
I sniff “No, of course not.”
“Do you have any say in who you have sex with or what you do with them?”
“No.”
“Do you get paid for your services?”
“No.”
“So why do you do it?”
“If I don’t, Anthony will either beat the shit out of me or won’t have sex with me at least every twenty four hours, which is worse than the beating.”
“So then, you are not a whore, just the victim of a devious plan for revenge by a demented woman. Unfortunately, I have not been able to figure out a way to rescue you from this situation and I am very sorry about that. I truly wish that I could solve this puzzle.”
I reach out and touch his cheek. “It isn’t your fault. Amy’s a genius. She’s got me completely screwed, in more ways than one. You did all you could and I thank you for that. I also thank you for tonight. That may have been the best sex I’ve ever had, man or woman.” I glance down with a pout on my face. “I am upset that we could have been doing this for the last five weeks.” I look up to make sure he knows I’m joking.
“Why you insatiable minx! I wasn’t sure that I could pull that off tonight, let alone the last five weeks. We will just have to consider tonight the bar that we will try to top the next time.” He rolls away from me to the side of the bed, sits up and then stands up. He needs to hold onto the bedside table to avoid falling down. “I don’t know about you, but I reek of sex.” He reaches a hand towards me. “How about a shower before bed?”
“I think your odor is charming,” I say mockingly. I reach out and take his hand “but if you insist.”
Bob pulls me off the bed and I let him lean on me as we walk into the bathroom. We take a warm shower, washing each other’s bodies. I don’t want to make this too sexual because I don’t think I could handle round three right now. We rinse off and dry each other. Bob walks out of the bathroom without my help.
He turns down the bed and I climb in. He slides in behind me, spooning against my back. He kisses the nape of my neck.
“Good night Honey.”
I snuggle back against him, wiggling my ass.
“Good night Bob.”
I feel warm, comfortable, and safe. Bob is asleep in a few minutes and I join him moments later.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I am the first to wake. Bob is lying against my back, face down, with his arm draped across my body and around my waist. He’s snoring but not too loudly. I gently lift his arm and scoot away from him. I really need to go to the bathroom.
Slipping out of bed, I walk quietly into the bathroom and close the door. I lift the lid of the toilet, sit down and let the piss flow. I feel better now and dry myself. Checking my face in the mirror, I’ve got a terminal case of bed head. I try to straighten it out with my fingers but no luck. I return to Bob’s bedroom, pull a set of pajamas from his dresser and put on the top, leaving the bottoms laying across the bed.
I cross over to my room, enter the bathroom, pick up my hairbrush and run it through my hair a few times. That’s much better. A little lipstick and I’m ready to fix breakfast.
It’s going to be waffles this morning, one of Bob’s favorites. It’s the least I can do after last night. By the time I hear him stirring in the bedroom, I’ve already made half a dozen. My back is turned to the kitchen door as he comes in wearing the pajama bottoms. I see him out of the corner of my eye. I reach up and unbutton the top two buttons of my top, leaving my breasts exposed. I continue making waffles. He comes up behind me, reaching his arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck.
“And good morning to you too” I giggle. Bob reaches a hand into my open top and caresses my left breast. I melt back into his body, sighing. He gently pinches my nipple.
“Aaaahhh Bob, don’t youuuu want to eeeat first?”
“Let’s have breakfast in bed.” He brings his other hand up to my right breast, squeezing softly.
“The butter and syrup will make a terrible messsss.”
“Then I volunteer to clean both you and the bedroom after we are done.” He releases me, picks up the waffles, plates, syrup, butter and utensils, placing them on a tray. Bob picks up the tray and heads for his bedroom. “Coming, Honey?”
“I certainly hope to” I reply with a smile, following Bob as I remove my top.
I was right, it was a terrible mess. A terrible, erotic, orgasmic, fantastic mess. Waffles are now one my favorites too.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Anthony came by the next morning to make his delivery. Bob answered the door. I was in the living room.
“Good morning, Anthony. Excuse my appearance. I have had to do some deep cleaning in the bedroom. We were a little over-enthusiastic yesterday.”
Anthony seemed confused. “Isn’t that what Honey is supposed to be doing?”
“Normally yes, but I promised her that I would take care of it, didn’t I Honey?”
I walk to the front door, rise up on my toes and give Bob a deep, long kiss. “You certainly did Baby and you are doing a very good job. Good morning, Sir.” I nod my head towards Anthony. I turn to go back into the house. Bob lightly slaps my ass and I give a yelp. I look back at him, we are both smiling and I’m blushing.
“Please, come in Anthony. I need to speak with you and could use a break.”
“No that’s fine. Maybe some other time.”
“Please Anthony, it is important to me.”
Anthony hesitated at the door, trying to decide if coming inside was the smart thing to do.
“I promise that there will be no funny business, I just want to talk briefly.”
“OK, just for a couple of minutes. I’ve got places to be.”
“Excellent. I will not keep you long. Come in and have a seat.” Bob comes back into the house and Anthony slowly follows, looking around suspiciously. I’m in the kitchen doing the dishes but I can hear them talk and can see their reflections in the sliding glass door. Bob sits on the loveseat and indicates with his hand for Anthony to sit on the couch. He sits down on the very front edge, prepared to move quickly if necessary.
“First, let me apologize for how I treated you last month when I assaulted you. It was unfair to set you up that way, to ambush you so to speak. You were getting ready to beat me up, at the very least, but you had no idea who you were dealing with and that wasn’t fair. It is my policy to give a warning before going after someone, but I made an exception in your case.”
“Why the exception?”
“Because, you are too good to be warned. I have seen you in action and knew that if I gave you fair warning, I wouldn’t have been able to succeed with my plans.”
Anthony sat up and back a little into the couch, getting comfortable. There was a satisfied smile on his face. “You knew that I would beat you in a fair fight.”
“No, I knew that I would have a difficult time disabling you, that I would have likely been forced to kill you. It’s actually harder to disable someone than kill them. It is such a fine line. With the element of surprise, I was able to shift the odds in favor of ‘disable’ verses ‘death’”
“Bull shit. If I knew about your real identity, I’d have been prepared.”
Bob shook his head sideways. “Anthony, how many assassins have you fought in your life?”
“Probably none”
“I have fought many people in my life, some larger, stronger and faster than you. I am still alive and they are not. I do not say this to insult you. I would have killed you and quickly. It is what I do. You have a lot of native ability and would be a formidable opponent, with the proper training and practice, but you have neither. I do like you; you have been more than fair in all our prior dealings so I wanted to keep you alive. The trick with the cane and baton were my best options. I am sorry.”
Anthony rubbed the side of his head where Bob had struck him. “The cane and baton behind the knees weren’t the worse parts. My head hurt for two weeks.”
“Again, I am sorry but it seemed to be the best choice at the time. I am not going to try to persuade you that you would have lost the fight; you can believe what you will about that. Just believe that I do apologize for what I did to you and how it was done.”
Anthony looked at Bob with narrowed eyes, a look I had seen too many times before. He was undecided on what to do. Anthony may not have a quick mind but he isn’t stupid either. He can be pretty devious when given time. He put out his hand.
“I’m not admitting that you would have been able to take me in a fair fight, but apology accepted.”
Bob leaned forward and shook Anthony’s hand “I appreciate your forgiveness Anthony. I know that we can not have the same relationship as before, but I hope our future one is civil.” Bob released Anthony’s hand and retuned to his chair.
“This brings up my second point. It is hard to miss that you have chosen to provide your daily dose of Honey’s, shall we call it ‘medicine’, via bottle instead of personally. This has been going on for several months, since our original agreement was struck. I am sure that Honey misses your personal touch, particularly since I am still unable to get an erection despite the Doctor’s treatments. You are free to take Honey with you for a short while each day or use my home if you wish should you desire to return to personal daily deliveries.”
What the hell was Bob saying? That he wants Anthony to come here every day and fuck me or force me to give him a blow job? He never said anything to me about this. I thought that he lov ... liked me. How could he do this? I started to silently cry, arms resting on the kitchen sink.
MEN! They are all BASTARDS! You are a fucking ASSHOLE Bob!
Anthony was talking again. I blow my nose and listen.
“Actually Bob, I prefer it this way. Honey’s a great looking girl and one hell of a fuck, particularly about twenty hours after her last dose of ‘medicine’, but after three years it’s just not the same. When the Doc first came to me with this deal, I jumped at it, who wouldn’t? A sexy, barely legal teenager who would do whatever you wanted, would actually beg you for sex every day. She would never grow older, never get ugly, never get pregnant and I could also whore her out and have her dance at no cost. Where do I sign, you know? And it was great! The sex, the money … hell, the power. I owned that bitch! There was this time when ...”
Anthony looked at Bob and thought better of telling him the Dog Track story.
“Well, I won’t go into details but we had some great times.”
Great for him maybe. I’d cut off his balls if I didn’t need them.
“The point is that after three years, the thrill is gone. No matter how good she is, it’s ‘been there and done that’ ya know?”
“I thought it might be something like that. Dr. Hanson doesn’t understand a man’s need for variety. Even if you love Honey.... do you love Honey?”
“Are you kidding?! Not a chance in hell! When I call her a whore, I mean it. She’s probably fucked or sucked over 500 different men since I got her, not counting the Wranglers. Many of them twenty to thirty times each. If it wasn’t for the Doc’s treatments, she’d be a used up piece of cunt.”
“I would say that you don’t love Honey, which makes your need for variety in your sex life even greater. Frankly I am surprised you have lasted this long. Have you told Dr. Hanson about this?”
“Do I look suicidal? Hanson is flat nuts. She will do anything to make sure Honey is punished day in and day out. Whether by daily johns or Wrangler parties or dancing at the club or her ‘special customers’ every six months. If I told her I wanted out of the deal, I could end up as Honey’s ‘sister’. Hell, you almost did end up as Honey’s ‘twin sister’ before that trick with the phone call. I don’t have a bunch of people covering my ass.”
Anthony looked around to see if I was listening but couldn’t see me. He leaned in closer to Bob.
“I’d drop Honey in a second if I could. Oh, you were right about her knowing way too much about my business. You could have knocked my over with a feather when she answered all those questions about my contacts and sources.”
“Well Anthony, you do need to take some of the blame for that, using her as a ‘business incentive’.”
“OK, that’s right. Still doesn’t change the fact that she knows way too much and she’s only going to learn more. Plus the money isn’t that good any more. It’s the same problem, no variety. All the regulars are tired of fucking her and seeing her dance. A successful club rotates its’ performers to keep the customers happy. Out with the old and in with the new. I can rotate every one but Honey. It’s a good thing I don’t pay her or I’d be loosing money on her.”
“So that is why you were happy to accept my offer.”
“Damn straight. Once I came up with the ‘bottled medicine’ idea, it was smooth sailing until the Doc found out.”
“Who are these ‘special customers’ you mentioned?”
Yeah, who are they? Is that why I get the crap kicked out of me twice a year? Anthony pulled back from Bob.
“I may have said too much, let’s leave it at you’ve got your secrets and I’ve got mine.”
“I can not argue with that logic. Since Dr. Hanson interfered with our arrangement, I appear to have benefited without you being compensated for your loss. Has she paid you for the time Honey has spent here with me?”
“You’re kidding right? She never offered squat when I pointed out my reduced income without Honey. She threatened to take Honey from me and put her with someone else. Some gratitude.”
“I hope that calmer heads prevailed. The idea of bringing another person into this unstable situation is ludicrous. We need to reduce the number of people with dangerous knowledge, not expand it.”
“When you say ‘reduce’, do you mean...”
“No Anthony, I stick by my statement that I will not kill to solve this problem. There are other options to be pursued. But let me deal with your financial needs first.”
Bob stands and reaches into his back pocket, removing his wallet. He opens it and takes out a wad of bills.
“Honey has been here, what, five weeks? Would a thousand a week be fair compensation?” Bob reaches out with five one thousand dollar bills. Anthony’s eyes are as big as saucers. He jumps up from the couch and reaches for the cash.
“Sure, sure, that will be fine. She can stay here as long as you want for that kind of money.” He snatches the bills from Bob’s hand and pockets them.
“I will not be needing Honey’s services for much longer. Dr. Hanson’s treatments have pretty much lived up to her promises.”
“Except for your dick.” Anthony couldn’t pass that one up.
“Yes, I am not yet fully recovered but I have no complaints about my progress. I would imagine that Dr. Hanson will insist that Honey return to the club in the next two or three weeks, at most.”
“More’s the pity. I’d still be willing to stick with our original two days a week deal when she does come back.”
“I will keep it in mind, but there is no reason to do so. My original plan was based on me needing someone to provide quasi-nursing care, which no longer applies. I really don’t need her any longer.”
I feel faint. I grab a chair and sit down, putting my head on the kitchen table. Doesn’t NEED me? NEED? Who is this guy? I thought that he ... he ... that I ... we ... I don’t know what I thought. Bob’s treating me just like any of the hundreds of guy’s I’ve fucked over the years. Use me and toss me aside. What about me? The way he had treated me the last few days, the tender, erotic sex that focused on my needs made me think he was different. OH GOD, is this hell ever going to end! I’m crying and struggling to not make any noise.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
I open my eyes and look at the reflection in the sliding glass door. Anthony is headed for the front door.
“I do have a question for you Bob, if you don’t mind.”
“I will answer it if I can.”
“What would have happened if you had killed me?”
“Do you mean how would it have changed my plans?”
“Yeah that too, but what would you have done with the body? You couldn’t have moved me and Hanson certainly wouldn’t have helped. So what do you do?”
“Anthony, I never move to an area without establishing a body disposal procedure. You never know when you might need to get rid of one on short notice. I do not want to reveal any tricks of the trade, but I had that possibility covered. The bigger problem is cleaning up the mess a killing creates. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“I am glad we had this talk Anthony”
“Me too Bob.”
They shook hands again and Anthony left. Bob shut the door and then came back to the kitchen. I didn’t even try to get up, didn’t want to look at him, didn’t have the energy. He sat down across the table from me.
“Honey” he said quietly. “I assume that you listened to my conversation with Anthony. Did you hear everything?”
I just sat there, head in my arms, on the table, eyes closed, still crying.
“Honey, did ....”
“Yes, I heard everything!”
There was no reason for me to keep quiet now so I let it all out, loudly sobbing. “What is wrong with you? I thought we were ... I thought we had some ... thing. And then you go and pay Anthony just like every body else does. What do you see when you look at me? And now you’re done with me? Oh God, I can’t take this any more!” I’m crying uncontrollably. Bob just sits there, doing nothing.
I’m crying for like ten minutes, elbows on the table, head in my hands, and Bob hasn’t moved a muscle, just sits there, staring at me. He’s starting to piss me off. I look up at him.
“Don’t just sit there, say something!” I’m just sniffling now.
“What would you like me to say?”
“I can’t tell you what to say! Explain yourself! One minute you’re the sweetest, kindest, funniest, sexiest person I’ve met in years and the next minute you’re a cold hearted son of a bitch who talks about killing me or dumping me with all the emotion of reading a phonebook. Which is the real you? I’ve got to know!”
Bob gets up and comes around to my side of the table, sitting next to me. He takes my hands in his and looks deep into my eyes.
“No Honey, you don’t have to know.” I try to pull my hands from his but he won’t let go. “In fact, you can’t know and we are both fully aware of this.”
“But why not? Just tell me what is going on. Please.”
“Honey, I can not tell you anything because you can not be trusted to keep a secret. We both know that as long as you are addicted to Anthony’s semen, no secret is safe with you. I can not tell you my plan, I can not and will not even tell you if there is a plan. You get nothing except that I knew you were in the kitchen listening to every word. If Dr. Hanson asks, feel free to repeat it all, word for word.”
“So you just said those awful things to fool Anthony?”
He looked at me like he was in pain. “I can not say a thing about that. I will not tell you anything that I would not say directly to Amy. Always keep that in mind. If you get questioned by her, tell her everything, hold nothing back.”
I slowly pull my right hand free of Bob’s and wipe my eyes. They must look terrible, puffy and red. I must look horrible, makeup smeared and mascara running. I feel like my composure has returned.
“You know, you could have warned me.”
“Honey, did you even listen to what I just said?”
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s just that it would be nice to know ahead of time that you’re going to be saying horrible things about me.”
“Speaking of saying things about someone ‘sweetest, kindest, funniest, sexiest person I’ve met in years’?”
I stick my tongue out at him. “I can not say a thing about that.”
“Touché.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It was a week later and Bob was walking with a normal gait without assistance. He decided that he wanted to try jogging. We both went to the sporting goods store to get some exercise outfits. I tried to talk him into some of that Under Armor form fitting stuff but he insisted on the usual “One size too big” baggy sweatshirt, T-shirt, shorts and pants. I, on the other hand, found the cutest shorts and top set that really made my ass look great and legs look longer. The top was scooped necked so it showed plenty of cleavage too and they were both made of spandex so they showed off my curves. I also found this really narrow sports bra that lifted my breasts like a pushup bra but still had plenty of support so I didn’t bounce around too much. There were also these great shoes with just a little more heel but they were still stable and comfortable.
Plus I got a lot of attention from the teenage male salesman. Bob didn’t seem to notice. I bought three sets of everything, which made the kid’s day. He said it was nice that I was helping my “dad” get back into shape. Bob definitely did not like that comment.
Our first time out at the local track showed that both of us were out of shape, but Bob was worse than I was. He was always lagging behind me. I told him to pick up the pace, but he just said he enjoyed the view from the back. Judging by the way other guys heads whipped around as I passed them, Bob wasn’t the only one enjoying the view.
When we were cooling off on the bleachers, some big stud came up to me, totally ignoring Bob. He wanted to know if this was my first time there as he hadn’t seen me before and, I quote, “I would certainly remember some one as hot as you”. I told him that it was my first time here, and he was right, he would remember someone as hot as me. Bob spoke up and said that I was his personal trainer. The stud wanted to know my rates, but I told him he couldn’t afford them. Naturally, this pissed him off. I said that I was joking and that I would see him around. This seemed to cool him down. At least it cooled his attitude, the rest of him still seemed heated up, if the bulge in his shorts meant anything. We left shortly after that.
One of the interesting things about Amy’s treatments is that they are kind of like steroids. They will improve your health but if you work out, the benefits come much faster. We kept up the running and Bob rapidly got into decent shape. We added some weight training. He looked pretty much the same, just less of a pot belly and more endurance. His face was thinner, tauter. He didn’t really look any younger, which is unusual because most of the players who got the treatments appeared younger. Maybe Amy was giving him something else. Whatever it was, it seemed to be mostly working. Unfortunately, that meant our time together was going to end soon.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Bob had an appointment to meet Amy today at 10:00 a.m. at the clinic. She was going to give him a full examination to check his progress. Bob got up at 8:30 but I had been up since 7:00, too worried about what would happen. All of Bob’s injections had been at his house. This would be the first time back at the clinic since the showdown. I didn’t know if Amy was going to behave or not. I really hoped things went smoothly, otherwise it could be bad for everyone. Bob didn’t have any breakfast and I was too nervous to eat. I spent most of the morning doing laundry just to keep busy until time to go.
We left at 9:45; Bob dressed in his workout clothes. We drove to the clinic, parked in the front and walked in. The whole staff seemed to be there, but no one I hadn’t seen before. Most of them smiled at me, but I don’t think they were exactly friendly smiles. More like a “Yeah, I remember what we did to you and I’m happy we did it” smile. Since I was with Bob I decided to return their smiles with my “Screw with us and you’ll end up dead” smile.
Amy was waiting for us.
“Please come in Bob. I have a gown for you to change into.”
“Thank you Doctor but I will stay dressed as I am. You should be able to perform all the necessary tests on me if I remain in my regular clothes.” He took off the sweatshirt and pants.
“Fine, we will do it your way. Have a seat on the table.”
Bob hopped up on the examination table and Amy began her testing. She did blood pressure, throat, eyes, ears, lungs, heart, reflexes, flexibility, weight, and took a blood sample. He then did a treadmill stress test. Amy seemed satisfied with all the results.
“It would seem that you are in fairly good shape Mr. James. I am ordering an MRI to check for lesions from the MS and the results from the blood tests will take a few days but, absent any surprises, I would say we are ready to switch to maintenance treatments. One thing does concern me though. Normally my treatments make someone look younger, but your appearance has hardly changed.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that Doctor. I looked like this when I was in my twenties. In my old profession, that was an advantage.”
“Well, that is most unusual Mr. James. Since it seems the intensive treatments are at an end, I’m sure that Anthony will be happy for you to return home to the club and get back to work, right Honey?”
My heart sank. I knew this day was coming and thought I was ready for it but the reality hit me hard.
“Yes, Dr. Hanson.”
“Yes what Honey?”
“Yes, Anthony will be happy for me to go back to work at the club.”
“And what about you Honey, are you looking forward to getting back to dancing and entertaining the customers?”
She was going to rub my face in this. She wouldn’t go after Bob so she was taking it out on me.
“Whatever you say, Dr. Hanson.”
Amy bristled at my answer. “What do you mean by that, you little ...” Bob stepped in.
“That is enough, Doctor. We all know what is going on here so let’s stop the games.” She glared at him, but said nothing. I was probably going to pay for that when Bob wasn’t around. “I believe that you are correct Doctor. Assuming all the test results are good news, Honey will be able to return to Anthony’s club. When can you schedule the MRI?”
“I can probably get you an appointment in the next three days.”
“How quickly can you review the results?”
“I can see them that day, but I want a colleague with more expertise to also see them, just to be sure. That will take an additional day or two.”
“Fine, assuming nothing goes wrong, Honey will be back at Anthony’s one week from today.”
That’s it? No fight, no argument. He’s just going to hand me over? If I live to be a hundred, and I probably will thanks to Amy’s treatments, I will never understand that man. Bob slipped off the examination table and put on his sweats.
“Doctor, you can have the clinic call me with the date and time for the MRI. I will speak with Anthony myself about Honey’s return. Thank you Doctor. Let’s go Honey.” Amy stepped towards Bob and raised her hand to his chest, stopping him.
“I am curious as to what you intend to do about your protective friends now that the intensive treatments are over.”
“I sent them away weeks ago Doctor. They all have their own lives to live. I am on the standard random check schedule now.”
“And what is the ‘standard random check schedule’?”
“All of us participate in random checks with other members, just to make sure everything is fine for each of us. I am back on that program. If the check fails, that triggers an investigation. That investigation can involve some very ... intensive interrogation techniques. If the investigation discovers suspicious circumstances, that triggers retaliation. In my case, retaliation is the same punishment I previously described.”
Check and mate, Amy.
“I see.”
“I’m sure you do Doctor. Is there anything else?”
“No Mr. James, nothing else.”
“Let me know the test results when they become available. Good morning to you.”
We left the same way we came in, seeing the same smiles. I didn’t bother to return them this time. Bob started the car and we pulled into traffic, but didn’t head to the house.
“Where are we going Bob?”
“I need to speak with Anthony. Is he likely at the club this time of day?”
“Probably, but he might have some other business going on. He doesn’t like to be interrupted. Amy and I discovered that the last time we met him there.”
“We will stop by and see if he has the time to talk with me.”
We continued to the club, circled it and parked out front. Anthony’s car was in the back. We got out and Bob knocked on the door. There was no answer. Bob pulled out his cell phone and entered a number.
“Hello Anthony, this is Bob James. Honey and I are out front of the club. I just finished with Dr. Hanson’s examination and need to speak with you, if you have the time.... Not long, just a few minutes... Yes, what we already discussed.... We’ll wait.”
He flipped the phone shut.
“He will be here in a few minutes.”
I looked around. It seemed as if I hadn’t been here in months instead of weeks. Coming back was going to be harder than I thought. The door opened and Anthony stepped out. He looked around and let us in. There was no one else in the club.
“Do you want to talk here or should we go to your office?”
“Here’s fine. Honey, go to the bar and get us a couple of beers.”
I glanced at Bob and he gave a very slight nod of his head. I left to get the beers. When I returned, I approached slowly so that I could listen to what they were saying.
“...some way to get her to change her mind. I can’t keep doing this.”
“I agree, Anthony, but I can not be the one to bring it up. She may be treating me but she does not trust me. Of course, I do not trust her either so I can’t blame her. It depends on why she wants the addiction. There may be a technological solution to the problem. Schedule a meeting and I will be there. Oh, you are back Honey.”
Damn, Bob saw me. He reached out and I gave him the beers.
“Thank you very much.” He handed one to Anthony. “I believe that Anthony would prefer that you have a seat at the bar until our talk is finished.”
Anthony nodded his head so I reluctantly walked away. Both of them watched me. As soon as I sat down at the bar, they returned to their conversation. I strained to hear them, but was simply too far away. They talked for another few minutes, then stood up and shook hands. Bob signaled with his hand for me to come back. I walked back to the table. Bob took my hand.
“We will see you next week. Call me when you have scheduled the meeting.’
“Good bye Bob and thanks.”
“You can thank me if we succeed.”
We walk out and Anthony locks the door behind us. We got back in the car and Bob turned for home. We rode in silence for a few minutes. I had to ask.
“Why did you send me away? What did you talk about?”
“I thought that Anthony would talk more freely without you listening in. He has taken my observations about your knowledge of his activities to heart and wants to limit your opportunities to acquire more information. As far as what we talked about, I am afraid that is between Anthony and myself. I am sorry that you must be kept out of the loop.”
I cross my arms and drop my head to my chest.
“You don’t trust me.”
“On the contrary, I trust you completely. Don’t pout.”
“I am not pouting.” Actually I am and know it. I can pout better than anyone. It usually works with everyone except Amy and Anthony ... and now Bob.
“I will make it up to you. We can stop at the video store and you can pick out what you want. We can also get some take out so you won’t have to cook.”
“Why don’t we go out?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, go out, some place nice, with good food and wine and waiters and music, the works.” I was getting into this. “We get dressed up big and hit the town.”
“I don’t know about this Honey. Why would you want to go to all that trouble just to eat?”
Sometimes I just don’t understand men.
“It’s not just the food, it’s the whole experience. You feel special and beautiful and elegant. It'll be fun.”
“You just want to do this so you can buy some new clothes.”
“You’re right, we can’t do this today. I don’t have anything to wear. I need a new dress and shoes. Plus I need to get my hair and nails done”
“Whooaa, Wait a minute. I have not agreed to anything yet.”
“Please Bob, I haven’t been to some place really nice in years. We only have one last week together. Let’s make it the best week we can.” I give him the big doe-eye look with trembling lips. He glanced at me, glanced again, then returned his attention to driving. I can only see his face from the side but I think he’s smiling.
“Yes, you are right. Let’s go out with a bang.”
I’ve still got it.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Once Bob accepted the idea to go out, he got all mysterious ... well, more mysterious than usual. He wouldn't tell me where we were going to go; just that it would be Thursday, two days from today, and formal. I had that long to get my dress, shoes and any other clothes plus a hair and nail appointment. Bob gave me his credit card and made me promise to keep the damage to the low four figures. I said that I would do my best.
I first called Candi. That's not her real name, which is Donna, but she is the closest thing I have to a girl friend, always giving me fashion and makeup advice, helping whenever she can. She was really glad to hear from me and wanted to know where I had been for the last few weeks. Apparently the only answer Anthony would give to questions about my absence was "None of your damn business and get back to work." She was afraid that I was dead or something. I told her that I was OK, working on a special job that Anthony gave me and that I couldn't give her any details without getting into big trouble. She understood.
I then told her that a "Special Gentleman" was going to take me out for dinner at an unknown fancy place and that I needed a new dress and shoes ASAP. Also that cost was not a big problem. Naturally, she thought it was a gag, but I convinced her I wasn’t goofing her without giving too many details. She said that she knew the perfect store and that she’d be by at noon to pick me up. I had to check with Bob to make sure it was OK for her to come by his house. He said that wasn’t a problem and he appreciated that I checked with him first, said it showed proactive thinking. Fine, whatever.
I fixed lunch and was just finishing the dishes when Candi showed up. I let her in and introduced her to Bob, who was surprisingly gracious. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and we left. Candi waited until we got in the car.
"Is he the 'Special Gentleman'?"
"Candi, I’m not at liberty to say" I giggled.
"Uh huh" she replied with a knowing look. "Well what is so special about this gentleman, whoever he may be?"
"It's hard to explain. I think he cares for me, in his own way. He is kind, giving and gentle most of the time. Other times, he’s completely clueless, despite being maybe the smartest guy I've ever met."
"That doesn't sound special, that sounds like a typical man." She was teasing me.
"OK, the 'clueless' part is a typical man, I'll give you that. But it’s more than the usual selfishness you get from guys, it's like he doesn't have the vaguest idea what I’m feeling when he does or says something. If I bring it up, he has a perfectly logical explanation for what he did. My feelings just weren't part of the calculation. He'll apologize for making me feel bad, but it's clear that if he faced the same choice a second time, he’d do the same thing again. My feelings weren't that important to him."
"How do you feel about him?"
"Confused."
"At least you can admit it."
"I know, I know, our relationship, whatever it is, ... it's just complex."
"Aren't they always? More importantly ..." she leaned in and dropped her voice "... does he fuck your brains out?"
"CANDI PLEASE!" I'm blushing, as red as a stop light. "We're not like that."
"You're not fucking him?"
"Not exactly. We are having sex but it's all about him doing things for me, mostly oral."
"Is he any good?"
"World class" I sigh.
"Girl, what are you bitching about? You. Have. Got. It. Made."
"Well, we don't have a lot of choice. He's impotent."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Is it permanent?"
"We don't know. Doesn't really matter though. I'll be back at the club in a few days and who knows what will happen after that."
"He's not going to take you away from all that?"
"No, but it's not his fault. He tried."
"So what is all this date stuff about?"
"Just trying to make some happy memories to keep me warm on a cold winter night."
"Well then, Merry Christmas too you, we're here."
We were at a little boutique downtown, called "Marie's". I had heard of this place. It was very upscale. Neither of us was dressed for someplace this nice. I was just in jeans and V neck polo. Candi was wearing shorts and tank top.
"Don't worry, I know people. Come on."
We walk in the door and are "greeted" by a salesclerk. She gives us the stink eye.
"May I help you?" What she meant was, "Skanks, get the hell out of here." Candi took it in stride.
"Yes, my friend and I would like to see Marie. My friend needs a very special dress for a very special occasion."
"Ms. Marie does not see just anyone. I am sure that I can take care of your needs."
"Under normal circumstances, you might be right, but we would like to see Marie, if it is all the same."
"I am fully qualified ..."
Candi cut her off. "Just see if she is available. If not, fine, we’ll go someplace else and spend a couple of thousand dollars on an inferior product. We would prefer to spend our money locally. Tell her that Candi would like to see her."
"Candy?"
"No, Candi with an 'I'. Just tell her. She'll understand."
The salesclerk walked away, through the curtains into the back of the store, angry but defeated. I was afraid she was going to call the cops to come pick up a couple of whores giving her grief. Candi seemed at ease.
"Don't worry. We're here to make happy memories."
We waited for several minutes. I could hear a conversation taking place in the back but couldn't understand anything. A different woman stuck her head out of the curtains and looked at us. Candi smiled at her. The woman smiled back.
"Donna! How are you?!" The woman hurried out as Candi moved towards her. They hugged each other.
“I’m fine Marie, just fine. I’ve brought you some business. She’s a friend of mine who needs a little help.”
“Not another friend who needs a deal I hope.”
“No deals. This one might make up for all the others. We just need your expertise.”
Marie looks me up and down then reaches her hand out.
“Hello, I am Marie.”
I always hate this part. I have to give my name, which I despise. I put a smile on my face and shake her hand.
“Hello Marie, I’m Honey Sweet-Lay”
“No dear, not your stage name, your real name.”
Candi reached out and touched her arm. “That is her real name.”
“Oh my. Someone didn’t do you any favors, did they?” I smile for real this time.
“You have no idea.”
“Well Honey, what can ‘Marie’s’ do for you?”
Candi explained my situation. Marie had a thoughtful look on her face. She looked at me. “Are we talking from the skin out?”
Candi answered. “Why not? The sky isn’t the limit but we’re thinking 30,000 feet at least. I am hoping sexy but classy, your specialty.”
“I think I know where to start. Let’s go to the back and get down to business.”
Marie led us through the curtains into a luxurious fitting room with several racks of beautiful gowns and dresses. There were also stacks of color coded drawers. Marie reached up and picked a measuring tape from a hook by the mirrors.
“OK Honey, get undressed down to your panties, I need to get your measurements.”
I still feel a little uncomfortable about getting undressed in front of a stranger. I know that seems odd, but the stage and lights and costumes and music and pole provide some distance from reality, like it’s someone else dancing and striping. I pull the polo over my head, kick off my shoes, unzip my jeans, pull them down and step out of them. I slip my arms from the bra straps, unhook it and place it on top of my other clothes. My arms are crossed in front of my breasts. Marie smiles.
“So shy for someone in your profession. Don’t worry dear, we are all friends here. Now stand in front of the mirror, arms at your side, just relax.”
She first measures my hips, 35”, them my waist, 22”, and then my breasts, 36”. She also measures my chest below my breasts and above my nipples.
“I must say, that is one impressive figure Honey. You’re what, 5’4” or 5’5”, 110 lbs? You don’t usually find 36D breasts on a girl with your body type.” She reached out and lifted one of my breasts, massaging it. “It would appear that you are perfectly symmetrical and all natural too, very impressive indeed. We will need to find a dress that accentuates your natural assets. But first we must build the proper foundation. With that long blonde hair, green eyes and ‘peaches and cream’ complexion, I think that we will go with red as your basic color.”
She went over to one of the drawers and removed a bright red bustier. She gave it to me and I put it on. Candi helped fasten it. It was soft, strapless, and boned. Once completely fastened, it was very tight but not uncomfortable. It had half cups, so my breasts were pushed up on a shelf, with the top two thirds of my boobs and nipples exposed. She then gave me a pair of beige silk stockings. I sat and rolled them up each leg attaching them to the six garter belts dangling from the bustier. It wasn’t easy to bend over but not too difficult.
“What size shoe do you wear dear?”
“Usually a 4 or 5.”
“Such tiny feet. Do you take after your mother?”
How do I answer that? According to Amy, I’m a combination of the best features of many women.
“Yes, mostly after my mother.”
“What style of shoe do you prefer? Sling back, open toe, pumps?”
I wear “fuck me” pumps most of the time when I dance. They aren’t too bad but my feet still hurt like hell at the end of the day.
“Let’s try pumps with a heel that’s not more than 4” please.”
Marie went around the back stack and returned with two pairs, both cranberry red, one with a strap around the ankle. I tried on both pairs but the one with the ankle strap fit the best, like it was formed around my foot. The heel was 4” but didn’t feel that high. My legs looked absolutely great though. I walked around a bit.
“Don’t work the hips so much Honey. Remember, sexy but classy. You are not on stage. I will be back with some dresses.”
She brought six dresses of varying styles and lengths but my favorite was a strapless column dress in ruby red silk. It was tight across my breast, showing all my cleavage. I was going to have to put something on my nipples. It clung to my torso until it passed my hips, where it gathered itself and fell to my ankles. It was very tight but had a slit on each side cut to the upper thigh, just short of the top of my stockings, so that I could walk. Marie was pulling and tucking at the back.
“There needs to be a few alterations but it fits exceptionally well for off the rack. Of course, you will need to wear a thong with this dress, unless you decide to go without.” Fat chance on that.
Marie picked up a digital camera from the table. “Honey, stand over here and let me take a few pictures. You can show them to your hairstylist so that she can match your dress.” I posed front, back and both sides. She printed them and showed them to me. There was no doubt about it, I was smoking hot. Playboy Playmate of the Decade hot.
Marie was extremely pleased. “You should do this for a living Honey. I could sell a hundred of those dresses if a customer thought it would make her look like that. We must make sure that you get your hair done by an expert. Who were you planning to use?”
“I haven’t done anything about that yet, I don’t really know anyone.”
“Don’t worry, I will make some calls. I must have photos of the finished look though. Now, stand still and I’ll mark the dress for alterations. We should have it available by 9:00 tomorrow morning.”
Marie pulled and tucked the back of the dress, marking with a piece of chalk and inserting pins as she went.
“OK. You can take it off. Be careful, do not smudge those marks.” Candi unzipped me, I slowly slide the dress down and stepped out. She also unfastened the bustier and I removed it and the stockings. I got dressed in my old clothes.
“Tammy, please come here.”
The first salesclerk came out and Marie handed her the dress and lingerie. She avoided looking at us. Marie reached into her pocket and removed her cell phone.
“When is your date Honey?”
“Bob said to be ready by 6:30 Thursday night.”
“Then a hair appointment at 4:00 should be about right.”
She scrolled through her address book and dialed.
“Hello Anne. This is Marie of ‘Marie’s’. I would like to speak with Michelle if she is available.... Well then maybe you can help me. I have a special customer that needs an appointment for Thursday at around 4:00. Do you have any openings for Michelle?.... I’ll check and see.” Marie cupped her hand over the phone.
“She has a 4:30 available. That might push you a bit. Can you handle that?” Candi spoke up.
“I’ll help her, it should be fine.” Marie returned to the phone.
“She will take it ... Name? Hold on.” Marie cups the phone again. “What is Bob’s last name?”
“James, why?” She goes back to the phone.
“The name is Honey James. Thank you very much Anne. Make sure Michelle knows this is a special customer.” She closed the phone.
“I am sorry, but I just could not tell them ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’. This way, the name matches the charge card. I think that is everything for now. Let me get the bill.”
It was worse than I thought. I showed it to Candi but she was not worried.
“When he sees how you look, he’ll forgive you anything.”
Easy for her to say. She didn’t have to face him. I decided not to worry about it. Tomorrow is another day, right? I pulled my wallet from my purse, removed Bob’s charge card and gave it to Marie. She slid it through the reader and handed me the receipt to sign. I put the card back in my wallet and was returning it to my purse when Candi reached out and grabbed my hand.
“What purse are you using Thursday?”
“This one, it’s the only one I have. Why?” She takes the black, well worn clutch purse from my hand.
“Because it doesn’t match the dress.”
“Then I won’t take a purse.”
“You have got to have a purse. Where will you put you makeup, your wallet, your emergency stuff? Marie, we need a matching purse.” Marie looks at my old purse.
“You certainly need a new one dear, but I’ll loan you a purse for the night. It’s the least I can do.”
We then drove home and Candi dropped me off, promising to pick up the clothes in the morning and get me at 4:00 the next day. As she was getting ready to leave, I leaned in the passenger side window.
“How do you know Marie? Why was she so willing to help us?”
“Marie was a working girl a few years ago. She had a regular john who gave her a start and she ran with it, never looking back. This is not common knowledge so I expect you to be discreet. Any way, she hasn’t forgotten where she came from and still remembers her old friends. Plus she’s a good person.” I nodded my head.
“Thanks for all your help, I really appreciate it. See ya Thursday.” Candi drove away and I went in the house.
Bob was sitting on the couch, reading the paper. I came up behind him, reached around, hugging him around the neck and kissing him on the cheek. Bob didn’t look up.
“How bad was it?”
“What?”
“The bill, how bad was it?”
“I am insulted sir. Do you think I would attempt to trade my affections for mere money?” Bob looked up at me with one eyebrow cocked.
“That bad, eh”
“Oh don’t worry. I think you’ll find that it’ll be worth every penny when you see it.”
“Did you and Candi enjoy yourselves?”
“Yes. Yes, I think we did.”
“That’s the most important thing then.” Bob returned to reading his paper. I hugged and kissed him again then skipped off to the kitchen to start supper. It had been a good day.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Anthony sat in his office, looking at his phone. He was going to have to make the call but wasn’t looking forward to it. He wasn’t sure why he was so worried about what Amy Hanson thought. Maybe it was seeing daily what she had done to Josh Thomas. If she could get away with doing that to a famous football player, what could she do to him? Sure, he would be on the lookout for anything funny but she was a very smart, devious, vengeful bitch with some very powerful weapons. If he let his guard down for a minute, he could end up in that clinic of hers and God knows what would come out. Still, he couldn’t go on the way he was and Bob had promised to help him. Together they may be able to get Hanson to see the truth and work out something that everyone could live with. He sighed, picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello, The Hanson Clinic, how my I direct your call?”
“This is Anthony Coleridge. I’d like to speak with Dr. Hanson.”
“Please hold and I will check to see if she is available, Mr. Coleridge.” The elevator music started. He was on hold for a couple of minutes.
“Mr. Coleridge? Dr. Hanson will be with you in a moment. Please hold.” He held for another few minutes.
“Hello Anthony. What do you have for me?” All business, as usual.
“Honey will be back in the club at 11:00 in the morning on Monday. Bob will be dropping her off. I didn’t know if you wanted to be there or not, but I thought I’d let you know. Plus, we’re getting close to her six month tune-up and didn’t know if you had something special planned.”
“I have nothing planned beyond the usual ‘special customers’. Five cards have been distributed, so three will probably show up. Make sure the video tape system is working.”
“Are you going to be here Monday?”
“Ahhhh, let me check my schedule ... Yes, I can be there to welcome Honey home. I owe her a little something, that would be as good as time as any to deliver it. I’ll see you Monday then Anthony. Good bye.” She hung up. Good bye to you too.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I didn’t get a lot of sleep Wednesday night and not just because Bob showed me a new trick with ice cubes. I thought my orgasms would never stop. That man has a talent, no doubt about it. I was mostly nervous about our date. All my plans kept replaying in my head, trying to make sure I had thought of everything. It’s not like I had a lot of experience at this, at least from the woman’s side. I had gone out with all kinds of women, to all kinds of places, but was never as nervous as I am now, waiting to go out with Bob, not even close.
I can’t sleep so I get up, slip on a robe, walk out to the kitchen, fix myself a hot chocolate, sit down at the kitchen table and slowly sip it, staring into the dark, trying to figure out why this date has me in such a tizzy. After about fifteen minutes, Bob comes in, scratching his head and yawning.
“Is there something wrong, Honey? Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit antsy about our date today.”
Bob walks over and stands next to me, placing his hand on my head, stroking my hair. I turn to face him, look up and smile. He keeps stroking my hair.
“There’s no need to worry about anything. You will be beautiful, as always. We’ll have a good meal and a fine time. It is no big deal.”
Could he be anymore of a guy? No big deal? Then why is my stomach full of butterflies seventeen hours before go time? Yes ... why?
“Come back to bed. I’ll see if we have anymore ice cubes.” I stand up, put my arms around his neck and kiss him, hard and long.
“No more ice cubes tonight. I need my beauty sleep. We can buy a seven pound bag for tomorrow night if we aren’t out too late.” I take his hand and lead him back to bed. He slips the robe off my shoulders and it falls to the floor. We stand there, facing each other. He reaches up and gently pinches both of my nipples. I giggle.
“Please Bob, no. If I don’t get some sleep I won’t be worth anything tomorrow. Do you want me to fall asleep during supper and drown in my soup?”
“Honey, with your build, drowning is the least of your worries.” Men and their fascination with big breasts. We hug and kiss for a moment. Maybe I don’t need that much sleep. Bob breaks it off.
“Fine, bed it is.”
He slides in and pats the sheet. I slide in next to him and we kiss good night, my worries gone for now. Hot chocolate can work wonders you know.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Candi comes by at 9:30 in the morning. She has my dress, shoes and lingerie. She also brought a makeup assortment. I want to show Bob my dress but he doesn’t want to see it.
“I’d rather be surprised tonight. I have made arraignments to get ready elsewhere today. The house is yours for the day. I will be back at 6:30 tonight to pick you up. I can take the car or you can have it if you need it, your call.” Candi volunteers the use of her car so Bob kissed me good bye and left. We take the dress in my bedroom and I try it on to make sure the alterations are right. It fits like a silk glove. Checking out my reflection in the mirror, I can’t believe how good I look. If I was still a guy, I’d be all over me. That’s a weird image. Candi reaches up and fluffs my hair.
“Have you given any thought as to how you want your hair done? It’s so full and long, you may not have a lot of choices.”
“I don’t want anything tight, lacquered and stacked on my head because I’ll have to live with it all night. I’m thinking a slight soft wave, maybe a partial braid of some kind to reduce the length.”
“Why not just cut it?”
“Anthony won’t let me cut it, at least no shorter than it is now. He likes it long.”
“Why do you let Anthony control you like that? Just tell him to drop dead and leave.”
“It’s a long story and I can’t tell it to you. I’m sorry Candi. It’s not a trust thing, believe me. The less you know the better for the both of us.” I reach out and take both of her hands in mine. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, not just this date thing, but all you’ve tried to do before. You’re a real friend.” I’m starting to tear up.
“You’re welcome, Honey. You’re an easy person to like. Let’s get you out of that dress and try some different looks for tonight.”
I take the dress off and put on a sweatshirt. I’d showered this morning so my face was clean, a blank canvas. I sit down and Candi takes a long look at me.
“You are what, twenty two years old?”
“Yeah, give or take a few months.”
“I swear you look closer to seventeen or eighteen. Must be the genes.”
I’ve still got the original drivers license Amy gave me when I officially became “Honey Sweet-Lay”. I was supposed to be nineteen then and that was three plus years ago. With my tune-up treatment about every six months, I haven’t really aged in that time. In fact, I may actually look younger now than I did then. Of course, I can’t tell Candi any of that. I lied.
“Thanks, my mom always looked younger than she was.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She and my dad died in a car accident when I was fifteen. I lived with my aunt until I moved to Dallas when I turned eighteen.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Honey. That must have been rough. Do you keep in touch with your aunt?”
“She doesn’t approve of my career choice, so we don’t talk … I’m pretty much alone.” Candi leans forward and hugs me. I hug her back.
“Well, let’s see what we can do with that perfect skin of yours. We ought to go for a more mature look so people won’t think Bob is some kind of creepy cradle robber. How old is Bob anyway?”
“I don’t know for sure. How old do you think he looks?” Candi has a thoughtful look on her face for a few moments.
“You know, I have no idea. I’m usually pretty good at that sort of thing but he is a puzzle. It could be anywhere from twenty eight to forty. That is so weird.” She shakes her head. “Let’s get started on the makeup.”
We spend the next two hours trying different looks, some dark, some light, some heavy but nothing was quite right. Candi was getting frustrated.
“I’ve got some magazines in my car. I’ll get them and we can see if anything looks right.”
She brought them in and we spread out in the living room, searching for inspiration. I finally found a photo spread in an old “Redbook”, kind of a retro look with bold lipstick and long lashes.
“Hey Candi, what about this?” I handed it to her.
She held the picture next to my face at arms length and cocked her head to the side. “With your hair, skin and eyes, this might work, particularly with that dress. Let’s try it.”
We scamper back to the bedroom and get the look worked out within a half hour. It’s almost noon so we go to the kitchen and I fix a light lunch. Candi offers to help, but it’s the least I can do after all she’s done for me. Besides, the way that dress fights, I don’t want to eat too much before supper. Candi finishes her sandwich as I put my dishes in the washer.
“That was really good Honey. I think you could be a cook professionally.”
“Thanks, Bob’s said the same thing. I think we’ve done all we can until the hair appointment at 4:30. That leaves about three hours to kill. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”
“We could lay out by the pool.”
“I didn’t bring a suit and I doubt that I could fit in one of yours. Maybe the bottom, but certainly not the top.”
“Who said we need suits. I lay out topless a lot. It’s very private. We could just go au natural.”
Candi giggles “You naughty girl you. OK, let’s do it.” She starts to strip out of her clothes and I join her.
“Go ahead and put your clothes in my bedroom. I’ll get some lotion. Do you want anything to drink?”
“You got any beer?” I walk into the kitchen and check the fridge.
“No beer but there is some white wine, a Zinfandel I think. It’s cold already.”
“That’ll do” Candi says as she walks out of the bedroom. She is a beautiful woman. I’d seen her naked before at the club but the back room of a strip club is not a very erotic place, despite what you may think. It’s dirty, smelly, hot and noisy. Here at the house, she made a different impression.
I’ve had sex with a few women since the transformation, usually as part of a threesome set up by one of Anthony’s suppliers. It wasn’t as enjoyable as sex with men. I still have all my memories from my days as a man, but Amy’s changes have gone beyond physical changes. I have mood swings. I look at babies differently now. Sometimes, when I see one, I want to pick it up, hold it and never let it go. As much as I hate to admit it, men are more attractive to me now. My erotic dreams are much more likely to be about me with a man rather than a woman. Women still popup now and then but only about five percent of the time. I think that the best way to describe my situation is a female brain with some male memories. It’s more than simple conditioning from all the sex I’ve had with men. I’ve now got a woman’s drives with a woman’s needs and desires. Nature verses nurture. I think I heard that in a psyche class once.
For whatever reason, Candi has my interest. When you think about it, my relationship with Bob has been a lesbian relationship. His cock never comes into play. He’s a guy and I don’t think of him as anything but a guy and I really wish he could get an erection, but it has been lesbian sex all the way. Wondrous, glorious, mind blowing lesbian sex. I slowly walk up to Candi and take her hand.
“Let’s go outside. I’ll take a towel and you can have the lounger.” We walk out to the pool together. I’ve got the wine in an ice bucket with two glasses. Candi has the towel and lotion. She sits in the lounger and I lay out a towel, putting the wine between us. I squirt suntan lotion on my breasts and then slowly spread it over my boobs, shoulders, arms and stomach. I squirt some more lotion on my hands and bend over, giving Candi a good view of my ass, covering my legs with lotion. Then I pour a glass of wine, set it next to my towel, pour a second glass, hand it to Candi along with the lotion.
“Do you need any help with that?”
Candi looks me up and down, probably noticing that my nipples are hard and pussy lips puffy.
“Not right now. Thanks for the wine.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know when you need a refill.”
I lay down on the towel face up while Candi slathers lotion on her body. We lay out for about a half hour, sipping wine. I refill Candi’s glass twice but not mine. I don’t know exactly what Bob’s plans are and I don’t want to be tipsy. I roll over onto my stomach.
“Candi, could you do my back?”
“Sure, hold on a sec.” She finishes her third glass of wine and then gets out of the lounger. She picks up the lotion, kneels on the towel next to me and squirts it onto my back. It’s warm because the bottle has been in the sun.
“Oooowww, that’s hot. It’s nice.” Candi starts to rub the lotion on my back, working across my shoulders and around my chest to the sides of my breasts. She then pours more lotion on my ass and massages it in. I raise my ass slightly, moving in rhythm with her motions. I also spread my legs slightly, giving her better access to my pussy, just in case she feels the need to touch me there. She does.
“Mmmmm, that’s good. OH yes.” She then moves down my legs to my feet. She returns to the lounger after pouring herself another glass of wine.
“Thanks for the help Candi. You’re very thorough.”
“Anytime Honey.”
We continue this way for another 10 minutes and then Candi turns over.
“A little help Honey?”
“Sure thing.”
I pickup the lotion and kneel next to the lounger. I start with her shoulders, working my way down her back. Her head is laying to the side and she sighs gently as I massage the lotion in. I work the sides of her generous breasts. They aren’t as big as mine and she has implants but it was a quality job. I lean into her lower back and she sighs again. I squirt more lotion on her butt and start to massage her cheeks. She raises her ass and spreads her legs just as I did so I return the favor, though I give her pussy a little more attention.
“AAAhhhh Honey, you have a nice touch. Oh yes ... very nice.
I move down her legs and finish by massaging her feet, squeezing some more sighs out of her.
“That was really nice Honey.”
“We aim to please, Ma’am.”
I lay back down face up, legs spread about a foot, giving Candi a good look. Her head is turned my way but her eyes are closed.
“Honey?”
“Yes, Candi.”
“You must be uncomfortable on that towel. This lounger is big enough for both of us.”
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to get too hot.”
“You can never get too hot, Honey.”
Actually, you can, but I wasn’t going to explain it to her.
I stood up and walked over to the lounger. Candi turned over and scooted to one side. I laid down next to her, my feet down by her head. We lay there for a few minutes. I let my hand slide down her legs to her pussy. I rested the palm of my hand on her mound and massaged her slit with my thumb. Her breathing rate increased. I push my thumb past here pussy lips. Her hips jerk a little. I pull my thumb out and insert my index finger, moving it slowly in and out. She raises her head and looks at me with a sly smile on her face. I pickup the pace with my finger.
“You may be right Honey. This is a little small for two people.”
“What do you suggest we do about that?”
“Why don’t I get on top, then you’ll have room to spread your legs.”
“What a great idea. And you can do the same.”
Candi climbed out of the lounger and stood up. She was a little unsteady. Four glasses of wine will do that to a person. I lay flat on my back and spread my legs. Candi stepped over the lounger, straddling my face. She lowered herself onto my face and then laid her body on mine with her face in my pussy, the classic 69 position. I spread her pussy lips with my fingers and started to lick her clit. She did the same to me. Candi then started grinding her groin into my face while she finger fucked me, first with two fingers, then three. I followed suite. I could feel an orgasm starting to build. Candi picked up the pace of grinding her crotch so she was also probably getting close too. We were both moaning into each others muff, so the neighbors couldn’t hear much. I licked furiously at her clit and she did the same to me. My orgasm was coming, so I reached around and grabbed her ass, pulling her crotch to my face just as she stuck her fingers deep into my cunt. I cried out as the orgasm washed over my body.
“Ohhhh Honey, don’t sttttoppppp Oh OH Oh OHHHH YYYEEESSSS”
So, Candi is a shouter. I soon found out she was a squirter too. Her juices covered my face. The tremors in her body started to subside. I decided to try one of Bob’s tricks. I spread her lips and clamped my mouth to her cunt. I started to inflate her vagina just as Bob did to me. I then rapidly diddled her clit with my tongue.
“Honey, what are you doing? What iiiiissssss that? Ohhhh yes, yes, yeSSS OOOHHH YYEESSS. OH GOD! DON’T STOP! OH SHIT! SHIT! OH GOD!”
I should stop this right now. If Candi kept this up, the cops would be here in a few minutes and they would get a good show.
“OH GOD HONEY! I’VE NEVER ... OH GOD ... PLEASE UUUHHHH AAHHHHH FUCK IT! OH GOD DAMN! PLEAAASSSSEEEE! AAAAAAAHHHHHHH.......”
This time her orgasm hit like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t keep contact with her bucking hips. She was sitting upright on my face and I was having trouble breathing. I pushed my head down the lounger, away from Candi’s crotch. She collapsed backwards, breathing hard, barely staying on the lounger.
I climbed off the lounger. My entire upper body was covered with her juices. I decided a quick dip would solve my problems, so I dove in. A few minutes of rubbing my body and I was reasonably clean. I climbed out and picked up the towel, drying off.
Candi just stared at me. I knelt next to her. “Are you OK?”
“Honey, what the hell was that?!”
“Just one of Bob’s little tricks.”
“One of his tricks? How many does he have?’
“Oh, a couple dozen or so to date.”
“Are they all just as good as that one?”
“Pretty much … though the best one may be what he did yesterday.”
“And this is what you’ve been doing every night for the last six weeks?”
“Not the last six weeks, the last two weeks though, yes.”
“And you’re still alive?”
I laugh “Yes, of course I’m alive. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been more alive.”
“Honey, I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life. It was completely amazing! I almost blacked out there for a second.”
“Well, the four glasses of wine probably had something to do with that.”
“You’re could be right, but trust me, it’s worth it.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Oh Honey, keep this man no matter what. I swear to God! What time is it?”
I look in the kitchen and see the clock on the microwave.
“It’s 2:30.”
“What can we do to kill the next hour and a half?”
“Well, I can show you some more tricks if we take it inside. I didn’t know you were a shouter.” She blushed.
“I can normally keep it under control but you surprised me.”
“We may need a sound-proof room for this next one.”
“Are you kidding?”
“I kid you not.”
“OK, what do I need to do?”
“Just go inside, wash the sunscreen off and wait for me in the bedroom. I’ll get the ice cubes.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Time flies when you’re having fun. It was 3:40 before I knew it. We took a quick shower, dressed and headed for my hair appointment. Candi had brought a digital camera and had taken a few pictures of me with the makeup. We already had the pictures of me in the dress. We got there at 4:15 and Michelle was available.
“Hello ladies, I’m Michelle. You must be the friends of Marie. We always try to keep Marie’s friends happy, good for business.” Candi reaches out and shakes Michelle’s hand.
“I’m Candi and this is Honey James, she’s the special customer.” I also shook her hand.
“Well Mrs. James, what do you have in mind?”
“It’s Ms., not Mrs., and please, call me Honey. I have some pictures here ...” reaching into my purse, I pull out the envelope with my dress and makeup photos “... of my dress and the planned makeup. It’s kind of a retro look so I was thinking to just add some body and wave to it, but I’m open to suggestions, you’re the expert.”
Michelle opened the envelope and starts to flip through the photos.
“Very nice. Yes. I see what you mean. Oh my, that dress was made for your figure. Really extraordinary. Let me get my portfolio and you can see some examples. Would either of you like something to drink?”
Candi was still a little tipsy so she asked for black coffee and I took a water. Michelle came out with a large, black three ring binder and we all sat on a couch with the portfolio open on a coffee table in front of us. Michelle started flipping the pictures.
“You don’t usually find someone whose hair is so long. Is cutting an option?”
“Afraid not.”
“I can handle it either way, just wanted to establish the boundaries. What is the event?”
“It’s just a date.”
Candi had to speak up.
“Now be honest. It’s not just a date. It’s their first and likely last date for some time to come. He’s taking her someplace fancy, but won’t say where. After this, they may not be able to be together for awhile.”
“All this for a first date? How romantic. Is he in the military and going overseas?” I thought I better end the speculation quickly.
“Bob works for the government but I’m not free to say anything else.” I shoot Candi a look, hoping she isn’t too drunk to follow my lead. “We both want this to be a special night and Marie agreed to help me.” Michelle seemed to accept this.
“Mum’s the word then. Here’s a possibility, what do you think?”
We looked at about ten different pictures. None were exactly right but Michelle was able to get a good idea as to what I wanted.
“Alright let’s get to work. Honey, you come over here and we’ll wash your hair.”
“I washed it less than an hour ago.”
“I can tell you did but we have special shampoos and conditioners. Just relax and leave it to me.” I decide to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
After the shampoo came the rollers, the chemicals, the dryer, the waiting, the manicure and finally the pedicure. Michelle removed the rollers and started brushing and fluffing my hair.
“Honey, I need to do a little trimming, not much, I promise.”
“Fine, I’m completely in your hands.” She took a pair of scissors and started snipping, a little here, a little there, and then went back to brushing and fluffing.
“I’m going to use some spray now. Close your eyes for a moment.” Michelle kept fluffing but also sprayed something at the same time. She did that for about two minutes.
“You can open your eyes now.”
I opened my eyes as she spun me towards the mirror. I was stunned. My hair was full around my head, but less than the classic “Big Texas Hair”. It then spilled over my shoulders and down my back in shinning golden waves. It was brighter than I had ever seen it before. I reached up and touched it. With all the spraying, I expected it to be stiff and sticky but it was soft. I gave my head a shake and my hair flowed around my head, returning to its’ original shape when I stopped. My nails were bright red and glossy.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Oh Michelle, it’s perfect! I’ve never looked so good in my life! You are an artist … a genius!” I get out of the chair and spin around. My hair trails behind me like a comet’s tail. It seemed several inches shorter. “I didn’t realize you cut off so much.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not cut, just curled. After the perm wears off, it will go back to the original length. Honey, I’d like to add you to my portfolio, if you don’t mind. This turned out better than I had thought it would and I don’t have any pictures of anyone with hair this long.”
“Sure, no problem. What do I do?”
“Let’s go to the lobby. I have a neutral wall I use as a backdrop.”
We walked to the lobby. Candi was waiting, reading a magazine. When she saw me, she squealed with delight.
“Oh MY GOD! Is that you? You are beautiful! Turn around, turn around.” I do a little pirouette and a bow, shaking my head. Candi comes up and hugs me.
“I can’t wait to see you in that dress with that hair. Bob is going to need a gun to keep the men off you.”
“Trust me, Bob can take care of me and himself.” Michelle reaches behind the counter and picks up her camera.
“Honey, stand right here.” I pose in front of the wall. Michelle reaches out and moves a few hairs, then cups my chin in her hand, moving my head around until she is happy.
“Ok. Big smile.” I give her one of my best sultry smiles and she takes several pictures, again moving my head a couple of times between shots.
“All done. I’ll get the bill.” I check my watch. It’s 4:55. We’ve got about an hour and a half to get done. Michelle hands me the bill. Damn! Thank God, Bob’s paying for this. I pick up my purse, pull out my wallet and give her his card. She swipes it and hands me the receipt to sign.
Honey James. It has a nice ring to it.
We return to the car and drive back to the house. Candi parks in the garage and we walk in. I pick up my dress and lay it out in my bedroom along with the lingerie, shoes and stockings. I start to get the makeup but Candi stops me.
“Let’s do this in the kitchen. I have a portable makeup mirror in the car and the light is better in the kitchen.” We pick up the makeup case and equipment and move to the kitchen. She gets the mirror and sets it on the table. I pull up a chair and sit down. Candi starts with the eyes, a pale highlighter under my eyebrows and a darker shade on my eyelids. She then applies dark brown eyeliner. Finally she curls the lashes and uses the mascara. Candi leans back and checks her work.
“I’m going to darken the eyebrows a little more than we originally planned. If we weren’t trying to make you look older and more sophisticated, I wouldn’t touch them. They are damn near perfect as is.”
She takes a brown eyebrow pencil and shapes them with short, light strokes and follows up with an eyebrow brush. She sets each item aside when done with it.
“Make sure you put all of these in your purse before leaving. You can use them to do any repair work during the evening. Now ... where’s the blush?”
She checks her case and finds the powder blusher. She pauses with the brush above my cheek.
“You usually use this to hide or de-emphasize flaws, but you just don’t have any. I’ll just start light and go a little darker on the upper cheek.”
Candi brushes the two colors on my cheeks and then blends them with the brush.
“OK Honey, let’s make those lips luscious. Pucker up.”
She first applies a bright red liner, then the basic red lip color and finally the lip-gloss. She puts the sponge applicator back in the lip-gloss tube, “and we are done. Take a look.” I don’t immediately recognize myself. It’s me but amped up, me plus. The look is just right, more mature, sophisticated but not too much.
“Candi, it’s perfect. You would think that I wasn’t even wearing makeup. It all seems so natural. Except the lips, of course.”
“I told you, makeup is mostly used to hide something but you’ve got nothing to hide. I’ve never seen a more perfect face. All I had to do was not go overboard and pick the right colors. How are we on time?” I look at the clock on the microwave.
“It’s almost 6:00 so we’ve got a half hour.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
“I’d rather finish now and be done. I’ll have some time to get used to the shoes and that tight bustier.”
We go back to my bedroom and I strip. Candi helps me into the bustier and pulls it tight while I hold onto the door.
“How much tighter do you want this?”
“Just a little more” I gasp.
“Remember, you’re going out to eat. You’ll need a little room for that unless you plan on just eating soup and salad.”
“You’re right. Let’s stop now and tie it off.” She ties the laces and I let go of the door.
I twist and flex my torso. “Not bad. Tight but flexible. What do I do about my nipples? I need to cover them.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want people staring at me all night.”
“Honey, we are long past that point already. There’s not a man, gay or straight, within 100 yards that won’t be staring at you tonight. Same for the women. You can take some Band-Aids and put them in your purse but I say leave them uncovered and give Bob a show. You’ve got the classy part down, the nipples are the sexy.”
“OK” I giggle. “I’ll start out your way.” I roll the silk stocking up my left leg and fasten it to the garters and then I do the right leg. I’m ready to step into the thong panty when Candi stops me.
“Remember, Marie suggested going without.”
“Not a chance in Hell. I’ve never gone commando before and I’m not going to start now.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. A naked pussy gives you a whole new attitude, particularly with that high slit in your dress.”
“I am not going to do anything to embarrass Bob. Besides, I can always take it off later if I feel like it and Bob doesn’t object.”
“Chicken.”
I stick my tongue out at her and slide the panty up my legs, settling the thong strap into the crack of my ass. I slip my feet into the shoes and tighten the ankle straps. I should be able to just about look Bob in the eyes. I’m just under 5’9” in these heels and he’s just over 5’10” barefoot. We’re a good fit. Candi picks up the dress.
“OK. Here we go. Hands up.” I raise my hands and Candi lifts the dress over my head and drops it down. I wiggle as she pulls the dress down my body, past my hips and then zips the back. My nipples are barely visible. I arrange my hair and turn around.
“Oh Honey. I ... you ...” she starts to cry.
“Please Candi, don’t cry. If you cry then I’ll start and then my makeup is ruined.” She smiles and touches my cheek.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It is all so perfect. The hair, the dress.”
“And your makeup” I add.
She waives off the praise. “That was easy.”
“For you maybe, but it would have been impossible for me. I just do stage makeup and not very well. You’ve been a lifesaver all through this. I can never thank you enough.” I hug her and she hugs me back.
“You are welcome Honey. I’ve enjoyed spending Bob’s money.” We both laugh. “Do you have any jewelry?”
“Come on, where would I get jewelry?”
“I just thought that Bob might have given you something.”
“Bob’s given me so much Candi. If I had jewelry that was worth anything, Anthony would have sold it.”
“That’s true. You go walk around in the living room for practice and I’ll clean up in here.”
I walk out to the living room. The dress is still a little tight around my legs, despite the slits. I need to take slightly smaller steps than usual. A higher slit would free up my legs but then I would be flashing my panties with every step. After some practice, I’m feeling more comfortable. I walk in to the kitchen to practice on a hard surface. Candi is just finishing packing away the makeup. She hands me my purse.
“There you are. All the spare makeup, brushes, your wallet, two tampons, four Band Aids and a few condoms.”
“I won’t need the tampons or condoms.”
“You never know, best to be prepared. We need to take some pictures. We promised Marie that we would. I brought a camera with me ... where’s my purse?”
“I think you left it in the car”
“You’re right. I’ll be right back.”
Candi comes back with the camera. We step outside to take the pictures in natural light. I don’t get anywhere near the pool, why tempt fate? Candi takes several shots as I turn left and right, smiling all the time. The doorbell rings. I look at the kitchen clock. It’s 6:29.
“That’s Bob! Come on! I’ll get in my bedroom and you answer the door. Once he’s in the living room, you come and get me and I’ll make my grand entrance.” The doorbell rings again. “Hurry!”
I move as quickly as I can in this dress and Candi goes to the door. She waits for me to close the bedroom door and then she opens the front door. I’ve got my bedroom door cracked open so I can hear what is happening.
“Good evening Candi. Is Honey ready?”
“She certainly is. Come on in and I’ll get her. I hope you’ve got a strong heart because you’re in for a big surprise.”
“Speaking of surprises, would you be kind enough to take this to her before she comes out.”
“What is it?”
“Just something to finish her outfit.”
Candi knocks on my door, opens it and then walks in, shutting it behind her. She hands me a small box, about the size of a DVD case but thicker.
“This is from Bob.”
“What do you think it is?”
“No idea. He says it’s to finish your outfit, like straight men have any idea about that sort of thing. Go ahead, open it.” I crack the case and then lift the lid. I scream.
“Ohmygod! Candi look at these! Ohmygod!” I hand her the box with trembling hands. She takes it and looks inside.
“Holy Crap! Are these real? They can’t be real ... are they real? Jesus Christ!” She reaches into the box and carefully removes a silver chain with a heart shaped diamond pendant. She holds it up to the light.
“God damn, I think it’s real. And big too, maybe two, three carats.”
“What about these?” I remove a pair of silver earrings with diamonds dangling from three inch chains. She lays one in her hand next to the pendant.
“I think that if this one is real, so’s the other one.” The earring is about one quarter the size of the pendent. “Anything else in there?”
“Yes, these.” I take out a pair of diamond studs. Candi takes one and compares it to the other jewelry.
“I think you’re three for three.”
“I can’t take these. My God. What are they worth?” I can’t believe Bob bought me jewelry.
“Who knows, probably more than the dress. Maybe he didn’t buy them. Maybe their loaners, like the purse. Come on, I’ll help you put them on.”
I go to my mirror and Candi holds my hair back while I put the earrings in. My ears are double pierced and, obviously, Bob remembered it. I hold my hair up and Candi latches the chain. The pendent nestles into the beginning of my cleavage. I turn and face Candi.
“Well?”
“Damn Girl. Bob has great taste, you sure he isn’t gay?” I raise my hand to hit her. “Kidding, kidding.” So am I. I shake my head to arrange my hair.
“Let’s get this show on the road. Wish me luck.”
“Good Luck Honey. Knock him for a loop.” She opens the door and I stride out.
Bob is standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back, a big smile on his face. He is dressed in a tux and it actually fits. Fits pretty damn well to tell the truth. He’s always been an average looking guy and has gone to great lengths to remain average looking. But even an average guy can be impressive in a tux.
Bob’s very impressive.
I walk towards him until I’m about six feet away, then I stop and turn slowly in place, looking him in the eyes over my shoulder as I turn. He’s still smiling but his eyes are wide in surprise. I finish my turn and step close to him, head tilted slightly down but looking up into his eyes. It’s my innocent school girl look, a bit of a contrast with the dress, hair and makeup but for most guys, it’s an instant erection. I use my quiet voice.
“Do you like it?” Bob stares at me for a couple of moments, that smile still on his face. He blinks several times and shakes his head slightly.
“I am speechless, Honey. Absolutely speechless. You are a heavenly vision of beauty. Never in my life have I seen a woman as lovely as you. I have traveled the world several times over, seen the high and mighty, the lowest of the low, and in all my travels, in all my existence, you are the most captivating, alluring, enthralling, glamorous, gorgeous, erotic, magnificent, human being I have ever laid eyes on.” I step next to him, reach out, take his hand in mine and press my breasts to his arm.
“That’s a lot of words for someone who’s speechless,“ I purr. Bob turns to face me, takes my other hand in his and pulls me tightly to him.
“All of them are completely inadequate, I assure you.” We stand there, lost in each other’s eyes. I don’t know how long it is but eventually Candi gives a stage cough.
“I don’t mean to be a spoiler here but I think you guys have a reservation somewhere.” Bob remains focused on my eyes, but answers her.
“Unfortunately, you are correct Candi.” Bob releases my right hand, turns to face Candi and wraps my left arm around his right arm. “We do need to be leaving but before we go I would like to thank you for all the help you have given Honey in the last few days. You made all this possible and I won’t forget that.” He looks over at me. “Ready to go?”
“I just need my purse.” Candi has it in her hand, she gives it to me. I let go of Bob’s arm and hug her.
“Thanks again Candi. You’ve been a wonderful friend.”
She kisses me on the cheek. “Enjoy yourselves, you two.” She picks up her stuff in the kitchen, goes to the garage, and drives away. Bob holds his arm out and I take it. We walk out the front door. There’s a limo parked in the street in front of the house.
“Oh Bob. I haven’t been in a limo for years. This is wonderful!” We walk out and the driver opens my door. He can’t take his eyes off me and doesn’t try to hide it. Bob sees this but doesn’t do or say anything.
It’s not a stretch limo but has plenty of room for two. Leather seats, wood paneling, media center, fridge, mini-bar, the works. The driver turns around, checking out my legs.
“Would you care for some music, Madam? Sir?” I slide closer to Bob and he reaches out, taking my hand and entwining his fingers with mine.
“No music I think. We are not far from the restaurant.”
I perk up. “Where are we going to eat? You’ve been so mysterious and secretive about it up to now. You can tell me, can’t you?”
“I suppose so. The reservations are at “The French Room’.” It is one of the best restaurants in the country, certainly the most romantic in town. Unfortunately, I am banned there. I lean in close to Bob’s ear.
“Uh Bob, I’m banned from ‘The French Room’.”
“Banned? Why?”
“Five years ago, I was there with a date and had a little too much to drink. I punched out the maitre de.”
Bob laughed. “You mean that Josh Thomas got a little drunk and punched out the maitre de.” Oh yeah. Josh Thomas. “Don’t worry about it, Honey. They have probably forgotten all about it. I doubt they will recognize you anyway.” He pats my leg. “We will be fine. Do you want something to drink now?”
“No thank you. Candi and I had some wine earlier today while lying out by the pool. Candi had a bit more than I did” I said, giggling.
“She seemed to be handling it well.”
“You saw her after a couple of hours and some coffee. She was pretty loose earlier.”
“And did you take advantage of her ‘looseness’?” Bob’s eyes were twinkling, one eyebrow arched, and that smirk, of course.
“I wouldn’t say that I took advantage of Candi. I can say that I worked up an appetite.”
“By slaking other appetites?”
“What does ‘slaking’ mean?”
“To cause to subside with or as a thirst with a refreshing drink.”
I thought about this for a moment. “Yes … I think. How do you know words like that?”
“Honey, I am a victim of excessive education. You can describe it all in great detail when we get home tonight.”
“You sure you want to hear about that sort of thing? I don’t want you to be jealous or anything.”
Bob lets go of my hand, slides his right arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. “Honey, it is important for you to understand something. When someone who looks like me is out with someone who looks like you, he has to accept the fact that every red blooded male around …” he nods at the driver “… is going to be giving you a great deal of attention. There is nothing I can do about it short of making you wear a burkha, which I wouldn’t do. These men will be extremely envious of me and with good reason. Some may try to do something about that envy. Try to show that they are a superior, alpha male or belittle me. Testosterone makes idiots of us all. None of these men will have any knowledge of our unique situation. I plan to mostly ignore anyone who shows you excessive attention. If you find someone particularly appealing, you can do what you want about it. I won’t try to control you because I can’t control you, only you can control you. I will take action if someone threatens you or you ask me to step in. I will not take action if someone threatens me. I prefer to walk away. If there is some kind of altercation, the police will be involved, charges may be filed, the dead man’s family may cause problems, who knows what may happen. I prefer to avoid all that because, when you get right down to it, who cares what some drunk, macho asshole thinks about me. I tell you this so you know that when I act like I don’t care about other men showering you with attention, I am feigning indifference because it is the best course of action, not because I don’t care about you.”
“Oh Bob ... do you really care for me?”
“That is the part of my speech that you focus on? You weren’t concerned about my reference to a dead person?”
“Come on Bob. I know what you’re talking about. Hell, I was that drunk, macho asshole. Luckily, I never ran into someone like you or I would have been that dead body.” I turn sideways, pressing my breasts into the side of his body, running my leg across his while I reach my arm across his waist. “I understand exactly what you said and I agree with you one hundred percent. No trouble, no police. Looking like this, I’m a trouble magnet if we go to the wrong places, but ‘The French Room’ should be very safe.” I kiss him full on the lips, snaking my tongue into his mouth. He responds so we kiss for a minute or two. I pull back. “Besides, there is no male more alpha than you. Now, please answer my question, do you really care for me?” Bob laughs.
“You are the sexiest woman on the planet, you know that? Yes, I really do care for you.” He stops smiling, turning serious. “You will need to remember that. We have had an enjoyable time in the last few weeks but that is ending soon. You will see and hear things in the coming days that will make you question my feelings for you. All I can say is, be strong. Remember, I will not tell you anything that you need to keep secret from Dr. Hanson. Do not try to keep secrets. It will lead to trouble. And on that somber note, we have arrived.”
We pull up to the Adolphus Hotel. I quickly check my makeup. I need to touch up my lipstick and Bob needs to remove it from his lips. There is a line of cars, so I have time to finish the job. Bob wipes his mouth with a Kleenex. The driver pulls to the front of the hotel, stops, gets out and opens the limo door. Bob steps out first and then offers me his hand. I take it and smoothly exit the limo. Being a dancer, I have excellent body control. I take Bob’s arm and we walk to the front door. I give the doorman a big smile as he opens the door and we go in.
“The French Room” is on the main floor. It’s ornate, with high ceilings. The seating is very intimate even though it’s a big place. You feel like you’re the only couple in the restaurant. Since it’s Thursday, they aren’t that busy. We’re shown directly to our table. Bob holds my chair for me as I sit down, smiling up at him. He sits down across from me. The waiter shows up almost instantly. He introduces himself as Chris, hands us the menus and leaves us to look them over. Bob puts his down.
“You are the one who’s been here before, what would you suggest, Honey?”
“I’ve only been here a couple of times and I think I had fillet mignon every time, which was very good. I hear the guinea hen stuffed with lobster is extraordinary. They have a variety of dishes available, not just French cuisine. I think the name ‘the French Room’ is more about the décor than the menu. With this dress, I’m thinking something light.”
“Honey, you have what you want, hearty, light or nuveau cuisine. If you can’t eat it all, that is why God made doggy bags.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Chris returns shortly.
“Are you ready to order, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. I will have the fillet mignon, medium rare, sautéed mushrooms, garden salad and consume.”
“And what will madam have?”
“I’ll have the guinea hen stuffed with lobster, asparagus tips with Hollandaise sauce, a small Cobb salad and French Onion soup.”
“Chris, I would like to change to French Onion soup.”
“Certainly Sir. Would either of you care for anything to drink?” Bob thinks for a moment.
“I think that we would like some wine, but I’m not sure of what would go well with both of these dishes. We certainly won’t drink two separate bottles. If your Sommelier has a suggestion, I am willing to listen, otherwise I will just have water. Do you want anything Honey?”
“Some wine would be fine, if not wine then just iced tea instead of water.”
“I’ll check with the Sommelier and be right back with your soup.” The waiter leaves. Bob reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“You never have iced tea at home. Why order it now?” I shrug.
“Sometimes I like tea. The odds are that the kitchen will use more salt than I am used to and, for some reason, tea keeps me from getting dehydrated. Now, where have you been all day?”
Bob had taken a room at a nearby motel and used it as his base of operations for the day. He had picked up the jewelry earlier today, the same with the tux. I lean in closer to him.
“Ahh about the jewelry ...” I hesitate as another man approaches our table.
“Good evening, Sir, Madam. I am the Sommelier, Winston. I have reviewed your order. May I suggest a half bottle for each of you, there will be little waste. Our house wine is from Napa Valley and both the Cabernet and Riesling are quite good.”
“That would seem to be a good idea. What do you think, Honey?”
“The Riesling will be fine. Thank you.” Winston leaves just as the waiter returns with our soup and salads.
I’m famished so I start eating right away. The soup and salad are both excellent. The main course arrives just as I finish my salad. Winston was right, the Riesling goes very well with the hen. Bob seems to be enjoying his meal and wine. He asks me how my day went and I describe all the prep work Candi and I did today. I left out the details about our time by the pool and in the bedroom but he clearly suspects something.
“It sounds like you both went to a lot of trouble to get ready for tonight. I don’t know if I am worth all that effort.”
“It wasn’t all for you, it was for me too. I wanted to experience the whole big date process and you made it all possible. I wanted to feel special, appreciated.”
“Do you?”
I blush. “Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you.”
“Please, Honey. I should be thanking you for all your effort and the stunning results. We won’t cross the path of a single man tonight who would not happily trade places with me.” I blush again. I lift the pendant from my chest.
“I have to ask. I don’t want to sound cheap or crass or anything but …” I lower my voice, “… is this real?”
“Of course it is real. You are holding it in your hand aren’t you? Do you think it is imaginary?” He’s smirking again.
“OK smarty, you know what I mean. Is this a real diamond?”
Bob smiles. “Yes, Honey, it is a real diamond, as are your earrings. And so is this.” He reaches into his pocket and brings out a small box. He slides it across the table to me.
“What is this?”
“It’s just a gift, the same as the earrings and pendant. Go ahead, open it.” I open the lid and move some white batting aside. It’s a silver ring with three diamonds.
“Oh God Bob! It’s beautiful! .... What exactly does this mean? Are you asking me ...” I can’t finish the sentence.
“It’s just a gift Honey. It is not anything more than that.” I feel relieved ... and disappointed.
“Oh sure ... of course ... a gift. I can’t take these. They’re worth too much. Amy would never let me have them and Anthony would never let me keep them. I’ve got no place to hide them at the club.”
“We can talk about it later. Try it on.”
I take the ring from the box and put it on my finger. It’s a perfect fit. I hold my hand up to the light, watching the reflections. It’s a little hypnotic. A silly smile crosses my face.
What if I was Mrs. Honey James? Leave the club, escape Amy’s clutches, live with Bob the rest of my life. Could I do that? Marry a guy? I shake my head. No. It can’t happen. That would be both impossible and too weird. I’m not going anywhere. Amy will never release me. However, I’m not going to think about that tonight.
“It’s beautiful Bob, everything is. Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome. Let’s finish our meals. The night is young.”
“What else do you have planned?”
Bob gives me a sly look. “Later, after the meal.”
“Well I’m just about finished. There’s no more room in this dress.” I eat the last of the asparagus and put my utensils on my plate. The waiter is quickly beside the table.
“Are you finished, Madam?”
“Yes I am. It was all delicious.”
“Would you care for some coffee or some dessert?” It looks like Bob won’t be finished for a few minutes.
“I’m afraid that there is no room for dessert but I will have some coffee, black please. I’d also like to take the leftovers home. They’ll make a wonderful midnight snack.”
“Very good, Madam.” The waiter picks up my plate and hurries off.
“You know that he has been watching you like a hawk, don’t you?”
“Maybe it’s just good service.”
Bob almost chokes on his steak. He laughs. “Yes, that’s probably why the entire kitchen staff have been taking turns checking out this table.” I turn to look towards the kitchen and see two workers in white duck behind a partition. “There has been at least one person there the entire meal, usually with a cell phone camera. I would guess that your image will be spread across the internet before we get home tonight. I hope none of the other patrons have suffered from a lack of attention.”
I’m shocked. “Do you really think someone will do that?”
The waiter returns with my coffee and the leftovers in a foil wrap. I thank him and he leaves but now that I’m paying attention, I notice he doesn’t go very far.
“If the photos do you justice, most certainly. I was not offering hollow praise when I told you how devastatingly attractive you are tonight. I would wager that pictures of you are bouncing from cell phone to cell phone even as we speak. The internet is next.” I start to feel self-conscious.
“Should we leave?”
“No, no, of course not. I thought something like this might happen, but once I saw how unbelievably gorgeous you looked, it became a rock solid certainty. Just be your self and don’t worry about it. Your picture was all over the sports magazines and newspapers for over fifteen years. I would think you‘d be used to it by now.”
“Sure, as a football player, but not as a teenage internet pin-up girl.”
“Don’t worry about it, Honey. Tomorrow you will go back to being your regular sexy self instead of tonight’s Goddess.” Bob finishes his meal as I drink my coffee, carefully looking around to see who may be watching and recording me.
Bob puts his utensils down. “That was a delicious steak Honey. Your recommendation was on the mark. Are you ready to leave?”
“I think I need to use the little girls’ room first. Where are we going from here?”
“Just down the hall.”
“What’s down the hall?”
“The Adolphus has a big band playing this weekend and tonight is the first night. We are going dancing.”
“Dancing? I can’t dance.”
Bob looks surprised. “You can’t dance? You’re kidding, right? Up until six weeks ago, you were dancing practically every night.”
“I’m guessing there aren’t many poles on the dance floor. If there are, then I can really wow the crowd, but we’re talking about ballroom dancing, not lap dancing.”
“If I recall correctly, Josh Thomas got a B+ in his college dance class.” Where did he get that from?
“Ok, your right. That was one of the few classes I actually showed up for.” Primarily for the babes who were in the class. “But that was almost twenty years ago and I learned the guy’s part. Plus this dress is way too tight for any big moves.”
“Fine Miss Negative, we will go and just listen to the music.” Bob stands up, picks up my leftovers and offers me his arm. I stand and take it.
“Don’t you have to pay the bill?”
“I have already made arrangements for that.”
“I hope you made sure to leave a good tip for the waiter.”
“I did, but getting to stand next to you was probably better than any tip I could leave.”
I giggle. “Let’s go you flatterer.” We walk out and I notice a number of heads turning our way as we go. I still need to go to the bathroom.
“Bob, could we wait until I go to the bathroom?”
“You go ahead and I will take your midnight snack to the limo and put it in the fridge. Be right back.” Bob heads for the lobby and I start looking for the restroom. It’s not far away. There are a few women there when I walk in. They are subtle about it but they check out the competition. I go in the stall, close the door, pull my panties down, hike my dress up and sit on the stool. I just need to piss, probably the coffee. I dry myself after I finish, get my clothes back where they belong and walk out of the stall. One of the women is still there. I wash my hands and then check my makeup. The lips could use a little repair work so I take the lipstick from my purse and reapply it, following with the gloss. I brush my hair quickly and smile. Yep, this is a fucking killer look.
“Excuse me dear.” I look over at the other woman, she’s probably mid thirty’s and very attractive, not as attractive as me, but tonight, who is? “That is a lovely dress. May I ask where you bought it?”
I smile at her. “Thank you. You look very nice yourself. The dress is from ‘Marie’s’.”
“I thought it might be from her shop. She has the most wonderful inventory. I’m Gwen Francis.” Oh crap! Why did she have to introduce herself?
“Pleased to meet you Gwen, I’m Honey ... James.”
I used Bob’s name at the hair dressers so why not now? I just can’t bring myself to tell people that I’m “Honey Sweet-Lay”.
“Are you here for the dance?”
“Well, we had dinner at ‘The French Room’ but we’re staying for the music. I don’t know how much dancing we’ll do.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“I’m here with Bob James ...” oooppps “... my husband.”
I was trapped and had to think fast. I had already to told her my name was ‘James’ and now told her Bob’s name. It was too weird to have the same last name without being married. I turn my back to her, reaching for my purse. I quickly switch the ring to my left hand, turning it into a wedding ring. “I better get out there, he’s probably waiting for me.”
“I know my husband Tom is. Let’s go.” I hadn’t planned on picking up a bathroom buddy. We walk out. She waives to someone. A tall, handsome, well dressed man waives back and heads our way.
“This is my husband Tom. Tom, this is Honey James. She and her husband Bob are also here for the dance.” Tom offers his hand and I shake it. He has a strong grip and holds my hand just a little longer than normal. He has that look in his eyes that I am all too familiar with. He wants me. He may not do anything about it because his wife is standing right next to him, but he wants to fuck me. Where is Bob when I need him?
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Honey. Maybe you would favor me with a dance later tonight.” Tom is starting to ramp up the charm. Most of the time, guys don’t have to try to charm their way into my panties, they just pay Anthony. Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, it’s just usually not necessary.
“I’m happy to meet both of you, Tom. Gwen told me you were here for the dance. My husband Bob and I just ate at ‘The French Room’ and I don’t know how much dancing we’ll be doing. I know that I ate more than I should have.” There, I included both his wife and my husband in that response. I hope he gets the hint.
“From looking at you Honey, I’d say you hadn’t eaten in a week. You have such a trim, toned figure.” He didn’t take the hint. Gwen either doesn’t notice or care that her husband is starting to hit on me. “Are you sure that you won’t promise to give me at least one dance?”
Gwen touches my arm. “You really should take Tom up on his offer Honey. He is an excellent dancer. You would enjoy the experience, trust me.’ Huh, that’s a bit odd. “Let’s have a seat and wait for your Husband.”
There is a small couch near the bathroom entrance. Gwen sits down and takes my hand, gently pulling me down next to her. Once I’m sitting down, Tom squeezes in next to me. OK, it’s official. I’m being double teamed. They both want me. Gwen does the innocent pick up and Tom comes in to help seal the deal. I wonder how they plan to handle Bob. I’m almost curious enough to let them play out their game, but since they have no idea who and what Bob is, I can’t afford to take any chances. Just then, I see Bob. I stand and wave my hand to catch his eye.
The first thing Bob does when he enters a room is to stop and slowly survey it. When he looks my way, he sees the wave and smiles. He starts walking towards me and I go to meet him. I hug him when we meet and whisper in his ear “Follow my lead.” I take his hand and walk back to Gwen and Tom. Under other circumstances, I might be willing to give them a tumble, but not tonight.
“Gwen, Tom, this is my husband Bob James.” To his credit, Bob doesn’t blink. “Bob, this is Tom and Gwen Francis.” Bob and Tom shake hands. Gwen looks a little disappointed. So, it was going to be a swap. She must have thought that someone as hot as me must be with a really good looking guy. Her husband gets me and she gets my “stud” partner. I have to stifle a laugh. It would serve her right to complete the swap. She’d find out that Bob is much more than he seems. I bet that I’d be getting the short end of the stick, so to speak. “It turns out that they are going to the same dance we are. Tom has been politely requesting that I save a dance for him.” Bob nods his head.
“If I were he, I would do the same. I thought you said that you did not plan on dancing tonight?”
“Well, maybe some of the slower dances, but they will be all with you.” I kiss Bobs’ cheek. “I’m sorry Tom.”
“You can’t spare a single dance?” He is so desperate to fuck me. Gwen seems a bit put out.
“Please, Tom, don’t make a fool of yourself.” Tom shoots Gwen a stern look. He just lost his wing man. She’s not willing to settle for Bob in order for Tom to get a crack at me. That’s her loss. I smile at both of them.
“We had better go get a table before they are all taken. I’ll certainly enjoy watching you two out on the floor. See you later. Come on Bob, let’s go get a good table.” We walk away, hand in hand. Bob leans in close to me.
“What was all that about?” he whispers.
“I’ll tell you later. I want to get a table where we can see the show.”
“It is just music. I don’t believe there is a show.”
“Oh I think there may be an interesting show. We’ll see.” I look back at Gwen and Tom. They are surveying the growing crowd, Gwen is pointing at a nice looking couple. Picking a new target I bet. We entered the ballroom. There were tables of assorted sizes with long table cloths, seating two, four, six or eight, arraigned around the room and a raised band stand. The middle of the room was open for dancing.
“Are there reserved tables Bob?”
“No, we can sit where ever we want. Do you want a table for two?”
“Definitely. I’m not in the mood to share you with anyone tonight.” Bob gives me a funny look. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain shortly.” There were a dozen couples already seated. I notice that there are a few small tables in a raised area on both sides of the band stand. “Let’s sit over there. We’ll get a good view of the band and the dance floor.”
“That’s true, but it may be a bit loud that close to the band.”
“You may be right, but I’d like to start there. We can move later if we have too.”
“Your wish is my command, Honey.” We take a table that is perfectly positioned to see the entire room, which means the entire room can see us. Bob holds my chair for me, then sits down and scans the room.
“I’ve always meant to ask, why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Any time you enter a room the first time, you check it out, looking from left to right. What’s that about?”
Bob pauses for a moment. “Force of habit I guess. I was not aware I was doing it. Probably looking for the nearest exits, possible threats, planning escape routes. That sort of thing. It is mostly subconscious I suspect. I am surprised you noticed.” He looks over at me and smiles. “I have always marveled at how perceptive you are. Do you want to tell me about Gwen and Tom now?”
“Just one more thing to do and then I will.” I raise my hand to get the attention of one of the waiters. Three of them immediately start moving our way but one is closer than the others so he gets there first. The other two look disappointed.
“Yes, Madam, what can I do for you this evening?”
I turn to Bob. “Champagne?”
“Whatever you want Honey.” I turn back to the waiter.
“I would like a bottle of champagne please.”
“Very good Madam. Any particular year or variety?”
“Krupps, dry, any year but 2001.” The waiter looks at Bob, who grins and nods his head at me.
“You heard the lady.” The waiter bows slightly and leaves. He’s back within three minutes with a bottle in a silver ice bucket, a napkin and two fluted glasses. Bob slips him some money. The waiter quickly checks to see what he has and smiles broadly.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, sir. Do you want me to open the bottle for you, sir?”
“No thank you, we will let it chill a bit longer.”
“If you need anything else, just let me know.” He bows again and is gone.
“You know, Honey, I did not realize that being with you guaranteed such prompt service. You likely take it for granted.”
“I’m as surprised as you are. This is only the tenth or eleventh time I’ve been out in public since the change, and most of those times were when Anthony wanted to show me off.” I look around and all the waiters are looking my way. “Of course, it makes all the sense in the world when you think about it.”
More people are coming in and sitting down. I see Gwen and Tom walk in, talking with another couple. They are younger than the Francis’s, both good looking. Gwen and Tom seem happy with their choice.
“Alright Bob, open that bottle, pour me a glass and I’ll tell you what happened while you were gone.” Bob picks up the bottle, wraps it in the napkin and carefully opens the champagne, catching the cork in his hand. Typical Bob James, classy, not showy. I hold up the glasses and he pours. I hand him a glass, we clink rims and drink. Bob settles back in his chair.
“Go on, Honey. What happened?”
“We were nearly picked up.”
“We?”
I proceed to tell him of my conversations with both Gwen and Tom, why I decided to become “Mrs. Honey James” for the evening and what I suspected they were attempting to do. “You and I had never discussed the possibility of ‘wife swapping’, so I wasn’t sure how you would react to the suggestion. Plus, we haven’t prepared a cover story, so the lies would start piling up fast. I thought the best thing was to get away as soon as possible.” Bob was smiling/smirking. He turns and checks out Gwen at her table.
“I don’t know, Honey. She is an attractive woman. I think maybe I should be angry with you.” I reach out and pat his hand.
“She’s the one who rejected you, Bob. It pissed me off. She thought that she and her husband were hot stuff. We could have rocked their worlds, but she didn’t know it. I bet Tom gives her hell later for not taking one for the team so that he could get to me.”
Bob laughs. “Sex with me is ‘taking one for the team’?”
I giggle and rub my foot against his leg under the table. “You have to admit that you are bit of a surprise package. No one looking at you would suspect that you are a sex…ma…chine.”
“Is that what I am?”
“Uh huh. A skilled, caring, surprising, erotic s-e-x-m-a-c-h-i-n-e Baby. And I don’t plan on sharing you with anybody, particularly someone as superficial as Gwen Francis.”
“Well when you put it that way, I guess I approve your course of action.” He looks back at Gwen. “Still ...” I lightly kick him under the table. He laughs. “Just kidding, just kidding. How sure are you that they intended to suggest a partner swap?”
“Pretty damn sure. That’s the type of vibe I’ve become very good at picking up, but there is one way to make sure. That’s the show I was talking about. From here, we can see what happens at their table and on the dance floor. I bet that we will see a couple of attempts at seduction. But first ...” I look around for our waiter, catch his eye and signal with my hand. He’s here in moments.
“Yes, Madam?”
“I would like to send a bottle of champagne to that table.” I point to Gwen and Tom. I look at Bob. “OK?”
“You are getting very good at spending my money, Mrs. James. Yes, go ahead.” Bob slips another bill to the waiter.
“Thank you, sir. Right away, sir.”
The musicians start to come out and take their places on the bandstand. They begin to tune up. The waiter takes the champagne to the Francis’ table. I can’t hear what he is saying, but he points to us. All four of them turn to look at us and we raise our glasses to them. I see two confused faces and two forced smiles. Gwen nods towards me and I nod back. They all turn back to the middle of their table and resume talking. I move closer to Bob.
“We’ve provided the social lubricant. Now it’s up to them.” The band continues to tune up. Tom opens the champagne, popping the cork across the room. Yeah, I made the right choice. He fills the four glasses and they turn to toast Bob and me. We return the toast.
The band leader comes out and does a little intro, then they kick off with “The Porterhouse Stomp”, at least that’s what I thought he said. Big Band and Swing aren’t exactly my kind of music but these guys are good. It takes a couple of songs before someone breaks the ice and starts dancing, then there’s a rush to the floor. Gwen and Tom start off together, but they have switched off by about the fifth song. I look over at Bob. He hasn’t been watching the floor, he’s been watching me.
“What?”
“You have been tapping your feet and swaying in your seat. You sure you don’t want to dance?” I wasn’t aware of that. It’s hard to sit still when the beat kicks in.
“When they have a slow song. This dress is just too restrictive. I might have gotten something with a full skirt if you had let me know your plans.” The band stops the Swing song they are playing and shifts to a slow one. Bob smiles and offers me his hand. I take it and he leads me to the floor. When we get there, he lifts my arm above my head and leads me into a quick spin. He then puts his other arm around my waist and pulls me tight. I put my other hand on his shoulder.
“Ok now, nothing fancy. You know I’m out of practice.”
“Absolutely Mrs. James, nothing fancy.”
The crowd has thinned out just a bit. Bob moves and dips through the other dancers. I’m able to keep up with him, mostly because he is moving backwards and sideways so I’ve got somewhere to step without dodging his feet. He is leading but it feels more like we are moving together. He now starts doing this slow spinning move where I go around him then he goes around me, all the time with our hips pressed together and my breasts rubbing his chest. In these shoes, I’m just about two inches shorter than he is. Since we started, I don’t think his eyes have left mine. The song is coming to an end and I am disappointed for it to be so soon but the next song is also slow so we keep on dancing. I turn my head to the side and lay it on his shoulder.
That’s when I feel it.
Something is pressing on my pelvis. I press back against Bob and give a little shimmy. He gives a short grunt. I pull my head off his shoulder.
“Oh Bob! Is that ...”
“Yes it is Mrs. James.”
Bob’s finally got an erection! The treatments have worked after all these weeks. I can hardly contain my excitement.
“What are we going to do now? Let’s go straight home. No! Let’s get a room here. I don’t want to waste another minute.”
“Do not get too excited Honey, this may be temporary. I suggest we finish the evening and see what happens.”
“But Bob, it’s been so long. For me it’s been weeks, but for you it’s been years. Come on, let’s get out of here and go upstairs.”
“I have waited all these years, I can wait a few hours to see if it is a real cure.”
“Hours! No Bob ...”
“Mrs. James, if it is a cure then we have all night. If it isn’t, then it doesn’t matter. The song is ending. Let’s sit down.” I step away and we keep holding hands. I’m in front, leading the way back to our table. I let my other hand brush his crotch and give him a gently squeeze. He hesitates slightly as he walks. We get back to the table and sit down. I scoot my chair next to his and reach under the table and start stroking his cock through his pants. Bob shifts in his seat, but doesn’t stop me.
“Honey, what are you doing?” I pick up my glass with my other hand and have a sip of champagne.
“Why Mr. James, it has been a long time for you if you don’t know what I’m doing.” I lean in close to his ear. “I am stroking your manly cock through your pants. I may just unzip you right here and give you a hand job in front of all these people.” Bob reaches down, takes my hand and puts it on top of the table.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm and, if everything works out as I hope, I plan to take full advantage of it later this evening, but let’s not push it right now, please.” I’m frustrated.
“Well, exactly when are we going to start ‘taking advantage’ of the situation, Mr. James?”
Bob looks at his watch. “I will make a deal with you. It is 9:48. If I am still ... uuhh...standing tall in an hour, we will go home.”
“Can I check every few minutes to make sure you are still upright?”
“No. There can be no direct assistance from you.”
Fine, he has his terms and I have mine. “I’ll take that deal. However ...” I take his glass and pour it in the ice bucket “... no booze. Alcohol hurts an erection. Also ...” I take his hand “... we are going back on the floor.” The band had started playing a fast song but I didn’t care. Bob needed the stimulation and I know how to stimulate a man while dancing.
“I thought the dress was too tight for this kind of music.”
“I’ll manage. Remember, dancing was your idea so let’s go. Oh and set the alarm on your watch for one hour. I don’t want to wait one more second than necessary.”
Bob pushes several buttons on his watch. “There, one hour. Let’s dance.”
I take his hand and pull him back to the dance floor. He takes me in his arms and we plunge into the crowd. Some of the stuff I learned in dance class came back to me when we were out here the first time, but now I’m mixing it with all the stuff I have learned at the club. I don’t know if it you could call the result dancing, but it does attract attention. Kind of like a vertical lap dance while facing the patron and he can touch me. Any time I can get my ass, pelvis or hip into Bob’s crotch, I do it. I’m trying to keep Bob turned on but I’m also revving up my own engine. I never did cover my nipples and now they are like bullets. My panties are also getting wet, but that is partially due to sweat. I can’t keep this up for a whole hour but I can do it for ten minutes at a time with breaks in between.
We’re on our third break when I look out on the floor and see Gwen dancing with the guy from the other couple. Her hand is resting on his ass. When they turn around, I see that he has returned the favor. I nudge Bob and point them out.
He chuckles. “You may be right about them. Where is Tom?” He looks around the room. “Ah. Over there in the corner. I think he is doing a bit better than his wife.” I look where Bob pointed. I can’t see anything at first but then notice some movement behind the potted plants. They are kissing, their hands all over each other. Can I call them or what.
“I should have bet you something on that. The next round is on you.” I signal our waiter and he comes over.
“All the rounds have been on me.”
“Ha ha. We’ll have two large iced teas please.” The waiter nods and hurries off. I fan myself with my hand. This dress is like a second skin, except it doesn’t breathe worth shit. I didn’t buy it because it was exercise wear though. Our teas arrive and I take a large gulp. Bob sips his.
“Let’s step outside and cool off Honey.”
“Oh no, mister. I don’t want you to cool off. I’m fine. Back to dancing.” I start to stand, but Bob puts his hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I sit back down.
“Honey, I appreciate all your efforts, I really do. However,“ he points to his crotch “it either stays or it doesn’t.” He stands and offers me his arm. I reach up, take it and we walk out. As we pass our waiter, Bob tells him that we will be back. We stroll through the lobby and out the front door. It is cooler than I thought it would be. I shiver a little. Bob takes off his coat, drapes it across my shoulders, then he puts his left arm around my waist and pulls me tight to him.
“It’s been a very nice evening, Mr. James.”
“True that Mrs. James. So far.” He turns his head and kisses me. We stand there for several minutes. Bob breaks the silence. “I say we have one more turn around the floor and then head home. What do you say?”
“It hasn’t been an hour yet, has it?”
“Who cares? If I make the rules, I can change the rules.”
“One more dance it is.”
Bob puts his coat back on and we stroll back through the lobby and into the ballroom. The band is just returning from their break and start with a slow tune. Bob holds me close as we lazily circle the floor. We find ourselves dancing next to Gwen and Tom. I can’t let the opportunity pass.
“Oh hello Gwen, Tom. I’m so glad you found what you were looking for. Your offer was tempting but I’m just too selfish to share Bob with anyone. It’s a shame Gwen that you’ll never know why.” She gives us a pissed off look. I have to laugh as we dance away from them. The song ends a minute later and we walk back to the table. I pick up my purse and Bob leaves a nice tip. He takes his cell phone from his pocket and calls for the limo as we head for the door.
There are a few couples waiting at the driveway. It’s gotten even colder since we were out here earlier. I cross my arms, hug my elbows and rub my arms to keep warm.
“Do you want my coat again?” Bob asks.
“No thanks. I can see the limo from here. It shouldn’t be long.” Bob moves behind me, reaches around, pulls me tight against his body and rubs my arms. I can feel his cock pressing against the crack in my bottom. . Thank God it’s still stiff. I wiggle my ass a little, pushing back. Bob gives a short chuckle, then kisses the nape of my neck. I sigh.
“This is nice,” I whisper. He kisses me again. “Very nice.”
“I don’t plan on being nice tonight Mrs. James.”
I turn my head and look back at him. “We’re outside now Bob. We can drop the married couple bit ... if you want.”
“No, it is fine. I kind of like the sound of it. Bob and Honey James. Mr. and Mrs. James. The James’. Old lady James and....”
“OK, that’s enough ... Mr. James.”
“Anything you say... Mrs. James.”
We stand there a few moments, Bob rubbing my arms, as the limo works it way through traffic in the driveway. It pulls up and the driver jumps out, running around to my side. He opens the door.
“Here you are Madam.”
Bob walks me to the door and holds my hand as I slide in. The driver closes the door, after giving my legs a good look, and then goes around to open the door for Bob. Thankfully, the heat was on so the limo is nice and warm.
Bob scoots next to me. “Ahhhh, this is much better. How are you doing Honey?”
I reach out with my left hand and place it in his lap, resting on his cock. “I’m feeling fine but hope to be feeling a lot better very soon.” This time Bob leaves my hand where it is. I gently massage his cock through his pants. He reaches up with his right arm and puts it around my shoulder.
“Honey, I want to apologize to you in advance.”
“Apologize? What for?”
“We both know that it has been quite some time since I have ... aaahhhh ... been with ... well, that’s not exactly correct ...” I’m enjoying his discomfort, it’s cute. I lean in close to his ear as I continue caressing his cock.
“Since you fucked a woman?” I whisper. He turns and looks at me as I give him a sly, naughty smile. I can be so adorable sometimes.
“Yes, well put. Due to my lack of recent ... activity in that area, there is every chance that my ... timing may be a wee bit off.”
I stifle a laugh. This is too good. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. James?”
He glances at the driver to see if he is paying attention to us. He is. Bob reaches forward and pushes the switch to raise the partition between the driver and passengers. He looks disappointed as he disappears behind the screen.
“I mean that even if everything functions as we hope it does, the odds are that I will ... finish ... before you do. I will do my best, you understand, but I can not promise anything.” He hasn’t had a good fuck in years and here he’s worried about my orgasm. I think I’m going to cry.
“Oh Bob, you dear man. It is what it is. After all that you have done for me, I only hope that I can make tonight as enjoyable as possible for you. I’ve become very skilled over the last few years and my ... prior experience let’s me know what a man likes. I plan on doing everything I can to make this an unforgettable night.”
Bob smiles. “I think that I should be a little afraid right now.”
“Damn straight.” I remove my hand from his cock, turn to my left, slide onto his lap and put my arms around his neck. I would have straddled him but this dress wouldn’t allow it. “When it comes to sex, I’m a killer.” I kiss him hard, moving my hands to the sides of his head. Bob grabs my waist, holding me in place as the limo makes a turn. He returns my kiss, probing my mouth with his tongue and then brings one of his hands up to my left breast, rubbing the nipple through the fabric. We settle in for several minutes of making out. I’m surprised when the driver calls through the intercom.
“Excuse me, Sir, but we have arrived.” Bob continues kissing me for a few seconds then breaks away and pushes the button to reply.
“Thank you. We will be with you in a moment.” I slide off Bob’s lap and adjust the top of my dress. He hadn’t pulled it down but it was out of place. I look around and find my purse on the floor. Bob straightens his shirt and tie then removes my doggy bag from the fridge. He reaches across me and opens the door. The driver is standing right there. I smile up at him, offer my hand and he helps me out of the limo. Bob exits right behind me. He thanks the driver, shakes his hand, slipping him a tip. As the limo pulls away, Bob and I walk to the front door; arms wrapped around each other’s waists. He opens the door and we step in. I take the doggy bag from Bob.
“I’ll put this away and be right back.” I walk to the kitchen, putting as much sway as possible in my stride. When I get there, I pop the leftovers in the fridge and then unzip my dress. I can’t unzip it all the way but I loosen it enough that I can wriggle out. I check my hair and makeup in my reflection in the microwave glass and touch up my lipstick. Finally, I adjust my breasts in the bustier and pinch my nipples to get them hard. I walk out of the kitchen and lean against the doorframe.
Bob has his back turned. He’s taken off his coat and is loosening his tie. He turns back towards me and stops, his mouth open in surprise. I saunter over to him. I rest my hands on his shoulders, rise up on my toes and kiss him.
“Let me help you with that.” I remove his tie and throw it on the couch. I then slowly unbutton his shirt, pull it of his shoulders and down to his elbows, then start running my hands across his chest. Bob’s chest has average development, big surprise, but there is a hardness beneath the skin. I rub his chest and gently pinch his nipples, then kiss them, flicking them with my tongue. I then go back up on my toes and kiss him while I reach around to his sides, rubbing my nipples against his. Up to now, he’s just smiled but he takes a quick gulp of air when our nipples touch. I feel it too. A sharp electric jolt, surprising but pleasant. I ease his shirt off, freeing his arms. The shirt was kind of a mild bondage thing, to see if it turned him on. Hard to tell if it did, probably not. I enjoyed it though.
I reach down and start unbuckling his belt while still rubbing nipples. Once the belt is loose, his zipper is next, then the waistband button. I reach down his pants and start fondling his cock through his underwear. It’s hard but could be harder. I kiss his chest and start working my way down to his crotch. I sink to my knees as I reach his waist. Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of his pants and underwear, I pull them down his legs, freeing his cock. It bounces up in front of my face.
For once, he isn’t average. It’s about 8 inches long, but like 5 1/2 to 6 inches in circumference. My fingers won’t reach completely around it. I peer up at Bob. He’s gazing down at me. I lick my lips.
“I’ve been waiting for weeks to do this.”
I lick the tip of his cock, swirl my tongue around the head several times, then start licking the shaft and balls. Bob puts one of hand on top of my head, but doesn’t try to direct anything. Apparently he’s going to let me take the lead. I start to give him a slow hand job, moving my hand up and down his shaft while licking it and sucking its’ head into my mouth. His cock is a real mouthful, so I want it lubed as much as possible before I try to deep throat it. Occasionally Bob’s hips twitch, but I think it’s an involuntary reaction, he isn’t forcing the action. After a couple of minutes, his cock is as slick as it’s going to get, so I take a deep breath and go for it. I start with the first couple of inches, bobbing my head up and down, going deeper with each cycle. I close my eyes to concentrate on my breathing. Bob’s got both hands on my head now but he’s just stoking my hair. His breathing is a little ragged and there are occasional groans, usually when I stop bobbing and swallow, pulsing my throat muscles around his cock. He’s definitely into this. I finally work his entire cock into my throat, my nose resting against its’ base, my forehead against his stomach. I start swallowing.
“Oh God Honey!” Finally, he speaks. “That is amazing. Oh yes … do that again!” I swallow again and he moans. I start to pull back until only the head remains in my mouth then I dive back down, taking the entire length down my throat in one motion. I repeat this several times. Now is about the time the guy usually grabs my head in both hands and starts to fuck my face. I hate that, it’s hard to breath and can hurt my throat. Bob however does nothing, just groans his appreciation. His cock is as hard as iron and it starts to jerk. He’s about to erupt.
“OK Honey, we need to stop. We need to stop now. I don’t want to waste the first one.” I pull back, letting his cock fall from my mouth. I feel a little insulted.
“Waste? What do you mean, ‘waste’? That was going to be one of my best blow jobs ever.”
“I am sure it was. It was certainly the best one I have ever experienced, by far, but I want you to get something out of it too. If you will permit me.” He helps me stand and then sweeps me off my feet in one quick move, cradling me in his arms. I put my arms around his neck and he kisses me. He works his legs free of his pants and then carries me into his bedroom. He gently lays me on the bed, removes his shoes and socks and then strips me down to my panties. He walks back to the foot of the bed and starts to kiss his way up my body, starting with my ankles, up my shins, to the back of my knees. I giggle. I’ve always been sensitive behind my knees and Bob knows it’s one of my weak points. I laugh as Bob keeps kissing there.
“OK, please move on Bob. That’s great but HA HA HA ... that’s enough. Tickling HA HA ... can be used as torture, you know.” He looks up at me.
“Oh yes, I know. “ He kisses me on more time but moves on to my thighs, gradually getting closer to my crotch. I am tingling with anticipation. I know how good Bob is with his mouth and fingers. He starts kissing my mound through my panties, then slides it aside and licks my clit several times. He pulls the thong down my legs and off, spreads my legs apart and returns to kissing and licking my clit, labia and pussy. I have my fingers entangled in his hair.
“MMMMMMM yes. That’s good, Bob. Ohhhh myyy ... yyyeeess. UUUHHH UUUUHHH AAAHHHH YYYEESSS PLEASE! OH that’s the spot. Right there. YES! EEEP YES!” Bob starts to move up my body, kissing as he goes. I wish he would go back to my cunt. He tongues my navel and continues to my breast, first the undersides, then the sides and finally my nipples. He alternates flicking them with his tongue and gently nipping with his teeth. Just then, I feel his cock pressing at my labia. I wiggle my hips and try to slide down to meet it, but Bob stops me.
“All in due time Honey.” He continues to work on my breasts but also drags his cock back and forth across the labia, occasionally penetrating for a brief moment. I reach down and grab his ass, trying to pull him into me. My pussy is hot, wet and aching to be touched. Bob backs off.
“Honey, I want to make love to you, face to face. I want to look into your eyes, see your face. Is that OK?”
“Oh please yes Bob! Make love to me. I don’t just want to fuck. Please love me Bob.”
There, I finally said it.
Bob kissed me and started tweaking my nipples with his hands. He also started probing with his cock. I raised my hips until we were aligned and he penetrates me. It was a wonderful full feeling, with little electric pulses spreading through my body. He put his hands on the bed besides my chest, pushing himself up. My hands are on his back, my nails digging into his skin. He slowly pushed his cock into my pussy with short thrusts, going deeper each time. Every thrust forcing a little yelp from me. Bob isn’t super long but he is big. He’s teasing me, playing with my pussy.
“Oh ... Oh ... Oh ... Oh ...Yes ... Yes ... YES ... OH God ... OH God ... YES GOD FUCK ME ... FUCK ME HARD ... OH PLEASE BOB FUCK ME!”
Bob’s balls are slapping my ass now. He’s all the way in. He begins fucking me with long strokes, pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in. My legs are wrapped around his waist as I try to hump him. Our rhythm is not quite right, but it’s getting there. My eyes are closed.
“Honey, open your eyes.”
I look up at Bob and he is grinning at me. I smile back. He drops to his elbows and we are almost nose to nose, my breasts pressing into his chest. He stares deeply into my eyes. It’s a little unnerving. It’s too intimate. I want to look away, but can’t break the connection. And there is a connection. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, man or woman. He kisses me passionately. I slide my arms around his neck and kiss him back. I’ll never let him go.
We’ve got our rhythm now and it’s amazing. Bob’s pounding me and I’m pushing right back, driving each other to orgasm. Mine is building rapidly and I think Bob’s close too. He starts to really finish each stroke, pushing in as far as he can. My heels are digging into him as I try to help. His breathing is fast and shallow. Suddenly, his cock starts to twitch. I can feel the swell of his cum move up his shaft. With one last lunge, he buries his cock in my pussy and holds it there as his cum gushes out. I can feel it spray and that pushes me over the edge. My orgasm flows through my body, wave after wave. I can’t focus my eyes. I pull him tightly to me, kissing him with all I have, trying to suck the life out of him. His cock keeps spurting, tapping a source that has built up over years.
Bob returns to pounding my pussy. I don’t join in at first, still unfocused from my orgasm, but as my senses return, I can feel a second orgasm coming. Bob seems to still be hard. I start pushing back. He breaks our kissing and goes back up on his hands, arms fully extended, looking down at me with a goofy smile. I probably have the same goofy smile. I feel goofy. Kind of euphoric, a little high but, with another orgasm building, wanting more. Bob’s hips start moving faster. He’s got me really hot again.
“Bring it Baby. Come on Bob, fuck me Baby, fuck me now. Oh yeah, fuck ME! OOOOOOOO FUCK ME! AAAAHHHH MMMMMM UUUHHH YYEEESS MMYY GGOODD OH yeah.”
Bob’s got me on the edge again. He reaches down and pinches my right nipple. That does it. I scream as my second orgasm hits. I lose focus again. Bob collapses onto me, kissing me. My arms are wrapped around his back but I’m just hanging on. My breathing is shallow and sharp, short gasps. I’m tingling all over, numb to everything around me but very aware of the ripples of pleasure that are starting to fade away. I blink several times and take a deep breath. Bob’s smiling face comes back into focus.
“Welcome back Mrs. James.” Bob pulls his softening cock from my pussy and rolls off me, resting on his side, head propped up on one hand. He lazily caresses my stomach, stroking just above my cunt. I sit up, resting on my elbows.
“God damn Bob! I thought I was good at this, but you’re something else. I can’t wait until you get some practice under your belt,” I reach down and fondle his soft cock. “and that practice better be with me Mr. James.”
“I can not take all the credit Honey. Any good artist needs inspiration and you are inspiration personified. I could not have done that with Gwen Francis.”
“I should certainly hope not!” I didn’t like it when he mentioned Gwen’s name. Why would I care? Don’t know … but I do.
“Careful there Honey!” I was squeezing Bob a little too hard. I let go of his cock.
“Sorry, sorry. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, just a little sensitive down there for the moment.” He takes my chin in his hand and turns my head so it faces him. “Why the frown?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t like it when you mentioned Gwen Francis. She’s a stuck up bitch, you know? She’s the one who thought you weren’t worthy of her, remember?”
Bob chortles. “Gwen Francis is no threat to you Honey.” He reaches up and strokes my face. I smile. “Good sex requires two well matched partners. I believe that we just had some very good sex and you are a perfect partner.”
I roll towards Bob and kiss him. “We aren’t done yet. It’s my turn now. Give me a couple of minutes.” I roll away from Bob to the side of the bed and stand up. I turn me head and give him a coy look over my shoulder. “Don’t start without me.”
I walk out and head for my room. Bob’s semen is dripping down my leg. He must have ejaculated about half a cup. I go to the bathroom and clean myself with a wash cloth. My makeup is beyond repair so I quickly remove it and then put on some fresh lipstick and a spritz of perfume. I brush my hair and then go over to my chest of drawers. There’s a special black Babydoll nightie I bought that Bob hasn’t seen yet. It has exposed cups and a crotchless panty. I drop it over my head and pull it down. The cool silk feels wonderful on my skin. Its’ hem barely skims the bottom of my ass. I adjust my breasts in the cups. They are supported by the nightie but the nipples are exposed. They are already hard and pointed in anticipation of what is to come. I slip the panty up my legs and position it so my pussy is uncovered. I take off the earrings and necklace. I start to take off the ring but hesitate. The dangling earrings and necklace could get in the way but a ring won’t hurt anything will it? I hold my left hand up. It looks so nice, like it belongs there, and it fits so well. It stays. I check the clock besides my bed, it has been just five minutes since leaving Bob. I walk back to his room, stopping outside to get the right attitude.
I ease in, moving slowly, languidly around the room, not directly towards Bob but always moving closer, looking him in the eyes all the time. He is sitting upright on the bed, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, his hands behind his head as he leans back on the headboard. He is looking right back at me, enjoying the view. I think he knows exactly what I’m doing, but is going to let me play it out. I work my way to the end of the bed and start to crawl up towards him, working my shoulders, ass and hips. When I reach his legs, I gently push them apart and crawl up his body. My head is just above his cock. I lower it to his crotch, still looking him in the eyes. I lick his cock several times then suck his balls. The expression on his face doesn’t change but his breathing does, it’s a little irregular. I let his balls fall from my mouth and pull back, crawling backwards down the bed. When I reach his feet, I gently pull him back with me. He takes the hint and scoots down the bed until he is sitting on the end with his feet on the ground. I push his legs apart again and kneel between them. Guys really get off on a hot girl kneeling in front of them. It’s that dominant/submissive vibe and most guys want to dominate. I can’t tell with Bob though. He seems to be enjoying it, but not really in to it, like he’s letting me perform my act. His cock has stiffened a bit, which is impressive, given that he was fucking me for the second time in only a half hour just ten minutes ago. I lean forward and suck his cock into my mouth. I begin to suckle on it, rolling it in my mouth while I fondle his balls. I don’t know if I can get him hard again but I’m sure going to try. Alternating between sucking and licking, I keep working his cock. Maybe a little talk will help. I switch to a hand job and look up at him.
“How you doing stud?” I purr.
“Quite well. And you?”
“I’m horny as hell. I can’t wait to get you hard again and then fuck you silly. What do you say to that?”
“I say that any man who has a gorgeous woman such as yourself walk into his room, dressed as you are, can only think two things.”
“And what is that?”
“That there is a God and that he likes me.” I stop masturbating him and start to laugh, breaking the mood I was trying to establish.
“BOB stop that! I’m trying to be all sexy and sultry and you’re cracking jokes! Now I’ve got to start again.”
“Honey, you are sexy, sultry, stunning, and striking. I think you can just pick up where you left off.”
I check out his cock. It’s about half erect. I start licking it again, top to bottom and then back, bottom to top, while bouncing his balls in the palm of my hand. In a few moments, he’s completely hard again, his cock filling my mouth. I slip my hands behind him and grab his ass while I start deep throating him again. This time, he doesn’t try to stop me. His cock slides in and out of my mouth, down my throat. Bob has closed his eyes and leaned his head back, mouth partially open, breathing deeply in time with my bobbing on his cock. I pause when it’s fully in my throat and massage it with my throat muscles. Bob’s eyes jerk open and he sucks in his breath.
“Oh very good Honey ... You are remarkable ... This is amazing! UUUUUHHHHHHHhhhhhh.”
I pull back, lightly scraping him with my teeth then a little nip on the head. He jumps slightly.
“Be careful Honey.” I go back to jacking him off, looking up at him and smiling.
“Don’t worry Mr. James, I’m a professional. Let the expert do her job.” I then open wide and dive on his cock, going all the way down to his crotch in one continuous motion.
“Great God in heaven!”
He jerks his hips towards me. He can’t help it. Every guy does it when I do that move. I think it’s involuntary, like the rubber mallet on the knee. His eyes are closed again, savoring the feeling of my throat squeezing his cock. I’ve got him just where I want him. I slowly let his cock slide from my mouth and kiss the tip as I stand and lean in to kiss him.
This is the acid test. Most guys don’t want to kiss a mouth that was just sucking their cock, like they are cock suckers once removed. It also means that they look down on me for what I was just doing. The person sucking the cock is a lesser person than the one whose cock is being sucked. Bob doesn’t hesitate. Not only does he kiss me, he frenches me.
I love this man!
We continue to kiss for a minute or two, Bob’s hands on my hips, holding me close, my arms around his neck. I break the kiss, step back and put my hands on his chest, gently pushing him back. He doesn’t resist, laying back on the bed.
“Go ahead Mr. James, all the way up the bed.”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. James.” He slides up to the headboard, still on his back. I crawl up next to him, take his erect cock in my hand, then swing my left leg over him so that I’m straddling his crotch. My knees are bent, my shins resting on his thighs, which are hard as rocks. I rise up and rub the tip of his cock across my pussy lips, lubricating it with my juices. Bob’s hot and ready to go, but so am I, my pussy soaking wet. I push his cock in my cunt and sigh.
No matter how often it happens, that first penetration is always enjoyable because Amy’s treatments keep my tight. Even if the guy is a jerk and just using me to get off, which is most of the time, that first contact with my cunt is especially thrilling. With Bob, it may be the best ever. He’s so big around and I’m so tight that I’d be afraid he wouldn’t fit, except for the fact that he had just twice fucked me silly about an hour ago. Once his tip is inside me, I let go off his cock and start pulling at my nipples. They are on fire and I pull and roll them with my fingers. I enjoy it, but guys really get off watching me do it. I bob up and down on his cock a few times, getting the first couple of inches lubed, then I go up until it’s barely still in my pussy and then drop all the way down, fully impaling myself in one motion, Bob’s been quiet up to now.
“AaaarrrgGGGHHHH. UUUHHHHHH Jesus Christ!” I ripple my vaginal muscles on his cock. “SHIT Honey! Where did that come from? OH YEAH! Keep it going Baby!”
I begin bouncing straight up and down on his cock, tensing my pussy muscles each time, making my already tight cunt tighter, my breasts bouncing in rhythm to my humping. Bob starts driving his hips upward to meet me as I come down. We keep pushing each other for a couple of minutes when I stop and slide forward on my knees, straddling his hips and leaning forward with my hands on either side of his shoulders so my breasts are hanging above his head. I rock back and forth, driving his cock in and out of my pussy. Bob puts his hands on my hips and adds his muscle to my movements. My breast sway above his face, a nipple occasionally brushing against his lips. Bob takes his hands off my hips and grabs my breasts. He pulls a nipple to his mouth, sucks on it then rakes it with his teeth. He kneads the other nipple between his thumb and index finger. I roll my hips both back and forth, left and right, dancing on his cock. Both of us are breathing hard, grunting and groaning. It’s time to finish him off. I sit back on his thighs in my original position and return to bouncing on his cock, this time faster than before. He grabs my hips, both pulling me down and driving his hips up harder.
“That’s it Honey. Come on Baby ... Just a bit longer ... Almost there ... Get ready now ... uuuuhhhhhHHHHHHH Yes! TAKE IT!”
Bob pulls me down one last time, simultaneously driving his hips up and holds me there, poised in mid air, legs dangling on both sides with his body arched up, only his feet and shoulders touching the bed. His cock is pulsing and I’m squeezing him with all that I’ve got. His cum is spraying deep inside my pussy. His face contorted with the effort, eyes closed. He holds me there for thirty to forty seconds, then slowly drops his body back down on the bed. I ride him down and rest on my knees astride him. His cock softens as I lift off him. It slithers out of my pussy and more of his cum dribbles out. I take it in my mouth and clean it, tasting both my juices and his salty cum. Guys often make me do this at the club, but this time I want to, to show Bob that I take care of my man.
Yes, he is my man and I am his woman. I giggle with happiness when I say this to myself. I am happy with this man, in this place, at this time. I’ve never been happier in my life. That thought takes my breath away. Is that really true? Am I happier now than when I won the Super Bowl? When I was a rich, eligible, twenty seven year old bachelor, fucking every beautiful woman who came my way? I’m having trouble remembering those days, they seem so long ago, so different than the hell my life is now. Or at least what my life was until Bob showed up. Before Bob, I was alone. Even when I had all my success as a football player, I was alone most of the time.
I don’t feel alone now. I think he cares about me, cares for me. Loves me? I’m afraid to find out.
What if I’m wrong, what if I’m just a temporary thing? It would kill me, that’s what if. I start to tear up.
“Honey, Baby what is wrong? Are you OK?” Bob’s recovered from that last round. He sits up, takes me in his arms and holds me. I lay my head on his chest and hug him.
“I’m fine Bob, better than fine. I was just thinking how happy I am right now.” It’s not a total lie.
“You don’t look or sound fine.” I sniff back my tears. We can talk about it later.
“Oh you know, a girl and her hormones, mood swings, that sort of thing.” I reach up and wipe my eyes. “So what about you? How are you? More importantly, how was I?” Let’s change the subject. I turn my head and smile at him.
“How were you? There are not enough superlatives in the English language to describe what you did. I have never had three orgasms in an hour before in my life, well, not with another person involved.” His smirk is back. “I am sorry that you did not have an orgasm that last time. I hope to do better next time.”
“Oh God Bob, you do any better and I’m a dead woman. That last one was a thank you for the first two. I wanted you to enjoy it. Just because I didn’t get off doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it too. By the way, what was that thing where you arched your body?”
“I wrestled in high school. It is a defensive move, the ‘Neck Bridge’”
“It was very good, let me tell you. I just hope you don’t break your back next time.”
“Next time?”
“Uh huh.” I reach down and fondle his cock. “I plan on you not getting much sleep tonight.”
“I didn’t know that you snored.”
“Very funny.” He reaches down and inserts two fingers in my pussy. He knows what I meant.
We kept at it all night and into the early morning. I lost count of my orgasms. I think Bob had four more, maybe five. I passed out one time when we were doing it doggy style, so I can’t be sure. We also did it side by side, reverse cowgirl, showered twice to clean up and did it once in the shower. We finally feel asleep around 5:00 a.m.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Honey and Bob continue to grow closer while Dr. Hanson decides to get answers to some nagging questions. Chapters 25 through 29 of 48. Additional editing assistance by Kelly Ann Rogers. Indicated elements apply to entire story. Next update on 11/10/10.
Team Spirit: The Second Half
By Meps98
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
I open my eyes and push the hair from face. I’m laying face down on the bed, my arm stretched out on Bob’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there, but I heard him in the bathroom. He was humming. I’d never heard him hum before. I roll over onto my back and stretch.
OWWW! My shoulder! I sit up and rotate my right arm. There it is. Why does it hurt? We did a lot of physical stuff last night, could have happened anytime. When you’re really into the sex, endorphins flood your system, dulling the pain. Thank God for that or we couldn’t have done half of what we did yesterday. Unfortunately, you sometimes pay for it the next day. Bob steps out of the bathroom wearing a robe.
“You have a problem Honey?”
I swivel my shoulder and wince. “I think I pulled a muscle last night.”
“You pulled a lot of my muscles last night.”
“Hardy Har Har. I think it’s either my neck or shoulder.”
“Here, let me help.” He sits on the bed behind me and starts to massage my neck. I rotate my head.
“Oh yeah, that’s the spot. That’s ... good.” He keeps massaging until the pain fades.
“Wait here, I have a muscle rub that should help.” He goes into the bathroom and comes back with a tube of cream. It’s a smell I’m very familiar with. Every locker room I’ve ever been in reeks of the stuff. Bob sits back down on the bed, squeezes some onto his hand and then rubs it on my neck, shoulder and upper back. My skin tingles but the shoulder feels better. I’m also feeling very horny.
“You could be a therapist Bob. My shoulder feels much better. In fact …” I take his hand and put it on my breast “… I feel well enough to give it a work out, why don’t you come back to bed.” Bob gives my breast a squeeze. I sigh.
“Honey, how long has it been since you last took your ’medicine’?”
“What time is it?
“11:38 a.m.”
“We slept until almost noon?”
“You slept until almost noon. I have been up for a couple of hours. How long?”
“It’s been about twenty six hours.”
“I will go get it.” He starts to stand up, but I grab his hand.
“Don’t go. Let’s take advantage of this. Come back to bed and we’ll fuck until supper time. You know you can do it.” Bob gently pulls free of my hand.
“No Honey, I refuse to take advantage when you are under the influence of Amy Hanson’s biological programming.” He leaves. I flop back on the bed. Why won’t he fuck me? I start to rub my pussy. First with one hand, then both. Soon I’m finger fucking myself. It feels good and I’m getting closer to orgasm. Bob walks in with my “daily dose”.
“Honey, stop that. Drink this.”
“No. Come on Bob, just fuck me. I’m already warmed up, it won’t take long. Please.” I’m rubbing faster and harder with three fingers in my pussy.
“Stop right now. Control yourself. Just drink this and then we can talk.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck! Give me that big fat cock of yours! Here” I get on all fours and wiggle my ass at him “you can fuck me in the ass. We haven’t done that yet. You’ll love it. If you think my cunt is tight, wait until you try my ass. Come on Bob, ream me good.” I reach back and spread my cheeks so he gets a good look at my ass hole. My head is flat on the bed.
“OK, sit up Honey.”
I roll over and sit up. He opens his robe, exposing his beautiful cock. I crawl to the side of the bed so that I can reach it. I start to lick his cock, sucking on the head, running my tongue around it and flicking the tip. He’s about two thirds erect so I open my mouth wide to suck him in.
Bob jumps on the bed behind me, grabbing me around the neck with his arm while tipping my head back. He pours Anthony’s semen in my mouth than clamps his hand over my mouth and nose. I swallow reflexively, stunned at how fast he moved. He lets me go. I fall back on the bed, and roll over, face down, crying.
“Why did you do that? What’s wrong with you? All I wanted was sex. What kind of man would refuse to fuck a hot piece of ass like me? You’re no different than all those assholes at the club! I thought that I loved you and then you attack me! Oh Bob ... you ... how could ... crap.” I can’t talk any more. I just cry and sob. I feel Bob’s hand on my shoulder. I push it off.
“Don’t you touch me you bastard!” I cry harder, tears streaming from my eyes and down my cheeks, soaking the sheets beneath me. Bob sits down next to me, but says nothing. I continue crying for several minutes then start to taper off as Anthony’s semen takes effect. I sit up, still sniffling. Bob reaches over and pulls me over to him. I struggle just a little but my heart isn’t in it. He rubs my back. I don’t want to give in to him so I just sit there, but soon I slump back against him, then lay my head on his shoulder. He keeps rubbing my back.
“I am sorry Honey; you were slipping into a sexual frenzy. In the past you always tried to avoid that, but for some reason, you embraced it this time. I did try to talk to you about it, however you were too far-gone. I could not think of anything else to do and I certainly wasn’t going to call Hanson about it. I understand why you are angry with me, but I hope you can see why I did what I did and that you can forgive me someday.”
I keep my head on his shoulder, not looking at him. I’m actually embarrassed about the way I acted. He’s right, I was almost out of control. Normally I hate it when Anthony refuses to have sex with me and drives me to that point, but this time, it was a chance to have more sex with Bob, something I wanted. It was a new situation for me. Bob too.
“I understand.” I snuggle in closer, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I forgive you. I would have been happier if you hadn’t attacked me, but I can see why you thought you had no choice.” He probably didn’t have any other choice, at least none that I can think of now.
“I honestly wasn’t prepared for you to refuse treatment. You have always said you hated it when either Anthony or Amy pushed you past the point of reason, turning you into a sex mad nympho. I could not understand why you would willingly cross that line. Has something changed?”
I don’t want to tell him, yet I may not have a choice. I’ve already said the “L” word when I was crying and Bob is much too smart to have missed it.
“Yes, something has changed.” I whisper.
“Do you want to tell me what that is?”
“Yes and no.”
Bob pauses. “Does it have anything to do with you possibly loving me?” I can’t say it but I shake my head ‘Yes’. Bob pauses again.
“So, because you may love me, the thought of sex with me wasn’t that objectionable and you were willing to chance the effects of the sexual frenzy as long as you were fucking with me.”
I have to smile. Bob sure knows how to charm a girl. “No Bob, because I may love you and sex with you is so far from objectionable that it’s not even in the same ball park, I wanted to take advantage of the sexual frenzy and fuck your brains out.” Bob pauses for a third time.
“I see. It appears I may have acted rashly. I will try to remember that the next time.” I lightly punch him in the kidneys.
“Kidding Honey, I am just kidding. I am however quite serious about not taking advantage of you when you are about to lose control. I refuse to add to your pain of being compelled to have sex against your will, even if you ultimately enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Bob.” I turn my head so that it is still resting on his shoulder, but I am looking him in the eyes. I sigh. “What are we going to do about us?” He kisses me on the forehead.
“I don’t know. It is an unexpected turn of events. Let’s get dressed and fix some lunch while I think about it.”
Bob gets up, goes to his closet, removes a pair of pants and shirt, returns to his dresser and takes out underwear and socks. He takes off his robe and hands it to me.
“Go shower and get dressed, we will take it from there.”
“We staying in?”
“Probably.”
“Good.” I get out of bed and slip the robe on but don’t tie it. I walk over to Bob, go up on my toes and kiss him. He reaches into the robe and rests his hands on my waist, returning my kiss. His hands slip off my waist, moving around to my ass, pulling his naked body close to my naked body. My pussy is getting wet again. I put my hands on Bob’s chest and lightly push myself away from him, breaking our kiss.
“I think it will be a cold shower.” Bob lets me go and I walk back to my room, pausing to look at him over my shoulder as I leave. Once I get back to my room, I drop the robe and start my shower, setting the temperature colder than normal. It will help clear my head. I step in and suck in my breath when the water hits me. It’s colder than I thought but I tough it out. I quickly adapt to the cold water and start washing my body, starting at the top and working down, leaving my hair for last. Stepping out of the shower, I dry off and then wrap one towel around my head and another around my body. Bob has these really great fluffy towels. Soft and warm. I take a pair of jeans out of my closet, then a scoop neck T-shirt and matching bra and panty set out of my drawer, After dressing, I sit cross legged on my bed, brushing my hair. This always takes awhile because it’s so damn long. I’d have it cut, but Anthony would kill me. He loves long hair. I slip my feet into my cross trainers, tie them and go to the kitchen.
Oh crap! My dress is still laying in a heap in the middle of the floor. That thing cost more than what I make in a month. Bob walks in right behind me.
“I’m sorry Bob. I forgot I left my dress in the kitchen last night. I’ll take care of it right away!”
“Don’t worry about it Honey. There are parts of my tux scattered across the living room.”
“Yeah, but your tux didn’t cost an arm and a leg.”
“Well, it was my arm and my leg, so it is not a problem.” I carefully pick up the dress.
“I’m going to put this away and be right back.” I take it back to my room and lay it out on my bed, smoothing the wrinkles. It’s such a beautiful dress. I hurry back to the kitchen.
Bob has already started cooking. There are two rib eye steaks sizzling in the frying pan. I move next to him.
“Here, let me do that, it’s my job.”
“I’ve got it Honey. You make the salads. You always make wonderful salads.”
I go to the fridge and get the lettuce, carrots, celery, onions, tomatoes and shredded cheese. I chop the lettuce and mix the salads, leaving the onions out of Bob’s, he hates raw onions. I add some croutons and we are ready to eat. I lay out the place settings, set the salads down and Bob serves the steaks.
“Do you want something to drink Honey?”
“Just water. I want a clear head when we talk.”
“Good idea. Two waters it is.”
Bob pours the water, we sit down and start to eat. Neither of us says anything for several minutes. I don’t know what we can safely talk about. The future doesn’t look too good. I feel uncomfortable talking about our sexual marathon last night because of the way it ended. Bob tries to start a conversation.
“I was surprised at how good a dancer you were last night Honey.”
“Thanks. You weren’t half bad yourself. Have you had lessons?”
“Some, though they were many years ago. It was part of the basic training at the company. You never know what situation you might find yourself in, so it was always best to be prepared.”
Bob rarely talked about his old job.
“Did you ever have to dance as part of an assignment?” I’d never asked him a work question before. He thinks for a moment. He knows the answer, he’s just deciding if he’s going to answer the question.
“No Honey, I never used a cover that required me to dance. I tended to specialize in assignments that took advantage of my ability to blend in. I would not want to stand out with my fancy foot work.”
“I never said you were a good dancer, just not half bad.” I smile at him. “You were able to keep up with me, but the dress held me back.” Bob raises one eyebrow in surprise.
“We may have to put that claim to a test someday. On another subject, how do you think things turned out for Gwen and Tom?”
“No idea, but I am curious. It’s a big jump from making out with someone to sleeping with them, particularly if you are married to someone else. They were both going at it and everyone seemed willing. What do you think?”
“I am deferring to you since you are the expert.”
I think about it for a moment. “My guess is that they both hit pay dirt, but that Gwen had to work harder than Tom. For a married couple to get picked up like that, they would each have to accept that it would likely end in sex. We saw that Tom was doing really well behind the plants. So, unless she had a change of heart, he probably did OK.”
“Why would Gwen need to work harder on her partner?”
“Married men always have fantasies about sex with other women, but aren’t too happy with the thought of their wives fucking other men. The husband likely had to talk his wife into it but had buyer’s remorse after she said yes. Eventually his hormones won out and he fucked Gwen, maybe as a bit of ‘revenge’ against his wife for agreeing to do Tom.”
Bob smiled at me. “Very good Honey! Well reasoned. Some of your suppositions could be wrong, but the logic after the suppositions was quite good. I should be able to track them down and find out if you are correct.”
“It’s not worth the effort Bob, just idle curiosity.” Besides, I wanted to keep him away from Gwen Francis. We were both done eating so I cleared the table and sat back down. “Are we done with the small talk?”
“Yes we are Honey.” He slides his chair closer to mine. “I know I have said this before but I am going to say it again, so that I am sure you understand. I am not doing this because I think you are stupid. In fact, I think you are very intelligent. I am counting on it. Here it is. I will not tell you anything that you could not repeat to Amy Hanson. When you return to the club tomorrow, she will eventually question you. Answer her questions truthfully. Don’t try to out-guess her or be clever. Just answer the question. If you do not know the answer, say you do not know. Do not speculate. This is the only way for you to limit your trouble and pain.”
“Trouble and pain?”
“Yes. I have made a terrible mistake Honey and, unfortunately, you will be the one who will pay the price for my mistake.” This does not sound good at all.
“What mistake? What’s going to happen to me?”
“I let you get close to me and I let myself get close to you. Close enough that you think that you love me.”
“But I do love you!” I had also done some thinking, thinking what my life was like before Bob and what it’s been after I met him. How extraordinary he is, how kind he has been to me and finally, how sex with him is so fucking amazing, better than anything I have ever experienced.
“I believe that you think you love me Honey, but you don’t really know me. I have told you very little about myself and, believe me, there is a lot more to tell, much of which is not very nice.”
“I know enough about you to know that you are the kindest, strongest, smartest, sexiest person, man or woman, I have ever met. So I don’t know your past, I know your present and I love you!”
“We don’t have enough time together for you to really love me. You could love the way I make you feel in bed, love that I have provided a break from your time at the club, love the lifestyle you have here with me but true love requires more shared experiences than we have had.”
“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
“Not exactly. There can be lust at first sight or attraction at first sight. If two people experience a mutual attraction and they are lucky enough that their relationship grows and matures until it is true love, so much the better for them, but it was not all there at the first moment they saw each other.”
“That’s not very romantic.”
“You're right. If I put you in a room with 100 eligible men, the odds are that 98 of them would be instantly attracted to you. If you were attracted to just a few of them, would that be love at first sight?”
Could he be right?
“It sure as hell feels like love to me. I had more than a few girlfriends as Josh Thomas and this is much stronger than I felt then.”
“You may just be experiencing the stronger emotions that women feel verses those that a man feels.”
“Maybe. The question is, do you love me?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both, because it is in your best interest to not know the answer to that question so that Amy Hanson does not know that answer.”
“Why would she give a damn?”
“This will take awhile to explain. When I first came to town, I was looking for someone to help me as my health deteriorated. I wanted to establish an emotional relationship with that person, not necessarily a romantic relationship. I found you and started to implement my plan. We both know what happened after that. Once it was clear that we were not going to be leaving town together, I should have ended our relationship. Unfortunately, I was not strong enough. I allowed my attraction towards you to overrule my head. As we became closer, you became more vulnerable to Hanson’s continuing thirst for vengeance.”
He’s got me confused. “How do my feelings for you make me vulnerable to her?”
“She will try to take it away. You remember the old saying ‘tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’? My experience is the exact opposite. I am more an ’ignorance is bliss’ person. We brought happiness to each other, contentment. Amy Hanson is still looking to hurt you any way she can and she will try to use our relationship to her advantage. She had taken everything she could from you, including your very identity. She molded you into a perpetual teenage bimbo whore. I tried to ‘save’ you from the hell she put you in and have done a pretty good job of restoring your spirit and will, something she will not tolerate. I gave you something that she will now try to take away. She is going to try to beat you down all over again, break your renewed spirit. She will likely try to prove to you that I do not care for you, that my own needs come before yours, that you are nothing to me. She will not do anything to me, at least not directly. If she thinks I love you, she could hurt you just to try to harm me emotionally. If she had confirmation that we loved one another, it would be worse for you than it is already going to be.” Now he’s got me worried.
“How could it be any worse than it was?”
“I can not get you away from either her or Anthony. You will be returning to a life of dancing and prostitution, with no end in sight. Before I showed up, you had no hope and had adjusted to that. I gave you hope, a weekly break from the unending misery. She will take that away too. Hanson will not permit our Tuesday/Wednesday visits. Even if we had those visits, if we continue to have some kind of relationship, the sex is finished.”
“What do you mean ‘the sex is finished’? You can see me at the club, come up to my room. You can certainly afford it. You can make a new deal with Anthony.”
“We both know that Hanson calls the shots, Anthony just implements her orders. He has had a certain amount of freedom to do so until I showed up. Now she is going to be much more hands on. She will not permit anything that you enjoy. Besides, you will start having unprotected sex with all kinds of men in the next two or three days. If we are still having sexual relations, then I will be having sex with these same men. Hanson’s treatments likely protect you from sexually transmitted diseases, but not me.” What was he saying?
“So you are saying that you can’t fuck a dirty, filthy whore like me.”
“Don’t say that Honey. It has nothing to do with you as a person, it is strictly a matter of health. I do not consider you to be a whore.”
“I have sex with anyone who has fifty bucks, how am I not a whore?”
“You are compelled to have sex by your biological programming. If you do not, Anthony will beat you or refuse to feed you his semen, which is much worse. Failure to do what he wants could lead to a horrible death.”
“How is that different than any other pimp who threatens to kill his whore if she doesn’t work hard enough for him?”
“Because they always have the option of leaving, seeking help from the police or social service agencies, you do not. You leave, you die. End of story. You have no other choice than to comply. Honey, you are a strong, smart, loving woman and do not ever forget that. You were dealt a bad hand and have played it as well as possible. I am sorry that I have made your situation worse.”
Bob had painted a pretty dark picture, accurate but dark. My eyes tear up as I look at him.
“Isn’t there anything you can do about this? Can’t you just kill her? Isn’t that what you do?” He shakes his head.
“There is nothing I can do. I will forgive you for asking me to kill Hanson, because you do not know the details of my past and don’t realize what you are asking of me. I am truly sorry. I should have been able to resist your charms.”
“So, this is all my fault?”
“Absolutely not, Honey. It is completely my fault. Well, it is actually Hanson’s fault, but I did not help the situation. Things did not turn out as I planned and I did not adapt to the new reality. I will do what I can to limit the harm to you, but my ability to influence matters is not great.”
“What do we do now?”
“I am not sure. We do not need to be at the club until 11:00 a.m. on Monday, just a little less than three days from now. I don’t really have anything planned. I am willing to do whatever you want. I owe you that much.” I stand up, walk over to Bob, sit on his lap straddling him, put my arms around his neck and kiss him tenderly. He puts his hands on my hips.
“I’ll think of something but we’ll do it together. To hell with Amy Hanson.” Bob pats my ass.
“That’s my brave girl.”
He won’t say it, but I think he loves me.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
We spent the rest of Friday at the park. I wanted to spend time outside with nature before I go back to being stuck in the club 24/7. We packed a picnic dinner and spent the afternoon and evening outside, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company. I told him my life story and he told me a little of his, though it could have been “Bob James”, his cover’s life story, I’m never sure. I guess you could say that I love “Bob James”, whoever that is. There was a local band playing at a pavilion, so we stopped and listened awhile and even danced a bit. When we got home, we had a late evening skinny dip and then made desperate love through the night. Bob didn’t want to at first, suggesting that it would be better for me to start cutting back, but I insisted. The damage, whatever it is, is already done and I won’t let fear of Amy Hanson ruin what hours of freedom I have left. Bob said he admired my spirit.
In fact, I’m scared shitless. Bob probably knows it, but won’t say anything, respecting the illusion of bravery I want to project. He does stay close to me all the time though, touching, hugging, holding my hand. It’s not sexual, just supportive, and I appreciate it.
We started Saturday with sex in the morning, breakfast and then more sex in the shower. Bob says that his recovery time hasn’t been so short since he was a teenager. I’ll need to remember to thank Amy for that when I see her next.
I decided that today’s adventure is an amusement park, Six Flags over Texas. I always loved amusement parks as a kid and hadn’t been to one in years. It would be outside, with lots of people and things to do to keep my mind off Monday morning. It’s in Arlington, only about forty miles from Bob’s house and full of thrill rides. We get there before the crowds get too bad. I’m dressed in jeans and a polo shirt but still getting a lot of looks from guys, young and old. Right now, they are decorated for Halloween. We ride the “Titan” and “Mr. Freeze” before lunch. By 1:00 p.m., the crowds are big and the lines are pretty long. Thanks to Bob’s heavy tipping and my obvious assets, we manage to avoid most of the lines and ride the “Texas Giant”, “Dive Bomber Alley”, “Batman” and “Superman” at least once, most twice. I love these kinds of rides, super tall, super fast, full of twists and turns. I’m waving my arms and screaming my head off. Bob, on the other hand, has a death grip on the handles of each ride, gritting his teeth so hard that I’m afraid that he’ll grind them to nubs. He says that it’s a matter of trust. I trust the designers, builders and maintenance guys, he doesn’t. Seems like an odd reaction for someone who risked their life to take a life for a living. However, he’ll keep going as long as I’m happy. We keep riding until 9:00 p.m., go out for pizza, get home by 11:00 and end the day with another round of skinny dipping and anxious, passionate sex.
Sunday is my last full day of freedom and we spend it like we’ve spent the last six Sunday’s, watching football on TV. Despite all I’ve gone through, I still enjoy watching a good game. I stay curled up on the couch with Bob all day. He’s in charge of the snacks and beer. The only breaks I take are bathroom breaks, which are fairly frequent thanks to the beer. He’s got the full NFL package on cable so I‘ve got a lot of choices. We go to a local barbecue restaurant for supper and then back home for the late game, which ends around midnight. We end up together in bed, Bob holding me in his arms, my head resting on his chest.
“I can’t do this Bob.” I say quietly. “I can’t go back to the club, back to being a fuck toy for any jerk or crazy bastard with the money. Sometimes they don’t even pay Anthony, just give him a yellow card. Those guys are always the worst.” Bob caresses my hair.
“Where do they get these yellow cards?”
“Who knows. They just show up, hand Anthony the card and then they work me over good. Sometimes it’s bondage, sometimes it’s anal, other times it’s a beating. Occasionally it’s all three. There have been a couple of guys who were even worse.”
Bob kisses the top of my head. “When does this happen? Any particular time of the year?” I pause to think about it.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before. It seems to happen before the fourth of July and again at the end of the year.”
“Is there anything else that happens at the same time?” I pause to think again.
“No, nothing that comes to mind.”
“How about either before or after?”
“Amy gives me my six month tune ups in early July and the end of December. She wants me fresh and tight for the annual Super Bowl celebration for the Wranglers. That is always the absolute worst.” I shudder at the thought. Anthony leaves me alone for the whole day before and I’m ready to fuck anything that moves by the time the “Party” starts. By the end, I’m covered in and full of cum and begging for more, pleading for anybody to fuck me. One year Billy Joe brought his two Great Danes. God, did Amy laugh at me that night. The dogs have been a regular part of the show ever since, always at the end because no guy wants to follow the dogs. I start to cry.
“I just can’t go back to that life Bob.” He rubs my back.
“I know, I know. So these particularly bad guys show up just before your twice a year treatments from Hanson?”
“Yes, regular as clockwork. What am I going to do Bob? How am I going to survive?”
“You will survive Honey. You are a strong, brave woman. Don’t forget that. You have survived up to now and you will continue to survive. It will likely be worse than before initially, but it should settle down quickly if you don’t fight Hanson. Do what she says, answer her questions truthfully and these bad times will pass.”
“Yeah, I can get back to the good old days of stripping and whoring.”
“Here Honey, lay on your stomach, I’ll help you relax.”
I stretch out on the bed, on my stomach with my head turned to the side. Bob moves to the end of the bed and starts by rubbing my feet, then my ankles, then massaging my calves. He works up to my thighs. I am relaxing, which is surprising. I expected to get turned on, that the massage would be foreplay and we would soon be making love. Somehow, this is different, like he’s pushing different buttons. He works up my hips to my waist, then my back. He switches to my arms, flexing them. I’m very relaxed now, concentrating on Bob’s hands on my body. He’s massaging my shoulders. Now he’s working my neck. It feels really weird, like he’s squeezing the nerves deep in my neck. I pass out.
When I wake up, it’s 8:34 a.m. on Monday. I push my self up off the bed. Bob’s not there but I think I hear him in the kitchen. I slip my robe on and walk out, rubbing my neck. I look in the kitchen and see Bob buttering toast. He’s made a light breakfast. I don’t think my stomach could handle much more.
“What happened last night?” Bob pulls a chair out for me and I plop down.
“Good morning Honey. I thought that you could use some sleep and did not think you would get much last night without some help.”
“What kind of help? Did you drug me?”
“No drugs, just some relaxation techniques and nerve manipulation.” He pours me a cup of coffee. I rub my neck again.
“You mean the Vulcan Neck Pinch?”
He chortles. “Not as simple as that, but there are similarities.”
“You could have asked before knocking me out.”
“Did you have a good nights sleep? No bad dreams?”
“Yes, no bad dreams and lots of sleep, but you still should have asked first.”
“Duly noted. Eat your breakfast.”
I slowly eat my toast and drink my coffee. Bob makes good coffee. Might as well face the music.
“What’s the plan today?”
“I thought that after you shower we could go through your stuff and you can decide what you want to take with you. Anything you cannot take I will keep it here for you.”
“Why bother, I’m not coming back. You said it yourself.”
“You never know Honey.”
“Don’t try to give me false hope Bob. I’ve got to face the reality of my situation if I hope to keep my sanity.”
“I would still like to keep them.”
“Suit yourself. I’m finished. I’m going to shower.” I stand up and shuffle to my room to shower.
I set the water to hot and take a long shower. It’s so much better than my dinky tub at the club. Bob buys me the best shampoo and conditioner and I use half a cup of each today. I dry off, wrap myself in towels and walk out of my bathroom. Bob is waiting for me.
“I think I’m going to miss these towels more than anything else.”
“Take some back with you.”
“Amy probably won’t let me have them.”
“How can she object to towels?"
“She’ll find some way.”
“Then make her say ‘No’. She might miss them.”
“Fine, I’ll try.” I drop my towel and start to go through my underwear drawer. There are some things slutty enough but most is what a normal girl would wear. I pick a red thong and put it on, then a matching underwire shelf bra. I check my closet and find the red dress that I was wearing the first time I came to Bob’s to stay. There are a few skirts short enough and tops skimpy enough to take back with me but the jeans, shirts, rest of the dresses and sportswear stays. I put on the red dress.
“Could you zip me?” I turn my back to Bob and lift my hair. Bob pulls the zipper up and fixes the clasp.
Almost none of the shoes are sexy enough. I can just imagine the crowds reaction if I strip in cross-trainers. My dress and shoes from “Marie’s” are more than sexy enough but I’ll be damned if I’m going to wear them for Anthony or any other man. I pile the few items on my bed. Bob hands me a duffle bag. I put four towels in the bottom, then add the clothes and shoes. I save a pair of heels to wear today but I’m not going to put them on until I have to. It’s just past 10:00 a.m.
“We do not have to be there until 11:00 Honey. Is there anything you want to do?”
“I need to get out of here. Let’s go sit in the park until 11:00.”
Bob picks up the duffle bag and we walk to the car. We drive to the park, stopping near the playground. There are several groups of kids playing on the slides, swing sets, monkey bars and play houses with their mothers nearby. We’re sitting in the car, holding hands.
“Do you have any kids Bob?”
“No Honey. I have never had a relationship strong enough to have children.”
I laugh. “You don’t need a relationship to have kids, you just need sex.”
“I do not have a history of frequent sexual partners and on those occasions when I did have sex, I took the necessary precautions.”
“Not with me you didn’t.”
“True, but Anthony assured me that you could not get pregnant. He wasn’t lying was he?”
“Amy says I can’t get pregnant, but I wonder sometimes. I don’t have normal periods like regular women. I only have one when she gives me my six month tune-ups. I think it may have something to do with my semen addiction, like my body thinks it’s always just a little bit pregnant.” I shrug. “Don’t know for sure, just a guess on my part.”
“Did you have any children as Josh Thomas?”
“No, though there were a couple of paternity cases. Probably a good thing I didn’t. That’s all a kid needs is for his father to disappear off the face of the earth. Hell, if I had a son, he could be almost as old as I am now. He could come to the club and I could take his virginity. That would be one for the psych books.”
“Did you want children?” This is something I hadn’t thought about much before.
“Not really. I dated women that I thought about marrying but never seriously considered having kids. I was real happy those paternity cases went my way. I had nothing against kids, just didn’t want to be tied down, didn’t want the responsibility. But now ... ” I trail off.
“’But now’ what?”
“I don’t know. Somehow, it’s different. Obviously I wouldn’t want a kid now, stuck in the club, what kind of life would that be? But, when it looked like there might be an escape from Amy, I let myself think about what my life could be like. How could I make a living? Could I live the rest of my life as a woman? Can I force Amy to turn me back into a man? What would life as some guy’s wife be like? There were days, I practically ached to have a baby. If I saw a baby on TV, it was like I needed one right then. The feeling would eventually fade away but never completely disappear. It’s weird.”
Bob squeezed my hand gently. “I would guess that it is hormone related. No one knows where ‘maternal instinct‘ comes from. You are as female today as any natural born woman so, logically, you should have the same drives and reaction to stimuli, at least those driven by biology as opposed to those driven by nurture.”
“So you think I have ‘maternal instincts’?”
“Yes, I do. The way that you cared for me when I was off my meds for MS was a clear example of that.”
“But that was just my job.”
“It was the way you did it that showed me that you cared.” Bob patted my hand. “I am sure that you would make an absolutely wonderful mother, if given the chance.” I blush.
“I don’t imagine we’ll ever find out. Not unless Amy decides that me being pregnant is funny.” God, I hope she doesn’t think of that one on her own. The clock on Bob’s dash says 10:48. Times up
.
“Let’s go Bob.”
“We have a few more minutes. Are you sure?"
“Yes, I want to get this over with.” Bob releases my hand, starts the car and backs out of the parking spot. As he pulls away, I look over my shoulder at the kids and their mother’s, talking, laughing, wiping noses, tying shoes, hugging. I start to silently cry, sad at the missed opportunity. Bob reaches over, quickly hugs me, then returns to driving.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
We pull up to the club and park around the back. Anthony’s car is there, so is Amy’s. This just gets better and better. We get out, Bob picks up the bag, I put my shoes on and we walk to the door. It’s unlocked, so we enter. The lights are on, but there is no one around. Bob calls out.
“Hello? Anthony?”
No reply, but I hear someone walking our way - it’s Anthony, I recognize the sound of his footsteps, heavy and deliberate. He turns the corner and enters the room, looking at his watch.
“Hey Bob, you’re early. Hanson’s here, so we might as well get started. Come on.” Anthony turns and walks back to his office. Bob follows him and I follow Bob.
Amy is sitting on the couch in Anthony’s office. Anthony sits behind his desk and Bob takes the chair in front of the desk. Amy pats the couch next to her.
“Come in Honey, have a seat next to me. Isn’t it nice to finally be back home?” I glance at Bob, but his face is a blank.
“Yes Dr. Hanson, it is nice to be ... home.” I sit down next to her.
“Why Honey, I think you have put on a little weight. We can’t have that can we? I’ll make a diet program for you and Anthony can increase the number of your dance sets so you get more exercise. Maybe he can reduce your rates to generate a few extra customers. Vigorous sex burns calories too. We’ll have you back in shape in no time.”
“Thank you, Dr. Hanson, I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
“You don’t seem very enthusiastic, Honey. There is no problem is there? Bob didn’t mistreat you did he?” She isn’t going to make this easy.
“No, Dr. Hanson, Bob treated me very well.”
“Then why the sad face?” Bob said tell the truth so I take a deep breath to prepare to answer her question but Anthony interrupts.
“Can we skip this shit and get down to business? We all know why she’s unhappy and we also know it doesn’t matter. She’s back, she’s staying and she’s open for business.” Amy gives him an “eat shit” look, but he got me off the hook.
“Anthony, I would appreciate you not interrupting me in the future. I will let you know when I want to hear from you.” Anthony grips the arms of his chair but doesn’t move.
“This is my office, my club and my business. I will say what I want, when I want, to who I want. Doc, you can just go ...” Bob raises his hand.
“Please, please let’s all take a breath and relax. There is no reason to argue.” Bob turns his chair so that he can see both of them. Amy doesn’t seem too calm.
“Why are you even here Mr. James? You’re not Honey’s bodyguard by any chance are you?”
“No, Dr. Hanson, I am returning Honey to Anthony’s custody today. You and he can do what you want with her. I have an opinion as to what that should be, but it is your choice. I am just attempting to fulfill my part of our agreement.” I’m ready for Bob’s little speech this time. It still hurts to hear it, but not devastating.
“So, you are saying, that if I was to do something like this ...” Amy reaches out and back hands me hard across the face. I fall back and hit the floor on my side. I look up at Bob. He hasn’t moved an inch, his face still a blank. “... you will do nothing?” He turns to look directly at Amy.
“I do not see why that was necessary Doctor. I have attempted to be open and honest with you. I can understand why you might not trust me, but assaulting Honey proves nothing.”
“It may not prove anything, however your reaction does give me information. I also owe Honey a little something for a bit of attitude she gave me several weeks ago. I did not forget Honey.” She looks down at me, a cruel smile flitting across her face. She is one crazy broad.
“Assuming you are done with your demonstrations Doctor, perhaps we can send Honey to her room while we have a talk.”
Amy stares at Bob with narrowed eyes, her face kind of scrunched up. She’s thinking.
“Fine, but first I want to check that bag.”
“Certainly.” Bob hands her the duffle bag. She opens it and dumps the contents on the floor.
“What is all this?”
“These are clothes Honey purchased while living with me. There are more at my home but she did not think Anthony would approve of them. These are the ones that she thought would pass Anthony’s inspection. Do you wish to check them out, Anthony?”
Anthony leans away from his desk to get a better view.
“They look fine to me. I’ll have Honey model them for me later just to be sure.” Anthony nods towards me. “Put that stuff back in the bag and get ready for your shift. You’re working both lunch and evening today.”
I get up off the floor, stuff my clothes and the towels back in the duffle bag, sling it over my shoulder and walk out.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“So, what do you wish to talk about?”
Honey has left and now it is time to deal with Anthony and Bob. I must admit that it was great fun to slap her in front of Bob. It showed him who is in charge here.
Anthony jumps right in, “I’m calling in my marker, Doc.”
“What ‘marker’ is that Anthony?”
“I told you that I would want something in return for agreeing with your plan to treat Bob and keep him around.”
“If I recall correctly, I told you that I would consider it, but that I would not automatically give you what you wanted.” Anthony glowers at me.
“Either way, I am going to get what I want.”
“And what is that?”
“I want to stop Honey’s addiction to my jiz.”
What a coarse man.
“Do you mean your semen?"
“Yeah.”
“No, that is not acceptable.” Anthony stood up, hands on his desk, leaning forward.
“Like hell it isn’t!”
Bob stood up between us. “Please, Anthony. Sit down. We can all discuss this rationally.” Anthony doesn’t move. Who does Bob think he is?
“There is nothing to discuss Mr. James. I have made my decision.” Anthony raises his arm and points his finger at me.
“See what I have to put up with? The high and mighty Queen has spoken! She won’t listen to anyone. I ought to ...”
Bob interrupts him. “Come now Anthony, don’t say anything you will regret later.” Bob turns to me. “Surely you don’t object to an honest discussion of the issues, do you Doctor?”
“An honest discussion, no I don’t object. Go ahead Mr. James.” I will participate in this pointless exercise for now, just to keep the peace.
“Fine Doctor. Anthony, why do you want Honey’s addiction terminated?” Anthony sits back down.
“I am tired of having sex with her every damn day. It never stops. She’s here 24/7/365. The only break I’ve gotten in the last three years is the past six weeks, and I still had to make weekly deliveries.”
“Why Anthony, I thought that you were more of a man than that. I’m disappointed that you can not service one little girl on a regular basis.” Anthony starts to get up again but Bob reaches out and restrains him.
“Doctor, let’s see if we can avoid the insults. Anthony has stated why he wants what he wants. Is there anything else Anthony?”
“Yeah, you were right about Honey knowing way too much about my business and that, if pushed, she can’t keep her mouth shut. I think the situation is too damn dangerous.”
Bob turns to me. “Doctor, what are your reasons for the continuation of the addiction?”
I sit back on the couch and think for a moment.
“Obviously, it makes her very easy to control. She can't run away. She does what I want, or else.”
“That is good Doctor. Are there other ways to meet those objectives without the addiction?”
“I am sure there are but why make a change? It works so well.”
“Perhaps too well Doctor. Are there any other reasons for keeping the addiction?”
“Certainly, it makes her an enthusiastic whore, which is to Anthony’s financial advantage. Her willingness to have sex with any of his paying customers makes him money.”
“Anything else?” Of course there is, but I will not tell him.
“Nothing else that I can think of at this time.”
Bob sits back down in his chair and says nothing for a moment. “Let me suggest another reason Doctor. You thought that the addiction and the resulting need to have frequent sex as a female would help break Josh Thomas’s will, shatter him psychologically, destroy his spirit. Plus, you would get the pleasure of knowing that he would spend the rest of his life being fucked by abusive jerks and low lifes, present company excepted Anthony. It would be the final act in your quest for vengeance.” Damn him! He is too astute for his own good. Well, it is not my final act. Thank heavens he doesn’t know about that.
“Perhaps that is one of the reasons for Honey’s addiction, but certainly not the only one. I would think that Anthony would want the control her addiction gives him.”
“Sure, it makes my life easier, but at what cost?” Anthony leans forward in his chair. “I don’t have any trouble controlling anyone else at the club and they aren’t addicted to my jiz.”
Bob raises his index finger. “To be fair Anthony, no one else is a prostitute at the club, at least to my knowledge.”
“Yeah, but she is scared to death of me. If I tell her to jump, she jumps and then asks if that was good enough.”
He has made one of my points for me. “If she is so afraid of you, she would run if she could, but she can’t. You need her addiction to keep her from running.”
Bob starts rocking in his chair. “There are other options, Doctor.”
“Such as?”
“You remind me of an old proverb, ‘To a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail’.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we are limited by our knowledge and experience in solving problems. Your expertise is in the biological sciences, so your solution to most problems is based on biology. There are other available technologies, beyond biological. For example, an implantable electronic tracking device. It would not prevent Honey from running but it would prevent her from hiding. Fear of what would happen when she is caught would prevent her from running.” He is right about that, assuming the technology works.
“Assuming the technology works, how is it superior to my solution?” Bob stands up and starts to pace around the room.
“OK. First, a tracker would not leave her vulnerable to being separated from Anthony by the police, as I stated several weeks ago. She would be no better than any other hooker at keeping her mouth shut but no worse either. Second, Anthony would be released from his daily obligation to service Honey. Third, Honey would not have to be around Anthony all the time, limiting her access to information about his business. Fourth, to all other people, she would be a perfectly ordinary girl, reducing the chance that someone would discover her unique origins. It would not solve all problems, Anthony would need to stop giving his associates free access to Honey to limit her ability to identify them but he would need to do that anyway, addiction or not. She would not be as enthusiastic about fucking any Tom, Dick or Harry, but that again would be Anthony’s problem. There may be other advantages I have not thought of yet.”
I have to say, I am impressed. Short, concise and to the point. He did forget about me breaking Honey’s will.
“You failed to mention how your tracker is superior to my semen addiction in breaking Honey’s will.”
“I did not forget Doctor because it has no effect in that area, the same as the addiction.”
What is he talking about? “If her addiction did not break her will, what did, Anthony’s beatings?”
“Neither broke her will, because it is not broken. I have seen people who have been utterly broken mentally. Honey has certainly been abused physically, but mentally she is practically untouched.”
“How can you say that? She does exactly what either Anthony or I tell her to do. She doesn’t argue or fight. She’s as docile as a little kitten.”
“That just means she is smart Doctor. She still longs to escape her situation. She knows that you and Anthony are her enemies and that you do not have her best interest at heart. Certain accommodations have been made by her due to the irresistible urge to have sex, but it is the irresistible nature of those urges that provide protection to her psyche. She has absolutely no choice in the matter, no control. All she has to do is tolerate the sex. Maybe she also enjoys it, but again, she has no control over that. If you had managed to break her, she would not want to escape; she would treat you and Anthony as allies, if not good friends. I would compare her spirit to a sponge. You squeezed her until she had shrunk down to a small, compliant ball but once the pressure is relieved, she returns to her original shape. Her time with me released a large amount of pressure and mentally she has bounced back.”
This is too much. “Are you saying she is going to be disobedient and obstinate? That I am going to have to start from scratch?”
“No Doctor, her behavior should return to what you have experienced before very quickly. As I said, she is not stupid. The pressure is back and her spirit has started to ‘compress’ for its’ own protection. Did you ever read ‘1984’ by George Orwell?”
“Yes, I have read it.”
“The protagonist in that book was a broken man at the end. Honey is not remotely close to that and never will be unless you change your tactics.”
I am going to have to speak with Honey, see for myself if Bob is correct. If he is, I may have wasted the last three years. Well, not exactly wasted but failed to accomplish all my objectives.
“What new tactics are you suggesting?”
“The choice of tactics vary from person to person. I am not suggesting anything in particular. Though I am aware of the basic concepts and procedures, it is not an area of my expertise. I just know a broken person when I see one, and that the current process is fatally flawed due to her complete lack of control.”
I had not planned to spend time today dealing with this. I just wanted to meet Honey, remind her who is boss and get back to work. Now I have a new can of worms to deal with. This will take some thought. “I do not want to commit to anything right now. I need to think about it. There are many interrelated factors that must be considered.”
Bob nods his head. “I understand Doctor, a wise move. I would suggest two things. The first is, if you are going to speak with Honey, do so quickly before she adapts again to the environment of the club. The second is that an implantable tracker and the semen addiction are not mutually exclusive. You could implant the tracker and give it a trial run before removing the addiction, should you decide to do so.” Both rational and reasonable points … which raises a question.
“Why are you being so damn helpful Bob? You have spent the last six weeks living with Honey, quite likely having sex with her. My immediate suspicion is that this is some kind of plot to free her so that you can have her for yourself. Why would you be giving me information that could make her life more difficult?”
“All good questions Doctor. Honey and I have discussed this. We are both aware that you are never going to let her go and that while she might escape for a brief time, you would spare no expense to find her and bring her back. We did grow closer in the weeks we were together and yes, we had frequent sex the last two weeks, thanks to your treatments. However, with her return to the club, that has come to an end. When I accepted your offer to trade my treatments for help in keeping you out of trouble, I became a part of this conspiracy. It is to my advantage to make it a successful conspiracy so that I avoid trouble with the authorities. You already know my opinion about the difficulties Honey’s addiction creates so I am not exactly an unbiased mediator, but Anthony has his own problems with it as well. If there is a way to safely accomplish the joint goals that we can all agree on, then it is an advantage to all of us, with the possible exception of Honey. Does that answer your question?”
“I do not have time to speak with Honey right now, but I will be back this evening after 8:00. Please make sure she is available. We all have a great deal to consider gentlemen.”
I stand, walk out of Anthony’s office, through the club and pause at the door to the main floor.
The lunch crowd, such that it is, is arriving and Honey is just starting her set. She has put on a little weight. She has a slight, forced smile as she slowly gyrates on the stage. Then she sees me. The smile disappears and her eyes blaze in anger. Her movements on stage become quick, deliberate, and sharp, all the time she stares me down. Bob was right, her spirit was not broken. I have her under my thumb but she was still squirming. I have a lot of research to do.
** * ** * ** * *
Bob closes the door to my office.
“Well Anthony, how do you think it went?”
“I don’t know. She is at least thinking about it. Who can predict what she’s gonna do?”
“I am optimistic. We may not get all that we want but there will probably be some positive changes. I will be going now but return by 8:00 so that I can be here when Hanson speaks with Honey. Do you have any question?”
“Yeah, did the Doc’s treatments really fix you? I mean can the little soldier salute now?” Bob grins.
“Do you mean, can I get an erection now?”
“Yeah, can you throw a boner?”
“Absolutely.”
“Did you put it to good use?”
“Yes, very good use. I realize that you have been with Honey for three years but she was just extraordinary, like nothing I had ever experienced before in my life. Are you certain that you want to give that up?”
“I’m not giving it up, I’m just gonna get it when I want it, not when I have to. I just may not want it for awhile. After all, if I don’t have to spend my energy on her, I can spend it on some other lovely ladies.”
“I am sure that the ability to choose will make a difference.”
“You don’t have to stop hitting that just because she’s back here. You know where to find her.” I laugh. “Hell, I’ll even give you a reduced rate.” He shakes his head.
“No thank you Anthony, though I do appreciate the offer. No offense to your customers, but I just think it best to not share a sex partner with them. Frankly, I am surprised that you were willing to do so in the past. I assume that Honey’s treatments protected her from STD’s but I do not believe that her partners would be similarly protected.”
Huh, I hadn’t thought about that. Some of the guys who were Honey’s regulars are pretty disgusting. God knows what kind of diseases they carried. Bob may be on to something there.
“I have also recently been thinking about what other things might be circulating in Honey’s system. Neither of us have any idea how Dr. Hanson transformed Josh Thomas into Honey Sweet-Lay. We do know that she received a lot of injections and she still gets regular booster injections. Her blood likely contains a lot of unnatural chemicals, organisms, viruses or some other agents. I have no idea if anything could be transferred to sexual partners.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that Bob. I’ve been fucking her for years and I’m fine.”
“You are probably right. Even if there is a cumulative effect, you would be the first person to feel the symptoms. Maybe it would require direct contact with her blood. Well, it is all speculation at this point.”
“You’ve got some good points there. I’ll ask the Doc about it the STD’s when she’s in a better mood.”
“I would not ask her about how she transformed Josh Thomas though. I am sure she would react badly to any questions in that area.”
“No doubt Bob, no doubt. I don’t care, just as long as she sets me free.”
“I will see you around 8:00 Anthony”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Stripping is a lot like riding a bike; you never forget how to do it. I must admit that I was a little rusty during the lunch shift and got distracted when I saw Amy watching me, but was back up to speed by the evening shift. The crowd seemed more enthusiastic than usual. I know that they had gotten a little tired of me, taking me for granted. It had been almost two months since my last performance so, to the audience, it was my homecoming.
I’m damn hot and know it. I can also put on quite a show, which Anthony likes. Since he’s back in charge, a good show is what he’s going to get. It really helps if the crowd gets into it. Tonight, they are.
I start with the big strut around the stage, swinging my hips, tits and ass, trying to smile at the crowd. The smile is tough to manage. I work the edge of the stage, not too close though. Some of the girls let the crowd paw them but it makes me nervous. My costume is pretty simple tonight, just a shiny gold bikini top and thong with gold pumps. That way there is more skin for friction on the pole.
After circling the stage twice, I move to the center pole and lean into it, hands up high. I slide up and down a couple of times, the pole in the center of my breasts. I then lean away from the pole and swing around several times, my feet at the base. Moving back to the pole, I slide up and down again, this time with my back to the pole, resting it in the crack of my ass, wiggling my hips as I go, pressing my tits together.
After the last slide, I bend forward at the waist, letting my breasts dangle, showing them to the crowd as I shake my chest. Pivoting on my left foot, I return to the pole and then climb it, wrapping my legs around it and pulling myself up. Once I reach the top, I let go with my hands and lay back, ending upside down, my hair draped on the floor. I remove my top and throw it aside, then jiggle my boobs and tweak my nipples. I hold this position until I start to get woozy from the blood pooling in my head. I swing my body back upright, which is really hard on my abs, grab the pole, release my legs and spread them wide. I again slide down the pole, ending up on the floor doing the splits. I pull myself upright and then strut around the stage again, making sure everyone gets a good look at my tits.
I did put on a few pounds when I stayed with Bob, half went to my ass, the other half to my boobs. The crowd cheers and the guys up front reach for me, but I stay just out of range, teasing them. I then drop to my knees and start my floor moves, crawling like a cat, slowly moving my shoulders and hips, letting my legs trail behind me, arching my back, licking my lips and locking eyes with different guys as I move around. I prefer the pole to the floor because fewer girls can really work the pole, and the floor is usually a little dirty and too close to the crowd.
I stand up again and unhook one side of the thong. I turn in place, letting the guys see what I’ve done. They start to whoop. I hook it back up but repeat with the other side. Same reaction. I let it drop to the floor and step out of the thong. I’m naked except for the shoes. The strut starts again. Guys are starting to dive at me. I keep walking, swinging my ass and boobs but looking around for Anthony. He’s the one who keeps things from getting out of hand. I don’t see him so I decide to wrap this up before a riot starts. I go back to the pole, grab it about half way up, lifting myself off the ground, spread my legs wide and spin around slowly, giving everyone a good look at my pussy. The crowd goes nuts. I drop back down in the splits, pop upright and prance off, waving to the crowd and picking up my costume as I go. I get backstage without any trouble. Candi is waiting there to meet me.
“Damn girl! You’ve got them whipped up. I’m next. If anything happens to me, it’s your fault. Let’s talk after I’m done.”
Her music starts and she shimmies off to start her set. I walk over to the makeup tables, pick up the least filthy towel I can find, sit down and wipe the sweat off my body. There is a terry cloth robe on a hook near me so I pull it off and put it on. Leaning back in my chair, I close my eyes. I’m going to hurt in the morning, it’s going to take at least a week to get back into dancing shape. I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders. Opening my eyes, I see Anthony looming over me.
“Great set Honey! There are about a dozen guys lined up out there to fuck the shit out of you. Pays to advertise. You should take six weeks off more often. Unfortunately, the Doc wants to talk with you tonight, so those guys will have to wait their turn. Well, there’s always tomorrow. I’ll let you know when she gets here. Really good work out there.” Anthony heads back out to the floor.
Why does Amy want to see me? Wasn’t smacking me in the face enough for her? God. Damn. Bitch.
I close my eyes again and sink back into my chair. Candi’s music is just ending. There’s a bunch of applause and whoops and she comes strutting through the curtains. I stand up to greet her but she beats me to the punch, strongly hugging me.
“Honey, I haven’t seen you since your date with Bob. How did it go? Where did you eat? What did you do after supper?”
I pull myself from her hug. “Slow down, slow down. Take a breath. It was wonderful, maybe the best night of my life. We ate at the ‘French Room’ ... ”
“OOOOO, that place is great! Expensive, but good! What did you have?”
“Guinea hen stuffed with lobster, asparagus and French Onion soup.”
“That sounds scrumptious! Sit down and tell me all about it.”
We sit down at the make up tables and I give her the story of the entire evening, the meal, the dancing, Tom and Gwen Francis and the paparazzi waiters. Candi laughs about the camera phones.
“I’ll have to go on line tonight and see what I can find. I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. Isn’t technology grand?”
“I don’t know if agree with you about the technology thing. Frankly, it was a little unnerving to have all those guys secretly taking my picture.”
“Maybe I’ll put the pictures I took on line.”
“Please Candi, don’t. That kind of publicity is the last thing I need.” Candi scoots her chair closer to me.
“You haven’t said anything about what happened when you got home.”
I lean in closer to her with a sly smile. “You’re right, I haven’t.”
She’s exasperated. “Don’t hold out on me! Spill it!”
“Wwweeeeellllllll, let me think about it.”
She swats my arm playfully. “I worked my ass off for you Honey! You owe me this.” I decide to give in.
“OK, fine. What do you want to know?”
“I want to know what happened, damn it!”
“I don’t want to get in to too many details, but I can say that Bob is no longer impotent and that he made up for a lot of lost time.”
“Was he any good?”
I take her hands in mine. “He was the best I have ever had, the best sex I have ever had, the most sex I have ever had and you had a lot to do with it.”
That wasn’t quite true. I didn’t want to tell her about the Wrangler post Super Bowl parties, which I don’t think of as sex exactly, more like biologically induced rape.
“Honey, I’m so happy for you!” Candi said, tears in her eyes. “I hope it all works out for you and Bob.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell for Bob and I, I just smiled back at her.
“We’ll have to see about that Candi, but thanks again for all you did. Thank Marie too when you see her next time.” Anthony walks in.
“Get dressed Honey, she’s here. She wants to see you in your room. Hurry up.” He hurries out. Candi looks at me, head cocked to one side.
“What was that about?”
“My doctor wants to meet me.”
“Your doctor makes house calls? I’d like to meet him.” I pull on a thong and fasten my bra.
“It’s a her and not exactly a house call. It’s hard to explain. I’ve got to go. I’ll give you more details about Bob’s ‘performance’ later. He’s got more tricks than Houdini.”
“Who’s Houdini?”
“Right, before your time, sorry. How about Doug Henning?” I drop a blue mini dress over my head and pull it down my body.
“Nope.”
“Alright. David Blaine?” I slip my feet into my high heels.
“Oh, right, a magician. Sometimes Honey, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You’re not the only one. See ya.” I slip out of backstage and head for my room.
I’m a nervous wreck when I reach my door. I pause to catch my breath. Nothing good can come from this meeting. I reach for the doorknob but catch some motion out of the corner of my eye. I look left. It’s Bob, standing at the end of the hallway. He doesn’t say anything but gives me the ‘Thumbs Up’ signal and smiles. I return the smile and the signal. I feel much better knowing that he’s here. I open the door and walk in.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Anthony left at least ten minutes ago to get Honey and she’s still not here. Two months ago, she would not have left me waiting so long.
I use the time to review some pictures stored on my laptop. They were found on the internet by my personal assistant, Janet Lester. They are camera phone pictures of Honey at the French Room and the Adolphus Hotel, eating, dancing and generally enjoying herself. Bob is probably there but, not surprisingly, the photographers are concentrating on Honey. I must admit that she is stunning, a testament to my skill and planning.
This room really is depressing. No privacy. Bland colors. No view from the window. Just a chair, a bed, a dresser, a lamp, a bath, a sink, a rack for some clothes. Quite soul crushing.
It is perfect.
I check to make sure that my contribution to the décor is still screwed to the dresser and aimed correctly at the bed. The clock reads 8:22 p.m. Honey has kept me waiting twelve minutes. This is simply unacceptable. I hear the doorknob turn, the door opens and Honey walks in.
“There you are Honey! Come in. Have a seat on the bed.” She sits on the edge of her bed while I sit on the chair. “We need to get caught up on what you have been up to these last few weeks. It has been a while since we last talked.”
“We talked about nine hours ago when you smacked me in the face Dr. Hanson. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
It is worse than I thought. She would never have even thought about talking to me like that two months ago. She is just sitting there, with an intentionally blank, emotionless face. No obvious fear or nerves.
“I have not forgotten Honey. I just needed to make a point.”
“What point was that, Dr. Hanson?”
I force a smile. “That I am in charge Honey. You are my creation and that I can do what I want with you.”
“I don’t think anyone is questioning that Dr. Hanson.” She smiles back at me. That was a surprising answer.
“You have changed Honey and I do not believe I like it.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“Bob and I discussed my situation several times over the last few weeks. It helped me understand things. He told me that I should simply tell you the truth at all times. If I tell you the truth, there will be no reason for you to torture me for information.”
“Then explain these.” I flip the top up on my laptop, displaying the pictures from the cell phones. Honey leans forward, looking closely at them.
“He thought that might happen. Most of them aren’t very good, they don’t really do me justice. I looked very hot that night.”
“What were you doing out dressed like that?”
"I talked Bob into going out for a night on the town."
“You planned this?”
“No, I talked him into going out, but he made all the plans. We ate supper at the ‘French Room’ and then went dancing.” She leaned back on the bed. “Then we went back home and made wild, passionate love the rest of the night and early morning. Bob told me to thank you for the results of his treatments. I’d like to add my thanks for that too.”
That is more information than I needed. “You have fucked hundreds of men. What makes Bob James so special?” She has an unfocused look on her face.
“Bob James is the finest lover I have ever had. He knows exactly how to treat a woman, what turns her on, what buttons to push, where to touch and when. No one else is even close.”
I think that must be what rapture looks like. “Even better than Anthony?”
She actually snorts at that. “I’ve never been more than a cum dump to Anthony. It’s apples and oranges.”
“That is all quite interesting, but I would like to put your willingness to tell the truth to the test. Does Bob James have any plans to try to rescue you?”
“From what?”
“From me, from Anthony, from this.” I gesture around the room.
She looks down at the ground. “Unfortunately not. We both agree that I am truly stuck here.”
A likely story. “Why should I believe you without further questioning?”
She looks up at me, anger clearly in her eyes. “You mean torture, don’t you? Go ahead. You did it once, you’ll probably do it again. I survived.” Now she is sneering at me. “Bob made a point of never saying anything in front of me that I couldn’t tell you. He was much more careful than you or Anthony ever were.”
“Are you saying he is smarter than I am?”
“I don’t know about smarter, but probably more careful, more cautious. He’s a devious son of a bitch.”
“So he may have a plan and not tell you about it.”
She returns her eyes to the floor at her feet. “I thought about that, hoped and prayed that he had a hidden plan, but I just don’t see how he could do it.” She lifts her head and looks back at me, tears in her eyes. “Do you see any way he could pull it off?”
“No Honey, there is no way he could succeed. Bob may be very smart … but I am smarter.”
“So why torture me? You already have your answer.” She is pretty sly herself.
“Maybe I just want to, isn’t that a good enough reason?”
She stands up. “I’m sure that it’s good enough for you. Unless you plan on starting right now, I have to get back to work. Is there anything else Dr. Hanson?”
“No Honey, nothing else ... for now.” She strides past me, out of the room.
Well, that could have gone better. Her spirit is not broken; it may not even be bent. How could more than three years of hard work be undone in six weeks? What exactly did Bob say to her? More importantly, what can I do to crush Honey Sweet-Lay? I pick up my laptop and walk out the door. Bob is leaning against the wall at the end of the hall.
“Mr. James, why am I not surprised to see you here?”
“Because very little surprises you Doctor.”
“Oh you are not correct about that Mr. James. Ms. Sweet-Lay just surprised me in the last few minutes with an unwelcome display of will and spirit. Where do you suppose that came from?"
He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards me. “I suspect that I am partially to blame for that.”
“Only partially?” He is now standing next to me.
“Yes Doctor, only partially. Your efforts over these last few years left her damaged, but hardly beyond repair. All I did was treat her like a human being and she blossomed. Remember, my original plan was to find a desperate woman, rescue her and then employer her to care for me in my anticipated disabled condition. I did not find out about Honey’s true situation until after that process had begun. So, I helped fix her but you left me the opening.”
“We need to talk Mr. James.”
“I agree Doctor but it will have to be tomorrow, or some day at least a week after tomorrow.”
“Why those particular days?”
“I will be gone next week. I need to payback one of my associates who assisted me while I was under your care.”
I pull my PDA from my purse and turn it on. “I can see you after 3:45 p.m. tomorrow.”
“I will be there at 3:50 then. Good night Doctor.”
“Good night, Mr. James.” He turns and walks back to the club floor. I need to formulate some kind of plan, get ready for that meeting. I just cannot escape the feeling that I am being played the fool.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It took most of the night, but I believe that I am ready to face Bob James. I have been operating upon a few assumptions that have not been proven true, nor have they been proven false. The validity of his advice and recommendations are contingent upon the truth of those assumptions, which will be put to the test today. I rearrange the chairs in my office to put a little extra room between them and my desk. I would like to keep Bob further away from me, just in case. It is 3:35. Bob tends to be prompt. I page Janet on the phone.
“Yes, Dr. Hanson?”
“When Mr. James arrives, buzz me, then wait ten minutes and show him to my office.”
“Certainly, Dr. Hanson.”
All along, Bob’s advice seems to make a certain amount of sense. I hate to admit it, but my plans concerning the destruction of Josh Thomas’s will seem to not have been one hundred percent successful. The physical changes are perfect, as are most of the mental changes. He has accepted that he is now a she. She also pretty much acts like a female in manner and dress, though more like a whore than a real woman thanks to Anthony’s careful training. The problem is that she has retained too much free will. The constant threats of beatings by Anthony and her biological compulsion to fuck like a bunny keep her from exercising that free will, but somehow it remains intact. Bob could be correct about why my plan was not as effective as I hoped it would be. The limited research I was able to do overnight seems to support his criticism. My problem is that while all his suggestions make sense, they also seem to make Honey’s life easier and lessens my control.
The phone buzzes. He’s here. I want him to wait. It’s a petty power play on my part and he will likely recognize it as such, but I don’t care. I am tired of being on the defensive all the time.
I busy myself with some paperwork while waiting for Bob, but I cannot really concentrate on it. There is a certain amount of risk in what I plan to do today. There is a knock at my door.
“Come in.” Janet opens the door.
“Are you ready for Mr. James now?”
“Yes, thank you Janet, please show him in.” She steps aside, Bob walks in and she shuts the door behind him
.
“Please sit down Mr. James.” Bob sits in the nearest chair
“Good afternoon, Doctor.” He has the same blank, emotionless look on his face as Honey did. Now I know where she got it. I nod towards him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. James. I have given your recommendations considerable thought and find them to be mostly reasonable. I am willing to give the tracking device a trial and, should it work, I will remove Honey’s semen addiction. If things do not work out, I can always reverse that change.”
“Will that change cause any other changes? Honey suspects that the addiction is also related to her lack of menstrual periods and inability to become pregnant.” I laugh.
“Does Honey want to become pregnant? I can arrange that, you know.”
“To my knowledge, she has no interest in having a child, but you can speak to her about it. My interest is in preventing unintended consequences. Change one thing in a complex system and you could face a cascade of changes, some anticipated … some not. I do not like surprises.”
I stifle a smile. I plan to surprise you today Bob. “She is partially correct. Once I remove the semen addiction, it will be necessary to begin a regime of birth control. There are many commercial products, however I have an implant I am working on which should be an improvement. It should give a full years’ protection with one dose. Honey will be the first human trial.”
“I am sure she will be happy to be a lab rat.”
Still no change in his expression. “Are there any other changes?”
“Likely not, but there are no guarantees. Honey is unique, obviously, so it is impossible to be absolutely sure. If there are other problems, I will deal with them.”
“That is understandable. Do you have any questions about the tracker?”
“Yes, how does it work?”
“It is GPS based, keeping track of a person by triangulating with several geostationary satellites. The signal is broadcast to the receiver using cell phone frequencies.”
“What is the power source?”
“Rechargeable batteries. The recharging is done through magnetic induction, each charge is good for at least twenty days and it takes two hours to recharge. Battery life is expected to be approximately six years but the technology is fairly new, not a lot of field trials yet so that is just an estimate.”
“How big is it?”
“The main unit is about one third the size of a pack of cigarettes, which is mostly battery. There is a wire antenna that needs to be just below the skin of an arm or a leg. The receiver is the size of a Palm Pilot.”
“How many are in use right now?”
Bob pauses for a moment. “I would say no more than eighty.”
“What prevents interference among the units?”
“Each one has a unique digital code. The current system should handle up to three hundred thousand separate transmitters.”
“So, if the cell phone system is disrupted by power failures or sun spots, I lose track of Honey.”
"That is true. You would also lose her if she lands in a cell phone dead zone, but you cannot stay in a dead zone forever. You would not lose her should there be a problem with the satellites because the system automatically shifts to cell tower triangulation, which works, but is not as accurate as the satellite system. The number of cell phone dead zones are decreasing all the time. It is a multi frequency system, so it works worldwide. This is not a perfect replacement for your semen addiction solution, but all choices have pluses and minuses, including your addiction plan. In addition, this system should get better and more reliable as time passes.”
“How is it that you have access to this equipment?”
“One of the benefits of my prior employment.”
Yes, his employment as an assassin. Well ... we will see about that. “Do we have permission to use it? I don't want to get into trouble with the government.”
“As long as I remain a part of the group, we can safely use the system.”
Ah, the indispensable man ploy. We cannot afford to lose him because it would cause too many problems. The more dependant we become on him, the more power he has.
“It all sounds quite impressive Mr. James, assuming it works.”
“Oh it works Doctor, trust me.”
“You have hit the nail on the head Mr. James. Not to put too fine a point on it, I don’t trust you. Perhaps more accurately, I don’t believe you.” He does not react at all, which is frustrating.
“Exactly what do you not believe Doctor?”
“I don’t believe that you are an ex-government assassin. You have given me no proof except your word and a short beating of Anthony.”
“What about the blood pressure incident during my initial treatment?”
“That just proves that you have access to unique technology, like this tracking system. You could have simply hired some people to watch you for a few weeks and monitor your condition. My problem is that I think that you are lying to me. If you are, then you can not be trusted and neither can your advice.”
He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Doctor, are you telling me that you wish to revoke our agreement?”
“No, I am saying that I want you to prove to me that you are an assassin.”
“How do you propose that I do that?”
I can’t help smiling. “Why kill someone, of course.”
He opens his eyes and stares at me, head slightly cocked to one side. “I told you that I was done with that life, that I would not kill to further your plans."
“Isn’t that rather convenient? ‘I am a killer but I don’t do that anymore so don’t ask me to kill anyone.’ I am a scientist Mr. James. I need evidence, proof, something tangible.”
He sits in silence for a few moments. “You are assuming that I will not just refuse your request and leave you in the mess that you have created.”
“Don’t talk to me about ‘my mess’. This is about you. Any time I challenge you, you insult me to divert my questions. It will not work this time. I think that you have enjoyed the benefits of my treatments and would be loathe to give them up. I understand that you and Honey had a couple of very enjoyable weeks together. If you are as good as she says you are, you should have no trouble replacing her. Is that something you are willing to lose?”
“Do not assume that all men are controlled by their penises Doctor. I would prefer to keep my virility, but I will not sacrifice my integrity for it.”
“Integrity!” I jeer. “What do you know of integrity? Trying to take Honey from me. Helping a rapist escape justice. Don’t talk to me about your integrity!” I stand up, walk around my desk and lean against the corner. “Besides, even if you leave, I will make sure that Honey pays the price. She will think that the last three years have been paradise when I get done with her.”
Bob says nothing, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his leg. He raises his right eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?”
I’ve got him! “That you kill someone and provide me with irrefutable proof. Once you have done that, we can talk about your tracker.”
“I assume that you are off limits as a target.”
A weak show of spirit on his part. “You won’t harm me or Anthony and I doubt you would even consider Honey. Other than that, I do not care.”
“It is quite clear that you do not care, Doctor.” He stands and walks over to my window, looking out. “You remind me of my past employers. They did not care about the consequences of their decisions either. They had their reasons for wanting a particular person or group dead, unfortunately killing someone is like throwing a stone in a calm pool of water, ripples spreading well beyond the initial impact. My employers rarely thought beyond the first or second ripple. I, on the other hand, could see the fifth or sixth ripple. The benefits from the death usually were less than the ultimate harm. Eventually, I started seeing effects that even I could not predict. That was why I decided to get out of the business. I could no longer be the tool of ignorant idiots.” He turns away from the window. “Now you are attempting to force me to kill again just to satisfy your curiosity. Who are you proposing I kill?”
“Some homeless person, a drug addict on the street, a hooker that no one will miss. There are probably hundreds of potential targets out there in Dallas alone.” He walks back to my desk.
“I think you believe that you are giving me no choice in the matter, but there is always a choice. People claim that they are forced to do something to avoid personal responsibility for their choices. I refuse to do that. I accept your request Doctor.” He reaches into a coffee cup I keep on my desk with an assortment of ink pens in it, removing a classic Bic Stick plastic barrel pen. “Please ask Ms. Lester to come in.”
“Why do you need her?”
“Because I am going to kill her in your office, right now, with this pen.”
“Don’t be absurd! You can not kill some one with a pen and you certainly are not going to kill my assistant in my office!”
He twirls the pen in his fingers. “I certainly can kill someone with a pen. You are old enough to remember that old television commercial where they fired this type of pen through a board and it still works. You drive this pen through the temple of someone’s head and they will die ... eventually. It is not fast or clean but it works.”
This is not funny. “Yes, you are right. That would kill someone but you are not killing Janet. I forbid it!” Bob walks up to me, sneering as his face nears mine, a steely cold look in his eyes. I may have made a serious mistake.
“Actually Doctor, I was just humoring you when I asked who you wanted killed. Once you decided to give me this little test, your opinion no longer mattered. You clearly do not take this seriously so I have decided to bring the consequences of violent death home to you. Since I cannot kill you, Anthony or Honey, Janet Lester is the next best choice. You know her but she is not vital to the operation of the clinic. You are going to call her back to your office.” He holds the pen in front of my face. “I am going to jam this pen into the side of her head. If that does not kill her, I will beat her head in with this chair. I will then leave the body here for you to deal with.”
“Are you insane?! Every one in the clinic will know what you have done! How do I explain this to her husband, her children?!”
“Your employees know how to keep secrets; this will just be one more. As for the husband and children, that will be your problem Doctor. Now please call her.”
He actually expects me to cooperate with him. “I will do no such thing! This whole idea is ridiculous! If you are going to act like this, just forget I even asked you to prove that you were an assassin.”
“Doctor, you did not ask, you demanded. You had a good reason for doing so. You do not believe me and we cannot continue until you do. Therefore, I must decline your request to stop. It is too late to retract your demand of proof. Since you will not bring Ms. Lester to me, I will go find her.” Bob quickly strides to the door, throws it open and walks out before I can stop him. I run out after him.
“Bob, stop! Stop right now! You leave her alone! I demand that you stop immediately!” He is much faster than he looks. By the time I catch up with him, he is in the lobby. I look around but do not see Janet anywhere.
Bob also looks around the lobby and then quickly walks down the hall to the lab. I run after him. He opens the door and sticks his head in.
“Excuse me Ms. Connors, have you seen Ms. Lester?” I get there just as she opens her mouth to answer him.
“Don’t answer that!” Connors’ eyes are wide in shock.
“But Doctor, she’s gone for the day, don’t you remember? She had a dental appointment.” My God, I had forgotten that I had given her permission to leave early today. Bob just stands there, rolling the pen in his hand. He checks his watch.
“It appears that Ms. Lester is getting a brief reprieve. I have a plane to catch and must not be late. I will be back in seven to ten days. Ms. Lester will be dealt with when I return. I suggest that you do not warn her or attempt to hide her from me because I will find her. Either that or I will substitute Ms. Connors or Ms. Smith.” He hands me the pen. “Good bye, Doctor.” He walks to the lobby and leaves. I slump against the wall.
Connors is staring at me. “What was that all about?”
I straighten up, pulling myself together. “Nothing you need to worry about. I will deal with it.”
I just don’t know how.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The club always has some kind of special program for Halloween. The dancers dress in the classic “sexy” costumes, sexy nurse, sexy cop, sexy schoolgirl and so on. I get the sexy maid. Short black satin dress with petticoats, lace apron, lace cap, fishnet stockings with garter belt, feather duster and black pumps. It’s a lot harder to work the pole with stockings, less friction, but I put on a good show. The crowd is still happy to see me back on stage. Unfortunately, they are also happy that I am once again available for fucking. Anthony was right; they have been lining up all week to fuck the shit out of me. They are all enthusiastic, which is something, but none of them has Bob’s skills. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be the same.
I’m afraid that he may have been wrong about that “loved and lost” thing. I still get off on the sex, still have orgasms, still need that sexual relief, but it’s not the same anymore. After sex with Bob, everyone else is kind of “blah”. It’s just not enough, like you spent your whole life eating vegetables and then you finally get to eat chocolate for a few weeks and then back to vegetables for the rest of your life. Vegetables after chocolate ain’t the same. Same deal with sex after Bob. I had just finished licking my last customer’s cock clean when Anthony knocked on the door.
“Honey, when you’re done, wash up and come to my office.”
Great. I hope that he just wants to talk, because I’m beat. This last guy was going to be the final one for the night.
The john pats me on the top of the head, like I’m his dog, and tells me that I did a good job. Gee, thanks buddy, I aim to please. After he leaves, I wash the cum off my face and reapply my lipstick. Please God, let this be quick so I can go to bed and get some sleep. I put my panties back on, adjust the top of my dress and head off to Anthony’s office. The door is closed so I knock.
“Come in Honey.” I open the door and look in. Damn! Amy is here. I just can not catch a break tonight. Anthony points to a chair.
“Have a seat.” I sigh, walk in and sit down. Amy looks worried, though she is trying not to. Anthony’s also uncomfortable. I wonder where Bob is. Anthony coughs lightly to clear his throat.
“Honey, we need to talk to you. There may be a small problem and you might be able to help.”
Amy is looking at the wall, avoiding me. Anthony sounds really concerned. Where is Bob? “I’ll do what I can, Sir.”
“That’s good Honey.” He doesn’t say anything else, clearly trying to decide either what to say or how to say it. “About a week ago, the Doc and Bob had a small ... disagreement. Bob said he would ... ah ... do something that Dr. Hanson would prefer he not do. He’s been out of town on ... business for the last week but he’s supposed to be back any day. No one’s heard from him and the Doc would really like to talk to him before something bad happens.”
Amy glares at him when he says “bad”, like he’s giving something away. I decide to just listen for awhile. Anthony keeps talking.
“We thought that you may know of some way to reach him, a phone number, an email address, something we could use to contact him. It’s important.” Wow, from “small problem” to “important” in two minutes. This could be interesting.
“I am sorry, Sir. Bob only gave me his cell phone number, which is the same one he gave you and Dr. Hanson. Isn’t he answering his phone?” I say that last part a bit too innocently. Can’t help it.
“Do you have anything else? The name of someone maybe?”
“Nothing, Sir. Bob was extremely careful to avoid telling me anything like that. He never slipped up.” Unlike the other people in this room. “He never mentioned any other names in all the time I spent with him.” Anthony is disappointed and Amy is pissed. I can’t explain why, but I feel like taking a chance. “If either of you could tell me what is going on, I might be able to help more.” Neither of them say anything. “I mean, if it is so important and all.” I’ve taken the plunge.
Anthony looks at Amy and she nods her head slightly. He starts again. “Bob and Dr. Hanson were talking about Bob’s recent ... suggestions. She told him that she had ... uh ... problems with some of his ideas and wanted him to ...” Anthony got stuck here. He couldn’t figure out a way to say it without upsetting Amy. I turned to her.
“What did you want Bob to do?” She looks surprised that I’m speaking directly to her, but I don’t think she plans on answering me. I turn to Anthony. “What is going on here? Why are you both so afraid of what Bob may do?” Anthony is still hesitating. This is just wasting my time.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I have nothing else to say because I don’t know what this is about and have no idea what I may know that could help.” I stand up. “Can I go to bed now?”
Amy finally speaks. “Sit down Honey.” I sit down, facing her. She says nothing else for a moment or two. “I told Bob that I thought that he had some useful ideas, but that I needed further proof that he was what he said he was before I would proceed.” Oh God no, she couldn’t be that stupid.
“Do you mean proof that he was a killer?”
“Yes.”
Stupid doesn’t begin to describe it.
“What kind of proof?” Amy can’t look at me. I turn again to Anthony. “What kind of proof, Sir?”
“She wanted him to kill someone.”
Well, that would be proof. Why is she so worried when she asked for it herself? Then I remember who we are talking about. Bob never does the expected, that’s his charm in bed and why he’s so hard to deal with otherwise. The penny finally drops.
“So the problem is that he has decided to kill someone that Amy didn’t chose.” I turn back to Amy. “Who is he going to kill?”
“My assistant, Janet Lester.”
Frankly, I would prefer he kill either Connors or Smith, but this probably isn’t the time to bring that up. She also didn’t notice I called her “Amy”.
“Why hasn’t he done it already? Bob’s not the type of guy to put things off.” Anthony answers.
“I told you, he had to leave town on business.” So that was true. I thought he made it up to avoid telling me the truth.
“When is he supposed to get back?”
“He may be back already or in the next three days, we don’t know for sure.”
“If this happened a week ago, why are you just talking to me now?” Anthony points to Amy.
“Ask her.” She glares at him.
“It doesn’t matter why. Apparently you can not help me, so it has been a waste of time.”
She didn’t come to me any sooner because I was her last option. She wouldn’t ask me for help unless absolutely forced to.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t help. Just because I can’t reach Bob doesn’t mean I couldn’t talk him out of killing her. Who’s watching his house?” They look at each other. I can’t believe this.
“No one is watching his house? You don’t know where he is at and no one is keeping watch of the one place you know where he might show up?” I stand up. “I’ll go set up camp at his house. If he shows up, I’ll try to talk him out of killing anyone. I will need to borrow the van.” I hold my hand out to Anthony for his keys. He hesitates.
“Why should I let you go out on your own?”
“You got a better idea?”
“More importantly, why are you helping at all?” asks Amy. “Surely you will want something for this. What is it?” I hadn’t really thought about that. What could I get away with? What the hell, go for broke.
“Change me back.”
Amy laughs wildly. “No chance. Bob could kill a thousand people and my answer would be the same.” Nothing ventured, nothing gained. What is something she might agree to?
“Stop my addiction to Anthony’s semen.” I hate that and how it makes me feel.
Amy answers with a sneer. “Agreed, you stop Bob and I will make that change.”
“I can’t guarantee that I can stop him. I will try … if I can find him.”
“If we can not stop him, it may not matter. Give her the keys Anthony.” Anthony opens his desk drawer, removes the van keys and tosses them to me.
“I’ll change clothes, pick up some supplies and get over to his house.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I change into my most comfortable outfit, which still leaves me looking like a whore or a party girl. I put some bedding in the back of the van along with some bottled water and snacks from the bar. I can watch for a few hours outside his house with this stuff, but will need more supplies if it is going to be a long term stay.
I drive over to his house and park in the driveway. I want him to know I’m here. I get out and walk around the house. There doesn’t seem to be anyone home. I’m not dumb enough to try any of the doors or windows, God knows what kind of security precautions he’s taken. I go back to the van, find a piece of paper and pen in the glove box and write a note.
“Bob,
I am in the van. Please don’t do anything without first talking to me.
Honey”
I put the note on the front door. There is no reason to push him. He’ll either agree to talk with me or not. I stay awake until 3:00 a.m. but am just too tired. I go to the back, wrap up in the blankets and quickly drop off to sleep.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I wake up, stretching out the kinks from sleeping on the metal floor of a van. Wait ... I’m not in the van. I sit up and look around. I’m back in my room in Bob’s house, in my old bed. My clothes are hanging in the closet and I am wearing one of Bob’s T-shirts. I look over at the clock radio. It’s 10:42 a.m. I can smell coffee so I get up and shuffle to the kitchen. Bob is sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping coffee.
“Good morning Honey. Would you like some breakfast, or perhaps brunch?”
“When did you get in?”
“About 4:10 a.m. It was cold outside and I could not leave you out there all night.”
“Thanks. Why not just wake me and invite me in?”
“You looked so beautiful just lying there, wrapped in blankets, I did not have the heart to wake you.”
“If what I have been told is true, you do have the heart to go back to killing innocent people.” Bob stiffens.
“Dr. Hanson should not have accused me of lying to her. I will not tolerate that from anyone. She also should not have threatened your well being.” I thought that she might have done something like that. Stupid bitch.
“Please Bob, don’t kill some innocent woman because you’re pissed at being insulted or to protect me.”
He shakes his head. “Amy Hanson needs to learn a lesson.”
“Fine, kill or seriously hurt her then, but Janet Lester hasn’t done anything wrong. Amy hired her after my transformation so she has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Did she ask you to come out here to talk with me?”
“They finally told me what was happening at the last minute. It was my idea to come out here. No one knew how to get in touch with you.” I walk over to the coffee pot, pour myself a cup and sit down at the table.
“What are you getting for coming out here to talk to me?”
“Why would I be getting anything?”
“One, you did not deny it, instead responding to my question with a question, attempting to deflect me. Two, while I would hope you are a more altruistic person now than you once were, I do not think you would pass up the chance to extract some concessions from Amy.”
I swear, he is always two steps ahead everyone. “She agreed to end my addiction to Anthony’s semen if I stop you from killing Janet Lester.”
He didn’t say anything for about half a minute. “You sure you want that?”
OK, I’m confused. “Of course I want that. I’m sick and tired of being betrayed by my own body. I want some control back in my life.”
He pauses again. “I will say just one thing ... be careful what you wish for. I know it is a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason. They are often true.”
“Aren’t you the one who told Amy the whole addiction thing was a bad idea from the start?”
“Yes, but that was because it was the wrong strategy. Once the addiction plan was implemented, there are likely other aspects of your biology that it also affects. You may not like living with the consequences should she make the changes you are requesting.”
Sometimes he gives me a headache. “You want to tell me what is really going on?”
“You know I cannot even comment on that question.”
“Just like old times. Will you agree not to harm Lester or anyone else on Amy’s staff?”
“I will agree to meet with Amy later today to discuss it.”
She’ll probably agree, if only to buy some time.
“I’ll call her to see if she will agree to that but let her sweat a bit. In the meantime, I’ll fix breakfast.” I start to stand.
“Sit down, I will fix breakfast. How about steak and eggs?”
“No offense, but your eggs are greasy.”
“Perhaps you can show me the correct technique?”
God, how I miss this.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I call Amy after breakfast and let her know that I’ve spoken with Bob. She agrees to meet with him at the club at 2:00 p.m. I get dressed and we hang out until time for the meeting. I tell him about the camera phone pictures on the web and we spend some time looking for them, finding my photos on several MySpace and Facebook pages. The large percentage of comments are favorable, the rest think that I’m a hired escort. Either way, they all agree that I am spectacular. I hope nobody ever makes the connection between me and those pictures. If that happens, I’ll never get any peace at the club.
Bob seems to be in a good mood when we leave for the club. He’s driving his car and I follow in the van. However, when we get there, he’s withdrawn and sullen. He can be a real hard guy when he wants to. We walk in. Anthony’s waiting for us. I’m not sure if Amy has him here as protection from Bob or if he’s got his own turf to defend. I give him the van keys and start to head for my room.
“Wait Honey.” Anthony reaches out and grabs my arm, then looks quickly at Bob and lets me go. “Sorry. The Doc wants you at the meeting.”
Why does she want me there? Am I going to be some kind of bargaining chip? I look at Bob, but he has no reaction. I don’t really have a choice so I follow them to Anthony’s office. Amy is already there and she looks like she’s had a rough night. Her face is haggard, hair out of place, clothes rumpled. She always looks so perfect, so together, all the time. Bob must have her worried. Anthony closes the door. Bob takes charge right away.
“You wanted to see me, Doctor? I thought that I made my intentions clear the last time we met.” You can hear the steel in that voice, a “don’t fuck with me” tone that you would have to be an idiot to miss. Amy’s not an idiot.
“Yes Mr. James, you did make your intentions very clear. I just think that there has been a misunderstanding.” She is trying to match his tone, but can’t because she is trying to back track from something.
“No Doctor, there was no misunderstanding. You called me a liar and demanded that I kill some poor unfortunate person to redeem myself.” He’s not going to give her any way out. Anthony seems interested in their conversation but not particularly nervous. If Amy had brought him in as muscle to use against Bob, he’d be more on edge. They are going one on one this time.
“I never said that you were a liar. I just said that I was having a hard time believing you. Even you would have to admit that the odds of an assassin showing up in Anthony’s club are astronomical.”
“What are the odds of a Nobel Prize Laureate showing up in Anthony’s club?”
“That is not a fair comparison. I have business with Anthony.”
“That is true. The business is tormenting a young woman. I too had business, which was searching for a tormented young woman. Remember, Anthony’s club was neither my first nor last stop. I had visited several clubs in Dallas, Fort Worth, Houston, San Antonio, Galveston and other cities. I would say that our paths were almost certain to cross.”
“I still say your presence is unusual.”
“The odds are long only because there are so few of us. The same could be said about the gas station I frequent, the grocery store where I shop and the movie theater I go to. While there are not a lot of retired assassins, we are all some place all the time. Your lack of belief has nothing to do with ‘the odds’. It is just an excuse to ignore my conclusions and advice. What I find most offensive is your attitude towards other people you consider below your position in society. The less fortunate are not fodder to be sacrificed to satisfy your morbid curiosity. The death of any individual leaves a hole in the lives of those who knew them, loved them. Some deaths leave larger holes than others. I imagine that your death, Doctor, would leave a hole that would require a micrometer to measure.”
Damn Bob! Amy looks like she’s been punched in the gut. She starts to speak but Bob moves quickly to stand in front of her, his hand raised to silence her. Anthony remains motionless.
“Janet Lester’s death will traumatize her family and friends. It will also destroy your relationship with the remaining clinic staff. They will know that you sacrificed her life in a futile attempt to question my bona fides. They will begin to wonder how safe they are. A youthful long life is only good if your boss doesn’t throw you to the wolves. I seriously doubt that your clinic will survive the disruption. When all is said and done, you will begin to understand some of the consequences of murder.” Bob turns his back to Amy and walks to the door. “If you will excuse me, I have a distasteful job to do.” He reaches for the doorknob.
“Please stop!” Amy has found her voice. “What can I do to convince you not to do this? I will do what you want. I will end Honey’s addiction; I will use your tracker. Clearly you do not want to kill her so don’t. Tell me what you want.” He stops, turns around and crosses his arms across his chest.
“I want an apology.” Amy looks surprised.
“Is that all?”
“Yes Doctor, an honest, sincere, heartfelt apology. This also means that you will never question my honesty or motives in the future. Those subjects will be now and forever off the table.” Bob walks back to stand in front of Amy. ”This has never been about you following my advice without question. I have my reasons for my suggestions and you are free to agree or disagree, take it or leave it. As long as you have good, logical reasons for your decision, it is fine with me. I could be wrong ... though that rarely happens. What I will not tolerate is you questioning my honesty or motives. If you can accept these terms, I will spare Ms. Lester.”
“I certainly apologize for any unintended offense you may have taken due to my unfortunate choice of ... ”
“Goodbye Doctor. See you at the funeral.” Bob heads for the door again. Amy panics.
“Wait! Wait! I am apologizing. I am sorry for ...” He comes back, pointing his finger within inches of her nose.
“That was a politician’s apology. An attempt to brush off responsibility by claiming any harm was ‘unintended’. You can either admit what you did was intentional or you can admit that you are a moron who has no idea of the effect of her idiotic words. Chose one because they are mutually exclusive.”
Amy is red faced with anger. There is no way she would say she was a moron. Bob is going to force her to admit she was wrong, not give her a way to wriggle out of it. This has got to be killing her. Bet she’s sorry I’m here to see it.
“Fine, yes I did demand that you kill someone to prove you were a killer. Yes, I did suggest that your victim be one of those little people that no one would miss. And yes, I did make a mistake in ever bringing this up. Are you happy now?”
“Not exactly on point Doctor but close enough. Let me know what you decide to do about the tracker. One other thing. I assume that Honey’s presence today is a subtle hint that you could hurt her if things did not go your way. Do not ever try that again.” He nods at Anthony and leaves.
I’ve never seen anybody push Amy around like that. If I didn’t hate her guts, I’d probably feel sorry for her. As it is, I just hope that she keeps her promise about ending my semen addiction. That and not take her anger out on me.
“Well, I’m glad that’s over” says Anthony. “Honey, you can go back to work. Thanks for your help.” I glance at Amy. She’s just sitting there, chin in her hand, thinking. Guess I better start preparing for the evening shift.
“You’re welcome, Sir.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
How could things have gone so badly? Everything was under control until Bob James showed up. Honey was completely demoralized, jumping at her own shadow. Anthony was spending his time tormenting her and doing exactly what I told him to do. Now Honey is practically the spokes person for good mental health and Anthony is sitting at his desk across from me, grinning, after Bob forced me to apologize. I need some time to figure out where it all went wrong and how I can correct the mistake. Anthony starts to softly laugh. That is just too much.
“Would you please explain what you find so funny?”
“It’s not funny Doc, just interesting. Bob is a dangerous, crazy fucker, but I think I like him more now than ever. You’ve got to admit, the man has style.”
“Is that what you call it? Style? I call it irrational behavior. How else can you explain his overreaction to my simple request to prove that he is what he says he is?”
Anthony shakes his head. “Wait a minute. Do you mean that you still doubt him after all that?”
“Well ... I’ll admit that he is clearly not your average person. He’s certainly had some experience in black bag type operations and has government contacts but ...”
“Doc, you are out of your mind to even bring this up. If by some remote chance he isn’t a killer, he is damn well capable of it and willing to if necessary. That guy is not afraid of anything or anybody. You’re lucky that he hasn’t tried to take over your clinic and all your discoveries. He’s an eight hundred pound gorilla that is just playing with us instead of pounding us to a pulp.”
“You certainly sound as if you are afraid of him.”
“Fucking damn straight I’m afraid of him. You’d be afraid too if you had any experience with his type. I don’t plan on crossing him until I can figure out his Code.”
“What do you mean ’his Code’?”
“Everybody has a Code, the rules they live by. For most people, it’s the same. You know, like the Ten Commandments, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t fuck your neighbor’s wife, shit like that. There are lots of religions but they all have pretty much the same Code, so 90% of people have pretty much the same Code. It’s the people like you and me who go off the reservation that you have to figure out.” His use of slang often leaves me confused.
“Off the reservation?”
“You know, rule breakers, criminals, the scum of society. People like most of my customers, like me, like you. And, of course, Bob James.”
“How dare you compare me to a criminal! I’ve won the Nobel Prize!”
“Come on Doc, face it. There is no way what you did to Josh Thomas was legal.”
“He raped me! What I did was justice, not a crime!”
“You just proved my point Doc. I didn’t say that you weren’t justified in what you did. I said it wasn’t legal. Once you decided to go your own way and violate the law, you came up with your own set of rules that justified what you did to him. I’m not judging you. I’ve done the same thing about my various enterprises. What I’ve done with Honey is hardly legal, but it fits within my own Code. Every single crook, bum and jerk out there that doesn’t follow society’s rules has their own set of rules. The trick in dealing with someone like that is figuring out what those rules are.”
“Why does that even matter?”
“Because if you know someone’s Code, then you can predict what they’re gonna do. If you know their Code … it’s like you’ve read their Owner’s Manual.”
“So, if you know someone’s ‘Code’, you can control them?”
“Depends on the Code. Sometimes it’s possible, but usually it just means that you can make a pretty good guess as to how they’ll react to a particular situation. With some of the crazies out there, that’s the difference between making a profit and keeping your intestines inside your body.”
“So, do you know my Code?”
He smiles slightly. “No, not completely but we have been dealing with each other a long time so I’ve got some of it worked out.”
“More importantly, what is Bob James’ Code?” The smile disappears.
“No idea. I first thought he was about protecting the helpless, but then he willingly dropped Honey back into my hands. Then I thought it might involve stopping you from hurting Honey any more, but then he goes giving you good advice about avoiding getting caught. I haven’t spent much time with him and, frankly, I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to. You may not believe that he’s a killer but my gut says that he is, or maybe worse. I am sure of one thing.”
“What is that?”
Anthony leans towards me. “Whatever his Code, he will stick with it come hell or high water. Some guys are driven by their stomachs, some by their cocks; he’s driven by his will. God help anybody who gets in his way.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Anthony may not be a mental giant, but he does have a survivor’s instinct. He’s prospered in a dangerous profession, so his advice should not be ignored. That doesn’t mean that I accept all that nonsense about ‘Codes’, but there is a certain amount of truth in what he said. Everyone has a belief system that drives them and that system can vary from person to person. I understood what drove Josh Thomas and used it to control him until it was too late and Honey was born. He was such a simple, predictable person, it was easy.
Of course, no one could do that to me.
I still have not determined exactly what Bob’s game is, nor Anthony’s part in it but I have decided to bide my time. I can take away Honey’s semen addiction and restore it if necessary. The homing device will likely be an acceptable temporary replacement. Once everything has settled down, I can begin sorting out truth from fiction. If anyone is trying to take Honey away from me, there will be hell to pay.
It’s time to call Bob and get the ball rolling. I pick up my office phone and dial Bob’s home number. He picks up on the third ring.
“Good morning, Dr. Hanson.”
“Good morning, Mr. James. I have decided to proceed with your suggestion concerning Honey’s semen addiction and your tracking device. When can you have one available?”
“I have one in my possession as we speak. I understand that Honey is due for her six month tune up in a few weeks. Exactly when is that scheduled?”
“I usually do it around the end of the year, the last week in December. There is no fixed date.” I want her fresh and tight for the Wrangler’s Super Bowl victory party. The players are always very happy to see her.
“I suggest that you move it up and do everything at one time. She will be out of commission for approximately four to five days after the surgery to implant the tracker. Your tune up treatments would likely shorten the recovery time, returning her to Anthony quicker than would otherwise be possible and avoiding two separate periods where she is not available for work. How quickly can you be ready to make the changes to Honey’s biochemistry?”
“The changes are not simple. I can have everything ready in about a week.”
“Today is November third. Could we do it on November twelfth?” I check my schedule.
“The twelfth is not good but the eleventh will work. How long does the surgery take?”
“I have seen it done in as little as thirty minutes. Are you qualified?” Of course I am qualified and he likely knows it.
“You know that I am. It would be useful to have a written procedure to follow to avoid complications and surprises.”
“I have all that along with a DVD showing several successful procedures. I can get them to you today.”
“That will be fine. Plan on the eleventh unless you hear from me otherwise. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, do you have the necessary equipment at your clinic or will we need to find an operating theater at a local hospital?”
“My clinic is fully equipped. Any other questions?”
“No Doctor, nothing else.”
“Good bye, Mr. James.”
I need to get busy. I haven’t operated in years and I certainly do not want to make any mistakes now. Some practice is in order.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" By Janice the Dreamer. True to her word, Dr. Hanson removes Honey's addiction, however that leads to some other unpleasant changes in Honey's life. Bob does what he can to solve the new problems. Chapters 30 through 34 of 48. Indicated Rating and Elements apply to entire story. Next update 11/13/10.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER THIRTY
Everything has been pretty normal at the club this week, particularly after the drama from last week. The honeymoon period from my return is starting to wear off. The crowd is still paying attention during my sets, but their reaction is not as lusty. Unfortunately, there is still a line to have sex with me most days, but it isn’t as long. Everyone is starting to fall back into old routines, which is good and bad. I can handle the old routines, I just wish to God that I didn’t have to.
Anthony called me to his office after my last set that Monday evening. I had not dressed yet so I was just wearing a robe and my heels. I hadn’t had my daily dose yet either. Recently he had been giving me the bottled semen, but he had that look in his eyes tonight.
“Come in Honey, have a seat.” I sit in the chair opposite of his desk. He stands up, walks around to the front of the desk and sits on the edge in front of me, one foot on the floor. He towers over me. I look up at him. He is leering at me, checking out the cleavage exposed by my partially open robe. I start to close the robe but he stops me.
“No Honey, leave the robe as is.” He pauses for a moment, slips off the desk, walks around behind me and grabs the collar of the robe. “On second thought, why don’t you take it off. Slip your arms out.”
“Yes, Sir.” I don’t look up at him, just shrug the robe off my shoulders and wriggle my arms out of the sleeves. He pulls the robe up and I raise my self off the chair as the robe slides past my ass and up my back. He walks back in front of me, tosses the robe into the corner of the office and returns to the edge of his desk. I want to cross my arms in front of my breasts but I know Anthony did this to both embarrass me and get a good look at my tits and pussy, so I leave my arms on the arm rests. My nipples are swollen. I hate to admit it but I’m getting turned on just sitting here naked, though it’s mostly because I haven’t had my daily dose of his semen yet.
“There, isn’t that better Honey?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Sometimes I forget what a fine looking bitch you are Honey. Spread those beautiful legs.” I open my legs as wide as the chair lets me. My pussy is getting wet in anticipation. “Yes, a fine looking bitch. A hot little bitch too, aren’t you Honey?” He’s trying to embarrass me again but I’m starting not to care.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir what?”
“Yes, Sir, I’m a hot little bitch.” We’ve played this game before and I know how it ends. I get what I need, in more ways than one. I give him a crooked little smile and slide my hips forward in the seat of the chair, thrusting my pussy at him.
He chortles. “Don’t worry Honey, we’ll get to that in a few minutes but I need to tell you a couple of things first. The Doc has decided to make some changes.” Uh-oh. “She’s going to remove your addiction to my jiz. We’ve all asked her to do it at one time or another and now it’s finally happening.”
YES!
“There’s a trade off here. Nobody trusts you to stay put, so Bob has some kind of tracking device that is going to be implanted in you so that I can find you anywhere you go.” What? Bob did what?
“Excuse me Sir, did you say that it was Bob’s idea to stick something in me so that I can’t run away?”
Anthony grins at me. “Yeah, ain’t that a kick in the head. It was all his idea, though I doubt Doc Hanson would have agreed to get rid of the addiction if he hadn’t come up with this plan. I got to tell you, I really can’t figure this guy out.”
“Me neither, Sir.” I glumly respond. How could he do this? I finally get Amy to release me from being biologically chained to Anthony and he comes up with a different kind of chain. I ought to kick him in the balls.
“The Doc has decided to do the operation tomorrow and I’m taking you over there tonight so you can get ready. She’s also going to do your six month tune up at the same time, kill two birds with one stone. Since this is the last night we’ll have together under the old rules ...” He unzips his pants and steps towards me. My head is level with his crotch. “… I’ve decided to do it old style tonight. Blow me and make it good.” I look up at him. His mouth is smiling but his eyes aren’t.
“Yes, Sir.”
I gently pull his semi-hard cock from his pants and suckle its’ head while stroking it with my left hand. I undo his belt with my right hand, dropping his pants to his ankles. I begin massaging his big balls with my right hand as I alternate licking and stroking the full length of his now rigid cock. After the bad news he just gave me, I wasn’t too enthusiastic about this at the start, but I really need to get him off. I haven’t had a taste for almost twenty four hours. He reaches down and pinches my nipple. I moan around the cock stuffed in my mouth. He doesn’t usually do anything during blow jobs. He pinches harder and I moan again. I start to take him down my throat, bobbing up and down, an inch at a time, swirling his shaft with my tongue. He gives my nipple a twist. I squeal and moan at the same time. He laughs and slides to the left, so he can reach both tits. I keep swallowing his cock as he massages my boobs and rubbing my nipples, forcing more moans from me. I just get his entire cock down my throat, my nose buried in his crotch, when he twists both nipples hard. I squeal again, breaking my rhythm and start to choke. Laughing, he gives another double nipple twist but this time I’m ready. It hurts like hell but doesn’t shock me, so I keep my rhythm going. He begins thrusting his hips in time with my bobbing, it looks like he’s getting ready to blow his wad but then he suddenly stops.
“Come on Honey, I’ve got another idea. Get up.” I let his cock slide from my mouth and stand up. He steps out of his pants, walks around to the front of the desk, opens a drawer, picks up something and tosses them on the desk top.
“Put these on.” There are two black metal paper clamps on the desk. I look up at him.
“Take those and clamp your nipples.” I pick one up, squeeze it open, and attach it to my swollen left nipple. The sharp pain makes me wince and my eyes water.
“Hurry up Honey, I don’t want to lose this woodie.” Anthony is standing there, stroking his dick. I blink several times to clear my eyes and do the same thing to my right nipple. The pain is just as intense and sharp. He comes around to my side of the desk, reaches up and pulls both clamps.
“AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!”
My knees buckle but he doesn’t let go. I fight to stay upright, to remove the tension on my tortured nipples. Regaining my balance, I slowly straighten up, my teeth clenched. Anthony still hasn’t let go of the clamps. He lowers his head to my eye-level, stares deeply into my eyes, and twists the clamps again. On a scale of one to ten … it’s an eleven. My legs go wobbly but I don’t go down. Anthony is laughing like a maniac.
“Very good Honey. You’re one tough bitch.” He lets go of the clamps, grabs my waist, spins me around and pushes me face down on the desk. My ass is up in the air. He smacks it several times with his open palm. I cry out in both pain and surprise. He kicks my legs apart, grabs my hips and plunges his cock to the hilt into my wet pussy. I groan loudly, can’t help myself. He pulls back and slams me again.
“OOOOOHHHHHHHGGGGGNNNNN”
“Like that eh Honey?” He starts pounding away at me. “I’ve heard what you’ve been telling the other girls about Bob.” He smacks my ass again.” That he’s the best lover that you’ve ever had.” SMACK “That no man can match him.” SMACK “Well what do you say now?” SMACK “Who’s your Daddy?” SMACK “Who’s better, me or Bob?” SMACK “Who’s better, huh?”
He’s driving his cock into me like a mad man, pushing me into the desk, my weight pressing my clamped nipples onto the hard surface, each thrust generating new pain. God help me, I’m so hot right now. SMACK. My pussy juices are trickling down my legs.
“Who’s better, Honey? Tell me who’s better, me or Bob?” I’ve got to say something or he may kill me.
“You are Sir ... You are.”
“I’m what?”
“You are the best lover, I’ve ... I’ve ever had.” I need him to keep screwing me, need it so bad. “OOohhhHH FUCK Me, Sir. Fuck me hard please!!”
SMACK. “That’s right Honey! I am the best! I’m the best there’s ever been and don’t you forget it! SMACK. Here’s your reward!”
He lift’s my legs off the ground, impaling me on his cock and shoots his cum deep into my cunt. The spurting of his cock triggers my orgasm and I wriggle and squirm in the air. I can’t feel the pain in my breasts or my ass. Right now, all I feel are waves of pleasure running through my body. Anthony puts me down and pulls out of my pussy. I fall off the desk and collapse on the floor then look up at Anthony. He’s wiping his cock off with my robe, a smug, satisfied look on his face. He throws the robe at my feet.
“Once you’ve recovered from being screwed by the world’s greatest sex machine, go back to your room and get dressed. We need to get to the clinic by 11:00 p.m.” He sits in his chair. “Make sure you tell all your girlfriends about tonight.”
I push my upper body off the floor, bracing myself with my arms locked. “Do you want me to tell Bob too ... Sir?”
His eyes quickly grow large with fear, his mouth slightly open. The idiot hadn’t thought about that.
“No! Ahhh ... No Honey, we probably shouldn’t bother Bob about this ... In fact, you shouldn’t tell anybody. This is just between you and me, OK?” There is desperation in his voice. And on his face.
“Yes, Sir. You know how good I am at keeping secrets.”
“Yeah ... yeah, thanks. Hurry up and get ready.”
I slowly stand, reach up, unclip the clamps from my nipples and toss them on Anthony’s desk. My nipples are numb right now but that won’t last. They are going to swell up and hurt like hell within the hour. Amy will see them, but would probably enjoy the story, so I’ll tell her as little as possible. Not a good start to the evening.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Honey wasn’t very forthcoming when I asked about the bruising on her ass and nipples. I assume that it was one of my “special customers”. I must remember to ask Anthony for the video. Whoever it was, it appears that he really worked her over. I’ll certainly enjoy watching that one. Right now, she is unconscious on the table in the operating theater next door. I am waiting for Bob’s tracker to be sterilized and then will begin. Unfortunately, Bob’s tracker comes with Bob. He insists on being present during the operation.
“Somehow, Mr. James, I do not think you trust me.” He is gowned and slipping on a pair of gloves.
“On the contrary Doctor, this is one of the areas in which I trust you completely. Your expertise greatly exceeds mine when it comes to medical procedures. However, I have seen this operation performed three times in person and you have only watched a video. I may be able to provide some useful information should there be any problems.”
“This procedure is similar to others involving implanting medical devices. There is no reason to think that there will be any problems.”
“Very glad to hear that Doctor. However, it is always best to have all options available. I will do or say nothing unless you ask for my input. What is the harm?”
“There is no harm, I just prefer to follow my normal routines which does not include kibitzers in the theater.” I do not plan on any funny business during the operation, it is the principle of him not trusting me.
“I assure you, Doctor, I will be there only as a resource. I would never presume to tell you your business. Even if you had some nefarious plan, it would be unlikely that I would recognize it.” He is probably correct about that. I hand him a mask.
“Alright, you can watch but do not get in my way or disturb me. You may not believe it but I do not want any mistakes either. I want Honey to have a long, healthy and painful life. Let’s get started.”
We both don our masks then step into the operating room. It is smaller than ones you would find in your average hospital, but it is well equipped and adequate for my purposes today. Honey’s vital signs are stable and the anesthesiologist, who is a friend of mine, indicates she is ready. Connors is assisting me. I step up to the table, take a deep cleansing breathe and make a three inch incision in her lower abdomen.
Just as I expected, the operation is mostly routine. The most difficult part was running the wire antenna down her left leg. Bob kept his word and remained silent the entire time. He did move around a bit, keeping his eyes on the incision and her vital signs. It has only been forty five minutes since the first cut, not bad for a procedure I’ve never done before. Everything appears to be in place.
“I am ready to close now. How are her vitals?” Before I get my answer, Bob interrupts.
“Doctor, I believe ...”
“Mr. James, you assured me that you would keep quiet. If you can’t keep you promises, you will need to leave right now.”
“I understand Doctor. Sorry. Before I leave, I do have one brief suggestion.”
“And what is that?”
“You might want to turn the device on before you close. Just a suggestion. However, you are the professional, I am sure you know best.”
I can’t see the smirk on his face but I can see it in his eyes. I managed a near perfect operation from a procedural stand point but forgot to turn the damn thing on. He better not try to lord this over me.
“Thank you, Mr. James. I will take your suggestion under advisement.” I reach in and push the panel that controls the tracker. It beeps three times to indicate that it is functioning. Bob reaches into his pocket, removes the receiver, checks the screen and signals thumbs up.
I close up the incision quickly but carefully. I do not want to leave a scar and the injections that will follow should prevent that. Within fifteen minutes, Honey is wheeled into her cell to recover.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I can’t get my eyes to open. They aren’t stuck or anything, they just won’t open, like they’ve forgotten how. I am breathing, so I concentrate on that for awhile. Everything feels fuzzy, unfocused. Eventually my head clears a little and my eyelids slowly open.
Ah yes, there’s no place like home.
I’m back in my cell at the clinic, laying on a gurney. My arms and legs feel heavy, too heavy for me to lift them. I can turn my head a little but there is nothing to see. I close my eyes again and return to my breathing. Deep breaths. I hear a door open and someone is now standing next to me. They touch my wrist, checking my pulse. I don’t bother to look, just keep breathing. I feel the jab of a needle in my arm, doesn’t really hurt. Whoever it is leaves, closing the door behind them. I think I hear a lock click shut. Deep breaths.
I don’t know how long it’s been but things are clearer, sharper now. I’m wearing one of those backless paper hospital gowns. I can move my arms but they are strapped down to the gurney, same with my legs. I can sit up a little but that makes my left side hurt. The door opens again and I twist my head around to see who it is. It’s Amy. She doesn’t say anything, just lifts the edge of the bandage on my left side, looking underneath. She pulls a white device from her lab coat pocket and sticks it in my ear. After a few seconds, it beeps. She removes it, looks at it and returns it to her pocket.
“Well Honey, your temp is normal so we appear to have avoided any infections, which is no small thing in this day and age.” She checks my pulse and then my chest with her stethoscope. “All your vitals seem fine. You’ve been strapped down to keep you from moving around too much. We don’t want you tearing any stitches.”
I try to talk but my throat is dry and scratchy. All I can do is cough and croak a few words.
“Hold on.” Amy reaches around behind my head and picks up something. It’s a big cup with a straw in it. “Here, sip this slowly.” She puts the straw in my mouth and I suck on it. A splash of cold water hits my mouth. I take three more sips then release the straw.
“How long?” I still can’t talk very well.
“We will have you up and walking before the end of today. I would guess that you will be fully recovered within three days, add two more days to finish your so called “tune up” and you should be back with Anthony by November sixteenth.”
I nod my head, close my eyes and go back to concentrating on my breathing. I feel calm though I know the future is not going to be pleasant. It’s probably the drugs.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Amy wasn’t lying; Connors came in later that day, unstrapped me and helped me off the gurney. My legs were fairly wobbly, but I was able to slowly walk out of the cell and make a couple of trips up and down the hallway. Connors followed me but didn’t help at all. The pain in my side gradually increased with each step until I finally had to stop. When I got back to the cell, the gurney was gone. I sat down on the cot, swung my legs up, lay down on my back and fell asleep.
She woke me later and we repeated my walk in the hall. I was able to make a few extra laps this time. There were no clocks or windows so I had no idea what time of day it was or even what day. Connors gave me another shot and I returned to the cot. After she left, I lifted the edge of my bandage and checked my stitches. I don’t know a lot about medicine but I’d seen a lot of cuts and stitches in my playing days. Mine looked like they were more like a week old instead of less than two days. I’m pretty sure that I haven’t been here a week and there is no reason for Amy to lie to me about that. It’s probably the work of her rejuvenation treatments. I decide to get as much rest as possible. I don’t usually get a chance to sleep in.
Connors wakes me up three more times and it’s the same routine each time, walk, shot then sleep. There is less pain each time and I walk further each trip. I check my stitches again after the last trip. The cut is almost healed. The stitches seem to be disappearing, they must be the temporary kind. She may be a crazy, vengeful bitch but you’ve got to give her credit. Amy’s a genius when it comes to medical stuff. Too bad she spends most of her time thinking of ways to screw with me.
The next time Connors wakes me, I’m led to the exercise studio. Man, does this place bring back a shit-load of memories. There are some new additions. Now there are mirrors all around and a treadmill. I slowly walk around the room, letting the memories flood my brain. In all the weeks I was here at the clinic, this is the only place I wasn’t doped up. Everything else is pretty much disorganized recollections but I remember this room and all the routines Ms. Baker drilled into me. I could still do them today if I had to. Hell, three quarters of the athletic moves in my current dance routines come from her teaching. I almost expect her to walk through the door and bark out “Now, Number Three! Get ready, okay let’s go!” She was tough but fair. Obviously, she was in on the whole thing, turning me into what I am today, but she was never mean for meanness sake. She just wanted me to be the best cheerleader I could be. A professional all the way. And I didn’t disappoint her. Wonder where she is now? Connors brings me back to earth.
“Dr. Hanson wants you to do thirty minutes on the treadmill. I’ll increase the speed and grade as we go along. You can change in there.” She pointed to the locker room. I open the door and walk in, at least I can get out of this damn paper gown. There are some exercise clothes piled on a bench. I pick up a sports bra and check its’ size. 38DD, too big. I check several others but they are all the same size, so someone screwed up. Well, a lose fit is better than nothing. I slip it on.
It’s tight, just a touch too small. What the hell is going on? I’ve been a 36D for the last three years. I check out my reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that. My tits are definitely bigger, just short of cartoonish. Still firm and high on my chest though. Amy does good work. I finish dressing and everything else is the same size as before, the only change is bigger tits. When I step out of the changing room, I’m wearing pink cross trainers, white midriff top and tight shorts, hair pulled back in a pony tail. Connors smiles.
“Well don’t you look precious. Nice boobs. Get on the treadmill and we’ll start with a walk.”
“Yes, Ms. Connors.” Force of habit. I step on the treadmill and she starts it up. It’s just a regular walking pace which stays the same for about five minutes. No problems so far. Connors pulls a remote from her lab coat and pushes a button. The front of the treadmill rises to about a ten degree grade but the speed doesn’t change. Still not a problem. After another five minutes, she presses another button and it speeds up to a brisk walk. My side still feels OK, no pain. My tits are bouncing around more than I am used to though, guess I’ll have to adapt. The change will probably increase my popularity at the club. Yippee. Another five minutes and the grade goes up to fifteen degrees. Half way home.
It’s starting to get interesting. There is still no pain but I’m breathing harder. At twenty minutes, the speed increases to a jog. The breasts are bouncing around much more now. I concentrate on taking deep, regular breaths. There is some pain in my left side but it’s more general, not centered on the stitches. Sweat is starting to trickle down my forehead, neck and chest. The grade increases to twenty degrees at twenty five minutes. Just five to go. I have to lean forward to keep my balance, which makes breathing harder. It’s not a struggle but getting tougher. I’ll be happy when I’m done. I watch the clock on the wall, which makes time slow down. Thirty minutes finally arrives. I look over at Connors.
She has a tight, evil smile on her face as she presses the remote again. The treadmill doesn’t stop, it speeds up. It’s at a full run now. I point at the clock. She nods her head but says nothing. My breath is coming in gasps now. At thirty five minutes, the grade moves up to twenty five degrees. I glance at Connors. She’s laughing.
I can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs. My mouth is wide open and I’m sucking in air as fast as I can but it’s not enough. My lungs are starting to dry out. The clock reads thirty eight minutes. Screw this. I stop running, letting the treadmill throw me off. I stumble and stagger but manage to keep on my feet. Bent over at the waist, I gasp, unable to speak, as I try to catch my breath.
Connors walks up to me. She’s pissed. “Who told you to stop? You get your perfect little ass back on that machine right now!’
“Hanson ... said ... thirty ... minutes.” I could barely get my words out between gasps.
“I’m the one running this test and I decide when it ends!” She grabs my arm. “Now get back up there!” I straighten up, still breathing hard but I’ve got it under control.
“No.”
“What?”
“No. I’m done.” I start to walk back to the locker room but Connors still has hold of my arm. She jerks me back.
“You’re done when I say you’re done, BITCH!” She pulls her arm back, getting ready to slap me across the face. As her hand comes slashing down towards my head, I drop down on to my hands and knees, breaking her grip and throwing her off balance. I shoot my right leg out parallel to the floor and sweep it around, pivoting on my left foot, knocking Connors’ legs out from under her. She falls flat on her back as I follow through and stand up. She starts to scramble to her feet, screaming at me.
“Why you putrid little cunt! I am going to beat you senseless when I ...” I kick her in the jaw, probably breaking it. She’s out like a light.
That felt sooooo good. Bob taught me that move, along with several others, weeks ago. Never thought I’d need to use it. I go back into the locker room, undress, shower and put on some clean exercise clothes, tossing my paper gown in the trash. When I walk back into the studio, Connors is still out cold. I know that there is a really good chance that I’m going to pay for this sooner or later, probably sooner, but I don’t care right now. I may have to kowtow to Amy and Anthony but not to this little tin dictator.
I walk to the front office. There’s a young, nice looking woman sitting at a large desk, typing on her computer.
“Hello, are you Janet Lester?” She looks up at the sound of my voice. I reach out my hand.
“Yes, I’m Janet Lester.” She says, a hint of uncertainty in her voice as she takes my hand.
“I’m Honey Sweet-Lay.” We shake hands. “Ms. Connors has had a little accident in the exercise studio. Someone may want to go look in on her. No hurry though.” I let go of her hand, turn and walk back to my cell. As I open the door, I hear a lot of commotion behind me. Someone loudly calls for Amy. I step into my cell, close the door and lay back on my cot, a smile on my face. Today has been a good day.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
“SHE DID WHAT?”
I can’t believe what Smith just told me. I hired Connors because she was a competent assistant in the lab but, more importantly, she had a black belt. Her job was to keep Josh Thomas in line, should he ever start to stray. Luckily, he never did except for that brief escape which my careful planning took care of. Honey was even less of a threat than Josh, yet she took Connors down in seconds, leaving her unconscious with a dislocated jaw. Why do I see Bob James fingerprints on this?
Apparently, Honey didn’t even run. She put herself back in her cell and is still there. Sleeping. I have not spoken with Connors yet, not that she can actually speak. She has a concussion and is still groggy. Smith has reviewed the video and given me the highlights. Time to go speak with Honey.
When I open the door to the cell, Honey is lying on the cot, on her back, quietly snoring. I’ve brought a chair with me, which I set next to the cot. I sit down, then reach over and gently shake Honey.
“Time to wake up Honey. I have some questions for you.” I keep my voice calm and level. Best to start out friendly. Honey stirs, stretches her arms and legs, opens her eyes, then sits up.
“Hello, Dr. Hanson. What can I do for you?” There’s that blank, even look again. Thank you Bob James. I can play that game too.
“How are you feeling Honey?”
She cocks her head to one side. “Physically or psychologically?”
“Let’s start with physically.”
“I feel fine.” She reaches down and touches her bandaged left side. “No pain here. I think I’m completely healed.” She lifts both breasts with here hands, lightly bouncing them. “I seem to have picked up at least a couple of inches here however. Care to explain?” Her impertinence is unexpected and undesired, but I will let it go … for now.
“It was a special request from Anthony. Apparently he finds you a bit boring, so he needed something to revitalize his enthusiasm. He thought bigger breasts would do the trick. I can’t say I am surprised at his solution. Most men think bigger tits can solve most any problem.”
She drops her hands to her lap. “Guess I should have figured that one out myself. Anthony’s always been a boob man. I’m surprised he didn’t ask sooner.”
“Oh he did, repeatedly. I just decided to give him an early Christmas present. Maybe I will be there when he unwraps it.” She winces at that. Bob never would have broken his façade. “Now, how are you psychologically?” She smiles slightly, another break.
“The best I’ve felt in the last two weeks.”
“I assume that is because of your unprovoked assault on Ms. Connors.”
“Before I answer that, tell me how long you told Ms. Connors I was to work out on the tread mill.” More impertinence, my patience is running out quickly.
“Thirty minutes.” She falls back onto the cot, arms folded across her enhanced chest.
“Check out the elapsed time on the treadmill, assuming no one has reset it yet, then we can talk.”
OK, that’s it. “I am fed up with your attitude young lady! Just because you look like a seventeen year old airhead does not mean I will tolerate you behaving like one. I have put up with more from you than I should have but that has come to an end, right now. Tell me what happened this instant!”
She props herself up on her elbows. “Don’t listen to me, don’t listen to Connors. Check out the treadmill for yourself and then you’ll know who is telling the truth and who is lying.” She flops back onto the cot.
I swear to God, she really does have the attitude of a seventeen year old girl. Unfortunately, she is correct. Technology does not lie, not if you know what to look for. I do not really need to look at the treadmill, I can review the video tape but that will take time. I also do not want Honey to know about my video collection.
“Very well. I will be right back.”
“I’ll be right here when you do.” Little bitch.
I quickly walk to the exercise studio and enter. There is no sign of a struggle, which confirms how quickly Honey was able to dispatch Connors. When did she acquire those skills? I must remember to ask Bob the next time I see him. The emergency shut down pin has been pulled on the machine but it is still on. I run through the menu on the attached computer, reaching the elapsed time display.
I’ll be damned!
When I walk back into the cell, she doesn’t move, just stares at the ceiling.
“Time?”
“Thirty eight minutes, forty five seconds. What happened Honey?”
She sits up, swinging her legs off the cot, onto the floor. “Connors......”
“Ms. Connors. Show some respect Honey.” She rolls her eyes. I really do have a teenage girl sitting in front of me. I may have pushed the treatments too far.
“Ms. Connors told me that you wanted me to work out on the treadmill for thirty minutes but she ran long. When I pointed this out to her, not only didn’t she stop, she sped it up and increased the grade five degrees. I didn’t know why you wanted me to work out only thirty minutes, but I assumed you had a good reason. After Ms. Connors refused to stop it, I bailed out. She tried to force me back onto the machine but I said no. She freaked out when I said no and tried to hit me. That’s when I knocked her down and kicked her in the mouth.”
“A bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“Hell yes it was an overreaction. I don’t know what she was thinking.”
“I was referring to what you did Honey.”
“Me? I was just defending myself. She was going to hit me!”
“Honey, you do not have the right of self-defense anymore. If I or anybody I designate wants to assault you, you take it and smile. If you don’t then I will make sure that you regret it for the rest of your long, unpleasant life. Do you understand that?”
She looks at me, eyes blazing with hatred. “Yes, Dr. Hanson, I understand.” She may understand but she doesn’t accept it, not yet. That will come with time and a change in my tactics.
“Unfortunately, Connors was also wrong for not following my instructions. That is between her and myself and none of your concern. I will forgo punishment for now because you thought you were justified in not following Connors directions but you should never do that again. After I have spoken with Connors, she will not vary from my instructions in the future. One last question. How did you acquire the self-defense skills?”
“Bob taught me a few things, just in case a customer started something at the club and Anthony wasn’t around to protect me.”
“Did he teach you to kick people in the head?”
“Yes. He said avoid trouble when you can but if you can’t and have to act, do it first, fast and finally.”
“First, fast and finally?”
“If you’ve got to do something, do it before the other guy gets a chance to get you, do it as fast and hard as you can to finish it quick and don’t have any mercy, do whatever is necessary to completely win.”
“That does not sound very sporting.”
“He said that the only objective in a fight is to win, end of story. Do whatever it takes. If someone is going to get hurt or die, make sure it’s the other guy.”
“Probably sound advice.”
I leave the cell, locking the door behind me. My first stop will be a visit to my office to review the video, then to see Connors and find out if she will tell me the truth. For her sake, I hope she does. I can forgive over-enthusiasm but not dishonesty.
Never the less, it has been a productive day. I now have more insight into the workings of Bob James’ mind than before.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I stayed at the clinic two more days but never saw Connors again. There were three more sessions on the treadmill but supervised by Smith, who kept her distance. Each one was thirty minutes on the dot.
I managed to get a really good look at myself when changing clothes, Amy was right, I did look like a seventeen year old girl, maybe eighteen. The other tune ups always left me looking young and fresh, taking away six months of the wear and tear my life as a dancer/whore caused. This time it was different. I still had the same flawless, silky skin, long graceful arms, narrow shoulders, wide hips, long legs, perfect ass, delicate hands and feet, narrow waist and flat stomach. My face was still innocent and childlike, with large green eyes, long lashes, pouty lips and pert nose. My breasts were bigger but not sagging at all, firm, round and full, sitting high on my chest with inch long nipples as big as my thumbs. The changes are subtle but there. Without makeup, I could never pass as eighteen, let alone the twenty two my drivers’ license said I was. I’d be right at home as a sophomore in high school. She said Anthony ordered the new tits but didn’t say anything about looking almost two years younger, not that Anthony will bitch about that. The club’s clients won’t object either.
Anthony arrived at noon on the seventeenth to pick me up. I didn’t have any of my normal clothes with me so he brought that tight red mini dress he likes and the red pumps with 4 inch heels. Unfortunately, he didn’t bring any underwear. He just stood there, leering at me as I changed in my cell. I had to be very careful how I walked or sat, not only to avoid flashing people but to keep my boobs from popping out of the dress. It was way too tight. I hope my other clothes fit better. We walked to the lobby where Amy was waiting for us. She was holding what looked like a Palm Pilot or Blackberry.
“Do you have everything straight Anthony?”
“Yeah, you’ll check in every five minutes and then we do a run away test.”
“Do you have your receiver?”
“Right here.” He taps his coat pocket.
“Let’s start then. One word of advice. Bob has been giving our little Honey self-defense lessons. She nearly broke Connors’ jaw. You may want to take the necessary precautions.” Anthony stared at me with narrowed eyes. Then he smiled.
“I doubt that Honey is dumb enough to take me on. Hitting Connors is one thing but going after me is completely different.” He grabs my hair near my scalp and jerks my head towards his face. “Isn’t it Honey?”
“Yes, Sir” I gasp. He lets go of my hair. My head hurts but I dare not rub it. Amy puts her device on the reception desk.
“It was just a word to the wise Anthony. Connors was quite confident too. I will speak with you shortly.”
Anthony takes my arm and walks me out of the clinic. His van is parked right out front. He jumps into the driver’s seat as I climb up into the passenger side. The hem of my dress slides up my thigh, exposing my hairless pussy. Before I can get the dress pulled down, he reaches across the seat, sticks his hand between my legs and fondles me.
“I always enjoy fucking you right after you get out of the clinic.” He keeps massaging my cunt. “You’re so tight, practically like fucking a virgin.”
He’s right about that. Those first fucks are the closest we ever get to making love. All the rest of the time it’s “Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam”. He takes his time with those first post-clinic fucks. I actually enjoy them. Anthony does know what he’s doing in bed, when he bothers to make the effort. Naturally, orgasms aren’t a problem for me no matter who is doing the fucking or how good they are. I do make a special effort on those first post-clinic occasions with Anthony though.
That’s odd.
He’s been rubbing my cunt for at least a minute and I’m not getting wet. Usually I’d be humping his hand by now. This time, nothing. I mean, it feels good and all but he’s not starting to drive me towards a quick orgasm. He pulls his hand back and starts the van.
“We’ll pick this up later. Business before pleasure, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl Honey.” He pats my head, like I’m his pet. We pull away from the clinic, but head away from the club, driving towards downtown. I straighten my dress, getting as decent as I can. We drive around for a few minutes, turning now and then. One time we did a complete lap around a block and then headed west. It was like he was trying to shake someone who was following us but he wasn’t checking the rear view mirrors. His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket.
“Hey Doc, where is she? ... You’re absolutely right. Talk to you in five.” He flipped it shut. “So far, so good Honey.” He seemed happy about whatever was going on. We kept driving, turning left, then right, then right again. This went one for several minutes with Anthony making turns randomly. At least it seemed random. The cell phone rang again.
“Where now, Doc? ... Right again. In five.” He turned and smiled at me. “This may actually work.” This went on for about a half hour with calls from, I assume, Amy every five minutes. It rang again.
“Talk to me Doc ... On the button. Ready for the runaway? ... OK, I’m pulling over now. I’ll call when I’ve got her.” He pulls to the side of the street and parks.
“Get out Honey.” What?
“Sir?”
“You heard me, get out.” He reaches across me and opens the door.
“I don’t understand, Sir. What am I supposed to do?”
“We’re going to play a little game now, you’ve probably heard of it. Hide and Seek? You have fifteen minutes to hide and then I’m going to try to find you. Get going.” I climb down out of the van, then turn to look back at Anthony.
“Where am I supposed to go, Sir?”
“Where ever you want little girl. Don’t make it easy for me.” He checks his watch. “You’ve got fourteen minutes, thirty seconds.”
I start walking quickly away from the van, my heels clicking on the sidewalk. If he wants to play Hide and Seek, I wish he had let me keep the cross trainers and the running gear. I’m not going to move very fast in this outfit, not unless I want to give everybody a good look at my cunt. He’s dropped me off in the middle of downtown. It’s 12:55 p.m. and everyone is heading back to their offices after lunch. The sidewalks are crowded with men and women in business clothes; greys, blues and blacks. I couldn’t stand out more if I was naked. I’d probably be less noticed if I was naked. The bright red mini dress might as well be a strobe light. Every guy who walks by gets whiplash when they jerk their head around to follow my undulating ass. Anthony said not to make it easy for him so I’ve got to get off the street. Either that or change clothes. Or ... find a place where I will blend in.
I think that there is another strip club just a couple of blocks away. It’s more high class than Anthony’s ... what place isn’t, but I should get in for free, dressed as I am. My big problem is, getting there in time. I don’t have a watch but there’s likely only about ten minutes left and I’m not even sure exactly where this place is, just heard the other girls talking about it. Either way, I’d better keep moving.
Walking as fast as I can, it still took at least twelve minutes to go five blocks. I finally spotted the place, “Gold Dusters”, a block and a half away. Anthony will never look for me there. I’m within one hundred feet of the entrance when his van pulls up next to me. He’s laughing.
“Nice try, Honey. Get in.” I open the door and climb in. Anthony is making a call as I close the door.
“Hey Doc. Got her. A piece of cake. This thing is pretty cool ... No, I saw where she was going and headed her off ... Yeah, maybe if there was a big crowd but I’d get her sooner or later ... Hang on.” He handed the phone to me. “She wants to talk with you.”
“Hello, Dr. Hanson.”
“Hello Honey. Do you see the device in Anthony’s hand?” Anthony holds it in front of my face. It shows a map grid with a blinking dot near an intersection.
“Yes, I see it.”
“That is one of the receivers for the transmitter implanted in your abdomen. That blinking dot is you. I have been following your movements as Anthony drove you around town and he used it to find you after the fifteen minute head start. Bob assures me that this system works worldwide. This is just a short demonstration that no matter where you go, I will find you. Please put Anthony back on.” I hand the phone back to Anthony.
“Yeah Doc? ... She looks pretty unhappy. I’ll see if I can cheer her up later tonight ... Good bye.” He closes the phone.
“Enough of this driving around, gas ain’t cheap you know.” He starts the van and drives back to the club.
I’m too late for the afternoon sets and too early for the evening sets. Anthony is too busy to fuck me right now and he does love being the first, so no whoring until he’s done. I go to my room and try on my few other dresses to see what may still fit with my new, bigger tits. The halter dresses work fine, they just show more of my boobs. The other two dresses I may be able to let out a little bit. I wander down to the main floor and check out the back stage. Candi’s there, putting one of her costumes away in her locker.
“Hey, Candi, how was the lunch crowd?”
“Honey! Where have you been?” She runs over to me and we hug, pressing our breasts together. “I haven’t seen you in a week.”
“I’ve been at my Doctor’s clinic.” She pushes away from the hug, holding me at arms length.
“You’re OK, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m fine now, just a little minor surgery.” She looks me up and down, stopping at my chest.
“I wouldn’t call them minor. In fact, their pretty major. How big?”
“Not sure.”
“Well let’s find out. Drop that top and I’ll get a tape.” I untie the halter, letting the top of my dress down. Candi has her back turned, searching a drawer for a measuring tape.
“Found it .... God Damn!” She had turned around and saw my boobs in all their glory. “Honey, those are magnificent!”
“Don’t you think that maybe they are a little ... you know, too big?”
“Not at all. I know at least a dozen girls who would kill for a pair of knockers like that. Can I?”
“Sure.” Candi reaches out and touches my tits, gently lifting, then bouncing them. She runs her hands underneath, where they meet my rib cage.
“I don’t feel any scars.” She runs her hands around their sides, then squeezes each one several times. My nipples have hardened. She flicks them with her index fingers. I stifle a moan, biting my lower lip. She steps back, letting them fall from her hands. “Honey, those are one hundred percent real. You have a pair of the most beautiful, glorious, teenage tits I have ever seen. They were incredible before but now they are stupefying. What is going on? There are no signs of surgery. Turn around.” She runs the tape around my chest, taking several measurements.
“You’ve gone from a 36 D to a 38 DD+ in one week without surgery, plus they are firmer and perkier. That isn’t possible. The nipples are bigger too.” She stares at me, waiting for an answer.
“Well, you see, Anthony knows this Doctor, she’s a friend of his ... she’s got this new treatment ... and Anthony thought that I could help her test it out.”
Candi’s shocked. “Are you crazy! Experimental procedures just to improve your already perfectly good tits! Did you ask for this or did Anthony force you into it?”
“I ... ah ...asked for it.” I can’t look her in the eyes.
“Bull shit! It was all his idea. 36 D wasn’t good enough for him. He and I are gonna have a talk right now!”
“No! Please Candi! Please, don’t say anything. I’m fine. Really, I am. I don’t need any trouble right now.” I take her hands in mine. “Just leave it be, OK?” She looks at me, a mixture of concern and anger on her face but then she caves.
“OK. I won’t say anything for now, but if he wants you to do anything else, you come see me first.” She reaches up and hugs my shoulder. “I kinda think of you as the little sister I never had.”
“You mean a little sister with benefits?” She laughs.
“Yes, with benefits. Speaking of people with benefits, does Bob know about this?”
“Not exactly.”
“How is he going to react? Wait, never mind, his girl with bigger boobs, I’m sure that will upset him.”
“Don’t be hasty Candi, you can never tell with Bob.”
How will he react? He probably won’t do anything, particularly since I’m not “his” girl anymore, but you couldn’t pay me enough to predict what he would do in any given situation. I pull the top of my dress back up and tie the halter behind my neck.
“As fun as this has been, I gotta go Candi. See ya tonight.”
“Ahhhh no Honey, you won’t. You see, I’m leaving for a little while.”
“WHAT!”
“Calm down, calm down. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d be upset. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“It couldn’t be as bad as it sounds because it sounds horrible. Why are you leaving? Where are you going?” She’s my only real friend in this hell hole and now she’s leaving me. I try to tough it out but I can feel tears filling my eyes.
“Oh please don’t cry Honey. It’s only for three months. I’m going to work in a club in Houston and some of their girls are coming here. Just rotating the stock to keep the customers interested. Houston isn’t that far away. I’ll come visit you. It’s only three months.”
“But what if you like it there? What if you decide to stay?”
“Honey, it’s Houston. Who lives in Houston unless you have to? Don’t worry, I’ll be back, promise. I’ll call whenever I can.”
Fat lotta good that will do, Anthony will never let me talk to her. I sniff, wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, and force a smile. “OK. Only if you absolutely, hope to die, promise to come back as soon as possible.” We hug.
She whispers in my ear. “Absolutely, hope to die, promise little sis.”
I whisper back. “I’ll have Bob track you down if you don’t ... big sis.” We both laugh but I mean it.
She lets me go and picks up a bag. “I have to finish packing. You know, it’s a shame you can’t come with me. I’ve never told you this, jealous I guess, but you are very good on that stage. Every one here knows that you are this club’s best dancer, by far. I don’t know what Anthony has on you, but if you could get out of this roach trap and work some higher class places, you could be famous.” She’s got me starting to cry again.
“Thanks Candi, I appreciate that, though ‘famous’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’d settle for normal, any day.”
“You are one strange person, little sis.”
“Never said I wasn’t, big sis.” We hug again and she kisses me on the check.
“Take care Honey. Call me if Anthony starts pushing for any other ‘alterations’. I mean it.”
“I will. You take care too. See you in three months.” I leave as Candi starts to empty her locker. I hope Anthony is in the right mood tonight because I sure could use a good fuck to cheer me up.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The crowd noticed my new equipment right away that evening and I made sure to put it on full display. I put some extra effort into my sets because I wanted to get my acts down pat. We will see who’s Queen of this stage when those Houston bitches show up. This is my home field, crappy as it is, and no one comes into my house and disses me!
What Candi said stuck in my mind. I never really thought about how good a dancer I was, never compared myself to the other girls. Anthony always made it clear that he expected me to do a good job or else. Even with that threat of punishment, I had to admit that I kept trying to improve, more for myself than for Anthony. It’s that damn competitive streak in my personality. I was born with it and somehow it survived the transformation. I never wanted to be a stripper, but if I’m going to be one, it will be a good one. Thinking back, I remember that I was actually proud of my performance as a Wrangler Girl at the Super Bowl because I was as good as any of the other girls.
In the old days, I thought that I was only good at football but I realize now that I only tried to be good at football. Once a kid shows some superior skills at a sport, he gets special treatment and training. I got on that football escalator and rode it all the way to the top, never putting any effort into anything else. But now it seems that, if I work at it, I can also be a good cheerleader, a good stripper ... and a good cook. After a bit of a rough start, I got to be a pretty damn good cook when I was with Bob. He said that I could be a professional with some training. Football, dancing, stripping are all similar in that they are physical activities but cooking is more mental than physical. It’s possible that I could be successful at whatever I decided to do, within reason. I’m never going to be as good a doctor as Amy, for example, but there’s a lot of stuff that I’m better at than she is.
I was thinking this while waiting for Anthony to get done with his books and come to my room. I had taken a bath and put on some perfume. It was some cheap stuff one of my regulars had given me but it wasn’t bad. I was wearing a black baby doll nighty, black thigh high stockings, 5 inch black heels and no panties. The shoes are hell to walk in but I wasn’t planning on doing much walking tonight. I heard his heavy footsteps in the hall outside my room, so I struck a seductive pose on my bed, waiting for him to come in. The knob on the door turned as I tossed my hair to get that perfect casual, tousled look. The door opens with a whoosh. Anthony always likes to make an entrance. I smile in anticipation of what is to come.
“Damn Honey! You look like you’re in the mood for a good fucking, don’t you?” This is what passes as foreplay from Anthony. It doesn’t matter tonight, I just want a piece of his meat pole. I slowly slide off the bed, my eyes locked on his.
“Yes, Sir. I can’t wait for you to fuck me like only you can.” My left arm goes around his neck, my right hand to his crotch, stroking the growing bulge in his pants. He seems a little surprised at my aggression.
“The Doc did remove the addiction, didn’t she?”
“She did as far as I know, Sir.” I unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants, letting them fall to the floor. “I just haven’t had sex in six days and really need a ...”, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of his shorts “... good ...”, I jerk his shorts down to his knees, exposing his raging erection “... fucking ...”, I take his cock in my left hand and kiss the tip, then turn my head up to look him in the face “... Sir”. He gulps twice.
“No shit, Honey. Get up there little puppy bitch and let’s get started.” That’s his code word for doing it doggy style. I jump back on the bed on my hands and knees, wiggling my ass, spreading my legs wide, while Anthony steps out of his pants and underwear. I keep wiggling my ass as he removes his shoes but not his socks. Classy.
He climbs on the bed behind me and starts rubbing my pussy with his right hand.
“Aren’t you a good little puppy bitch.” He expects me to answer but not with words.
“Yip, Yip, RRRRwoof, woof.” This is so humiliating, which is why he does it. He pats my ass.
“Yes you are, yes you are.” Just do me already. I need the sweet relief of a few toe curling orgasms. It’s been a shitty day and I deserve this.
“You’ve been a good little puppy bitch so here’s your bone.” He quickly plunges his cock into my pussy to the hilt. Aaahhhh that’s what I’ve been waiting for. I squeeze my muscles to increase the pressure on his cock. He pulls back and slams in again. That’s nice. He starts pumping me and I match his rhythm, pushing back as I keep squeezing his cock with my cunt.
“Oh baby, this is great! You are so damn tight tonight. I ought to tip the Doc for this one.”
Something is seriously wrong. I’m enjoying the sensations I feel but there is no orgasm building. Normally, I would be on the verge of an orgasm by now, maybe even recovering from my first and working towards my second. But this time, it’s just a pleasant, warm feeling. Anthony is doing his normal adequate job but it’s just not working for me. I try to squeeze my muscles harder.
“Oh YEAH HONEY, keep doing that! Hang on!” He grabs my hips, then rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I’m now straddling him, still impaled on his cock, facing backwards.
“Spin around Honey. I wanna see those tits bounce.” I turn around so that I face him, knees at his side. I slip the straps of my nighty off my shoulders, exposing my boobs and start to ride him, pushing up and down with my legs and pumping back and forth with my hips. My new, bigger boobs are bouncing wildly until Anthony reaches up and clutches them. It all feels OK, but nothing more. Anthony, on the other hand, is getting ready to blow.
“Yeah Honey, that’s the stuff. Keep going baby! Oh yeah, Oh yeah ... Uhhhhhh ... Uhhhhhh. Here it comes Bitch!” He grabs my hips and drives up into me, shooting his semen into my cunt. After the third spurt, he starts pumping again, still spraying his jiz.
I got nothing.
His breathing slows and then he pulls out of me. “Clean me up Honey and do it right.” I slip off him and take his semi-hard cock in my mouth, licking and sucking it clean. “That’s enough Honey.” He pats me on the head again. “I’d stay for Round Two, but I’ve got an early morning.” He gets up and quickly dresses. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, head down. He takes my chin in his hand and tips my head up.
“Why so glum? With those new tit’s you’ll be very busy. Lot’s of fucking, lots of orgasms, lots of money. Everyone happy, right?”
I have to answer him.
“Yes, Sir, everyone happy. I’m just sorry you can’t stay longer tonight.” It’s a lie but a good one, stroking his ego.
“Don’t worry Honey, there will be time for more of this later. Neither of us is going anywhere and you are still one first class fuck.” The self-absorbed bastard isn’t even aware that I never came. He walks out, leaving me sitting on the edge of my bed, frustrated at the lack of sexual release.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
It got worse the next day. Anthony was right, I was popular again. It’s amazing the effect a couple of extra inches of boobs has on men. I had sex with ten guys on Tuesday, eight on Wednesday and so on. By the end of the week, it was over forty guys. I had one orgasm that whole time and had warmed myself up before hand with my vibrator that time. At least I was still capable of having orgasms. The sex was pleasant enough, though sometimes painful with a few customers. I had to fake many orgasms to keep most of them happy. All this sex without the relief of orgasms was unbearable. Before, I could put up with it because I knew I would get my own pleasure but now it was just a job. I had to make all these guys happy, get them to cum, tell them what studs they were, and I got nothing out of it, no money, no orgasms, zip. I’d rather be dancing.
The Houston girls were pretty good performers. The crowd loved them because they were new blood but I was still better on stage than any of them. I really missed Candi, more than I thought I would. She was my only friend and ally. With her gone, there was no one to talk to. I could never tell her my whole story but we did talk about some things. Some talk was better than nothing.
By Saturday, I was in a terrible funk. It was hard to get out of bed in the morning. I didn’t feel like eating, bathing, dancing, or fucking. The only reason to do anything at all was to avoid being beaten by Anthony and “doing nothing” almost won. I still had enough pride to prevent the quality of my dancing from suffering from my shitty mood but the sex sure did. Luckily, no one noticed, they weren’t concerned what I thought, just wanted a young pussy to fuck. Sunday was just as bad, if not worse.
I couldn’t go on like this. If Amy had her way, I’d be doing this for the next forty to fifty years. I was ready to blow my brains out after just one week. I had to do something, talk to someone. It sure wasn’t going to be Anthony or Amy and Anthony wouldn’t give me access to a phone to call Bob. I had no idea how to get hold of Candi. I could try to send a letter to her old address and hope she filed a change of address card with the post office. Getting the letter in the mail would be the trick. I might be able to slip it in the outgoing mail or have one of my “customers” mail it for me, if I was extra nice to them.
I managed to write a brief note during a short break late Sunday evening. With any luck, I could convince my last john that night to mail it for me. Turns out he was a barely legal drunk kid, who passed out after ten minutes of amazingly bad sex. So much for that plan. I picked up his jacket and was just about to get Anthony to toss him out on his ass when his cell phone fell out of a pocket of the coat. I picked it up, flipped it open and checked out the display. He had four bars. Yes! I quickly dialed Bob’s number. It rang four times then went to voice mail. Damn it!
“Bob, this is Honey ... Ahhh ... something has changed with me. I can’t go on this way. I really need to talk with somebody.” I start to cry. “Candi has moved to Houston. I’m all alone now. Please Bob. I need you. I’m going crazy here. Please do something, anything. I’m really, really desperate Bob. Please help me.”
I hang up, scroll through the menu to find the history display, delete Bob’s phone number, turn off the phone, put it back in the kid’s coat pocket and then leave to find Anthony.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“Honey, time to get up and get going.” I knock on her door again. She’s been moving slower lately. I haven’t given her a good beating in some time. We’ve had some rough sex but for real motivation, you won’t do better that a good, old fashioned beat down. I really hate to do it now, just after her recent tune up but if things don’t improve, I may have no choice. I loudly knock again.
“Honey, get moving or I’ll have to go get my paddle and ... ” Her door opens. Looks like she didn’t sleep at all last night.
“Sorry, Sir. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“You better be. It’s Monday and I have work to do, which does not include babysitting you. Get dressed and then go to my office to recharge your transmitter.” Bob says that a full charge is good for twenty days but I’d rather do it weekly, make it part of a routine. He says that doing it weekly won’t hurt it, just that it’s not necessary. I prefer to be safe.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll come get your key when I’m ready.” I keep my office locked unless I’m in it. I nod at her and head to the bar to take inventory.
It’s time to restock after a weekend. I have a decent supply of assorted items in the stock room but can’t afford to keep too much liquor in stock, that shit is expensive, even if you water it as much as I do. I’m just about finished when my cell phone rings.
“Hello.”
“I would like to speak with Anthony please.”
“Yeah, speaking.”
“This is Bob James.”
“Hey Bob, what do you need?”
“I need to stop by the club to speak with you and test Honey’s equipment.”
“I’m kinda busy right now. Mondays are always busy days for me so there really isn’t a good time.”
“This should not take long.”
“How long?”
“No more than ten minutes with you, about twenty with Honey.”
“Why now?”
“It is standard procedure with a newly implanted tracker.”
“Can’t this wait?”
“Not really. Is Honey not available?”
“Yeah, she’s here, well actually she’s getting ready to recharge.”
“I will be as quick as possible Anthony.”
“Alright. Ring the bell round back when you get here. Bye”
I flip the phone closed. I wonder what that is all about. He did offer to check out Honey’s tracking equipment, do a diagnostic to make sure it’s working as advertised. No harm in that. I go back to finish my inventory. Honey walks into the bar, wearing her black mini halter dress and mid-calf stiletto boots. Very nice. I may need to take a late morning break. She walks over to me, her big tits jiggling. Maybe it will be a mid morning break. I reach into my pocket for the office key.
“Here’s the key Honey. Make sure you charge the full two hours, because I’m checking it.” She stretches her hand out and I drop the key in her palm.
“Yes, Sir.” She looks and acts like she’s drugged, slow to react, emotionless, doesn’t give a damn. That beating may be unavoidable.
“Also, Bob called.” Suddenly, her eyes light up and she started to smile then stifled it. “He wants to talk with me about something and check out your tracking system. I’ll send him to the office when he gets here.”
“Yes, Sir.” She quickly trots off to the office, almost skipping.
The bell at the back door rings ten minutes later. I walk to the back and check the video monitor. Bob’s the only one I can see. I open the door and he walks in, carrying a small bag.
“Hello, Anthony.”
“Hey Bob. What’s in the bag?” He unzips it then hands it to me to check it out. There’s a couple of meters and some wires.
“Just testing equipment. I will also need to see your receiver. Right now, I want to talk with you about Stage Two.”
“What’s ‘Stage Two’?”
“‘Stage Two’ is where we get Dr. Hanson out of the business of helping the Wranglers without making things worse. The sooner we end her treatment of their players, the better.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
“I was thinking that the best way to do it would be for the Wrangler’s management to believe that it was their idea to terminate her services.”
“Why would they fire her, she’s the reason they’re still winning and saving millions of dollars in payroll.”
“They would fire her if the treatments failed.”
“But they work really well.”
Bob stares at me for a couple of seconds. “My plan is that the Doctor changes her treatments so that they no longer work. If the treatments no longer work, the Wranglers will have no interest in continuing her services. In addition, there will be less motivation on the part of the press to investigate something that is a failure. A story about a medical treatment that does nothing is not very sexy. The more time passes, the less likely there will be any investigation at all. If everyone believes that the treatments are the same but just no longer effective, they may soon conclude that the treatments never worked in the first place and that the Wrangler’s success was due to great coaching, talented players, and a bit of luck with injuries. If you were an athlete, would you rather take credit or give it to a woman doctor? My bet is on the athletes wanting to take credit and minimize Dr. Hanson’s contributions.”
“Hey, that’s pretty good Bob! Do you think the Doc will go along with it?”
“I think that with her ego, we will have a very difficult time convincing her to intentionally fail and then sit there while people criticize her for that failure without saying anything.”
“You got that right.”
“I just wanted to lay the whole thing out for you, to give you a chance to think about it for a couple of days to see if you can find something I may have missed or if you have a better idea. It is always best to get another pair of eyes to review a problem from a different angle.” He looks at his watch. “I have taken up enough of your time Anthony. I appreciate your willingness to hear me out and am looking forward to your comments and contributions.”
“No problem Bob. No problem at all. I’m sure that, together, we can work this out.”
“No doubt, you are correct Anthony. I will see myself out.”
“Wait, weren’t you going to check out Honey’s equipment?” Bob shakes his head.
“You are absolutely correct Anthony. Where is my head this morning?” He picks up his bag. “Where is Honey?” I take the receiver from my pocket and hand it to him.
“Why don’t you go find her. I have to tell you Bob, that is one of the coolest things I have ever seen.”
“That is a common reaction Anthony. I would love to own stock in that device should it ever go public. I will check back with you once the testing is done.” He looks at the screen, swings left and right a couple of times, then heads for my office. I go back to work.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
This is only the second time I’ve had to recharge. I strap a cloth covered, curved, metal plate to my upper thigh then plug it into the wall socket. It has a very slight hum and vibration, gradually warming up. Not at all uncomfortable, kinda pleasant really. It would be great on sore muscles. I have to sit here for two hours, which is boring, but better than dancing, certainly better than sex has been in the last two weeks.
Thank God, Bob got my message. I wasn’t sure he would come. I’d been sitting for about twenty minutes when I heard foot steps coming my way. It wasn’t Anthony, not heavy enough. Suddenly, Bob was standing in the doorway, smiling at me. He knocks on the doorframe.
“Hello, Honey, may I come in?” I’m so happy to see him, I start to cry and choke up.
“Yeess ... Yes ... come in. Oh please come in.” I can’t stand up, my cord is too short. Bob walks in, picks up a chair, puts it next to mine and sits down. I reach over and hug him, hanging on for dear life, sobbing. He pats my arm. We sit like this for a minute or two before he pulls me back, takes a handkerchief from his back pocket, dries my tears and looks me in the face.
“What is going on Honey, you sounded quite desperate.” I told him about all my troubles since my last treatments, the lack of orgasms, the lethargy, the crushing misery my life has become. All this time, he holds my hands, gently stroking them, never taking his eyes from mine.
“I was afraid that this might happen. I am so very sorry about your troubles Honey. I assumed that once Amy changed your biological system to remove the addiction, you would have more trouble with sex. You see, she needed you not only addicted to Anthony’s semen, she needed you addicted to orgasms as well, it was a package deal. Ever since you completed the transformation, you have had a sexually supercharged body. Orgasms came very easily for you, with minimal stimulation. I discovered this when we started having sex. I am good, but not that good. You have never known anything else as a woman, so you accepted it as normal. With the removal of your addiction, you are now a normal woman in every way.”
“You mean this is how women feel all the time?”
“Not exactly. You have spent the last three years on a kind of orgasmic euphoria and now you are going through withdrawal cold turkey. Your orgasms were not better, just more frequent. You can still feel that way again, it will just take more work on your part, and your partners.”
“Oh great, like Anthony or any of the other jerks who fuck me give a rats ass about how I feel. I can’t keep doing this Bob, I won’t last another week.” He reaches out and touches my cheek with his open hand.
“I know Honey. It seems like there is no hope, like it will never get any better, like it will never end, but it will. Now that you know what is happening, you can fight it. You are a strong woman.”
“No, I’m not. I feel like a weak little girl.” He moves closer and hugs me. I hug him back.
“Don’t be silly. You are one of the strongest people I know. I will not lie to you, this is not going to be easy but you can do it, I am sure you can.” He lets go of me and sits back in his chair. “I will see if I can get you a little temporary relief. Now hold still. I told Anthony that I was here to check out your tracking system, so I better get busy.”
He pulled a meter out of a small black bag and ran it along my leg. It beeped several times. He unplugged my charger and then repeated the test. Finally he took the receiver and pushed several buttons. The screen went blank, it buzzed and the screen came back on. He seemed pleased.
“Everything tests within operational parameters.” He put his equipment away. “I know it sounds trite Honey, but things will get better. Right now, you are at the bottom of a hole, looking up. It is a deep hole but you can climb out. I have every confidence that you will beat this.”
It was hard to believe him, everything seemed so hopeless, but Bob hasn’t been wrong yet. If he thinks I can do it, I’ll keep trying, at least for a little while longer. After all, what choice did I have?
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It was almost 11:00 a.m., time for my pre-lunch beer. Customers were starting to trickle in. Business always drops off this time of the year, guess strip clubs and whores just don’t fit the holiday spirit. Maybe I could put a Christmas tree up on the stage and have the girls dress as elves. Bob walks into the room. I wave him towards me.
“What’s the good word my man?”
“The tracker appears to be working perfectly Anthony. I am a concerned about Honey though. She does not seem to be handling her new situation very well.”
“Yeah, I noticed it too. She lacks her old enthusiasm in bed. Some of her regulars have mentioned it. If this keeps up, her regulars may stop being regulars, if you know what I mean.”
“I believe that I catch your drift Anthony. I do think that she will work her way out of her depression eventually.”
“Depression? You think she’s depressed?”
“Probably a little, maybe not clinically depressed. No need for professional help yet.”
“That’s good. We couldn’t let her anywhere near a shrink any how. Care for a beer?”
“It is a little early for me, but sure, why not?” I hand him a Bud and he takes a big swig. He looks around the room.
“The crowd appears to be a little light today, even for a Tuesday.”
“Well, it’s November twenty-fifth, just two days before Thanksgiving. Business always stinks this time of year, it’s hardly worth being open the whole long weekend.”
“What are your plans for Thanksgiving, Anthony?”
“Well, thanks to you, I can actually take a few days off without Honey being a problem. I’m taking one of the new dancers to Cancun for a four day weekend.” He seems impressed.
“Really? Is this a serious relationship?”
“Nah, I’m not that kind of guy. Just don’t tell her that, she may change her mind.”
“What happens to the club while you are gone?”
“We’ll be closed on the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth, then back open on Saturday.” Bob looks a little worried.
“What happens to Honey those two days?”
“I’ll just lock her in her room with some supplies. She‘s got water and a toilet, so she should be good.” He looks more worried.
“Is that a good idea, given her current state of mind? Being locked alone in her room for two straight days could be a problem.”
“It’s a little late to do anything about it now and she’s too old for a baby sitter. I’m not giving her the run of the place while I’m gone.”
“I am more concerned about her being alone than being locked in her room.” I open another beer and take a drink.
“Well, if you’re so worried about it, you take her.”
“Where?”
“Your house. Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”
“No, I was just going to stay home and watch football. The Wranglers are home, as usual.”
“There ya go, she can come stay with you, problem solved. Hell, she can stay all four days and you can keep an eye on her ... or maybe you’re not that worried about her?”
“Now be fair Anthony, it is a legitimate concern, but you are correct, I am the logical choice and I did not have any other plans. When will you drop her off?”
“I’ll be too busy packing. Can you pick her up, like late Wednesday evening?”
“That should work out. I will go tell her about your plans. See you tomorrow evening.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It had been a long day at the clinic but I am finally home. The latest shipment from Russia had been delayed and it needed to be processed as soon as possible or it would have gone to waste. I checked the clock on the dash display as I pulled into the driveway, stopping at the automated gate. 12:03 a.m. I pushed the remote control and the gate swung open. There is a quiet satisfaction deep in my soul every time I drive through the gate and see the grand house waiting for me. It was Josh Thomas’s old home, purchased when the bank foreclosed after Josh “disappeared”. Naturally, it was extensively redecorated, eradicating any trace of the bastard. I could have sold his memorabilia for a tidy profit due to his notoriety after those appalling drug allegations. Instead, I destroyed practically everything, relishing every minute, personally taking a sledgehammer to his league and Super Bowl MVP trophies. What was not smashed to bits was hauled to a junkyard and crushed into a cube, which now sits in the back yard. There were a very few items that I kept, a scrapbook of his clippings from newspapers, the Super Bowl rings and his Eastern High jersey. Those are in a locked display case in the bedroom. I occasionally page through the scrapbook when feeling sad, it always cheers me up right away. Tonight, I’m just very tired and looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I parked the car in the garage and enter the house through the connecting door.
That’s odd. There are lights on in the kitchen. I distinctly remember turning them off when I left this morning. I slowly open the drawer of the table next to the door and removed a 9mm handgun, another one of Josh’s possessions I kept. After all, this is Texas. A house isn’t a home without a gun. Moving quietly, I creep towards the kitchen door and peek around the corner, not sure what I would see, if anything.
It is Bob James. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking something. I pull back around the doorway, safely hidden.
I could kill him right now and be completely within my rights. The police wouldn’t even think of charging me. I’ve a license for the gun and he was a trespasser. I pull the hammer back. There was a nearly silent click as it settled in place. Taking a moment to calm my breathing, I adjust my stance, preparing to quickly enter the doorway, aim and fire.
“Good evening, Dr. Hanson. Would you care to join me in drinking some hot chocolate?”
Damn him to hell! How did he know I was here? Without the element of surprise, I could not take the chance. He might have his own gun and is probably a much better shot.
“James, what the hell are you doing in my house? How did you get in here? Do you know that I could have accidentally killed you?” I walk into the kitchen, gun in my hand but not pointed directly at him. He takes a long sip from the mug in his hand.
“You could have tried to ‘accidentally’ kill me. I doubt that you would have succeeded. And, if by some remote chance you had, the resulting involvement of my old associates would have been very ... traumatic for you.”
Great God! I had got caught up in the moment and forgotten about his associates! Still, I need to stay on the offensive.
“You have not answered my questions. How did you get in here and what do you want?” He took another sip.
“This is really quite good. It’s Honey’s own recipe. How she thought to put cardamom in hot chocolate I have no idea, but it works astoundingly well.”
“ANSWER ME!”
He puts his cup down and leans back in the chair. “You should not have left ‘sex change’ as your pass word.” Crap! “It would not have mattered any way. Commercial security systems are ridiculously easy to penetrate. As for your second question, I am here because you will not return my calls.”
The gall of this man!
“I am not at your beck and call! I have been very busy at the clinic. I would have eventually gotten around to returning your calls.”
“Yes, I can imagine that you were quite busy, what with that delayed shipment from Russia and all.”
Oh. Hell. No. What does he know about my Russian suppliers? Time to deescalate this confrontation. I put the gun in my pocket and sit down opposite him.
“What is so important that you had to break into my home to tell me?”
“A couple of things. The first is that we need to start planning a way to eliminate your involvement with the Wranglers. I have a few ideas on this subject and have shared them with Anthony.”
“This is the emergency that forced you to break into my home?”
“I never said it was an emergency. I said that you would not return my calls.” He leans forward in the chair, placing his hands on the table. “You are free to disagree with me Doctor, you are not free to ignore me.” He did not raise his voice but that last statement just struck the ear harder some how, the pitch of his voice, causing a brief, involuntary shudder.
“Fine, I won’t ignore you. It is much too late to discuss this tonight but if you call tomorrow, I will schedule an appointment to meet with you. I promise.”
“That is acceptable. The second issue is that Honey does not seem to be handling the changes to her system very well.” That is music to my ears. What did he expect to happen?
“If I remember correctly, it was your idea to make the changes. Having second thoughts Mr. James?”
“Not at all Dr. Hanson. Her difficulties were easy to predict, as we both know. All options had pluses and minuses. This option had the best ratio. I bring up the issue to see if you have an interest in minimizing her discomfort.” I can barely keep from laughing.
“No Mr. James, I intend to take full advantage of her discomfort. In fact, I plan to increase it several fold as soon as I get back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Stockholm.”
“A conference of some kind?”
“No, the Nobel Prize ceremonies. All current and past winners are invited to participate in several days of dinners, presentations, lectures, programs, panel discussions and the final award ceremony. It is one of my favorite times of year and the primary reason I have been so busy lately, wrapping up lose ends before I leave. Nothing will delay my departure next week. Is that clear?”
“Certainly Doctor. If you had told me this earlier, we would not be sitting here right now. I hope you have an enjoyable trip.” He stands, picks up his mug, walks to the sink and washes it out, inverting it in the sink.
“I have left some of Honey’s hot chocolate in the pot on the stove. It is still warm. I recommend it as a sleep aid. I will see myself out.” He walks to the front door, punches a code into the keypad, smiles at me, opens the door and leaves. He is unbelievably infuriating, but also very good at what he does. I remove the gun from my pocket to unload and store it. I eject the clip.
It’s empty. I swear that it was a full clip when I checked it last month. Yes, Bob James is very, very, good at what he does.
I will clean this up in the morning. Taking a teaspoon, I taste the hot chocolate Bob left behind. Mmmmmmmmm, delicious. I pour the rest in a mug, no reason to let it go to waste.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
I could not wait for my shift to end Wednesday. When Bob told me that we would have four days together over Thanksgiving, I hugged him so hard, I thought I might have broken his ribs. Now I was standing just inside the front door, anxiously waiting for him to arrive. He drives such an average car, I get fooled several times before he actually pulls up in front of the club. I run out as he exits the car. He spreads his arms as I throw myself at him, catching me with no effort and we spin around several times. I feel giddy. I can’t stop smiling and giggling. He puts me down and opens the passenger door for me. I hop in. Once he is in his seat, I scoot as close to him as I can, grabbing his right arm and placing it around my shoulders.
“Honey, I am going to need that arm to drive.” I slid under the arm as he lifts it.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m sooo happy to see you.”
“Well, I am very happy to see you also. Let’s go home.” He starts the car and we pull out into the traffic. I settle back in my seat, wriggling until comfortable. I close my eyes and sigh.
“What are we having for Thanksgiving dinner Bob?”
“I was thinking of ordering pizza, how does that sound?”
“Pizza. You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” He laughs loudly.
“Yes, I am. There is a turkey breast thawing in the refrigerator right now. I did not think we could eat an entire turkey ourselves.”
“Well, that’s right but there are lots of things to do with the extra leftover turkey, pot pies, sandwiches, soup, turkey salad.”
“I will keep that in mind for next year but I am afraid we are stuck with the breast this year. I do not want to spend all day cooking though. We need to spend some time visiting.”
“Don’t worry, we will do the cooking together and visit at the same time.”
“Now Honey, you are my guest. I won’t have you slaving away in the kitchen.”
“Oh please Bob. Unless you’ve gotten a hell of a lot better, I’d much rather eat my cooking than yours’ any day.”
“If you insist, Honey. I would not be much of a host if I ignored your wishes, however, clean up is my job alone.”
“Deal.”
It’s hard to believe that it has only been a few weeks since we were last together. It feels like months. We get to his house at 12:30 a.m. I check the fridge, the turkey is thawing nicely. He also has yams, cranberries, potatoes, fresh corn, and a pumpkin pie.
“Where did the pie come from? You didn’t make it did you?”
“No Honey, I bought it at a bakery. We will have enough to do tomorrow without needing to make a pie.” He’s right, as usual.
“That’s fine, but we are making everything else from scratch. I want a traditional, home made Thanksgiving dinner. Do you have flour and yeast?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ll get up early to start the bread and the dressing.”
“How early?”
“Oh, 6:30, 7:00.”
“Then we better get to bed. Your room is ready.”
“Aaahhh....could I sleep with you tonight?” He turns to face me, a smile on his lips but sadness in his eyes.
“Just sleep?”
“Yeah, as you know, the sex hasn’t been so good of late.”
“If you want, you can bunk with me. Maybe we can work on that problem this weekend, when we aren’t watching football.” I’m game if he is.
“Absolutely, football comes first.”
I go to my room, undress and pull a big t-shirt from my dresser. When I get to his room, he’s already in bed. He lifts the blankets and I slide in next to him. He rolls towards me and I snuggle back against him. Reaching his arms around me, he pulls me close. I turn my head towards his. We kiss, holding it for several seconds. This is so nice. Bob breaks it off.
“Welcome back Honey. I have missed you.”
“Me too Bob, me too”. I rest my head on his arm and fall asleep.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I wake to the sound of the clock radio alarm. Punching the pause button, I prop myself up on one arm. It’s 7:00 a.m. Bob’s not in bed and I don’t hear any one in the bathroom. I do smell coffee. I get out of bed and scuffle to the kitchen. Bob has the coffee ready and is scrambling eggs. I come up behind him, hugging him around the waist. He turns a little towards me and kisses my forehead.
“Good morning Honey.” I rise up on my toes, kissing him on the lips.
“Morning Bob. You didn’t have to get up. I can take care of this. Go back to bed.”
“How could I sleep in knowing you are out here, slaving away? The sooner we get started, the sooner we are done. You may not let me cook, but I can do the grunt work like peeling potatoes. Consider me your scullery maid.” I hug him again.
“My maid, huh? If I had known that, I would have brought you an outfit to wear. It’s really cute. You would look darling in it.” Bob puts his spatula down and turns to face me, putting his hands on my hips.
“You are leering at me, aren’t you?” I smack his ass. It’s as hard as iron.
“Just using my imagination. Can’t blame a girl for that.”
“As long as you remember that it will only happen in your imagination, we will be fine.”
I reach up and gently tweak his nose. “We’ll see about that. Until then, you can start with the potatoes after breakfast. I’ll make toast.”
We have a light breakfast, have to leave room for a big holiday dinner. Bob starts in with the potatoes while I take a quick shower. I really missed these showers. Bob kept my clothes but none of the tops or bras fit now. Looks like I’m going with one of his t-shirts.
When I get back to the kitchen, Bob’s done with both the potatoes and yams, so I get down to business. By 9:15 a.m., I’ve done all I can for now. The turkey and rolls won’t go into the oven for a little while so we take a break to watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on television. When I was a kid, Captain Kangaroo was the host on CBS. They have gone down hill since he quit, too commercial, but I still like to watch anyway, it’s a tradition. I hadn’t been able to watch for three years so I’m happy to get back to it. Bob is less enthusiastic.
“Why are we watching the Radio City Rockettes dancing in the rain outside of Macy’s in New York?”
“Because it’s a holiday tradition.” He’s sitting on the couch and I’m sitting on his lap, my arms around his neck and his arms around my waist. “Now pay attention. The Muppets are next.”
“Starvation in Africa is also a tradition, but that’s no reason to put it on television.”
“You’re just a big curmudgeon, aren’t you Bob?”
“More than you can possibly know Honey. Now what is that?”
“The Precision Briefcase Drill Team.”
“You are kidding.”
“Nope.”
We go on like this for an hour until it’s time to put the turkey in the oven and shape the rolls. When I get back, the football pre-game show is on. Both Detroit and Dallas are at home. They have been the home teams since I was a boy. Detroit sucks this year, like they have every year since I was a boy. They are playing Tennessee today. If that game isn’t over by the end of the first quarter, it will be a miracle. We settle in to watch.
No miracle today. The game is out of hand with ten minutes left in the second quarter. Even I can’t watch it. There is no way I’m going to watch the Dallas game, way too many bad memories. I slide my hand up Bob’s leg and start stroking his inner thigh.
“You were saying something about helping me with my ... Aahhh ... problems in bed.”
“You don’t want to finish the game?”
“No, it’s a terrible game. I can hardly keep my eyes open.” I work my hand further up his thigh. “Maybe you can think of something to help me stay awake.”
“How much time until the turkey is done?”
“Two hours or so. We have plenty of time.”
“Actually that is only enough time to get a good start on what I have in mind.” Two hours. A start?
“What exactly do you have in mind?” I purr. He reaches down and takes my hand away from his leg.
“Honey, I am no sex therapist. That is the kind of professional you need to see, however I may be able to give you a start towards recovery. I think what you need is to relearn how your body reacts to sexual stimulation. To use a food analogy, you were once a microwave and now you are a crock pot. You have changed from fast, quick orgasms to slower building, likely longer orgasms. Both types can be enjoyable but the slower building orgasm can be more complex, more flavorful, if you will, to extend the crock pot analogy.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“When Amy created you, she gave you the ability to achieve orgasms quickly, without much stimulation, and to have multiple orgasms. These orgasms were centered on your breasts and genitals.”
“Well duh, where else would they be centered?” He chuckles at that.
“True, but a woman’s body is much more sensitive than a man’s. You have approximately twice the erogenous zones. You need to learn about your own body, to revel in the sensations it produces, to discover ways to maximize those sensations, to hold on to those feelings and let them bring you the orgasm you think you need.”
“Oh I need those orgasms. They are the only things that made my life barely livable.”
“I am sure they are, but with training you may find that you do not need them as badly as you think. In addition, the orgasms you do have can be better than before.” He takes my hands in his. “Honey, you know that you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman.” I can’t help it, I blush. “You may represent the pinnacle of female splendor. However, you have little experience in this body.”
“Wait just a minute. I’ve had more ‘experience’ in my body than you’ve had in yours, several times over.”
“You are partially correct, you have a great deal of a few kinds of sexual experiences but not the wide variety that is out there.”
“Are you sure about that, because I think that I’ve been fucked just about every way possible.”
“You are probably right, but there is much more to sex than fucking in a small, dingy room with a partner whose only objective is to get his rocks off as soon as possible.”
“What about what we did in your bedroom, is there more to sex than that?”
“Absolutely, we tasted only a few of the available dishes. You just need expand your palate a bit. To use another analogy, most people drive Fords, Hondas, or Toyotas competently and they are happy because they do not know better. You, Honey, are the possessor of a Lamborghini and have never taken a Drivers Ed course in your life.” He lets go of my hands and touches my check with his right hand. “I am willing to give you a few tips to help you get by. We cannot do much more in four days. It is your choice.” He’s offering me the chance to get my orgasms back and maybe more. I’d be an idiot to say no.
“I agree on one condition.” He smirks at that.
“I offer to help you and you want conditions? That hardly seems reasonable.”
“You haven’t heard my condition yet.”
“Alright, what is it?”
“That you let me get you a Christmas present.”
“Honey, how can you get me a present? You have no money and no safe way to get any, short of stealing from Anthony or a customer, which I insist you not attempt.”
“Tut tut, those are my terms, take it or leave it.” The smirk expands into the smile that I so enjoy seeing.
“I accept your counter-offer madam. If you will accompany me to your room, we can begin.” He stands up and offers me his hand. I take it and he pulls me off the couch. We walk hand in hand to my room.
“What do I do first?”
“Get undressed and lay on the bed, face up.” I kick off my shoes, shimmy out of my jeans and panties, then pull the t-shirt off over my head.”
”Well, those are new.” Bob’s looking at my new, enlarged tits. I self-consciously cross my arms in front of them but manage to hide very little. ”I am sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed. “Do you ... like them Bob?”
“It does not matter what I think.”
“Oh God! You hate them, don’t you?” I squeeze my arms harder, trying to make my boobs smaller. Bob reaches out, takes my arms and gently uncrosses them.
“Honey, the reason that I said it did not matter what I thought about your breasts is that part of the process we are about to begin is you taking charge of your own sexuality, not letting others dictate to you how or what you should feel. You need to decide for yourself what you think of your body. If you cannot accept it as it is, then we have little chance of success. So ... what do you think about your breasts?” I had never really thought about them, they were just there. I didn’t have a choice. If I had been born a girl, they would also be just there, no choice. I guess there is a lot in life that happens to you where you have no choice.
“I ... don’t know what I think.” Bob pats my arm.
“That is OK Honey. The first step towards wisdom is admitting you don’t know. We can come back to that one later. Get up on the bed.” I lay back, arms at my side, legs slightly spread.
“The first thing we will do is map your body, looking for erogenous zones. There are two types, primary and secondary. Primary zones are where there is a larger concentration of nerve endings which react to stimulation by swelling slightly and becoming more sensitive. Naturally, this includes your genitalia and breasts, particularly the nipples, but there are other equally sensitive areas, like your mouth, lips, tongue, ear lobes and anus ...” I sit upright quickly.
“Now wait one minute, you never said anything about anal ...”
“Calm down Honey, I will do nothing without your consent. Besides, there is not going to be any sex this session anyway.” I lay back down, disappointed.
“As I was saying, there are numerous primary erogenous zones. There are also secondary erogenous zones, which vary from person to person. A secondary zone is one which an individual finds erotic due to an emotional or mental association, usually because of a memory, past experience or, perhaps, fantasy. All women share the same basic primary zones but secondary zones are unique to each individual and can vary with hormone levels. What I am going to do is slowly and gently touch every square inch of your body with mostly my fingers but possibly my mouth or tongue. You will tell me on a scale of one to ten how each area feels. You need to try and clear your mind of all other thoughts, just live in the moment, let the sensations fill you. I will need to change positions several times, try to ignore my movements. I will also move around at random, so do not try to anticipate which part of your body is next. If you feel at all uncomfortable, let me know immediately and I will stop and move on. I will give all areas equal treatment, your arousal is not the objective, though that sometimes happens. You should probably close your eyes, it helps your concentration and limits your ability to anticipate each new area. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready for me to begin?” I shift a little on the bed, getting comfortable. I close my eyes.
“Yes, go ahead.”
He gently cradles my left foot in his hand, then traces along the tendon down to my ankle.
“1 ... 1 ... 1 ... 2 ... 2 ... 1 ... 3 ... 3” He touches the sole of my foot, dragging his fingers lightly from the heel to the ball. “3 ... 4 ... 4 ... 5…” Ooohh, I think he is using his mouth to suck on my toes.”5 ... 5 … 6 … aahh ... 7 ... 7” He puts the foot down and I feel the bed move as he changes his position. His fingers tickle the hairs on my right shoulder, causing me to slightly shudder. “5 ... 6 ... 6 ... 5 ... 6” Ooooo, he’s nibbling on my right earlobe “7 ... 7 ... 8 ... 7”.
This goes on for what seems like hours. When he touches my clit, I actually jump. Strangely, the left side is more sensitive than the right, who would have thought it. The longer it goes on, the harder it is to concentrate on each individual sensation, they’re all blending together. Areas that he touched and moved on from are still tingling. When he gets to my asshole, I actually raise my hips slightly, anticipating the penetration. The one to ten scale got dropped after he tongued my right nipple and I moaned “15”.
He’s gently kissing the nape of my neck. “12 ... 12 ... 13 ... 8 ... 4 ... 4 ... 1”
“We are done Honey.” My entire body is buzzing. I push my self up off the bed and look at the clock. It’s only been fifty minutes.
“How do you feel?” I fall back on the bed.
“That was fucking amazing! It still is! I feel like my entire body is vibrating.”
“Speaking of vibrating, let me get something before you get dressed.” He leaves the room as I remain stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, the buzz slowly fading, replaced by a kind of refreshed feeling. I hear Bob come back in the room.
“Raise your hips a little and spread your legs Honey. I slowly push up, my ass rising off the bed. I feel Bob’s hand on my pussy, spreading my labia with his fingers and inserting something warm and hard in my vagina. It pops in.
“Bob, what are you ... oooohhh” He puts another one in.
“Those are Ben Wah balls Honey. They should provide stimulation as long as they are inserted in your vagina.” I roll over and sit up. I can feel them move whenever I do.
“Are they battery operated?”
“No, they are hollow with additional balls inside, that is where the vibrations come from. They respond to your movement. If you clench your pelvic muscles, you can generate motion.”
I give it a try. “Cool”
He smiles. “Yes, cool. Go on and get dressed. We can finish making dinner.”
I slip on my panties. “Why the balls?”
“They are to provide steady sexual stimulation during everyday activities, something you can focus on and, hopefully, enjoy. That stimulation can lead to an orgasm on its’ own, but more often leaves you aroused and ready for intercourse, with orgasms more likely to occur without extra effort on you or your partners part.
“You know that I’m not going to get any help from my ‘partners’, including Anthony.” I pull my pants up. Ah yes, there’s the balls again.
“Anthony may be otherwise occupied, at least for awhile.”
“Why’s that?” I drop the t-shirt over my head.
“He indicated that he was in some kind of relationship with a dancer from Houston. If true, he will have a difficult time maintaining a sexual relationship with you without causing problems with the new girlfriend, unless she is particularly open minded.”
“Strippers tend to be open minded Bob.” I bend over and put on my shoes, giving the balls a squeeze. This could be very nice. “I bet it’s that redhead. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Big boobs but clearly fake, if you like that sort of thing.”
“I will make a point of checking her out next time I am there.” He winks at me. I punch him in the arm. “Oowww. Careful there Honey, that is my turkey cutting arm.” Like I could hurt him with a sledge hammer.
I stick my tongue out at him. ”Let’s go turkey man. We aren’t done yet.”
The thermometer hadn’t popped on the turkey but should any minute. Bob has both a regular and a convection oven so I turn on the convection for the rolls. While it heats up, I put the potatoes on to boil. Now the turkey has popped, so I remove it and set it on the counter. It needs to cool for awhile before Bob can slice it. So far, everything is on schedule.
These Ben Wah balls are weird. I feel them practically every time I move. Most of the time it’s just a feeling of motion but other times they hit a spot and it’s WHOA MAMMA! The longer they are in my pussy, the more I think that I can sorta control them by flexing my muscles, though they tire after awhile. They could be great when I’m dancing at the club, might even volunteer for an extra shift.
Bob’s setting the table. He’s got a holiday centerpiece on the table and Christmas music playing in the background. This is shaping up nicely.
As I hustle around the kitchen, I’m more and more aware of the balls, consciously focusing on how they are moving in me. They create a very pleasant feeling. I catch myself smiling. Man, this kitchen is warm today. Bob’s somewhere else in the house so I lean out of the kitchen to call him.
“Bob, the turkey is ready for you to slice.” He calls back.
“Be there in a moment. I am changing the music.” I go back to beating the potatoes. Bob walks back into the kitchen.
“Honey, do you have a platter for the turkey?”
“It’s right here on the counter.”
He reaches around me and picks up the platter. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“What?”
He reaches up and moves a stray strand of hair behind my right ear. “You have a big grin on your face, which is flushed and ...” he touches my temple for a moment “... your pulse seems to be up a bit.”
“It’s just warm in here, that’s all.”
He chuckles. “It is not that warm, Honey.”
I hand him the electric knife. “Just slice the turkey, I’m almost ready.”
“I can see that you are.” He picks up the turkey, carries it to the work island and starts to cut it in thin slices. He has a smooth, steady technique. It’s almost hypnotic. The buzzer goes off on the stove. I shake my head quickly, snapping back to reality. I had been standing there, watching Bob’s rhythmic slicing of the turkey while squeezing the balls with my pussy, matching his rhythm. The timer was for the dressing. That’s it, everything is ready now.
I put all the food in serving dishes, place them on the table. Bob sets the platter next to the centerpiece, then takes a bottle of wine from the fridge, opens it and fills the glasses on the table while I pour the water. A quick muscle spasm passes through my pussy and I stumble slightly.
“Are you OK Honey?”
“I’m fine. Let’s sit down and eat.” He pulls my chair out for me, scooting it forward as I sit down. There’s another spasm, oh yesss. Bob sits down opposite me.
“It all looks and smells wonderful Honey. Please pass the potatoes.” We trade the assorted dishes back and forth until both of our plates are full. Bob digs in.
“Delicious Honey. Absolutely delicious. You could not get a better meal anywhere.”
“Thanks. The secret is perfectly peeled potatoes.” I take a sip of wine. “This is quite good, what is it?”
“A 2005 California Zinfandel. I like wine but try to drink it only on special occasions.”
“Why is that?”
“There is a bit of a streak of alcoholism that runs through my family. No reason to take any chances.”
“Is that your real family or the family of ‘Bob James’?”
“My real family.”
I’m shocked! That is the first time Bob has ever clearly said anything about his family or his past. I’m afraid to react, but he brought it up.
“Alcoholism can be a bitch. Was it your mom or dad?”
“Mother. Also grandfather and assorted uncles and aunts. That may be far enough removed for me to be safe but I do not plan on putting it to the test, besides I am not a ‘happy’ drunk.” Shit! Does he get abusive when he drinks? I can’t ask him about that. “By the way, what do you think of the Ben Wah balls?”
“Huh? That’s a big change of subjects isn’t it?”
“It is but I couldn’t help noticing that you seem to be sweating a bit, breathing harder and are quite flushed. I hope it is not food poisoning.” He was right. Even while we were talking about his family, I was still pulsing my pussy on the balls, I realized that I was getting closer to coming. I needed to either stop or go and masturbate.
“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” I start to stand but he reaches out, taking my arm.
“No Honey, finish here and don’t touch yourself.”
“Bob, I can’t do this in the middle of dinner.”
“Sure you can, you have been building up to it for over an hour. Just relax and ride the wave.” He doesn’t let go so I sit back down, not wanting to stop the feeling building in my pussy. I close my eyes and concentrate on working my muscles to keep the balls bouncing. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.
“No Honey, do not fight it, let it flow.”
“Ohhhh K Bob.” I keep pushing it, squirming and undulating in my seat. I want to grab my nipples but Bob still has a grip on one arm. I am getting closer.
“Oh shit, oh shit. AHHHH SHIT. Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh yyyeessss.” Suddenly it hits me hard and I throw my head back. “Oh God Bob uuummmm God DAMN.” I lock my arms against the edge of the table and push back. The chair almost topples backwards but Bob still has a grip on my arm and he pulls me forward. Waves of pleasure radiate out from my pussy for several minutes and then fade away. I slowly open my eyes. Bob is grinning at me.
“Honey, you are going to be fine. If you can do that while fixing dinner, the rest of the weekend will be a piece of cake.” He picks up his glass and salutes me. “Cheers” I pick up my glass and we clink rims.
“Cheers Bob.” I drain my glass. “Was that story about your family true or was it just an attempt to divert my attention.”
“No, that story was completely true.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I do not know why I told you. It just seemed like the right thing to say at the time.” I think he may trust me more than he knows.
“Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
When we get up the next morning, Bob offers to take me shopping for some better fitting bras and tops.
“You know that this is Black Friday don’t you? It’s one of the busiest shopping days of the year. Are you sure you want to go out and shop in that crowd?”
“We can wait for the initial wave to pass and go out around noon, the crowds should be down by then but the bargains remain. After breakfast, I have another exercise for you. I am going to give you a full body massage. Your objective is to isolate and amplify the sensations as I proceed.”
“The last time you gave me a massage, you knocked me out. No thank you.”
“Now Honey, that was a completely different situation. I guarantee that you will remain conscious the whole time.”
“Alright, after breakfast. What do you want?”
“How about French Toast?”
“Done and done.”
I fixed breakfast while Bob went back to my bedroom to get it ready for the massage. I added sausage to the menu and was ready in twenty minutes. Bob stuck his head in the kitchen.
“That smells wonderful Honey.”
“It’s ready so grab a plate and dig in.”
I was a little full from yesterday’s big dinner but Bob still had his appetite. He ate everything on his plate and had seconds. My plate was almost empty but I couldn’t eat any more.
“I will do the clean up, you go take a hot shower Honey in my bedroom, as hot as you can stand. I will meet you in your bedroom.”
After the shower, my skin was tingling. I wrapped myself in a towel and walked into my bedroom. The lights were dim but Bob had lit several candles. Soft music was playing, classic I think. There also was some kind of incense, it smelled like vanilla. Bob had spread several towels on the bed.
“OK Honey lose your towel and lay down, face first.” I dropped my towel and crawled on to the bed, trying not to disturb the other towels. “The purpose of this exercise is for you to recognize and enjoy the sensations created by your body when touched. Like the Ben Wah balls, it is not designed to produce orgasms, though an advanced student such as yourself may prove otherwise. The idea is for you to enjoy these sensations even though there is no orgasm. Assuming that Amy has reduced the sensitivity of your system so that you are now a normal woman, you are more likely to have an opportunity to be touched and caressed than stimulated enough to achieve an orgasm. If you can learn to enjoy these less than orgasmic encounters, life should be more tolerable. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“I am going to use a warming massage oil. This is supposed to be more sensual than sexual, though I realize that is a fine line. This should be slow and languid, no quick motions or muscle stretches.” Bob climbed on the bed, straddling my waist, facing towards my head. He reached up and touched my shoulders where they met my neck, gently rubbing with the tips of his fingers, then his fingers, then the palms of his hands, moving in small circles along my shoulders outwards towards my arms and then my upper back.
I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, concentrating on whatever area Bob was working on at that time. By now he was pressing on the small of my back. It was both relaxing and invigorating at the same time, like being both calm and alert. It was similar to being in “the Zone”, what players’ call it when the game seems to slow down and you can’t do anything wrong. Every pass is on target, every pitch a strike, every shot goes in the basket and every swing is a hit. Usually, “the Zone” doesn’t last too long, but the feelings from this massage just keep getting stronger. He’s making long strokes along my outer thighs, moving around to the inner thigh. As he moved up towards my crotch, it was hard to keep from squirming. Bob gently pushed my legs apart and then ran his hands across my ass and down towards my pussy, brushing the labia with his thumbs, causing me to shudder and quietly moan. He repeated that stroke several times and then moved down my legs towards my feet. He stroked both feet from ankle, to sole, to toes. After giving attention to each toe, he stopped and moved up to the head of the bed.
I could feel him close to my ear. “I am going to turn you over now. Just relax and roll as I lift.” I could feel him at my waist, carefully lifting me with his arms under me. As he lifted, I rolled away from him, landing on my back. “That was very good Honey.” He went back to my feet and started back up my body. The oil that he was using left my skin warm and sensitive, a slight tingle persisting after he moved on to another area. By the time he reached my tits, the whole body felt as if it was glowing, radiating a mild heat. He had shifted around so that my head was in his lap and he was reaching down my body, cupping my tits, massaging the sides, circling in towards my nipples, then rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers.
“This is heavenly.” I sigh.
“I am happy you are enjoying it Honey. I am almost done.”
“Don’t quit on my account.” I know that we have things to do but I could spend all day right here. He’s stroking my neck, holding my head in his hands, then rubs my temples with his thumbs. He finishes by running the heels of his hands across my forehead and then kissing it.
I open my eyes and grin. “What’s with the kiss? I thought there wasn’t supposed to be any sex.”
Bob smiles back. “Sorry Honey. I must have gotten carried away.”
I sit up and scoot back, sitting next to him and putting my arms around his neck. “That’s OK, just don’t let it happen again.” I kiss his cheek. “I’ve had massages before, but nothing like that. I’m still warm all over. Did I feel hot to you?”
He laughs. “That is a loaded question. You are always hot to me Honey.”
“Ha. Ha. Says the fully dressed guy to the naked chick sitting next to him. I mean it, I feel like I’m some kind of heater.”
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“No, no, it’s great. I feel so alive. I want to go out and see the world.”
“I am sure that most of the world would really appreciate it if you did that right now.”
“Funny man. Quit goofing around. Is this how I’m supposed to feel?”
“Are you enjoying it?”
“Hell yes.”
“Then it is fine. Reactions vary from person to person but generally the results are the same as yours. I must admit, I have not done this very often and not for some time.”
I kiss his cheek again. “Couldn’t prove it by me. Do we really need to go shopping right now?”
“I thought that you women enjoy shopping.”
“It may come as a surprise to you but I am not like other women.”
He cracks up. “I will admit Honey that I had my suspicions. We can go buy you some new clothes that fit and then come back home to move on to phase three.”
“There is a phase three?”
“Yes.”
“Better than phases one and two?”
“Many women think so.” I hop off the bed.
“You start the car, I’ll get dressed.”
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
It only took me ten minutes to get dressed and ready to go, didn’t have a lot to chose from. Our first stop at the Mall was “Wet Seal”, a trendy store for teens. I may not feel like a teenage girl but I sure look like one. They didn’t have any really special promotions so it wasn’t too crowded. Bob looked completely out of place. No self respecting seventeen year old girl would bring a much older guy with her to this kind of store unless there was something funny going on. Even though I’m technically forty three and Bob probably isn’t yet fifty, neither of us appear to be anywhere near those ages, but Bob looks at least ten, if not fifteen years older than me, hard to tell with him. He could be my father. There are a few girls with their mother’s in tow, however not a father anywhere to be seen. You can find the occasional boyfriend and girlfriend together but it’s mostly packs of young girls, grabbing things and giggling their way to the changing rooms.
Bob’s catching quite a few stares, the disapproving kind, and he doesn’t appear to be comfortable. “Why don’t I stay out here and you go see what you can find?”
I take my arm and wrap it around his. “Not a chance. I’m not going in there alone. Just because I look like one of them doesn’t mean I am one of them. You’re my bodyguard today. Come on.”
I pull him into the store. There’s some kind of techno music blaring. Anthony has used something like it at the club but it’s not a crowd favorite, easy to dance to though. I spot a rack of tops to my left so I head that way, Bob trailing behind. A group of about six girls are already tearing it apart, pulling one off the rack, holding it up against their body while the others give comments. I find a blue satin Camisole style top that might fit. I turn to Bob.
“What do you think?” I shout over the music.
He shrugs. “You know that I would like anything you wear. This is not one of my areas of expertise.”
I frown at him. “You’re a big help.” I put it back, pick up a red shawl collared wrap style sweater with three quarter length sleeves and hold it against me. “What about this one?”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Honestly, anything you like is fine with me.”
“Come on, I need some input here.” I turn to put it back and bump into a blonde girl standing to my left.
“Parents.” She rolls her eyes. “Here, let me look.” She holds it in front of me. “That will really work with your body. Let’s try it on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the changing rooms. I look back at Bob. He’s smiling and waiving at me. I turn my head back towards the girl just as we enter the changing room. It’s one big room, lined with several booths.
“Ahhhh thanks but I can take care of this myself ... uuhh.”
“Brittany, everyone calls me Brit. Phhuuleez, like you’re going to get a useful opinion from your dad. Just try it on. Trust me, I’m good at this. All of my friends say I should be a professional shopper.” I hesitate. She smiles and pushes me gently towards the changing both. “Go on, it’s all good.”
Well ... at least I should get an honest opinion. I close the half-door, lift the t-shirt over my head and replace it with the red top. I adjust my boobs and step out of the booth. There’s another, shorter girl standing next to Brittany.
“Oooooo that’s KILLER! This is my friend Piper. What do you think Pipe?” She cocks her head to one side, looking me up and down.
“Those aren’t real, are they? Cause if they are, I’m gonna have to kill you.”
“WHAT!?”
They both laugh. “Ignore her. Piper is jealous of anyone with large boobs and you qualify, big time.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t looking for something to highlight these.” I point to my tits.
Piper giggles. “You might as well, because you sure aren’t gonna be able to hide them. What else you buying?”
“I was just shopping for some tops and bras.” There‘s a knock on the door to the room.
“Please excuse me, I am looking for Honey James.” It’s Bob.
Brittany calls out “Is there a Honey James in here?”
“That’s me. It’s my ... dad.” Thank God he didn’t say “Sweet-Lay”. I go out to see him.
“That looks very nice Honey. A good choice.”
“No thanks to you.”
“I did warn you, fashion is not my forte. I do have a couple of things that I must take care of today. You seem to be in good hands here. Why don’t you get what you need.” he slips me his credit card “and I will be back by 3:30.” I’m not completely comfortable about that but there’s probably no harm.
“Where will we meet?”
“How about the food court? You can have something to eat while you wait.”
I kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at 3:30 then ... Daddy.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” I walk back into the changing room. Piper is showing Brittany a skirt.
“What was that about?” asks Brittany.
“My dad had to leave so he left his charge card with me. We’re supposed to meet at the food court at 3:30.” They look at each other with glee.
“SHOPPING SPREE!” they shout together.
“Whoa, wait a minute, just because he left me his card doesn’t mean I can go nuts. I spent over four thousand dollars just a few weeks ago and ...” Brittany gasps.
“Four thousand American Dollars?”
Oops.
“Uh yeah ... but that was a special occasion and ... ”
“So like, your dad’s rich or something?”
A third girl walked in, a taller brunette. “Whose dad is rich?” Brittany points to me.
“Honey’s dad is rich.”
“Who is Honey?”
I raise my hand. “I’m Honey. Honey James.” The third girl looks me over.
“Hi Honey James. I’m Sarah Watson. Guess you’ve met these other two maniacs. We’re all together today, just killing time.”
“Sarah thinks she’s the leader, but we just go along with her to keep the peace,” says Brittany. “The important thing is that Honey’s dad has left her with his credit card and won’t be back for almost three hours.” Sarah’s eyes light up.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s get shopping!”
Piper and Brittany each grab one of my hands and pull me back into the store. All of them start roaming up and down the aisles, grabbing items as they go. Once their arms are full, they usher me back to the changing room and I start trying different things on. They picked tunics, hoodies, tees, baby dolls and other styles. I was changing for the tenth time, topless, when I noticed Piper looking in the booth. I froze.
“You’re not wearing a bra are you? I cannot believe those boobs, seriously, I’m going to have to kill you.” Sarah reaches in to grab Piper.
“Pipe, leave her alone. How would you ... GAWD! Brit you’ve GOT to see this.” Brittany sticks her head in the door.
“I’ve got to see what? ... OMG! I thought you were wearing a padded pushup bra! If you don’t kill her Pipe, I will.” By now, my face is beet red.
“Will you PLEASE get out and close that door!” All three of them duck out and the door slams shut. No one says anything for a few seconds, then Sarah speaks up.
“We’re sorry Honey ... really sorry. It’s just ... you took us by surprise, you know. I mean, none of us has ever seen anything like ... you know. We’ve all taken gym and seen other girls naked but ... you ... your ... they’re like totally amazing! But we’re sorry, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, completely sorry!” said Brittany. Piper added her two cents.
“I overreacted and freaked out when I saw, you know. I didn’t mean anything by it, OK?”
“So Honey ... are we cool?” asked Sarah. I finished changing and slowly walked out of the booth.
“Yeah, we’re cool, but knock next time, OK? You may not believe it but I’m kinda sensitive about the subject.” They all say “OK”, so we go back to checking out the tops. After about the twentieth one, I realize that I’m enjoying myself. The girls are actually very nice, despite the peeping incident, and we’re all having fun.
I finally settle on the first red shawl collared sweater, a white cropped cable button front hoodie, light gray short sleeve turtleneck, a white bustier trimmed with black lace and sequins, an ivory scoop neck tunic with butterfly crochet on the bust, and a black cropped cable turtleneck sweater. The last one I tried on was the cropped cable button front hoodie. Brittany was giving me a studied look.
“You know Honey, I saw a denim mini that would work GREAT with that top. Hold on, I’ll go get it.”
“Wait Brit, I just needed some tops and bras. I’ve already got more tops here than I planned on.”
“We’ve got plenty of time, what’s the harm?” She’s gone before I can say anything else.
Sarah shakes her head. “It’s no use, when Brit gets that fashion bone in her jaws, she’s a pit bull. Just go with it.” She’s back in a flash.
“Here, isn’t it cute? Go on, try it Honey” I go into the booth, close the door, skin out of my jeans, and pull up the short skirt. It’s classic faded denim, zip front with two button flap back pockets. I step back out of the booth. Brittany claps her hands.
“Yeah baby, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” The other two nod their heads in agreement. I move in front of the mirror, slowly turning. She’s right, it’s a totally hot look. I swivel my hips several times. They all applaud and whistle.
“Work it baby, work it!” shouts Piper. If she only knew.
“So, what do you say Honey?” asks Brittany.
“You win, I’ll take it.”
“Great! Wait here, there’s this gray scoop neck sweater mini-dress that you’ll totally rock.” And with that, she disappears. I look at Sarah. She shrugs.
“Told ya.”
I end up agreeing to two more mini skirts plus the gray sweater dress and a mini-dress, black, spandex/rayon with a deep V surplice bodice. After “Wet Seal”, we go to “Victoria’s Secret”, where I buy seven bra and panty sets. This time, I let each of the girls come into the changing room with me at different times so they can satisfy their curiosity. It’s worth it just to see the looks of awe on their faces.
Each of them is a very pretty girl. I’d certainly have fucked them back when I was in high school. Brittany is probably the best looking but Sarah and Piper aren’t far behind. Piper’s got no reason to be jealous of girls with big boobs, she’s at least average, maybe slightly above average. We make a nice looking group.
They end up dragging me to a shoe store because, according to Brittany, I simply had to have some boots to go with the denim mini and shoes for the two mini-dresses. I told her that I already had a pair of boots. They all looked at me like I was nuts. Brittany laughs.
“Honey, you can NEVER have enough shoes!” I insist on only one pair, so I end up buying black, mid-calf boots with blocky 3 ½ inch heels.
When finished, I’m wearing the button front cropped hoodie, denim mini, red demi cup bra and matching thong panty with the boots. I didn’t realize that current teenage fashion was this slutty. If I wasn’t with a bunch of other teenage girls, a cop might think I was a whore looking for johns. Thankfully, a third of the girls I saw were dressed in about the same style. I was the best looking by far though … in my humble opinion.
By now it was 2:30 and we had hit most of the stores you might expect to stock what I was looking for. Brit wanted to check out Penny’s but we voted her down. I was tired of carrying all these bags and wanted a break so we went to the food court. There was a Burger King, so I had a Whopper and Coke, Brit had a chicken sandwich and water, Piper two Whopper Jr’s and Sarah two Whoppers, large fry and large shake, all Bob’s treat. We giggled when Sarah gave her order.
“What? I’m hungry! I missed breakfast and lunch because someone wanted to get started early today and then refused to take a break.” She tossed a fry at Brit, who tossed it back at her. Everyone laughed. We talked about the clothes I bought and each of them had ideas about what kind of jewelry would go with each item, possible shoes, that sort of thing. I didn’t tell them about my limited wardrobe and no jewelry except for a few earrings and what Bob bought me. Soon, the questions became more personal. I tried to steer the conversation towards each of them but they had been friends for years and knew all about each other. I was the newcomer, fresh meat, and they were concentrating on me. Sarah took the lead.
“Do you live around here Honey?” I decided that the best way to answer was to go back to my high school days and use them as a reference, at least as much as possible.
“No, I live with my mother. I’m just visiting with my dad for the holiday.”
“They’re divorced?”
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“Since I was little.” They all nod and offer words of support and understanding.
“My parents are divorced too.” Says Brit. “It’s been almost four years. Thank GOD they get along OK. How about yours?”
“Hate each others guts. Well, more like she hates his guts.” Piper scoots closer to me.
“Did he cheat on her?” she quietly inquires. The other two are shocked at her question.
“PIPER! That’s none of our business!” shouts Brit.
“Yeah! She was just a little girl when it happened.” added Sarah. “Besides, we’ve just met Honey. I’m sure she’ll tell us when she feels comfortable enough.” I had to stifle a smile. Piper was pissed.
“Why don’t you all just jump down my throat for being curious.”
“Come on, every one settle down.” I calmly say. “I’m not bothered by the question. I don’t know the answer though.” Brit reaches over and pats my hand.
“Your dad seemed OK, kinda clueless, which is normal for a dad.” She’s talking about Bob. I go with that.
“Oh, my dad is the BEST. Kind, generous, sweet, brave, really smart ...”
“Don’t forget rich. What about your mom?” If Bob’s my dad, Amy’s my mother.
“Absolute total BITCH!” They’re all shocked. “Keeps me grounded all the time, won’t let me do anything, see anybody, works me to death.”
“Jeez, why don’t you live with your dad then?” asks Piper. Good question Piper.
“He’s on the road all the time and they wouldn’t let me stay by myself when he’s gone.” They nod their heads in understanding.
“I know.” grunts Sarah. “They think you’re too young to be left alone, yet you can baby sit the neighbor’s brat kids. What do they think is going to happen, that I’ll throw a big, wild party and destroy the house?” Piper smiles and nudges her arm.
“Didn’t you?”
“First, it wasn’t that big, twenty people, tops. Second, the only one who called the cops was that old lady Johansen who lives across the street and she has a big stick up her butt! And third, it wasn’t the whole house, just the tool shed.” Piper and Brit start giggling, then breakout into full laughter. Sarah initially is frowning but soon joins in. I have no idea what they were talking about but their youthful spirit is so contagious that I begin to chortle and am soon laughing as hard as any of them. Suddenly, they all stop. I go on for a few seconds before I realize they’ve gone quiet. They all have stunned looks on their faces.
“What?”
Brit points to three guys at the counter.
“That’s Jerry Pitman!”
I look where she’s pointing and see three teenage guys in letter jackets. The taller one is in the middle, broad shoulders, blonde longish hair, self-confident attitude. Quarterback, no doubt. The guy on his left is built bigger in the chest, arms and legs, probably a linebacker. The third guy is slighter but moves fluidly. My guess is that he’s a receiver or tailback.
“Which one’s Pitman?”
“The tall one in the middle!”
“OK. Why do we care about Jerry Pitman?” They are all aghast and start telling me about him at one time in hurried whispers. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying.
“Calm down, calm down. One at a time, you first Sarah.” They all lean in towards the middle of the table. I join them.
“OK, you’re not from around here so that explains a lot. He’s just the best, most famous football player in town. He’s set a bunch of records and his team hasn’t lost a game in two years.”
“So you guys are football fans?”
“Eeewww no!” The other two grimace and nod in agreement.
“So, what’s the big deal?” Brit looks at me like I’m an idiot.
“Because he’s a TOTAL BABE, that’s why.” I look back at him. He’s OK, for a teenage boy. Give him another five, six years and we’ll see about him then. From a seventeen-year-old girl’s perspective however, he’s probably an Adonis.
“So, you girls know this guy?”
Sarah gasps. “OH GOD NO! He’s like, famous and everything. We’re nobodies!” I look at Brit. She shakes her head in agreement, as does Piper.
“Look, you guys are not nobodies. All three of you are very pretty and any guy would be lucky to know you or be your boyfriend.” They all blush. “You took a complete stranger and helped her today for no reason other than friendship and kindness.” Brit raised her hand.
“Plus, I really enjoy shopping.”
I giggle. “I really enjoyed the shopping too Brit.” Laughter all around the table. “I’m just saying that you are great girls and I’m proud to know you. Never put yourself down. You are not nobodies!” A crazy idea flits through my head. “Do you guys want to meet Jerry Pitman and his friends?”
“HUH?”
“I asked if you wanted to meet the ‘total babe’ and his handsome friends.” Piper’s mouth is hanging open.
“Yeah sure, but that’s like never gonna happen.” I stand up.
“Sure it will. I’ll just go over and bring them back to our table.”
“Are you CRAZY!!??” Brit hisses. “They aren’t going to come over here.”
“Of course they will, all I have to do is ask.” I adjust my skirt, settling it on my hips. Sarah reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Look Honey, you’re amazingly beautiful and all but you can’t just go and drag them to our table.”
“I won’t have to drag anybody; they’ll walk over here on their own. Hell, they’ll crawl if I tell them. All I need to know is if you want me to do it.” The girls look at each other.
“Do we?” asks Sarah. Brit nods “yes”. Piper shrugs her shoulders. “Sure, why not?”
Sarah turns to me. “OK, we’re in.”
“Fine, you just need to promise me two things.”
“What’s that?”
I hold up one finger. “That you all be cool, no fawning, no hero worship.” I hold up a second finger. “That you remember that these are just regular guys, they are no different than the boys in your classes, maybe better at sports than other guys, but basically the same. You are as good as they are. Agreed?” They all say “Agreed”. Sarah is still skeptical.
“Are you sure you can do this?”
“Girlfriend, the day I can’t handle three teenage boys is the day I quit the stage.”
“What?”
“Never mind. You all stay put. I’ll be back in five minutes.” I reach up, unbutton one more button on my crop top, spread the top to increase the exposure of my cleavage, fluff my hair, pick up my cup and saunter towards the serve-it-yourself drink dispenser, swinging my hips.
My targets have their sandwiches and fries on trays sitting on the counter and are gathered around the drink dispenser, preparing to fill their cups, backs turned towards me. The other two are letting Pittman go first, so he’s probably the Alpha Dog. I get him, the rest will follow. I reach up and touch his shoulder.
“Excuse me, could I squeeze in here?” He turns his head towards me.
“Hey, you can wait your turn like ... ” He looks down, straight into my tits. Frozen in place. I keep my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him aside so that I can get to the spigots. I create a little room between him and his bigger friend but not too much room. I rub my tits against him as I push my way past and rub my ass against the other guy’s leg while slowly dragging my hand from Pittman’s shoulder, down his arm and resting it on his hand briefly before turning to face the dispenser.
I lean down at the waist, thrusting my ass back, spreading my legs slightly and reach in to fill my cup. I can see in the reflection of the stainless steel dispenser that Pittman and “the linebacker” are staring straight down at my ass while “the receiver” is leaning around Pittman, doing the same thing. None of them think I can see them. I’d like to take as much time as possible, giving them a good, long look, so I start and stop the dispenser several times, letting the foam drop. Every time I hit the trigger, I shake my ass slightly. Once the cup is completely full, I slowly stand up, carefully put the cup to my lips, take a quick slurp and then spill just a small amount on my boobs.
“Ooohhh, that’s cold!” I reach up with my free hand, scoop the spilled drink off my boobs with my index finger, then slowly insert it in my mouth, sucking it clean, while looking Pittman square in the eyes. I put the cup down and hold up both hands.
“Sorry, I’m all sticky, could one of you hand me a napkin?” All three of them dive at the napkin dispenser. Got em. They all get the same napkin, tearing it to shreds trying to pull it out.
“Hey Guys!” Pittman says, holding up his hand. The other two boys stop and he reaches out, removes another napkin and hands it to me.
“Here you go.” I gingerly take it with the tips of my fingers.
“Thank you very much.” I wet it at the water dispenser, rub it across my fingers, across my boobs and into my cleavage, finally wadding it up and putting it in a trash can. I pick up my cup.
“I’m such a klutz, I should probably use a straw.” Reaching up, I pull a straw from the bin, strip the paper off with my teeth, drop it into my cup and suck on it. All this time, I have their complete attention.
“Sorry, I’m blocking your way. Let me slide over here.” I move away from the front of the dispenser, sliding my ass along the railing in front. I stop once I clear the dispenser but anyone who gets a drink will have to press their body against mine. I lean back, lightly perching on the rail, resting my back against the dispenser, pushing my tits forward. I then suck the straw completely in my mouth, slowly bobbing on it as I drink, like I was “deep throating” the straw. Pitman moves in to fill his cup, rubbing his ribs against my hip. He hits the trigger to fill his cup but is looking up at me. The cup overflows, spilling all over his hand.
“Damn it!” He pulls back, but I’m ready for him.
“Here, let me help.” I grab a napkin, wet it, take his hand and wipe it clean. “One hand washes the other, right?”
He just stands there, a big smile on his face, letting me massage his hand with a wet napkin. “Oh yeah, totally.”
I finish and toss the napkin. “There, all clean.” I resume my position and start working the straw again. The other two fill their cups, rubbing against me while doing so. By the time the last one is done, I’ve drank about one third of my drink.
“I need a refill.” I say, repeating my performance at the dispenser, spreading my legs just a bit more. When I turn around, all three have significant bulges in their pants. Well, they are teenage boys after all. A teenage boy has an erection at least eighteen out of every twenty four hours.
“Do you boys have any place you usually sit?”
Pitman looks down at my face and tits, alternating between them. “You mean a table? Not really.”
“I was just wondering if you’d like to share a table with me and my three girlfriends.”
“Your girlfriends? Oh yeah, sounds great. What do you think guys?” The other two are drooling. They may not be geniuses, but they can do the math of three into four.
“No problem Jerry!” “Yeah, great man!”
I lead the way, making sure they all got a good show. The girls are giggling, heads together at the table. I subtly signal with my hand for them to be cool. When we get to the table, Sarah holds up her arm, showing me her watch.
“Five minutes, twenty three seconds.”
“Must be losing my touch. Let’s move over to this bigger table.”
We all shift over to a larger table and sit boy-girl around it. I’ve got Jerry Pitman on one side, “the linebacker” on the other. “The linebacker” is Tony King and “the receiver” is Ken Wallace. Despite their promises to be cool, the girls hang back in the conversation. I should have expected that. The guys are also more than a little intimidated by me. Most boys talk a big game but that’s all it usually is, talk. I get the feeling that Jerry Pitman is the exception. He’s a bit too smooth, trying to charm me. The way that I teased him, I couldn’t expect anything less though. I’m being friendly but neutral. Finally Piper opens up, with Brit and Sarah quickly joining in.
I could blow these guys away if I wanted to talk football. When I was in high school, I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven if there was a girl who looked like me and knew football. What I want is for the girls to have a chance at these guys, they all have more in common with each other than I have with any of them. There are some good conversations taking place but the guys are still spending too much time trying to impress me.
I check my watch. It’s almost 3:30. I need Bob to show up to give me a reason to leave. Tony tries to get Jerry’s attention. “Jerry … Jerry … Hey, Jerry.”
I tap his arm and point at Tony. Jerry looks at him. “What?”
“”We’ve got that thing tomorrow night. What about ... ” and he makes a circle motion with his hand around the table.
Jerry looks at me then back towards Tony. “All? Not just?” he tips his head my way.
“Sure. Why not?” Jerry nods his head. Tony raps on the table with his class ring to get everyone’s attention.
“Ladies, I have been authorized to invite you to this cities’ legendary post Thanksgiving pre-final blowout. Are you interested?” The girls all gasp. I’m confused.
“Pardon my ignorance, but what are you talking about?”
Brit is practically jumping in her seat. “Honey, every year, there is big party the Saturday after Thanksgiving. It’s never in the same place and by invitation only, It’s like the best party ever and we’ve just been invited!” She starts to clap her hands.
I hadn’t planned on this. “I don’t know. I’d have to check with my dad. He may have plans.” I know he has plans, which I hope means lots of sex for me.
“OH PLEASE Honey!” pleads Brittany. “You’ve got to come! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! What could you do with your dad that is better than this?”
Brit, when you’re five years older, I’ll tell you and you won’t believe it. Sarah catches my eye and jerks her head toward the bathrooms. She stands up.
“I have to go to the bathroom, back in a minute.” I stand up too.
“I’ll go with you.” We walk to the bathroom and go inside. It’s empty. She stops and turns towards me.
“Honey, I know that you’re not from around here, but this is a big deal for kids in Dallas. Only the most popular kids go to this party. I’m talking about maybe two hundred people out of the entire high school population. Until Tony made the invitation, I actually thought it was a myth.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth now?”
”Because Jerry Pitman is exactly the kind of person who would be invited, maybe even in charge. I also know that Brit, Piper and I would not be invited if we weren’t with you.”
“Wait a minute. I told you that you all were just as good as ... ”
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you said. And you know that it was bullshit, at least as far as guys and good-looking girls go. I’m a pretty girl, so are Brit and Piper. There are lots of pretty girls; most of them are not invited to this party. You, on the other hand, are otherworldly beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were an alien or a science experiment. I’m sure that we’re a package deal, you go, we go. You don’t, we don’t.”
“But he just invited everyone. If I say ‘no’, how can he un-invite you?”
“Oh he won’t, not directly. We just won’t get the phone call with the directions to the party. Remember, it’s a secret location. As beautiful as you are, you’ve probably never dealt with many heartless selfish jerks before.”
“You’d be so wrong about that, you have no idea.”
“Then you know what I’m talking about.”
Unfortunately I did, I’d done things like that when I was Josh Thomas. That’s who Jerry Pitman reminds me of ... me. And I was a dangerous guy to be around, not evil but stupid and selfish. “Why do you want to go to this party if you think so little of the people who’ll be there?”
“I’m a shallow person, I’d like to experience how the upper crust lives, plus Brit and Piper would never forgive me if I stopped them from going. If you kept them from going, they probably wouldn’t forgive you either but you wouldn’t be here for them to hate, you’d be back home.”
I started to tear up. “Are you saying I don’t care about them or you? Because if you are, I’ve got to tell you ... ” She reaches out and touches my arm.
“We’ve only known each other for a few hours, but I know you’re a good person. And yes, I think of you as a friend. So do Brit and Piper.”
“How do you know that?”
“What do you think we talked about for the five minutes and twenty three seconds you spent working on those guys, which by the way, was the most impressive display of baggin I have ever seen or even read about.”
“Thanks, it was nothing, you should see me on a good day. Ignoring my seduction skills, I really am in a tough situation. I can’t commit to anything without first talking with Bo ... dad. Plus, if this party is the kind you say it is, there is some danger involved for any girl attending. Now, I’m not worried about me, for reasons you will probably never know, but you, Piper and Brit would be at risk. If something happens, I’d feel terrible.”
“We can take precautions. You and I can keep an eye out for them. I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into saying ‘yes’. I just wanted you to know the full deal before you decided. We’ll live with whatever decision you make.” I reach out to her and we hug for several seconds. “God Damn! Those tits are real, aren’t they?”
“Shut up. Let’s go back.” We walk back to the table. Jerry stands up and pulls my seat out for me. Ken does the same for Sarah. Nice touch on their part. They could be great guys or total jerks. There’s not enough time to find out the truth before Saturday night, assuming Bob lets me go. Brit is staring at me in anticipation.
“So, are we going? Tony’s been telling us all about the band and food and drinks and bar and ...” Shit! Booze! That’s nothing but trouble.
“Look, I’m willing to go but I’ve got to clear it with my dad first. He’s an old-fashioned kinda guy.” I look at Jerry. “You have no idea what kind of trouble he can cause for someone who crosses him or hurts me.” Jerry smiles. “I’m serious! Think of the worse possible thing and then multiply by ten. You’ll be in the ball park.” Jerry stops smiling. Yeah, keep that in the back of your mind.
Brit points at the concourse. “Isn’t that your dad?” I turn to look. It is Bob. Brit must have a very good memory. People just don’t remember Bob, even if they’ve seen him several times.
“Hang on, I’ll go talk with him.” I stand up and walk out to meet him. We are out of earshot of the others. I kiss his cheek. He looks me up and down.
“That is some outfit Honey. A bit more than you started out shopping for isn’t it?”
“You should see what’s in the rest of the bags. It’s partially your fault you know, you left me at the mercy of a group of teenage shopaholics.”
“You seemed to be enjoying it.” What does he mean by that?
“I think that requires an explanation.”
“I have been monitoring your activities for the last two and a half hours. My business only took about thirty minutes. Since then, I have been keeping tabs on you and your friends.”
“Yes, my friends. You’ve been following us, haven’t you?”
“More or less.”
“Why didn’t I see you?”
“Because I am extraordinarily good at what I do Honey. What do you plan to do about this party?”
“How do you know about the party?” He taps the side of his nose, smiling. Bob can be very frustrating sometimes.
I sigh. “Obviously, I don’t care about going but the other girls really want to and they can’t go without me.”
“Why don’t you want to go, it sounds interesting?”
“In what way?”
“You seemed to enjoy your time with Brittany, Piper and Sarah. In addition, you connected at some level with Jerry, Ken and Tony. This party would give you the same opportunity with a larger group of people. You have not been in many normal social situations since your transformation so the party would be a step in that direction.”
“Please tell me what is normal about a once thirty nine year old man, now seventeen year old girl hanging out with two hundred or so teenagers with an open bar.”
“Well, when you put it that way, there appears to be no reason for you to go. What is your dilemma?”
“The other girls want to go and for them to go, I need to go.”
“Why do you care what they want? You have known them for all of three hours and will likely never see them again after today.”
Jeez! How selfish does he think I am? “Because they’re really nice girls who went out of their way to help a complete stranger who had been abandoned her father. Besides, they already think they’re going but we both know that if I don’t go, they’ll never get the right secret address, which will bum them out to no end. I owe them that much.”
“So, you are attending strictly out of a sense of obligation?”
“Why else?”
Bob looks over my shoulder at everyone sitting around the table, waiting for me to return. “You don’t find any of those young gentlemen particularly attractive?”
“You’re kidding right? They’re children Bob. I could be any one of those kids’ mother ... ahh ... father, oh, you know what I mean.” I look back at Jerry, remembering the impressive bulge in his pants when I was teasing him. He’s probably got a big cock but he’s also probably a “Quick Draw McGraw”. I’ve had enough trouble climaxing lately without dealing with that issue. Besides, I’m so much more experienced than he is, he’d enjoy it much more than I would. Bob coughs politely, bringing my attention back to our conversation.
“What do you want to do Honey?”
“I should go, if only to make sure they’re safe. If this is the kinda party I think it is, there’s gonna be lots of guys on the prowl for easy sex and most of them will be gassed. Do you know that there is an open bar at this dance? Are they INSANE!? Two hundred horny teenagers and lots of booze. That’s a bright idea. Someone has to be there to protect Brit, Sarah and Piper. How the idiots who sponsor this have avoided disaster in the past, I have no idea.”
“They have not avoided it, they have buried it Honey. These are the elite; the rules do not apply to them. If the problem is between two of them, it is dealt with internally. If the problem is with one of ‘us’, we get rolled over.” Bob has a very hard look in his eyes, staring off into the distance.
“Uhh bitter much?” He turns his head back towards me.
“No Honey, not bitter.” A sly smile flits across his face. “I would be bitter if such behavior had gone ... unpunished.”
“That sounds like an interesting story. Too bad you’ll never tell me about it.”
“Who knows, maybe someday I will. As for your current situation, I have a few suggestions.”
We talk a few more minutes and then walk back to the table. I introduce everybody to my “Daddy”, who shakes hands with all the guys, giving Jerry’s hand a little firmer grip, causing him to suck in his breath slightly and grimace. He didn’t rub his hand right away when Bob released him but he did put it deep in his jacket pocket.
“So, what’s the word Honey?” asked Tony. “Are you in?”
I glance at Bob and take a deep breath.
“Yes.”
Brit and Piper jump up squealing and laughing. Sarah is more controlled but has a big smile on her face. Ken and Tony high five each other then turn to Jerry. He just nods and smiles, keeping his hand in his pocket. Tony stands up.
“Well ladies, this has been fun but we have a lot of work to do before tomorrow night. Who gets the directions?”
“Give them to Sarah” I say. “We will be coming together.” Sarah gives Tony her phone number and email address. He writes them down.
“There will be a text message sent between 5:30 and 6:00p.m. tomorrow. We use email as a backup. See you all later, come ready to party.”
The guys say their goodbyes and leave, Jerry’s right hand still in his pocket. Brit and Piper start babbling at each other about how great this is, what they should wear, who would be jealous, how great Jerry was, thanking me and so on. Sarah joined in occasionally. Bob touched my shoulder. I looked back at him and he nodded at me. Time to lay down the law. Bob walks away and has a seat at the other end of the Burger King.
“Settle girls, settle. We need to talk,” I say. Sarah helps calm Brit and Piper down and soon they’re all paying attention to me
“There are going to be some ground rules and they are nonnegotiable. If you don’t agree, you don’t go. Got it?”
Brit is still giddy. “Sure Honey, absolutely, whatever you want.”
Piper chimes in. “You got it Honey, no problems.”
“Don’t be so sure, you haven’t heard my terms yet. First thing, I drive.” No reaction, everyone still smiling.
“Second thing, we arrive together and we leave together, no ‘you guys go on, I’ll catch a ride with Joe Blow’.” Still smiles all around.
“Third thing. No open cup drinks. Everything is a can or bottle, which you keep with you until finished. If you put it down and leave it unattended, you dump it and replace it.” Sarah nods her head but Brit looks confused.
“Why would we only have bottles or cans?”
“Because it’s easier to dope a drink in a cup. There will be guys there looking to take advantage of any unsuspecting girl, which brings me to number four. No booze of any kind.” That did it.
“Oh come on! Who made you Queen?” cried Brit. “A few beers won’t make any difference. I know my limits.”
“Yeah, you aren’t my mother.” added Piper. “What’s the big deal? Everyone else will be drinking alcohol, why can’t we?” I turn towards Sarah.
“What do you say Sarah?” She just sits there, head angled down, thinking. Then she looks up at Brit and Piper.
“Honey’s right, no booze for any of us.”
Brit is clearly upset. “Now you’re siding with her? Why the hell not? We’ll look like total dweebs! I can’t believe this!” She and Piper go on like this for several minutes. I just wait them out. They finally stop.
“You guys done? I’ll tell you why. This isn’t like any party you’ve ever been to. It’s with a bunch of strangers who are used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. You have no idea who can be trusted and who can’t. There will be predators, just looking for fresh meat. The problem is that they won’t be wearing a name tag saying ‘Rapist’. 95% of the people will be harmless, but 5% will be looking to score any way they can. And it won’t be just guys. Some girls will be on the prowl too.” Piper is shocked.
“Eeewwwww, girls?”
“Yep. Either working with a guy or by their self. You’d never suspect that ‘friendly’ girl.”
“What if I’m looking to ... score?” asked Brit.
“Then do it at the next party. Get their name, address and phone number and call them later. It’s just not going to happen tomorrow night.” I lean into the middle of the table and lower my voice. “Look, I know that you’re curious about how the other half lives. This is the perfect time to see for yourselves, but I already know all about the other half. I’ve been to these kinds of parties. If it wasn’t for you guys wanting to go, I wouldn’t even consider it. I’d rather spend the time with my dad.”
Boy would I.
“I’m willing to make sure that you get into this party but I am not willing to put you at risk. You guys have been so nice to me, I don’t know what I’d do if any of you were hurt.” I start to tear up. Sarah reaches out and pats my arm.
“That’s OK Honey, we understand, don’t we?” The other two nod in agreement, Piper more than Brit.
“So, do we have a deal? Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“Piper?”
“OK.”
“Brit?” She says nothing. “Brittany?”
“OK. Yeah, fine.” She’s going to be trouble, I can feel it.
“Just so we are all on the same page, anybody breaks the rules, we all leave, right then. I don’t want to be a bitch about it, but that’s the deal. If anyone thinks I can’t make it stick, remember, I am my father’s daughter and no one fucks with him.” I see just a hint of fear in their eyes. Good.
“Speaking of my dad, these are from him.” I hand a VISA gift card in a card holder to each of them. Brit opens the flap.
“OH MY GOD! This is $200.00! What is this for?”
“He just wants to thank you guys for helping me today. That’s the kind of person he is, generous.” Sarah starts to hand hers back to me.
“This is too much Honey. We helped you because you’re a nice person and it was fun. I can’t take this.” I wrap my hand around hers, the card in her palm.
“Keep it. Buy something to wear for the party. Give it to charity if you want. Remember when we first met. Brit said that my dad was rich.” I lean next to her ear and whisper. “He is.” I release her hand and pat it. She keeps the card. Brit is already on her feet, grabbing her coat.
“Let’s go. I know exactly what dress I’m getting.” I’ve shopped all I can for one day.
“You guys go on, I’ve got to get home. Sarah, you call me when you get the message. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 and then we can get the others.” I give her Bob’s phone number. “By the way, what’s the dress code for this party?” Brit has her coat on and is picking up her purse.
“Just wear the black mini-dress. You can’t go wrong with a little black dress.” We say our goodbyes with hugs all around. They head back into the Mall and I go to see Bob.
“Those gift cards were a nice touch. They certainly helped smooth over any hard feelings about the rules for the night.”
“I owed them at least that much. They saved me from the horrors of post-Thanksgiving shopping for women’s clothes. Most men would say I got off cheap. Now, explain to me how I became your father for the day.” I pick up a couple of bags with one hand and wrap my other arm around his.
“I would be happy to, if you help me with these bags.” He peers into the “Victoria’s Secret” bag.
“What do you have in here?”
“I thought you were following us. Didn’t you see what I bought?”
“Honey, a man needs to know his limitations. Even I could not blend in at ‘Victoria’s Secret’.”
I have to laugh. “Well it’s good to know you have limitations. I’ll be happy to give you a personal fashion show when we get home … Daddy.”
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The continuing sequel to "Team Spirit" by Janice the Dreamer. Honey and her new friends attend a memorable exclusive party. Chapters 35 through 39 of 48. Next posting 11/17/10. Rating and Elements apply to entire story.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
We loaded the bags in Bob’s car and climbed in.
“We have to make one more stop before heading home Honey. You will need to get some equipment before we can move on to ‘Phase Three’.”
“I think I’ve spent more than enough of your money today. What ‘equipment’ are you talking about?”
Bob has a broad grin. “You should be able to figure that out fairly quickly when we get to the store. Buckle up.” I pull my seat belt tight and we are off. He asks me several questions about the girls, what I think of them and about the guys. He also asks about my plans for the party and what precautions I intend to take. I lay out my game plan, after which he makes a couple of good suggestions. Our conversation is so interesting that I don’t notice where we are. He pulls the car into a parking lot and I look around to see the name of the store ... Big D Adult Video & Novelties.
“Uuuhh Bob, what exactly is ‘Phase Three’?” He parks the car near the front door and kills the engine.
“I believe that it is euphemistically called ‘self love’.” He manages to say that with a straight face.
“You mean masturbation, don’t you?”
“Yes, if you want to use a crass term.”
“Oh, I can think of a lot of terms more crass than ‘masturbation’. I don’t need any special equipment to do that.”
“Don’t be so sure Honey. There are a number of devices that have proven quite useful in helping a woman achieve orgasm. You used a vibrator for an extended period of time for sexual release. I assume that you no longer have it.”
“No, I do, but haven’t used it in a while.”
“You have not needed to because of your supercharged sexual responsiveness. Now you are a normal woman, with a normal woman’s sensitivities and responses. Statistically speaking, over half of women need manual stimulation to achieve orgasm, with a large percentage of them unable to climax during intercourse, often masturbating after their partner has finished. We do not have enough time this weekend to explore all possibilities but we can make a start now.”
The smirk is back, “Let’s go shopping.”
“You’re crazy. I can’t go in there dressed like this. I’m a pervert’s wet dream, the innocent teen age whore.”
“I do not see any other practical choice. We could have done this online but there is not enough time, even with overnight delivery. You are the one who needs to choose what you want because you must be comfortable with it, if it is to be effective. Don’t worry, I will be there the entire time.” He opens his door, gets out, comes around to my door, opens it and extends his hand to me. “Come on Honey, you will be fine. The sooner in, the sooner out, right?”
I sigh and take his hand. “Right, but if you try any funny business, I will never forgive you.” I let him help me out of the car, keeping a firm grip on his hand. We walk to the front door. Bob pushes it open and we step in.
I was expecting a dingy, dirty place with guys in trench coats lurking in corners. Instead, it’s bright, clean and mostly empty. Guess they didn’t put an ad in yesterday’s paper with their “stuff your turkey” specials. The clerk is a woman, in her late 50’s. She looks like a grandmother. It seems like they have more videos than ‘novelties’ but they have a wide variety of stuff. I stay close to Bob, holding his hand, as we walk through the aisles.
“OK.’ I whisper, “Let’s get what I need and get out of here.” Bob nods in agreement.
“The first consideration, I believe, is will Anthony let you keep anything you buy?”
“Anthony’s probably not the problem, Amy is. But since she gave me the original vibrator, I guess she won’t object to anything we buy here.”
“That is logical. The next question is power sources, batteries or 110? Battery powered devices are smaller, less expensive and more flexible. The ones that use household current are more powerful, larger, usually better built but harder to handle due to their size. What are the odds of you being able to get replacement batteries?”
“Not very good. You can be sure Anthony won’t pop for them. I might be able to scavenge some from around the club, swapping good batteries for bad.”
“You are very resourceful Honey but likely correct about Anthony. So, your best choice would seem to be household current. That type often comes with a main power unit with assorted attachments. I suggest that we look for a fully featured set and then supplement it with any battery powered items you find interesting. Now, not everything is powered. Dildos and butt plugs, for example, do not need them.”
“Hold it right there. You know that I’m not fond of anal stuff.”
”Clearly that is up to you Honey. I would just say that the cost of a few anal items is very minimal and you might find them enjoyable in the right circumstances. If you decide not to use them, the loss is small. Let’s see what we can find.”
“Fine … but it’s my choice.”
“Completely your choice. However, when it comes to your pleasure, money is not a concern.”
Great, I’m going to walk out of here with a thousand dollars of sex toys.
We check out all the aisles, Bob’s nothing if not thorough. I end up picking a flashlight sized wand type 110 power unit with about twenty assorted attachments, 8 and 10 inch realistic silicone battery powered vibrators, and, at Bob’s insistence, a set of three assorted sized butt plugs. It’s all in a basket we picked up when we came in the store. As we approach the checkout, the clerk puts down the book she was reading and smiles at us.
“Hello dears. Did you find everything you were looking for?”
“Yes, I believe so,” answers Bob. “You have a wide range of products. Very impressive.”
“Why, thank you dear. Only the best from the Far East. We try to buy American but you just can’t find domestically produced sex toys anymore.”
I shake my head. “What is this country coming to?”
“You’ve got that right dear. Why aren’t you just the loveliest girl. It’s a good thing you are here with your ... ”
“Boyfriend” I volunteer.
“… boyfriend. If you were here by yourself, the men would be all over you.” I look around the store. We are the only people shopping.
“Yes, it is certainly a good thing my boyfriend came with me.”
“Do you need any batteries, lubricants or lotions? We have a special on Anal-eze this week.” I look to Bob and mouth “help me”.
“No thank you, we have all the consumables we need.”
“How about condoms?”
“Yes, plenty of condoms.”
I nudge him in the ribs, smiling. “Oh Baby, you sure we have enough condoms?”
“For what I have planned, yes.” The clerk totals and bags the toys. Bob pays cash and we leave. I manage to avoid laughing until we get in the car. After a minute or two of uncontrolled giggles, I calm down.
“That’s going on my top ten list of weird experiences.”
“For you Honey, that is saying something.” He starts the car and drives off while I inspect the new toys. I remember the pleasures of my old vibrator. Looking at all the new options, I start to get aroused. Bob may be on to something.
In ten minutes, we are home. Bob parks the car in the garage and we both carry the new purchases into the house, dropping them on the kitchen table. I check the clock.
“It’s almost 5:30. We can eat and then you get your fashion show or the show can be first. What do you want to do?”
“I would prefer to eat first but the fashion show is not necessary Honey.”
I put on my pouty face. “You don’t want to see my new outfits?”
“No, no. I would be happy to see them, I just did not want you to think that you were obligated in any way.” I wiggle over to him, put my arms around his neck and grind my crotch against his.
“It would be my pleasure,” I purr “to show you what you bought for me today. But first, how about I heat you up ... some leftovers.”
He chuckles at that. “Yes, do that Honey. There is nothing I like more than getting hot ... leftovers.” We both laugh at the corny lines. Bob picks up the bags. “You start the microwave and I will put these in your room.”
“Fine, but no peeking. I want to surprise you as much as possible.”
“Honey, you are a constant surprise.”
“The pleasant kind I hope.”
“Most of the time.” He leaves the kitchen with the bags. I watch him go.
I am not sure if he is kidding or not. I honestly would be upset if I disappointed him in any way. I’m a little surprised to realize this. Why does his opinion of me matter so much? I think about it while fixing supper.
I don’t really know that much about him. He could be a mass murderer for all I know. In fact, he probably is a killer of some kind, given what he’s told us. However, he has never been anything but kind to me, or at least he had a good reason when he wasn’t kind. Plus, there was the mind-blowing sex, which is, unfortunately, in the past. Could I really be in love with him? Is that even possible? Could I actually love another guy? That assumes that I’m still a guy. It’s clear that my body is completely female. My brain is female, my hormones are female, my thoughts are female. Well ... maybe all I can say for sure is that they aren’t the same thoughts I had as a man. I get turned on by hot looking guys or even average guys in Bob’s case, and when I do get turned on, I think of a big cock in my tight pussy. When I see a hot woman, I know she’s hot and I know why, but I end up comparing myself to her and I usually win. I don’t lust after her, don’t need her. If she wanted to have sex with me, that’s cool, but I wouldn’t chase her. Except for Candi, of course, but she’s a friend.
What is left of Josh Thomas? Nothing but memories, and a lot of those aren’t nice. Spending time with Brit, Sarah and Piper today showed me a little of normal life as a girl. I mistreated a lot of them when I was in school, and none of them deserved it, not even Amy Hanson. When I became a pro, I continued to do the same thing; the girls were just older … most of the time. I lived for the present, no plan for my life after football. In the end, I was alone and friendless, with no real future. That was one of the reasons it was so easy for Amy to trap me, no one gave a damn what happened to me. Sure, I was famous but Billy Joe Coleson replaced me in less than a month. “Josh Thomas” became the answer to a trivia question.
“What five time Super Bowl winning quarterback disappeared without a trace while facing drug possession charges?”
Not much of a legacy after thirty nine years of living large. I had already reached my peak by that time. It was the early years of a long fight against the inevitable decline of my looks, skills, health and cash. I had managed to save some money but needed to play at least two more years with big paychecks to set up a nest egg to last me in retirement, assuming I cut back my wild lifestyle, which I probably would have failed to do. God, I was an idiot! Screwing every woman I could seduce, treating them like dirt. Not as bad as I’ve been treated the last three and a half years, but not far off.
The only person who has shown any real concern or interest in my feelings as a human being in the last twenty five years is Bob. Before him, I was just a meal ticket for the women I dated or a piece of meat for the team or for Anthony to rent out to the scum of Dallas. Bob had an ulterior motive at the start, but he was upfront about it. Now, he doesn’t need a nurse, yet he still helps me whenever he can.
Hell, he won’t even fuck me anymore. He may have some hidden reason for acting the way he does, but I’ll be damned if I can figure it out. Maybe he just likes me. Maybe it’s a little bit more than “likes”. I shake my head. There are just too many possibilities for me to decide what is right, how I honestly feel.
If I had a second chance, things would be a lot different. Unfortunately, you don’t get second chances in life. Shit! I almost burned the potatoes! Better watch what I’m doing.
“Bob!” I shout. “I’ve got supper ready. The table will be set in a minute and then I’ll be done.” Bob calls back from his bedroom.
“I will be right there to help.” Bob’s in the kitchen in a few seconds and starts setting out plates, glasses and silverware. The table is ready just as I turn off the stove. I dish out the food and we sit down to eat. We start out eating in silence.
“Honey, you are less talkative than usual. Are you OK?”
“I’ve just been thinking about some stuff.”
“Your party tomorrow?”
“No, other things.” I take several bites. “Do you believe in second chances?” Bob continues to chew his food, then swallows.
“Do you mean an opportunity to relive a part of your life and make changes?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Not exactly. You rarely get the chance to replay the exact set of circumstances. I do, however believe in redemption, the chance to make up for past mistakes. I have to. My past mistakes are so numerous, if I can't balance the scales; my soul is doomed to hell.”
I think he is serious. “I didn’t know you were religious.”
“No particular religion, I'm too cynical.” He takes another bite and swallows. “It is more an eastern philosophy of balance, yin and yang. I do believe in an afterlife. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess, never thought much about it. I know that I was a lousy excuse for a human being when I was a man and haven’t done much better as a woman.”
“I am inclined to disagree with you Honey. It is true that Josh Thomas was an egotistical, self centered, womanizing party hound but he was not actively evil, just willfully clueless.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I feel so much better.”
“You should Honey. I have seen true evil and Josh Thomas was not evil. His thoughtlessness did create a wide swath of damage wherever he went but I have met much worse. Now Honey Sweet-Lay is another matter entirely.”
“In what way?”
“The jury is still out on Ms. Sweet-Lay. She has not had a real chance to exercise her free will, to make enough choices to determine what kind of person she is. My experience with her is that she is unfailingly kind and generous when given the opportunity.”
“That’s crazy! I am Josh Thomas.”
“Do you look like Josh Thomas?”
“Of course not!”
“Do you feel like Josh Thomas?”
“No.”
“Do you act like Josh Thomas?”
“Not like he did ... before ... you know.”
“Do you think like Josh Thomas?”
“Not anymore.”
“If you do not look, feel, act or think like Josh Thomas, why do you say that you are Josh Thomas?”
“Because I remember all the shitty things he did and feel like I have to make up for them.”
“Then you are well on your way to redemption Honey. I envy you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I look at him quizzically. I don’t know if I believe him, but I do feel better.
“Now, let’s finish this fine meal. I think you owe me a fashion show.”
“Are you sure? After all this religious talk, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for another black mark on your soul.”
“Sensuality and sex are as much of a balanced life as religion, they are not mutually exclusive. Sexual acts that are willingly given and willingly received can be a religious experience.”
Don’t I know. “If you insist.” I eat the last bits of turkey on my plate. “I’m done. I’ll start the pots and pans, you clear the table.”
We have the kitchen spic and span in fifteen minutes. I’m looking forward to putting on a show for Bob, it may be more than he is expecting. I take his hand and lead him to the living room.
“You have a seat and I will be right out.”
Bob sits on the couch, a big grin on his face. “Don’t be too long.”
I decide to start with the more conservative stuff and go from there. I have a few pairs of heels still here, so I can mix the shoes up, not only the boots. The first outfit is the gray scoop neck sweater dress with the boots, keeping the red demi bra and matching thong panty. I stride out into the middle living room, do a quick turn and pose, hands on hips. Bob twirls his finger in a circle so I do a slow turn.
“Very nice Honey, very nice. My compliments to you and your friends.” I turn on my heels and return to my bedroom. The next outfit is the black V-neck mini-dress. I keep the boots and lingerie. This time, my turn is right in front of Bob and when I stop, I bend forward at the waist a little, giving him a good look at my cleavage.
“Another good choice. I may not know fashion, but I know what I like. It certainly highlights some of your more attractive features.”
“What features are those?” I innocently ask.
“Stop fishing for compliments. You know that you have a magnificent ass, spectacular breasts and stunning legs. Let’s have the next outfit.”
“What, you don’t like my arms?”
He laughs. “Next outfit please.”
This time, it’s the red wrap sweater, black mini skirt with black pumps. I walk back and forth in front of him a couple of times before the twirl. He applauds. I walk back to my bedroom, swinging the hips. I change back into the white button front hoodie and denim skirt. After I finish the twirl in front of Bob, he points out that he has already seen this combination.
“True, but you haven’t seen these.” I slowly unbutton the top, shrug it off my shoulders, drop it on the couch next to him, unzip the skirt, let it fall to my feet, step out of it, then bend over to pick it up, giving Bob a good view of my demi bra and thong, and drop it on top of the sweater. I give him another slow twirl and strut back to the bedroom. Now, I change lingerie with each new outfit and strip at the end of every trip, leaving a pile of discarded clothes on the couch next to Bob.
The last outfit is the black turtleneck cropped top, black mini skirt, black shelf bra and thong with black four inch pumps. This time, after stripping down to the lingerie, I step over Bob’s leg and straddle his lap, facing him, my arms resting around his neck. I can tell that he really enjoyed the show. He puts his hands on my hips. I lean forward and kiss him.
“Show’s over. What’s next?” He slides his hands up my sides until he reaches my bra, then traces the straps back to the clasp, which he unhooks in one, quick move. Hhmmm, he’s had practice at that. He gently pulls the bra forward as a drop my arms from his neck, letting the bra fall into my lap, freeing my tits. I give them a jiggle, lightly bouncing them with my hands, then return my arms to his neck while his go back to my hips, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of my thong.
“Phase Three is next Honey, if you are willing.”
I smile at him. “I can hardly wait.” Slipping off his lap, I stand up while he keeps a grip on my thong, pulling it down my legs, leaving me naked in his living room. I twirl in front of him, just as I did when modeling the clothes.
“I’ve noticed that all of these Phases end up with me naked and you dressed.” I step close to him, taking his hands in mine. “Is that going to change any time soon?”
He looks down at me. “You mean with me naked and you dressed?” I press my boobs against his chest.
“More like both of us naked at the same time …” I let go of his hand and stroke his bulging crotch with my right hand “… in the same place.” He reaches around and pats my ass.
“We will see. Come in to my bedroom and we can start.” We walk to his bedroom, holding hands. He has it set up like mine was when we did the massage, candles, incense and low lights. There’s a silk sheet on his bed with several large pillows.
“Climb up there and get comfortable. Make sure that you have easy access to your crotch.”
I give him a mock salute. “Yes, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.” I crawl up on to the bed and turn over when I reach the headboard. I love the feeling of the silk on my skin, cool, soft and smooth. I shift around a couple of times, rearranging the pillows until I’m sort of reclining on the bed, my back and head elevated but supported, my legs spread.
“Comfortable?”
“Oh yeah, this is great! Why don’t I have these silk sheets on my bed?”
“Do you want to be responsible for washing them regularly?”
“Good point.” I make a small waving motion with my hand. “Proceed.”
Bob chortles. “Certainly, Madam.” He walks into the bathroom and returns with a tray. All of our purchases from the sex shop are lined up on it.
“I have carefully cleaned each item and installed batteries where necessary.” He picks up the 10 inch silicone cock and twist its’ base. It springs to life with a gentle hum, which increases as he twists the base further. I squirm a little in anticipation. He turns it off and puts it back on the tray. “It is important to keep these clean, particularly if any are used for anal play. Never go from anal to vaginal without a thorough cleaning, if not disinfecting.”
I giggle at his seriousness. “You make this sound like surgery, Doctor.”
“It is quite possible that Amy’s treatments have made you more resistant to infection than the average person. It is my understanding that you have not been sick since your transformation.”
You know, he’s right. Not even a cold.
“But there is no reason to take any chances. We are starting with strictly manual stimulation and then adding whatever mechanical devices you are comfortable with, if any. We will not have enough time for you to try everything tonight. I hope that you will be too tired to continue after two or three hours.”
Two or three hours? This could be interesting. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get started.”
“We will shortly. Remember, the reason we are doing all these exercises is that you have become slower in your sexual responses. You are used to a quick climax, which is not happening anymore. Take things slowly, enjoy the pre-orgasmic sensations, let it build to a climax, maybe stop short of climax just to emphasize that orgasms are not the end all and be all.”
“You’re joking, right? Why wouldn’t I get my rocks off if I can?”
“I understand that it is a difficult concept to grasp, but it is another type of sexual experience.”
“Have you ever passed on an orgasm when it was staring you in the face?”
“Uh ... actually, no.”
“I rest my case.”
“I am just offering options Honey, the choices are yours and shall remain yours. This is all about empowering you, giving you control over your sexuality.”
I settle back in the bed. “Enough touchy feely, let’s get to the good stuff.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “Fine. I will demonstrate a technique and, if you find it enjoyable, you duplicate it, making whatever adjustments you think appropriate. Lay back, relax, close your eyes to start.” I wiggle my hips and shoulders, settling in amongst the pillows. I feel Bob’s hands spreading my legs slightly more than they are already. I feel one or two fingers caressing my pussy lips, up and down, side to side, pushing deeper at the top, rubbing my clit. He certainly has the touch. He does this for several minutes.
“Open your eyes Honey.” I look down and watch his hand as it stokes my cunt. Very sexy, very hot, definitely tingly. “How does that feel?”
“Nice” I murmur. He reaches over with his free hand, picks up my right hand and places it on top of his. I follow along for a while.
“All right Honey, take over.” He slips his hand away and I pick up where he left off, long, deep, slow strokes, finishing off with pressure on my clit. I close my eyes, concentrating on the feelings spreading through my body.
“Open your eyes Honey.” I look up at Bob. “Stop for a moment.” I lift my hand as he reaches in, spreading my pussy lips.
“Look there. Your clitoris has swollen and become erect.” I look where he is pointing. He’s right, it’s sticking up like a tiny cock. He gently takes it between his thumb and index finger and starts rolling it between them. I suck my breath in. Damn! Oh Damn! It’s a few seconds before I can breath again and even then, it comes in short gasps between surges of pleasure as he rolls, tugs and pinches my clit.
“Like that?”
“Oh ... Yesss.”
“Take over then.” He lets go and I quickly replace his hand with mine. Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. I bring in my left hand to keep my pussy lips spread while I stroke my clit, like I was jacking off a cock. My breathing has smoothed out but it is still quick and shallow.
“Breath Honey. Take deeper breaths. No hyperventilating, at least not yet.” I consciously slow my breathing, taking deeper breaths. My eyes are closed again, mouth partially open, as I keep stroking.
“That is good Honey … very good. Now, try this.”
I feel his hand on mine and I momentarily resist when he tries to lift it from my clit, but reluctantly give in. He starts to make rapid circles with a couple of finger tips right on top of my clit. I bite my lip to keep from shouting, my hands grabbing my hair and pulling down. “That is soooo gooood.”
He alternates small circles with big circles, fast with slow, light pressure with hard. I reach down with my right hand, and push his out of the way, taking control. I think I saw him smile, but I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to him. This is what I want, what I need. I’m breathing hard and fast, moaning and squirming. I can feel the orgasm building, getting closer all the time. I arch my hips, jerking in rhythm with my rubbing. I’m almost there.
I think Bob is saying something,
“....op Honey, stop, not yet, not yet.” He grabs my hand. I try to jerk it away but he holds tight. I switch to my left hand but he grabs that one too.
“NO! NO BOB! I’m almost there! Let go! Please let go!” I struggle with him for a moment but he is far too strong.
“Don’t worry Honey. You will get your orgasm and it will be amazing but not quite yet. Let me show you something else. It will only take a moment.
Here ...” He lets go of my hands. I start to go back to my cunt but his hand is already there. He takes his index and last two fingers and spreads my pussy lips far apart, then diddles my exposed, engorged clit with his middle finger. I jump at his touch but he keeps contact, keeps working my clit.
“This takes a little more work Honey but it has advantages. It keeps one hand free for things like this.” His left hand gently pinches my swollen right nipple.
“OOOHHHHhhhhhh Yeeesssss. GODDD UUuuuummmmmm.” He switches over to the right nipple, same wonderful feeling. Bob keeps working my tits, switching back and forth, while still stimulating my clit. I can feel the climax quickly building again.
“You ready to take over Honey?”
“Uuuhhhh... yeah... yeah.” He takes my right hand and puts it on my cunt, helping to arrange my fingers to mimic his. My hand isn’t as big so it takes a moment to get it in place. I’m also not as good as he is using my middle finger but I get into a groove within a minute or two. What I lack in technique, I make up for in knowing exactly what feels best for me. He takes his hand off my boobs and I take over for him. Soon, I’m moaning and squirming again, driving for the finish line. I can hear and feel Bob moving around next to me.
“You are a natural Honey … very impressive. Now here is something else you can do with that free hand.” I hear the buzz before the vibrator touches my clit. My body locks up when it does. The vibrator sets my clit on fire, which rapidly spreads through my body, triggering my orgasm. It is wonderful, powerful, like a dam breaking and washing me away in a flood of warm euphoria. I float along in that flood until it begins to fade.
The first thing I’m aware of is Bob, talking to me again. “Don’t quit now Honey, you have that orgasm on the run. Keep working your clit.” When the orgasm hit, I stopped massaging my clit and breasts but Bob kept up the stimulation. He takes my right hand and guides it to making the circles on top of my clit. In seconds, I pick up the action and do it myself. As the feeling of the first orgasm trails off, the second starts to build up. I pull the folds of my pussy lips apart and massage my clit hard. The orgasm comes quicker this time, almost as fast as the old days. When it hits, my pussy muscles pulse and throb. I think that I’m laughing. I don’t lose total control this time, so I keep rubbing my cunt, slower now but ready to pick up the speed and pressure when complete awareness returns.
“That’s right Honey, keep contact, keep stroking. You have at least one more in you, I know you do.” He sounds like my old strength coach, urging me to do one more bench press. I guess that my competitive streak is still alive because I take it as a challenge. I own that orgasm, it’s mine and I want it. Bob hands me the vibrator and I immediately touch it to my clit.
“OH Shit! Uuuuggghhh mmmmm that’s great! Reeeeaaallyy grreeatt! Ooohhhhhh damnn.” I keep rubbing my clit and the surrounding pussy with the vibrator. Suddenly, the speed increases, Bob has turned it up. That’s all I needed. My toes curl as the third climax in ... how many minutes ... happens. The bedroom spins around me and the vibrator falls from my hand. My legs tremble and twitch. I don’t pass out but feel like I’m in a kind of trance, everything moving slowly for a few moments. When reality returns, Bob is stroking my clit again, trying to give me one more orgasm. It is too sensitive, his touch is mildly painful. I reach down and touch his hand.
“No Bob, no more. I need a break.”
“Are you sure?”
I smile weakly at him. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you ... for everything.” He smiles back.
“You are welcome Honey. I just pointed the way, you did all the work.”
“Like Hell.” I pat the bed next to me. ”Come on up here.” Bob begins to crawl up to me. “Not yet, get naked.” He laughs but takes off his shirt. Once he’s stripped, he climbs next to me and I pull him close. He wraps his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest, stroking his arm. “How long where we at that?” He checks his watch.
“One hour and thirty eight minutes.”
“No way! How much of that was orgasm?”
“Hard to say for certain, maybe forty minutes, counting all the time between just before the first and after the last.” I’m astonished. A forty minute multiple orgasm. I’ve never heard of such a thing. No wonder I’m so tired, still basking in the glow of that last climax.
“I’ve got to know, how did you learn so damn much about a woman’s orgasms? I thought you didn’t ‘date’ much.”
Bob gently pinches my left nipple. It tickles. My clit may be too sensitive to touch but my boobs are feelin’ fine. “It is partially experience, partially training, partially research.” He reaches back, opens the drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a small paperback book, which he hands to me. It’s “Tickle Your Fancy: A Woman’s Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure” by Sadie Allison. “I think you will find this very informative. Everything you did tonight was in this book, along with a lot we never got to. None of your orgasms involved any kind of penetration, so there is much more you can try later, unless you have recovered and are ready to try again tonight.”
“No, please. Not tonight, I have a clitache.”
Bob laughs so hard, I think he may pass out. His eyes start to water. “Honey,” he wipes his eyes “you are a rare jewel. I have a difficult time contemplating my future life without you.”
I roll to face him, sliding up his body until we are looking into each other’s eyes. “I don’t think I have a life without you Bob.” I kiss him with all the passion I can muster. He kisses me back just as hard. He finally breaks away after a minute or two.
“That’s just the orgasms talking, Honey. You do not need me to live. You will be fine without me, particularly now that you have made a good start towards solving your climaxing problems.”
I reach up and touch his cheek with the palm of my hand. “You may be right, I probably could live without you, I could find sex tolerable without you, but living isn’t a life. I need you to have a life. I’m not a child, despite appearances and it isn’t just the orgasms because I’ve been thinking about this for some time. I know it’s weird, I know it’s unnatural, I know it’s impossible, but I also know that I love you Bob James, with all my heart, soul and being.”
I’ve never seen Bob so stunned in the months we’ve known each other. “Honey, I am ... I don’t know ... I never planned on .... you hardly know anything about ... you need to understand ....” I move my hand from his cheek and touch my index finger to his lips.
“Ssshhhhhh. I understand. It surprised me too. I hadn’t thought about saying anything until just this second … it just came out, but I have been thinking about it for weeks. You think about it and we’ll talk later. OK?” He looks relieved when I say that.
“Thank you Honey, I will think about it. You are tired. Let’s go to bed.” We get up, push the pillows aside, blow out the candles, remove the silk sheet, fold down the bed cover and sheet, and then climb in. We briefly kiss then spoon against one another, Bob holding me around my waist from behind.
“Good night Honey.”
“Good night Bob.” I snuggle back against him. “Strange day, huh?”
“Very.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
It is taking me longer to get my presentation ready than I thought it would.
Being asked to be a member of the panel for the seminar on “Evolving Medical Ethics in the Age of Modern Biotechnology” as part of the Nobel program is certainly an honor, one that I deserve of course, but my preparation is not going well. Perhaps it is the time pressure. I really should have started this several weeks ago, however I have been so busy with the Wrangler’s demands, my own research, and creating new punishment protocols for Honey, that the seminar slipped to the bottom of my “to do” list. That is why I find myself sitting in my study at 11:00 p.m. on the day after Thanksgiving, jittery from my fifth cup of coffee, staring writer’s block square in the face. This should be easy for me but, for whatever reason, it just is not working tonight.
The seminar is not until December eighth but I need to get my contribution to Dr. Zimmer by the fifth, a week from today. I know that I will be able to finish this; I just need to take a break and clear my head ... and no more coffee! My eyes are drawn to the receiver for Honey’s tracker sitting on my desk.
That thing has become addictive. Bob mapped Anthony’s club and loaded it in the memory. I can check where she is within one to two feet. She can be dancing, hustling drinks or on her back being screwed by some drunk, odious, loathsome Neanderthal and I know it, any time I want. I have been checking more than twenty times a day since implanting the tracker in her. At first, it was just to make sure the device was still working, but I was soon hooked, like I was getting live updates of her degradation. It was so bad that it started interfering with my work. Luckily, I have a strong will and have been able to go cold turkey for almost three days.
What the heck, I deserve a little treat and it will help lift my mood. I reach out, pick it up and turn it on. It takes a few seconds to warm up and acquire the signal. That’s odd, she does not appear to be at the club. Where else would she be at this time of day? I zoom in on the blinking icon. She is ... at Bob’s! Why the hell is she at Bob’s?! The one place she finds comfort and support, the one place I would like to wipe off the face of the earth! How could Anthony let her go to Bob’s?
I pick up my cell and dial his number. It may be late but he has a lot to answer for.
“The customer you have called is not currently within the service area. Please call again at a later time. Thank you.” DAMN!
I would like to drive over to Bob’s right now and drag Honey back to the club but confronting him at his house is just too dangerous. He might do nothing but I cannot take the risk, at least not before talking with Anthony ... where ever the hell he is. I will just have to bide my time until there is more information. So much for lifting my spirits. It is going to be a long night.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
What a great night! It’s been thirty years since I’ve had such a restful sleep. I reach out with my arm, feeling around for Bob, but he’s already up. The clock reads 9:12 a.m. I don’t want to get up, but if Bob isn’t in bed with me, there’s no reason to stay. I roll to the edge of the bed and sit up, running my fingers through my hair, then fluffing it. I hear the shower, think I’ll go check Bob out. I’m still naked from last night and it is surprisingly comfortable, like I’m more aware of my body, feeling everything as I walk across the bedroom to the bathroom, each toe in the carpet as I step, each bounce of my boobs, the air as it passes my skin, my hair as it swings against my shoulders and back, everything sensual and bright.
Steam pours from the bathroom door when I open it, must be a hot shower today, better than a cold one with what I have planned. I step in the room and slide the shower door open.
“Hey handsome, want some company?” Bob jumps slightly and turns my way. I don’t think I’ve ever startled him before.
“Honey ... aahhh ... good morning ... no ... thank you anyway, but I think that I would prefer to go solo this morning.” I step up to the opening, just barely into the shower.
“Are you sure?” I purr. “I could get all those hard to reach places like your back.... and your shoulders ... and your studly ass ... and your perfect cock.” Bob looks very uncomfortable.
“No, no, I am sure, at least for this morning.”
I giggle. “You may not want to share your shower but I think he does.” I point to his rapidly rising cock, which is rock hard in seconds. “You want to share with me, don’t you boy?”
“Honey, would you please put something on.”
“But I was planning on spending all day naked, it feels wonderful today.”
“I am glad you are feeling well, but humor me.”
I switch into pout mode. “Fine, but you aren’t any fun this morning.” I turn and walk back to my room. I think about putting on black stockings, garter belt and pumps but decide that I’ve pushed the joke as far as I should, for now. I slip on one of his T-shirts and skip back to his bathroom. The steam is gone; he’s switched to a cold shower.
“How’s this?”
“That will do for now. You can have this shower once I am done. It should only be a few more seconds.” I discreetly check him out. The erection is gone. Oh well, there will be other chances.
“No thanks, I need to take a bath anyway. Got to shave to get ready for the party tonight.” He turns off the water, grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist and steps out. “Unless you can think of something better we can do tonight.” Bob picks up a second towel and starts to dry off.
“It is a little late to change your mind. You have made a commitment to some nice young women and you need to keep it.”
“I was kidding. I know that I need to go, I’m just not looking forward to it.”
“Don’t you want to see your friends again?”
“Of course I do. The girls are great. I’d just rather have them here or go out dancing at a club. It’s not them, it’s this party. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.” Bob drapes the towel over his shoulders.
“You take your bath and we can war game the situation after breakfast.”
“What is ‘war game’?”
“That is were you try to determine all likely scenarios that might occur and the appropriate responses to each one. I find that the better prepared you are for whatever may happen, the more relaxed you are. Once you determine what is going on, you can immediately take the correct action. This gives you a tremendous advantage over your opponent.” He reaches out and tweaks my nose. “I just revealed one of the most important secrets of my success to you. Do not abuse it.” He walks back into his bedroom.
That was interesting. He is actually opening up to me. It isn’t much, but I’ll take what I can get. I go back to my bathroom and start my bath, making it extra hot, then adding some bath salts and bath oil. I strip off the T-shirt and climb in, slowly settling in as my body adjusts to the temperature. This is soothing. I can never get the water this hot at the club and you can forget about bath oil and salts. I lift my leg straight up and bring it towards my head. I am amazingly flexible on an average day, it’s one of my claims to fame, but I feel like rubber today. I run my hands along the length of my right leg. There really isn’t that much hair to remove. Amy gave me a fairly low maintenance body. My pussy is practically bald and I could get away with shaving my legs and arm pits every two weeks but I normally do it every other day because Anthony likes me very clean and smooth. It’s not a big deal any more and only takes a few minutes. What hair I lack on my body, I make up for with what is on my head. It often takes me over half an hour to comb and fix my hair and that’s if I’m not doing anything fancy. I finish shaving but hang around in the bath until the water starts to cool.
After drying off, I put on the black bra and g-string panty, jeans, gray turtleneck sweater and cross trainers. Bob already has the table set and we just have cereal, fruit and toast. He doesn’t have anything in particular planned because there are a number of good college conference championship games on television today, starting at noon and running until like 12:30 at night. I’ll miss the late game due to the party, another reason I’d rather stay here with Bob, but we’ll get to watch a couple together.
After cleaning up the kitchen, we settle in for the pre-game shows, Bob at the end of the couch and I’m snuggled up against him, legs stretched out on the couch. His left arm is around my shoulder, hand gently resting on my breast. We watch for awhile but the talking heads just keep repeating the same points over and over. Then they start the up-close-and-personal fluff pieces. I start to get restless. Bob notices it.
“What has you most worried about tonight Honey?”
I have to think about it for a few seconds. “I think it is all the people. With that many teenagers, and the booze, just about anything could happen. I feel responsible for the girls’ safety. Sarah seems like a smart, sensible kid and Piper is likely tougher than she looks. It’s Brittany that gives me the willies. She says she’ll follow the rules, but my gut says she’d promise anything to get to this party.”
“Is that maternal instinct?”
I elbow him in the stomach. He doesn’t flinch. “Don’t be silly. I just know a lying kid when I see one. She may even believe she’ll behave but I think she’s desperate to fit in, and that’s trouble.”
“How do you propose to deal with her?”
“I don’t know ... try to watch her?”
“Is that realistic with a large crowd and the interest you are likely to attract?”
“What interest?”
“Honey, this is not meant as flattery but you will likely be the most attractive woman in the room. Remember the reaction you got at the Burger King with three boys? Assuming a 50/50 division at the party, you will have approximately one hundred boys doing the same thing. You will spend most of your time defending yourself, leaving little time to keep watch over Brittany.”
“There is one difference. At the Burger King, I was going after the guys. I plan to be as inconspicuous as possible at the party.”
“You are as inconspicuous as an elephant in a phone booth Honey, no offense.”
“None taken.” Another shot to the stomach, same effect.
“Your decision to attempt to fly under the radar will likely reduce some of the pressure on you. In addition, a percentage of the boys will have girlfriends there, limiting their opportunity to chase after you. Realistically, you could be looking at twenty five to forty potential suitors.”
“Suitors? You mean guys trying to get into my panties.”
“Cruder, but more accurate. Most will either take their shot and fall back if not encouraged by you or be intimidated by the number of boys crowding around you and move on for an easier target. Either way, the onslaught should fade quickly, even more so if there is a dominant male around who will scare the others off.”
“There might be. Jerry Pitman could be a big enough man on campus to put every one else off. If that’s true, I may only have to handle him.”
“Which will not be easy to do and keep track of Brittany.”
“Maybe not, I will just have to see.”
Bob shakes his head. “You did not listen to what I said. We need to make alternate plans now, to look at the situation from all angles and make a series of contingency plans. If plan A fails, move to plan B quickly. You never fly by the seat of your pants if you can avoid it.”
“And if you can’t avoid it?”
“Then all the planning you did before gives you information about what did not work, directing you towards what might work. Advance planning will never hurt you.”
“Then what is Plan B?”
Bob reaches behind a couch cushion and pulls out a legal pad and pencil. “Glad you asked.”
Where does he get that stuff? It’s never there when I clean.
We start running through the entire list of concerns and problems, playing “what if”, with Bob taking notes. He keeps asking questions and we work until we have answers. It’s exhausting but engrossing, a lot like coming up with a game plan for a football game but much more complex because there are so many more variables. The more we talk, the more worried I become that I won’t be able to protect my friends from harm.
“This is impossible. I should just pack a gun.”
“Honey, have you ever fired a handgun?”
“Yeah, at a range about ten years ago.”
“Ever carried one?”
“No.”
“Then now is not the time to start.”
“What if I need something? I’m only one person.”
“There will likely be security at the door, metal detectors and searches of purses. You would not be able to get a weapon in the room...” he pauses, cocking his head slightly to the left “...however, I have something a little unusual that might escape attention. Excuse me.” He gets up off the couch, goes into the garage and comes back in a couple of minutes, holding a small package in his hand.
“What is that?”
“A self-defense device. I have not used it in years so it likely needs new batteries but it should still work. I will clean it up and give you a demonstration later. Properly disguised, it should get past a standard security search, particularly if they are just looking for guns and knives. It is the type of device that could give you a short term edge but should not be abused.”
“Now you’ve got me all curious. What does it do?”
“I will show you later and you can practice with it. On a different subject, what do you plan to wear tonight?”
“Something nice, of course. Brittany suggested the black dress and her fashion sense is better than mine.”
“Is it comfortable?”
“I guess. As comfortable as a deep V mini dress can be. Why? Worried that I might find a new boyfriend?”
“That is always a worry, but my primary concern is that you wear something that does not restrict your mobility should you need to take action. Much of women’s fashion is attractive but impractical.”
“Well, whose fault is that? We didn’t ask for sky high heels or skirts that barely cover our asses. You know that I’d rather dress like this, jeans and a top. It’s you men who decide what’s in fashion and, big surprise, we end up in short dresses, perched on heels that force our asses back and our boobs forward.”
“And yet you bought what you did at the mall yesterday.”
“You know that was to keep Anthony happy. I’m all about the comfort.”
“I did not mean to criticize your choices, they were all very attractive and reasonably practical. My comment was just intended to make sure that you also consider the mobility issue in making your decision.”
I give this a moment’s thought. “Then I’ll wear the black dress and my new boots. The heels aren’t bad and I’d get good ankle support should I need to run.”
He nods his head in agreement. “That sounds like a good compromise Honey. Now, let’s review my notes. You will not be able to take these with you so it will be important that you know them by heart.”
“Sure thing Coach, fire away.”
“Coach?”
“Private joke, go on, Plan A is......” I went through everything without too many mistakes. I’ve always been a quick study, particularly when I understand the logic behind the scheme. A couple of more reviews and I’ve got it down cold. Bob is grinning.
“I can see why you were such a successful quarterback Honey, very impressive grasp of your options. I have one more thing for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag about the size of an apple. It has a pull-cord opening. He hands it to me and I open it. It’s a cell phone and charger. “It is a disposable phone. I keep a few around the house. You never know when you will need an anonymous phone number. The number is on the sticker on the back. Keep this with you tonight and call me when you get to the party and call me when you leave. If you have any problems, call me and I will get there quickly.”
“Thanks. This really helps my peace of mind. I’ll make sure to give it back after tonight.”
“You keep it. Find a place to hide it either in your room or the club. There is a good chance that you may feel the need to talk to someone in the future, when you are feeling down. You can call me, if you think it will help.” He is sooo sweet! I hug him around the neck as he hugs my waist.
“Thank you Bob.” I whisper into his ear. “Thank you for everything this weekend. You have no idea what it has meant for me.”
Bob pats my back. “You are very welcome Honey. I always enjoy our time together, which raises my last point.”
I pull back and look him in the eyes. “Which is?”
“I invited you here to try to give you a break from Amy and the club, from the troubles in your life. You managed to find new troubles with this party. How do you feel about the party now?”
“Much better. We have a good plan to cover most likely problems, so I’m feeling pretty positive.”
“Good. Then I suggest you go out and have some fun. Be aware, be vigilant but do not forget to enjoy yourself. Most of the people at this event are just looking to party, with no desire to cause any harm. Hang with those people and you will be fine. Do not be paranoid.”
I lean in and give him a quick kiss. “You got it Boss. I’ll party like its 1999.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“Damned if I know, but it was a hell of a song. Hey, they’re getting ready for the kickoff on the first game.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“I don’t care what Anthony told you, I want the phone number where he can be reached and I want it NOW!” Anthony left one of his idiot dancers in charge of the club. Apparently he is on vacation and left instructions that he is not to be disturbed unless it is an emergency.
“I just don’t know, it doesn’t seem like an emergency. I really don’t want to piss him off, you know how he gets.” Damn bimbo!
“Look, Tiffany, ... it is Tiffany isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Tiffany” she giggles. Why do these people always have stereotypical names? Why can’t there be a Bernice or Matilda or Millicent?
“Tiffany, I am a doctor. My patient is Honey Sweet-Lay, one of the dancers at the club. Do you know Honey?”
“Oh yeah, I know Honey. She’s a nice girl, a little unhappy recently though.”
“Yes, my point exactly. I think that Honey may have some problems that must be dealt with immediately and she is not at the club and I can’t find her. I need to speak with Anthony to see if he knows where she is at.”
“But Honey isn’t here, no one knows where she is, which is strange ‘cause she is almost always here. Do you know why that is?”
Oh. My. GOD!
“I know she is not there, that is why I need to speak with Anthony. Just give me the phone number where he can be reached.”
“Anthony was very clear that he didn’t want me to call him unless it was an emergency, like a fire, or a flood or a robbery.”
“Tiffany, this is an emergency.”
“But it’s not a fire or a flood or a robbery.”
“I am sure that the list he gave you was not meant to be limited to those problems, it was just illustrative of the type of events that could be classified as emergencies but it was not intended to be restricted to those few potential occurrences.”
“Huh?”
If her tubes are not already tied, I will do it myself. She cannot be permitted to procreate.
“There are other emergencies beyond fires, floods and robberies, and this is one of them. Now give me his contact number!”
“What if he gets mad? He can be really mean when he gets mad. There was this one time when Bambi spilled a drink and...”
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT BAMBI AND THE SPILLED DRINK!”
“Well you don’t have to be so shitty about it! It’s not my fault you can’t find Honey and it’s not my problem either.”
“Just give me the phone number. I guarantee that Anthony will not punish you in any way He and I are friends. He will want to help me if he can.”
“Well, if you’re sure he won’t mind I guess I can give you the number. I’ve got to go get it, it’s in the office and he put it ...” She goes on like this for another minute.
“Yes, yes extremely interesting Tiffany, clearly Anthony holds you in high esteem and respects your management skills. Now, if you could get me that number.”
“What number?” She could not possibly be this idiotic, it must be an act.
“The phone number where Anthony can be reached.”
“Oh right! Hang on.” I pray that she doesn’t get lost on the way to his office.
“Hey Doctor, this is Tiffany, I’m back, here’s the number.” She gives it to me. ”Now, if Anthony is angry with me, you’ll make sure ...” I hang up and dial Anthony’s contact number. It rings several times before another breathless airhead answers.
“Hello?”
“This is Dr. Amy Hanson. I would like to speak with Anthony.”
“Is this an emergency?”
I am not going through this again. “Yes it is. Someone is coming to kill him. Now put him on.” I can hear in the background that she passes on my message and Anthony is immediately on the line.
“Who is coming to kill me?”
“I am if you ever leave town again without giving me a contact number. I spent fifteen minutes with your Rhodes Scholar Tiffany trying to get this number.”
“Doc, I’m on vacation. If this is important, get to it, if not, call me at the club on Monday.”
“Of course it is important. Why is Honey at Bob’s instead of the club?”
“She’s there because we thought that it was dangerous to leave her by herself over the holiday weekend because she was depressed.”
“And who is ‘we’?”
“Bob and I.” I wonder when they became a “we”.
“And who decided that she would stay with Bob?”
“It was my idea but he agreed to do it, he didn’t have any other plans. She’ll be back at the club late Monday morning.” Oh he had plans all right, just not any that Anthony could recognize. Bob is a master manipulator. This is all his doing.
“Did it ever occur to you that I wanted her depressed?”
“A depressed dancer is bad for business, the same for a depressed whore. Her performance was slumping. I need her at least faking happiness and she wasn’t able to even do that.”
“Which is all good news from my standpoint.”
“Yeah, but not from mine.”
“We both know that my interests trumps yours Anthony.”
“Well, it would be nice if you kept me in the loop as to what the hell is going on. How was I to know that you wanted her depressed and suicidal? Up to now, you just wanted her fucked regularly and occasionally beat up by her johns, video taped for your library. I can live with that but I’ve also got a business to run. I’m going to do what I think is best for my business unless you can give me a good reason why not. So next time, tell me exactly what you want. Since I’m not in town right now and can’t do anything about it, call me when I get back in town on Monday.” He hangs up on me.
That ungrateful, bastard! I redial the number but it’s busy. He’s either calling Bob or just left it off the hook. My guess is that he simply left it off the hook. Bob is not in any immediate danger from me and Anthony has gone out of his way to be left alone so leaving the line open makes the most sense. It does not matter. He will be back Monday, as will Honey. I will deal with both of them then.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Bob checks his watch. “It is almost 5:00. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“They’re going to call Sarah between 5:30 and 6:00 and she’ll call me. I’m supposed to be at her house by 8:00 so I’ve got more than two hours.”
“It took you almost all day to get ready for our dinner date.”
“This is completely different. Then I was dressing to impress, this time I’m dressing to disappear. I put on the dress, slip on the boots, comb my hair, a little lipstick and eye shadow. Voila, I’m ready to go, twenty minutes.”
“Are you sure? I would not want you to embarrass your friends.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. They’ll be better dressed than I am but my natural assets will make up the difference. I will be ...” I strike a pose “... understated elegance. Besides, I don’t have that many options and it was your suggestion that I wear something comfortable. I’m going to fix a quick dinner.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“How about a tailgate theme, brats, baked beans, slaw and chips?”
“Sounds fattening and delicious. Can I help?”
“Sure, you can chop the cabbage. You’re good with a knife aren’t you?”
“An expert actually.”
Thought so. We go into the kitchen and it takes only about ten minutes to prep and another fifteen for the beans to bake. There is supposed to be food at the party but I don’t want the distraction of eating. A little snacking will help me blend in but won’t prevent me from keeping track of “my targets”, as Bob calls Brit, Sarah and Piper. The phone rings just as we finish eating. Bob answers, then hands it to me.
“It is for you.” I take the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey Honey, it’s Sarah. I just got the text. Here’s the address.” She gives me the address for the party; it’s in the industrial part of town.
“Got it. What’s your address?” She gives me hers too. “Look, we agreed that I’d pick you up at 8:00 but I need to talk with you before we get Brit and Piper. Can I come at 7:30?”
“Sure, I may not be ready but we can talk. See ya later.”
Bob Googles the party address, both the map and Google Earth, to check it out. The address is a warehouse, pretty good sized, with a big parking lot, all fenced. There appears to be two entrances. Bob points to one of them.
“My guess is that this will be the open entrance, given the address provided. The second one might be open but that will depend on their staffing levels. I would park in this area.” He points to a section of the lot. “It is fairly close to the presumed entrance but out of the natural traffic flow of the entrance.” He pauses for a few seconds. “I just thought of something. You should put a change of clothes in the car, jeans, shirt, sweatshirt, hat and athletic shoes. If things go really bad, you can change clothes to hide your identity or to let you be more properly dressed for action.”
That’s him, always planning. “Have you been doing this all along?”
“Doing what?”
“All this planning, what if this happens, what if that happens. Have you been doing all this since we first met?”
“I was doing it before we met. Needless to say, those plans have been significantly adjusted to take into account certain unforeseeable facts.”
“Where do all these plans end up? What is the final act?” He looks both sad and uncomfortable.
“I would prefer not to discuss that. You still have Amy questioning you regularly about my objectives and it would be best if you are not forced to lie to her. She is very persistent. I trust you but I do not trust her. I hope that the time comes that I can be more open with you but now is not that time. I am sorry Honey.”
I really didn’t expect much more from him, though a girl can hope. We finish cleaning up and I go to pack a bag with casual clothes. I don’t have a hat but Bob has several. They are big on me but that gives me room to stuff my hair up in to it. I decide to go with the Wrangler hat, you see them everywhere, probably why he has it. He comes into my room to check my choices.
“Very good Honey, you have good instincts.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice trying to blend into the background at the club. Not making waves and not being seen helped keep me from getting my ass kicked.”
“Hiding must have been difficult while dancing on a stage.”
“Blending may be a better word. Go along, get along that was my motto.”
“A reasonable choice, given your options.” Yeah, reasonable, that’s me. Don’t fight back, don’t take chances.
“Would you have accepted it Bob? If you were in my place, would you have made the same choices I did?”
“That is not a fair question Honey. Our life experiences are completely different, as are our skill sets. I would have had options that you did not have.”
“So the answer is ‘no’.”
He hesitates. “There is no reason to rehash past choices Honey. You can learn lessons for the future but you cannot change the past. I believe your future has a party in it. Go, enjoy and take care of your friends.” He hugs my shoulder again and leaves me to get ready.
It takes me less time than I thought, just about fifteen minutes. I’m going for the young, fresh look. I figure that the rest of the girls will try for sexy and sophisticated and more power to them. They can have all the boys chasing them. If we can get in and out without trouble, it will be a successful party from my standpoint. I grab my purse and step out into the living room.
“How do I look?”
“Lovely Honey, simply lovely. You have a sense of style second to none. My only suggestion is to accessorize a bit.” He hands me the diamond jewelry from our night out.
“Are you sure? This is going to be wilder than our date. I wouldn’t want to lose them.”
“I am sure you will take the necessary precautions, but if you are uncomfortable, do not wear them.”
“I didn’t say that exactly.”
The silver and diamonds will go nicely with the black dress. The studs and necklace are simple and clean but the other set of earrings would be too much. So would the ring. Bob fastens the chain around my neck; I adjust the pendant’s position and check out the results in the mirror. He was right; the jewelry is the perfect addition.
“I guess I’m ready. Wish me luck.”
“You make your own luck, Honey. Do you have everything?” I double-check my purse.
“Yep. I’ll call you when we get there and call when we leave.”
“And call if there is trouble. My cell number is already stored on the phone.”
“If we have any trouble, you’ll be my first call.”
“Then go and enjoy yourself. Keep alert, but don’t be paranoid.”
I kiss his cheek. “Talk to you later.” I pick up the keys and walk to the garage.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Sarah’s house was easy to find, the house number was right above the door. I rang the bell and an older woman answered. She looked to be in her forties and was fashionably dressed.
“Can I help you?”
“Hello, is this the Watson residence?”
“Yes it is. You must be Honey, Sarah has told us all about you.” All about me? Not likely. “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” I step through the door into the foyer. It looks like a nice house, bright and homey. An older man walks in from the kitchen, probably Sarah’s father. He sees me and stops short, mouth slightly open, eyes large, a stunned expression on his face. I get that a lot. To his credit, he recovers quickly. I don’t think his wife even noticed it.
“Henry, this is Sarah’s friend Honey.” I hold out my hand and he shakes it, his palm a little sweaty.
“Nice to meet you Honey.” He keeps hold of my hand just a little bit longer than necessary ... but not too long.
“Nice to meet both of you Mr. Watson. Is Sarah ready to go?” He seems nice enough but I don’t want him to get in trouble with his wife. The longer I stay, the better the chance he’ll get caught starring at me.
“Have a seat and I’ll check.” We walk into the living room and then he continues down the hall to the bedrooms. I sit on the couch, making sure to smooth my dress and keep my knees together as I sit.
“Sarah, your friend Honey is here. You ready to go?” I hear Sarah reply, her voice muffled.
“Not yet. Go ahead and let her come back here, we need to talk, OK?”
“Your mother and I can keep her company in the living room until you’re ready.” I hear a door open, Sarah’s voice is louder.
“I really need her back here Dad. I want her help with my dress.” The door shuts. Mr. Watson walks back into the living room.
“Apparently your help is needed. It’s the third door on the left.” I stand, thank him, walk back to Sarah’s room and knock on the door.
“Come in Honey.”
I open the door a bit and stick my head in. It looks like a clothes bomb went off. There was stuff everywhere. Skirts, tops, pants, bras, panties, dresses, on the bed, chair, floor, hanging from doorknobs. Sarah is sitting at her desk, dressed in bra and panties, working on her makeup. She turns and waves me in. “Hurry up and close the door.” I shuffle in, pushing clothes aside with my boots.
“What happened in here?”
“Huh?”
I pick up a handful of clothes from the bed. “All this?”
“Oh, it’s always like this. My mom hates it so I try to keep it this way as much as possible. Every once and awhile I get an urge to clean it up but I lay down and it goes away.”
I drop the clothes back on the bed. “Next time, don’t lie down. What do you need help with?”
“Just a sec, let me finish.” She’s curling her eyelashes. I shuffle closer to her and sit on the edge of her bed, pushing clothes away to clear a place to sit. After curling, she carefully applies mascara. She’s better at it than I am. She jumps up off her chair.
“OK.” She rummages around in her closet, grabbing a short white skirt, then picking up a yellow tunic top. She holds them both up in front of her. “Look and remember.” She keeps them there for about ten seconds, then drops them and picks up a black surplice dress with a beaded belt, holding up against her. “Which one?”
“The black one. It’s kind of retro, which is hot right now.” At least that’s what “Cosmo” says.
“That’s what I thought but my mom liked it too. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t reverse psychology. What did you want to talk with me about?”
“I’ve been talking with my dad about tonight. He’s kind of a problem solver, pretty good at it too. I told him that I was worried about what may happen at the party and he had some ideas.”
“What are you worried about? Everyone agreed to follow your rules. We should be fine.”
“I don’t mean to insult anyone but I got the feeling that Brittany wasn’t exactly on board with my plan.”
“Well, she’s not really happy about it. We talked after you left yesterday. She’ll probably stick to it.”
“Probably? Probably isn’t good enough. I need to be sure. That’s why my dad suggested the buddy system.”
“Which is?”
“We alternate watching out for each other. I keep an eye on you and you do the same for me. We don’t have to be attached at the hip but we keep track of each other between dances or drinks or snacks or whatever. We alternate so it’s you and I, then you and Piper, me and Brittany then you and Brittany, me and Piper, and so on, each of us doing the same thing, except we’re really doing it to keep track of Brittany.”
“So you and I aren’t actually buddies?”
“We are but keeping watch on Brittany is the main objective. We all have buddies so she doesn’t think we’re picking on her. Do you think that everyone will agree to that?”
“Are we telling Piper the truth?”
“No, just you and I know the real deal.”
“Why did you pick me?”
“Because you were straight with me in the bathroom at Burger King. I knew I could trust you. I’m not saying I don’t trust Piper or Brittany ... ”
“It sure sounds like you don’t trust Brit.”
“Do you? Completely?”
“I trust her not to do anything to hurt her friends.”
“But do you trust her not to do something to hurt herself, even if she doesn’t realize it?” Sarah doesn’t answer me right away. “Sarah?”
“You could be right.”
“I know I may be paranoid, but I would just die if anything happened to one of you girls.”
“You know, you sound just like my mother.”
“Don’t hold it against me.” She smiles. “I’ve had some experience with parties like this, mostly good but some bad. I want this to be a good time for all of you. Are you with me?”
“What if I’m not?”
“We all go to the party, but I’ll spend the entire time watching Brit like a hawk.” Sarah slips the dress over her head, pulling it down until it settles on her hips. She looks pretty hot.
“Zip me.” I stand and zip up the back of her dress. “Yeah, I’m in. Let me get my shoes and we can go pick them up. Who takes the first shift on Brit?”
“You should. I figure that I’ll be mobbed pretty heavily early until I can shoot them down to thin the numbers.” Sarah looks upset.
“Ego much?”
I spread my arms. “Puh-leaze”
She looks me up and down, then shrugs. “Yeah, you’re right. Just remember to send some of your rejects my way. I’ll help mend their broken hearts.”
I giggle. “You nasty girl!”
“Damn skippy! You got the second Brit shift. Let’s go.” She picks up a sports bag.
“What’s that for?”
“You remember, for after the party.”
“What?”
“When we go to Brittany’s house to spend the night.”
“Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“What do you mean? We talked about it after you left and I called you ... OH MY GOD! Oh Honey, I’m so sorry! I was supposed to call you and completely spaced it! Damn! I am such a spaz!”
“Calm down it’s OK. Don’t worry about it.”
“But we decided to spend Saturday night together at Brit’s and I was supposed to call you to let you know and I screwed it up. Can you call your dad and ask him if you can?”
“Well, I just happen to have a change of clothes in the car and I’m sure he won’t object. It’s cool.”
“Thank God! I’d never hear the end of it if Piper and Brit knew that I forgot to call you.”
“It’ll be our little secret ... until you piss me off.”
She swats my arm. “Shut up!”
We walk out into the living room. Sarah’s mom stands up.
“Oh don’t you girls look beautiful! Henry, get the camera.”
Sarah looks exasperated. “We can’t wait for pictures mother. We have to go!”
Her dad is already up. “I’ll just be a second. A couple of pictures won’t take long.” He’s back very quickly with a digital camera and we pose in front of the fireplace. He takes several shots with us side by side, then with us standing at a 45 degree angle, then 45 degrees facing each other, then several with Sarah alone and then with me alone. About the tenth picture of me alone, Sarah spoke up.
“OK, that’s enough. Time for us to go.” Her dad had a look in his eyes I had seen before in other men. Mrs. Watson was going to get it good and hard tonight. I was happy to leave. He’s probably not a perv, just a normal man who’s near an attractive young woman with a great rack. We hustle to the car and head for Piper’s house. She’s waiting at the front door when we pull up. She leans back into the house, shouts something to somebody, closes the door and hurries to the car. She opens the back door, throws her bag onto the seat, says “Hey guys” and jumps in. I pull away from the curb and turn the car towards Brittany’s house. Piper is practically bouncing in the seat.
“You ready to party tonight?”
“All night baby!” shouts Sarah. I miss that youthful enthusiasm. Tapping Sarah’s leg, I whisper “buddy system.” She nods at me. “Listen Piper, Honey and I have been talking and we came up with an idea.” She tells Piper all about the plan, leaving out my concerns about Brittany. “What do you think?”
“It sounds OK to me, though I still don’t know what the big deal is. It’s just a party and just a bunch of regular kids, what could go wrong?” I shudder at the thought of what could go wrong.
“You could be right Piper” I say. “You’re probably right. I hope you’re right. I just want to be careful. It’s an unfamiliar place, full of strangers. Anybody can hang with whoever they want, just be alert about your buddy.”
“No problem. Who’s my buddy?”
“Honey, to start with” says Sarah “but she’ll be easy to keep track of. Just follow the trail of stunned guys. Oh, I’ve already claimed dibs on her rejects.”
“Shit! I was going to do that! You can’t handle all of them. How about you get the first five and I get the second five?”
“Twenty.”
“Eight.”
They go back and forth, finally settling on ten guys each. I shake my head. If I had known teenage girls were like this when I was a boy, my life may have been different. I think I’m near Brittany’s house.
“Is that Brit’s house?” I point to a two story Colonial. Piper leans forward between Sarah and I.
“Yes, park in the driveway, on the right. Be careful, they have a dog that craps like a horse.”
“Eeeeewwwww. Thank God I’m wearing boots instead of sandals.”
After parking and cautiously walking to her front porch, Sarah rings the bell. We wait almost a minute before Brittany answers.
“Come on in, oh, wipe your feet.”
“Don’t worry, I warned them. No one found a land mine.”
“They yell at him all the time, but my stuuupid brother won’t clean up after his dumb dog!” We walk in and I look around. Brittany’s house is also nice. Very upper middle class. She steps back and does a slow turn.
“What do you think?” She’s wearing a black halter type dress with an exposed back down to her waist. There is a large link metal chain running from the neck, down her back to the waist of the dress. She’s showing a lot of cleavage. We look like three witches, all in black. Piper is the only one with any color. She’s wearing a bright yellow corset style tank top, red miniskirt, red shrug with three quarter sleeves and red patent leather heels. All in all, we’re a pretty good looking group.
“Is that the dress you bought yesterday after I left? It’s really beautiful.”
“Yup, thanks to your dad’s generosity. You want to drop your bags off in the basement now or wait till after the party?”
Sarah reaches for the door. “Later. We need to get going. We’re wasting precious party minutes.”
Brittany picks up her purse. “I like how you think girlfriend.” She walks back to an open doorway. “Mom! Dad! We’re leaving now” she shouts. Someone in the house shouts back.
“That’s fine Brit. Be careful and be back home by 1:00 a.m. And don’t be late.”
“I won’t!” She grimaces but the rest of us giggle at her discomfort. “Let’s get out now while we can.”
Another careful trip back to the car and we are finally off to the party. I give Sarah the Google map and she navigates until we reach the warehouse. On the way, Piper tells Brittany about our buddy system. She doesn’t object but thinks it is overkill. I don’t care if they think I’m a bitch, worry wart, or killjoy, just as long as we get home safely.
Once we find the warehouse, I circle it one time, checking out the fence. There is a second entrance but it’s chained shut with a lock. We swing back around to the open entrance and get behind three cars waiting in line. There is a guy there with a clipboard, checking people in. He’s older, like thirty something, so probably hired security. I don’t see a gun anywhere.
The girls talk excitedly while we wait but I scan the area, looking for things Bob told me to watch for. There is no other visible security but he has a radio on his hip, so there are other people around somewhere. There is a set of video cameras, one high and one low. The whole entrance is well lit, but the parking lot behind it isn’t. There are light poles, but they aren’t turned on. Maybe they don’t want to draw attention to the party. I’d be happier with lights.
I let the car creep forward until the guard raises his hand to stop me. I roll down my window. He bends down to look in.
“Good evening ladies ...” His eyes are boring holes in my breasts. I give him about ten seconds and then let the car jump forward a few inches. He blinks and picks up where he left off.
“... names please.”
“Honey James” I pray that he won’t ask to see my license. He scans his list and checks me off. I exhale quietly.
“You’re good. Next.” The rest of the girls give their names one at a time and are all checked off. He steps back to my window.
“Go ahead and park. There is a metal detector and purse inspection at the door. Leave any weapons or questionable items in the car.” The spiel was for all of us but his eyes never left my boobs. We thanked him and drove in.
“Can you believe that guy?” fumed Brittany. “What a perv! He just stared at Honey’s breasts, didn’t even try to hide it! You should have punched him in the nose!”
I sigh. “It’s no big deal, happens all the time. I saw it but what can I do? If I hit every guy I caught staring at my boobs, I’d be in jail for, like a hundred years. It’s a man’s world. I could dress like an Islamic woman, you know, in one of those burkha things, but then I’d be hiding from them. I’m just gonna be me and screw em’!”
Sarah chuckles. “I hope you don’t mean that literally because you would be a very busy girl if that got out.” I guess that it was literal, not that I would ever admit it to them. “Besides, I catch myself staring at them every once and awhile.”
“Me too” adds Piper.
“Jeez,” cries Brittany, “when did you all turn lezbo? I thought I knew you guys.” I turn the car into the area Bob and I picked out and turn it off.
“Don’t worry Brit. They’ll go back to normal after I leave town. It’s just one the powers of my boobs.”
“What are the other powers?”
“They make strong men weak, cure impotence for any man under ninety seven years old, make women hate me and they have their own gravitational field.” The last one has them all laughing. We are still giggling when we get to the door. There is a line of about twenty people waiting. I lean over to Sarah.
“Do you know any of these people?” I whisper.
“Nope, not a one. That will probably be the story for the whole night. That’s cool though, we expected that. We are going where no unpopular girls have ever gone before.”
“You’re guys are not unpopular.”
“Yeah, but we’re not popular either.”
“Who the fuck cares about being popular? They’re just a bunch of stuck up, self proclaimed, ‘cool’ people who will disappear into the woodwork after high school or, if they are lucky, college. They got two years, six years tops, of ‘popularity’, then they’re done, they’ve peaked. Who would want that?”
“Honey, it’s hard to take the long view when you’re in the middle of high school.” I hug her hip.
“I know, just enjoy yourself and be smart. We came together, we leave together, every one safe and happy.” We all fall in line. There are two guys at the door. One is using a hand metal detector to scan everyone, the other is checking purses. When I get to the front, the guy with the wand scans me while the other rummages through my purse. Both check me out but they are more subtle than the guy at the gate. The guy with my purse reaches in and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
“Sorry Miss, this is a no smoking area. I’ll have to take these.”
“Please Sir.” I reach out and touch his hand. “That’s my last pack. I promise that I won’t smoke while here.” I hit him with the innocent school girl look. He never had a chance. He puts the pack back in my purse and hands it to me.
“Alright Miss, but I better not get any reports about you smoking ... well at least not any more smoking than you already are.” I giggle at his lame compliment, thank him and run my hand along his arm as I walk in. The rest of the girls get in without any trouble. We gather together just inside the door.
“OK. The first thing we do is take a tour of the room, get the lay of the land. After that, we decide what to do.”
Brit touches my shoulder. “Honey, I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t.”
“Then what’s with the cigarettes?”
“It’s a family superstition.”
“Huh?”
“Call it my security blanket.”
“How does a pack of cigarettes give you security?”
“I really don’t want to get into it right now. Let’s check the place out.”
We start at the entrance and circle to the right. It appears to be one big room, the stage at one end with the band already playing, the bar at the other with a buffet in the middle up against the far wall. There are a lot of tables and chairs up towards the bar. There doesn’t appear to be many places to hide, which is good. Hard to lose someone in here except for the crowd. It looks like about eighty to ninety people, but it’s early. I take my cell phone from my purse and take a few pictures of the warehouse and send them to Bob, then call him. It rings a couple of times.
“Hello Honey.”
“Hello Daddy. Did you get the pictures?”
“Yes. No surprises. Any trouble?”
“No. There is a back entrance but it’s chained and padlocked. I almost lost my security blanket at the door. It’s non smoking.”
“And yet they have an open bar for minors.”
“I know, go figure.”
“How did you keep from losing your cigarettes?”
“You know how.”
He laughs. “I hope you let him down easily.”
“Easy enough. Any suggestions?”
“No, just stick with the plan and call if there are problems.”
“OK. Talk with you later. I love you.”
“Ahh ... Good Bye Honey.” Probably shouldn’t have brought that up. I flip the phone closed.
“What was that all about?” asked Piper.
“I promised to call my dad when I got here. He just wanted to make sure I found the place.”
“And the pictures?”
“Family photo album.”
“You’re weird, you know that?”
“Oh yeah, I know it. Do you want to grab a table and set up camp?” We pick a big table closer to the dance floor, seating ten. The girls are here to meet people so we might as well make it easy for people to join us. We all sit down and check out the other guests. They are all high school kids, just children actually. No adults in sight, except for the help.
“Looks like there are more girls than guys here” observes Piper. “Guess that means guys decided who got invited.” We all nod in agreement. Every one is dressed to make a good impression. I may be a little too casual for the room.
“Lots of expensive clothes out there. I may be under dressed for the occasion.”
“You’re crazy Honey “says Brit. “That dress is perfect for you, particularly with that jewelry.” She leans in closer. “Those are really good fake diamonds. I’m not an expert but they would fool me. Besides, everyone else had a big closet full of clothes to choose from, you just had a suit case and no notice.”
“She’s right Honey. You look great, we all look great! Tonight we’re steppin’ up, steppin’ out and taking no shit from anybody! Am I right?” declares Sarah. We all shout in agreement.
“Hell YES!”
“Damn straight!”
“Kick ass!”
That last outburst brought a few stares our way. I realize that I’m thirsty and a little hungry, despite my early supper. I stand up.
“I’m going to get something to drink. Anybody want anything, my treat.”
“It’s an open bar Honey.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to get it for you, so my treat.” Brit orders a Coke, Sarah and Piper want Diet Cokes. I work my way through the tables and people and get in line at the bar. There are four bartenders so service is pretty quick. Most kids are ordering beers or mixed drinks. There is a lot of alcohol being handed out. I can see things getting ugly in about two to three hours. I catch the eye of one of the cuter bartenders. He smiles at me and comes over.
“What do you want beautiful?” Oh brother.
“How often have you used that line tonight?”
He raises his right hand. “Hand to God, that was the first time. Tonight.” That may be true. I give him a smile for his possible honesty.
“I’d like a Coke, two Diet Cokes and a Sprite, in cans please.”
“What, no beers?”
“Not tonight, thank you.” He reaches into a big tub of ice, pulls out the cans, wipes them off, puts them in a cardboard holder and hands it to me.
“Smart girl. I’ve worked these parties before. Sober is the best way to go, believe me.”
“Things get a little wild?”
“That’s a nice way to put it. Try out of control. If there hasn’t been a fight by midnight, consider it a miracle.”
I take the holder from him. “Thanks for the info, I’ll keep an eye peeled.”
“No problem. When you need replacements, ask for Phil.” He winks at me. He is cute. I turn to head back to the table and almost run into the guy standing behind me.
“You sure you don’t want something a little stronger, my treat.” It’s Jerry Pitman.
“Sorry, that’s my line.”
“Huh?”
“I told the girls these were my treat” I raise the holder slightly. “They reminded me it’s an open bar.”
“Yeah, a bar. Why drink pop?” He’s got a beer in his hand.
“We decided to stick with soft drinks for tonight, never know what may happen. Doesn’t that beer violate team rules?” He takes a long drink.
“Sure, but no one cares as long as we don’t get caught.”
“How can you not be caught? There are almost a hundred twenty people here.”
“I mean caught in public. This is a private party. Can I carry those for you?” He wants to sit with us. Better the devil you know. I hand the tray to him.
“Thanks, follow me.”
“Happy to.”
I walk back to the table, as normally as possible. I don’t want to tease or lead him on in any way. I worked him and his friends over pretty hard at the Burger King but now isn’t the time or place. I can still feel his eyes on my ass though.
“Look who I found at the bar.” They all say hello to Jerry as he sits down across from me and passes out the cans.
“I hear you all are on the wagon tonight.”
Brit is looking at his beer. “That’s Honey’s idea.”
“And mine” says Sarah.
“Well it wasn’t my idea, that’s for sure.” Brit isn’t going to let this go. Jerry jiggles his beer.
“You sure I can’t tempt any of you lovely ladies to have a beer or something stronger, rum and Coke maybe?”
I don’t need him working against me. “Could I talk with you over here for a minute?”
“Sure.” I stand and walk out on the dance floor about twenty feet from the table. Jerry follows me, smiling.
“We’ve got a deal, no alcohol tonight. Everyone’s agreed but some of them aren’t happy about it. If they hadn’t agreed, my dad wouldn’t have let me come. If any of them do drink, I’ll have to leave.” The smile disappears. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t push any of them to drink.”
“How about you, can I push you to drink?” He’s got a sly look on his face. Better nip this right now.
“Not a chance in hell.”
“You some kind of Mormon or something?”
“No, I’ve had plenty of booze in the past, just not tonight.”
He steps closer to me. “What your dad doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
“True, but there isn’t anything he doesn’t know and it won’t hurt him, just whoever violated his trust.” He thinks about this for a couple of seconds.
“OK, I’ll go along on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you agree to dance with me tonight.” He looks like a big puppy dog, bright eyed and hopeful. He’s a dog alright, but keeping him around could make my life easier tonight.
“You’ve got a deal.”
“Great! How many?”
“Let’s see how the evening goes, OK?”
“Sure! Great! You got it.” We walk back to the table. There have been some additions since we left. Tony and Ken are there, along with a third guy. He introduces himself, Tommy Whitlock, a friend of the guys. They’ve rearranged the seating, its boy/girl all around, leaving Jerry and I sitting next to each other. Once we sit down, Tony raps on the table with a big ring on his hand.
“I don’t know about you but I’m ready for some food.” Everyone agrees, so we all get up and head for the buffet. I pull Jerry aside as we walk across the room.
“I’d appreciate it if you would tell the guys about my deal with the girls on booze.”
“You don’t expect them to not drink do you?”
“No, it would be nice, but no. Just let them know what the deal is and ask them not to flaunt it or push the girls to drink. Remember, if they do, we all go home, which puts an end to our dancing.”
I want to make sure he realizes it’s in his own self-interest to help me enforce my deal with the girls. He got the message. While we move along the buffet line, Jerry quietly passes the word to each of the guys. It’s interesting to watch their reactions, most of them laugh like they don’t believe it but Tony seems pissed. Why should he care?
It’s a nice buffet with salads, fruit, soup, seafood, pasta, bread, hot dishes, even a carving station. The food should slow down some of the drinking and also slow down how quickly some people get drunk, all in all, a pretty bright idea. I take more than I should. The guys have their plates fully loaded. We make our way back to our table, sit down and dig in. Everyone talks about things teenagers usually talk about, music, movies, school and parents. Unfortunately, I’m not exactly current on the first two, haven’t been in school for over twenty years and my parents are long dead, so I mostly listen, which is probably the safest thing. I catch Jerry starring at me. I smile at him.
“What?” He turns away, embarrassed at being caught, then turns back towards me. “You haven’t said much tonight.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“But I don’t know anything about you. I heard that your parents are divorced and you’re here for the holiday visiting your dad. Where do you live?” I really don’t want to answer a bunch of question, mainly because I have a hard time keeping my lies straight. The best defense is a good offense. I cock my head to the side and toss my hair.
“I don’t know much about you either Jerry. The girls say you are the best football player in town. Is that true?” Guys love to talk about themselves, particularly if they think it will impress a girl.
“I’m good but it’s hard to say who’s the best.” Huh, modesty. Could be false modesty.
“But you haven’t lost a game in two years, right?”
“The team hasn’t lost a game in two years. I’m the quarterback but there are lots of players. See, there are eleven guys on offense and eleven guys on defense ...” He proceeds to give me a primer on the game and the positions. It takes every bit of my control to keep from laughing. “... so when the ball is snapped, I can hand it to one of the backs, run it myself or throw it to one of the receivers.”
“So, you run a West Coast offense that emphasizes a short controlled passing game and screens to backs slipping out in the flat.”
He leans back, blinking rapidly. “What?”
I put both elbows on the table, link my fingers and rest my chin on the back of my hands. “Well, I thought you were describing the classic West Coast offense, but I could be wrong. Do you run a Spread offense? Or is it a form of the Option? The Wishbone? You don’t use the Wildcat do you? The Wildcat is just a gimmick you know, a Single Wing throwback. Give me a couple of days and I’ll shut down any team that relies on the Wildcat for more than thirty percent of their total yards, assuming my middle linebacker can move at all and isn’t an idiot.” I give him an innocent smile and bat my eyes. He stares at me for a few seconds.
“Why did you let me go on and on like that? I must have sounded like a moron.”
“Yes, but a very sincere moron.”
“How do you know so much about football?”
“It’s my favorite sport, I grew up with it.”
“Your dad a coach or something?”
No, I played for over twenty nine years from Pee-wee to pros. “Something like that.”
“Who’s your favorite team?”
“Don’t have one. I’m a fan of the game.”
“OK, then who’s your favorite player.”
“Weellll...it was Josh Thomas.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember him. He was very good. Whatever happened to him?” Good question kid.
“No one knows.” Or at least very few. “Here one day, gone the next, replaced by Billy Joe Coleson and the Wranglers go merrily on without a hitch.”
“That’s not exactly right, you know.”
“Why not?”
“About the time that Thomas disappeared is the same time the Wranglers started their insane streak of good luck on injuries. Not a single starter has missed more than two games in the last three years. That just doesn’t happen. They also have old guys having career best years out of nowhere, not just one or two but every player they sign. Coleson has had a lot of help that Thomas never had.”
What a nice boy. “You’re probably right Jerry. I’m going to find the bathroom and then you can have your first dance.”
“First?”
“First.” I stand. “Does anyone know where the bathrooms are?” Tony raises his hand and points to a door to the left of the bar.
“You go out that door. The bathrooms are just outside, a portable trailer. Don’t worry, they’re lots better than a port-a-john. Flush toilets, running hot water even piped in music.”
Sarah and Brit also stand up. “We’ll go with you. Piper?”
“Sure, hang on.” She quickly finishes her salad and joins us.
There’s a line at the trailer but it isn’t bad, only about a five minute wait. It gives us a chance to talk.
“So Honey” says Brit, “You and Jerry seem to be getting along.”
“He’s OK.” They all giggle as I blush. “Fine, he’s very nice. You and Tony seem to be hitting it off too.”
“He’s ‘OK’”. We all giggle again. “Have you stopped worrying about the party yet?”
“No, it’s too soon and one of the bartenders gave me a heads up on past parties. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”
“You mean you still won’t let us drink?” Brit whines. Sarah steps up.
“It’s not just Honey. We all agreed and we were right. Everything seems cool now but it’s early. It’s also time to switch buddies. I’ll take Piper and Brit has Honey. Keep her safe Brit. We don’t want Jerry Pitman sweeping her off her feet and onto her back.” They all laugh at that one. Sarah is a smart girl. She defused that potential problem before it ever started. I might as well go with the flow.
“Hell, there’s no place to do it even if I wanted to.” More laughter.
“There’s always the parking lot” says Piper.
“Please, why don’t I just put up a big sign that says “Take my picture with your phone and post it on You Tube? No thank you.” We’ve worked our way to the head of the line. Tony was right, it’s the nicest portable toilet I’ve ever seen. We all do our respective business, then crowd around the only mirror to touch up our make up. I borrow Piper’s lipstick, it matches my skin tone better than mine does. When we get back to our table, the guys are done eating and gotten fresh drinks. Jerry is drinking a Coke. I sit down and lean in close to him.
“What, no beer?”
He shrugs. “Never know what may happen.” Either he is very sweet or very good. Time to live up to my part of the bargain. I take his hand, stand and pull him up.
“Let’s see if you can dance as well as you can pass.”
We walk to the dance floor, which is basically concrete that has been scrubbed reasonably clean. The band is playing a song I’ve heard before but I can’t remember where. Doesn’t matter, it has a good beat and I feel like moving. Jerry is not that good a dancer. He’s not terrible, he just dances like an eighteen old kid without a lot of practice. I keep my moves simple and G-rated, no use drawing attention to myself. Everybody else has joined us out on the floor. Brit’s with Tony, Sarah’s with Ken and Piper’s with Tommy. None of them are good dancers but they all seem to be enjoying themselves. We stay out for four songs and the others switch partners a couple of times but Jerry and I stay together. The band takes a break so we head back to the table.
I fetch more drinks for the girls because we left our old drinks unattended. I walk around, passing them out. Sarah offers me a tip. I smack her hand. After sitting down, Jerry and I pick up where we left off talking about football. It’s a safe subject, though admittedly odd for a girl and a guy. I can keep the conversation going but not reveal much about myself. I notice a lot of guys walking around our table, just checking me out. There are more guys here than any other area, except for the bar of course. I think that means that Jerry is the top dog around here. Or at least one of them. If he wasn’t here, they would be all over me. A couple of guys come up to talk with him and they are introduced to me. It’s mostly about the party and how things are going. Jerry seems to be one of the organizers. As long as I’m with him, not a lot of guys will bother me. That doesn’t mean that they won’t come around to get a look. I see more than a few cell phone cameras, a minor version of what happened at the Adolphus Hotel. Since this is an exclusive private party, those pictures are less likely to end up on the internet.
The band starts playing so we all head to the dance floor again. This time I switch partners a couple of times, twice with Tony and once with Ken. Other than that I spend all my time with Jerry. I keep an eye out for Brit. She spends about an equal time dancing with all three guys, plus a couple I don’t recognize. She sits out some songs and seems to be following the rules, no booze, no open drinks.
The band takes another break and the buffet has added desert items. The girls crowd around the chocolate dishes. They have this rich chocolate brownie infused with fudge sauce topped with ice cream. It should be Phase Four of Bob’s sensuality program. I have three big helpings. The only reason I don’t have a fourth is that they ran out. Jerry offers to have them get me some more but I tell him not to worry about it.
All three of the girls have spent the last three plus hours laughing, dancing and eating. Does it get any better than that for a teenage girl? Particularly when sex and booze are off the menu. By now, we have switched buddies again. I’ve got Sarah and Piper has Brit. There is a certain amount of risk in that but the night has gone well so far and Brit seems to have accepted her limitations and is enjoying herself anyway. I’m tempted to sneak a beer myself but can’t risk getting caught. I can have one when I get home if I still want it. The band takes the stage for a third time and starts with a ripping song. Everyone floods the floor and soon the entire group is dancing full tilt. Jerry is better now than he was at the beginning of the evening, he’s a quick study. I decide to loosen the restraints a bit and shift up to R-rated moves. Jerry certainly perks up, as do most of the guys around me. He moves in close and shouts over the music.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?”
“Here and there.” I shout back, smiling.
As the rocking song ends, the band smoothly shifts to a slow song. Lots of people head back to their tables and I start to also but Jerry reaches out, gently touches my elbow and pulls me back towards him. I could say no if I want to but he has been a perfect gentleman all night so I decide to give it a chance. He takes me in his arms, reaching around my waist and I move my hands up to his shoulders, near his neck. We sway slowly to the music, looking into each others eyes. I look around occasionally, checking out Sarah. She’s sitting at a smaller table with Ken, smiling. I don’t see Brit or Piper but we are closer to the band and have a bad angle for the rest of the room. He presses his hips up against mine and I can feel his erection. I’d noticed it earlier but there is no ignoring it now. He doesn’t grind it against me, it’s just there. His smile grows slightly wider and I blush a little. He leans down towards me. He’s going to kiss me. I’d tried to avoid this all evening but now, it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What’s the harm? As his lips near mine, I move up to make contact, a soft, gentle kiss, lasting a few seconds. We break it off, both of us grinning at each other.
I can’t help but compare him to Bob. It was interesting, fun, enjoyable but there was no spark, no fire. If we had the time, maybe we could get to know each other, have a romantic relationship. He’s certainly a nice enough guy and all the parts are in the right place and in great shape. If he’s willing to learn, I could probably teach him to be an exceptional lover. There’s just no way it can happen though. The song comes to an end and the band starts an up tempo song. He takes my hand and leads me back to our table. We are the only ones there. We sit down, him still holding my right hand with both of his.
“Honey, I know we haven’t known each other for very long and this may seem sudden and everything ... you don’t live around here so it wouldn’t be easy ... but you’re such a wonderful person ... I’d really like to see you again, you know, if you want to ...” I put my free hand on top of his hands.
“Can we go outside? We won’t have to shout over the band.”
“Yeah, sure. Follow me.” He lets go of my hand and stands up, I get up, grab my purse and then take his right hand in mine. He heads for the front door and we step through into the parking lot, then walk around the corner. Neither of us says anything for a few moments. It’s my move, I guess.
“Jerry, I was afraid this might happen.”
“Afraid of what?”
“That I would meet someone that I liked.”
He smiles widely. “What could be wrong with that? I like you too, a lot. You’re smart, amazingly beautiful, a football expert, the perfect girl.”
“What’s wrong is that we can never see each other.” He’s stunned.
“Why not? Look, just because you don’t live here doesn’t mean we can’t see each other. There’s holidays, fall break, spring break, the summer. I’ll graduate in like six months and I don’t have to go to college right away ...”
“Jerry, listen to yourself. We’ve only known each other for like four total hours and you’re already putting your football career on hold. But that’s not the point. It’s impossible for me to date you.”
“Why can’t you date me? Is it some kind of rule your parents made up? We can talk with them, show them we’re serious ...”
“I’ll tell you why. You have met my dad right?” He flexes his right hand slightly.
“Oh yeah, I remember.”
“I’m going to give you two reasons why we can’t date. The first one is for you to tell your friends when they ask.”
“Why two reasons?”
“You’ll understand why when I’m done. The first reason is I live with my mother and she is being transferred to Europe by her company, she’s a pharmaceutical rep. We’ll be based in Switzerland but travel a lot. The assignment is for four years, at least, and I won’t be coming back to the U.S. until she’s done. I can’t live with my dad because he also travels for his job and no one is home three quarters of the year.” He looks defeated.
“Wow, that’s terrible, but my dad is fairly well off. He might be willing to pay for a few trips to Switzerland ...”
“No Jerry, that’s not the real reason we can’t date. That’s the one you tell your friends when they ask. I am going to tell you the truth, but you can’t tell anyone else. Not your family, your friends, my friends, anyone. This is really important. If my dad knew I was telling you this ... well, I don’t know what he would do. Do you promise not to tell anyone?”
“OK, I promise.”
“Really, really promise? I’m putting my life in your hands here.” His eyes are as big as saucers when he hears that.
“No shit? Your life?” I nod my head. “Alright, yeah. I really, really promise.” I look left and right, making sure no one else can hear us.
“Here it is” I whisper. Jerry leans down closer to me.
“Witness ... Protection ... Program.” He sucks in his breath.
“NO WAY!”
I wave my hands to shush him. “Quiet! Yes, way.”
“What happened, is he a mob guy? Did he ...”
“Jerry, I have told you all that I can. Dating someone as famous as you puts my life at risk, my family’s lives ... and your life.” The light bulb turns on above his head.
“Oh my God! That’s right! Damn Honey, ... that sucks big time. Shit.”
I take his hand in mine. “Let’s go back in. It’s been a wonderful evening. However, if you don’t want to finish it with me, I’ll understand.”
“Hey, don’t say that. Uuuhh, ... since you can’t date me and we do have the rest of the night, maybe we could ...” He had to try; I don’t know if I could respect him if he didn’t try.
“Jerry, remember that handshake?”
“Yeah?”
“Imagine that grip on your balls.” He shudders.
“How would he even know?” he asks weakly.
“Trust me, he’d know.” Another shudder.
“Honey, I’ve never had a better time but I think it’s best if we say good bye.”
I nod in agreement. “Good bye Jerry. I’ll look for your name in the sports pages.”
“Good bye Honey. It could have been great.” We hug. He might be right. We walk back in together but separate once inside the door, sharing lingering looks as we walk away from each other. I scan the room. Sarah is sitting by herself at one of the smaller tables. I walk over and sit down.
“Hey.”
“Hey, where’s Jerry?”
“He’s moving on.”
“OH Honey! You guys made such a cute couple! What’s the problem?”
“Religious differences.”
“Say what?”
“I’m joking. It was never going to work. He’s a great guy, but long distance relationships are iffy at best. We’ve only known each other for like four hours.”
“Sometimes that’s long enough Honey.”
“Only in romance novels and chick flicks Sarah. I was just looking for a fun evening and that’s what I got. How about you? Weren’t you and Ken spending most of the evening together?”
“More or less. He’s nice enough, a bit of an egomaniac though.”
“He’s a wide receiver, what did you expect?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a football thing.”
“Whatever. Anyway, he’s sort of got a girlfriend who’s out of town.”
“Did you know this?”
“Oh yeah, he mentioned it right away. No big deal, I was just looking for a fun evening too.”
“Well, let’s go get a drink and toast our success.” We stand, grab our purses and start towards the bar but just then, Brit runs up to us, breathing hard.
“Oh thank God! Have either of you seen Piper, you know, in the last five minutes?” Sarah grabs her arm.
“Piper? Are you sure? Piper’s too smart to go anywhere. How could you lose Piper?”
“Calm down both of you” I say. “Have you called her cell?”
“Yes, but it’s in her purse.” She holds out her hand, which is holding Piper’s purse. Damn!
“How about the bathroom?”
“I was heading that way when I saw you two.”
“You go check it out. Sarah and I will search this room.” I look at my watch, its 11:23. “Everyone meets back here in four minutes, got that?”
“Four minutes, got it.” Brit hurried off. I turn to Sarah, she looks frightened.
“Oh God Honey! You were right! What happened to ...”
“Take it easy. Brit could have just missed her. It’s probably nothing. You go down the right side and I’ll take the left. When you get to the end, come back through the middle of the dance floor. Don’t run, but make it quick. And look at everything.” We split up and start our search.
Thankfully there really isn’t anywhere to hide; it’s just a big warehouse with tables, chairs, a stage and caterer’s equipment. Piper could have stepped outside for some air. She’s likely in the bathroom and all of this is a false alarm. So why am I struggling to keep from panicking? I’m moving too fast, not paying attention. I slow up, take a deep breath and let it out. It helps clear my head. I scan to my right as I work down the left wall. Thank God Piper is wearing the yellow tank and red skirt. Practically three quarters of the girls are wearing black or dark colors and guys almost always wear dark stuff.
She should stand out like a flare.
Which means Brit shouldn’t have missed her. Fear starts to creep back into my heart. I get to the end of the room just as Sarah does. She raises her hands, palms up and shakes her head “No”. I point to the dance area and we dive in.
The crowd is not that bad, people have been dancing for some time and a lot of them have dropped out. Still, it’s harder to push through than walking in the open and our progress is slower. I pop out of the throng near the tables and chairs. Sarah is just a couple of seconds behind me.
“Nothing. I looked everywhere, even behind the band. Nothing. She’s not here Honey.”
“I know. “ I see Brit at our meeting spot. She’s alone and looking worried. This ain’t good. Sarah and I head towards her and Brit runs towards us.
“She wasn’t in the bathroom. Did you guys find her?”
“Do you see her with us?” Sarah snaps. “How could you lose track of her? It was so simple, just look around every few minutes and find her. How ...”
“Quiet!” I shout, a little too loudly. “We can talk about this later. Right now, we find her. If she’s not here or the bathroom then she’s outside. Let’s go.” I run off, leaving Sarah and Brit behind. They quickly follow but my boots let me run harder than their heels let them. I hit the entrance and stop, looking around. There are lots of cars out there and no lights. Luckily, it’s a full moon, skies clear and chilly. The girls catch up to me.
“Slow down Honey! Sarah and I can’t run that fast. Damn shoes!”
“No time to waste Brit. You take the nearest rows of cars and I’ll take the back rows. Don’t spend too much time looking in the car. If she’s in there with someone, it’ll be foggy.”
“Why would the windows be foggy?” Sarah and I look at Brit and say nothing. She finally gets it.
“Oh right. Yeah. Duh.”
I start to run off but shout back to Sarah “You take the sides of the warehouse. If we don’t find anything, then we’ll go around the back.” I take the back rows because I can move faster. Thank you Bob for the wardrobe suggestions. Moving along the rows of cars, there’s no sign of anybody. All nice, expensive, empty cars. I can see Brit searching the cars nearer the warehouse, both of us working towards the middle of the parking area. We get within two rows of each other when I hear Sarah shouting.
“Honey! Honey! Brittany! Over here! Hey, over here guys!” She’s jumping and waiving at the right corner of the warehouse. Brit starts to run towards her.
“Brit! Stop!” She stops and turns my way. “Finish that last row and I’ll finish mine, then we’ll go. Hurry!” she turns back to the cars and we quickly check them out, then take off for where Sarah is waiting.
“Did you find her?”
“Not exactly. Follow me.”
She turns and runs around the corner. We follow. Sarah runs about fifty feet and turns another corner, Brit and I on her tail. There, hidden among some big dumpsters, are four RVs. Shit! I didn’t see them when we drove around the fence because of the dumpsters. Brit grabs my shoulder.
“What are they for?”
“My guess is sex.”
“What?!”
“If one of the owners got ‘lucky’, they could use them for privacy. There’s no place available in the warehouse and these people are too high class to fuck in the back seat of a car.”
“Honey!” Sarah is shocked.
“Sorry, but it’s true. Let’s go check them out.”
“Do you think Piper is in one of those things?”
“She isn’t anywhere else, so yeah, she probably is.” I start to walk towards the RVs but Brit won’t let go of my shoulder.
“What if she doesn’t want to be found?”
“That’s her tough luck. She should have told one of us where she was going.” Sarah and Brit seem undecided. “Look, if we interrupt something she asked for, we apologize. If she didn’t ask for it ...” Brit’s grip on my shoulder tightens.
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll take care of him. Now let’s go find our friend.”
We quickly walk to the nearest RV, trying to be quiet but hurry at the same time. The curtains are drawn but light is leaking out around them. We sneak around the outside, looking for a gap in the shades. Sarah finds one.
“Over here.” She says softly. We scurry to her side. She’s gazing in the gap. “Holy CRAP!”
“Is it Piper?”
“I can’t tell yet.”
“Let me see.” She steps back, her face flush. I put my eye to the gap.
Two guys are double teaming a naked girl on a bed. She’s on her knees, one guy pumping away at her cunt from behind while the girl enthusiastically sucks the other guy’s cock. Now wonder Sarah was blushing. No one seems to be forcing the girl at all. It’s a bad angle though, I can’t see much of the girl’s face. She is the right size and build, it could be Piper. Suddenly they shift positions, the guy fucking her pussy rolls onto his back and the girl straddles him facing forward. The other guy gets behind the girl and slowly pushes his cock up her ass. I’ve been double penetrated a few times and only enjoyed it twice, both times with a couple of brothers who showed some interest in my needs. I can see the girl’s face now and it isn’t Piper. Brit is pushing at me.
“Let me see.” I step back.
“It isn’t Piper.”
“I want to see anyway.”
“No, business first. Let’s check the next one.” Sarah and I walk away but Brit lingers, peeping into the gap.
“What are they ... SSHHHIIITTT!”
“Brittany, NOW!” I hiss.
She scoots away from the window and follows us. We circle the second RV. There are no lights on that we can see. The shades are drawn but there are big gaps so it’s obvious that no one is home. We move on to the third one. The lights are on and shades pulled down. This one is almost a double decker, the back windows are too high for us to look in. There are some openings in the shades if we could get up there. I look around but there is nothing to stand on.
“Sarah, how much do you weigh?”
“Uuuhh about one twenty five.”
Brit snorts. “Try one thirty five.” Sarah gives her the death stare.
“I think I can lift you up high enough for you to look in the window but I can’t keep you up there for long. Don’t touch anything, we don’t want to make any noise. Don’t say anything until you’re back down.” I get set below the window, my back to the RV. Sarah stands facing me. I grab her hips.
“On three, you jump and I’ll boost you up. Look quick. Ready?” She looks nervous but nods her head.
“Yes, ready.”
“OK one ... two … three.” She squats and jumps as hard as she can. I catch up to her as she peaks and manage to get my arms straight up, elbows locked, lifting her head up to the window.
“She’s there Honey” Brit whispers. “Hold on.”
If I was still Josh Thomas, I could hold her like this for minutes on end. Now, my muscles begin to shake after a few seconds. I keep holding Sarah, my arms starting to ache. I grit my teeth and keep my arms extended. I hear Sarah gasp. Times up. I bring her back down, barely avoiding dropping her on her ass.
“Well” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. ”Is she in there?”
Her eyes are wide in shock. “Yes.”
“What’s going on?” asks Brit.
“She’s lying on the bed, naked.”
“NO!”
“Yes.”
I’m rubbing my arms, trying to get feeling back. “Was she awake?”
“What?”
“Was she awake, alert, did she seem like she knew what was going on?”
“No, she looked drunk. Her eyes were barely open and she was just laying there on her back.”
“Then she’s been drugged.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Brit lost track of her like what, fifteen, twenty minutes ago? You can’t get shit face drunk in twenty minutes. Who was in there with her?”
“Tony King!” Sarah was disgusted.
“Only Tony?”
“Isn’t that bad enough?”
“Sure, but I need to know how many guys I have to take out.”
“TAKE OUT?! He’s enormous! Two hundred forty pounds at least. You’re what, one hundred twenty five?”
“Hey! One ten! I’ve got it covered, trust me. Did it look like he had done anything to her yet?”
“I can’t be sure. He wasn’t wearing pants or underwear but still had his shirt and socks on.”
“We don’t have time to waste then, come on.”
“What are you talking about?” said Brittany. “Let’s go get one of those security guys. We can’t handle this by ourselves.”
“Those security guys were hired by Tony King.” I replied. “Who do you think they’re interested in protecting? You? Me? Piper? Even if they might help us, it will take too long for them to get here. It’s up to us to help Piper and we’ve got to do it now. I can do this, I’ve got a plan. Are you guys with me?”
Sarah looks at Brit. “She’s right, it’s Piper, we can’t wait.”
Brit grimaces. “Crap ... I’m in.”
I smile at them. Wish I had friends like this. “Let’s go team.” I take off, the girls right behind me.
I run around to the door, reach into my purse, pull out the pack of cigarettes, and strip off the wrapper. It’s Bob’s little black box.
“You guys get up against the side. Don’t move until I tell you.” They stand with their backs to the side of the RV, away from the door. I palm the box in my right hand and put it behind my back.
“What’s that?” Brit whispered.
“My security blanket. You guys stay tight and frosty, don’t let him see you and go when I say so. Don’t hesitate. Ready?” They nod yes.
I pound on the door with my left hand several times.
“Go away!” shouts Tony. I pound the door again.
“I said GO AWAY!” He sounds closer to the door. I pound it a third time.
He throws the door open, filing the doorway, standing there just as Sarah described. “Are you deaf? Get the HELL OUT OF ...” He sees me, hands behind my back, tits thrust forward.
“Hey Baby, I hear that you like to party. Can I join you?”
He just stands there, mouth agape. It takes a few seconds for his brain to restart. It feels like an eternity. A big grin spreads across his face.
“Oh yeah Honey, I love to party! You sure you want in on this? I party hard you know.”
I take a step closer. “You mean like fucking a girl’s brains out?”
His grin couldn’t get any bigger. “Shit yes!”
“Well lead on then.”
He turns around. I let him take two steps into the RV before I whip my right hand around and give the box a squeeze. Two barbs on hair-thin wires shoot out and stick in his ass.
“Oooww, what the....” That’s all he gets out before I squeeze the box again, hitting him with 1,250,000 volts. His body locks up, arms and legs convulsing, head thrown back, eyes and mouth wide open. He’d be screaming if his lungs could move. I keep my finger on the trigger a few seconds longer than I should. When I release it, he collapses on the floor, twitching. I squeeze again just to be sure. There is little reaction. He’s out.
“Come on guys, get in! Don’t worry about him, step on him if you need to.” They both make a point of stepping on his back as they hustle in. I follow them and pull the door shut, locking it.
“Sarah, help me pull him away from the door. Brit, you check on Piper.” She runs to the back of the RV while Sarah and I each grab an arm and drag Tony back to the bedroom. When we get there, Brit is cradling Piper’s head in her hands, trying to wake her up.
“Is she breathing OK?”
“Yes, but she won’t wake up Honey.”
“She probably won’t for awhile. You guys find her clothes and get her dressed. I’ll find something to tie him up with. If he starts to wake up, push this box right here.” I put the box down.
“For how long?” ask Sarah.
“As long as you want.”
I go to the kitchen and find a dish towel and a knife. I cut the towel into five strips. When I get back to the bedroom, they have Piper dressed except for her shoes and top. She’s semi-conscious, flopping like a rag doll
“Don’t worry about the shoes, she’s not walking for awhile. Did he wake up at all?”
Sarah answers. “No, but I pushed the button once anyway.”
“Sarah, you nasty girl you.”
“Sue me.”
They get Piper’s top pulled over her head.
“What now?” asked Brit.
“Put her in that chair. Then we put Tony on the bed.” It took all three of us to get him up on the bed and flipped over on his back. We use the cut up dish towel to tie him spread eagled on the bed. There’s a half full cup on a table next to the bed. I go back to the front of the RV, pick up my purse, dig through it and remove a pack of matches. I tear a match out and hand it to Sarah.
“Drop this in that cup and tell me if it changes color.”
She drops it in the cup and peers in. “Yep, the match turned red. What does that mean?”
“It means that Piper was likely drugged with Roofies.”
“That son of a bitch!”
“You said it. You guys get Piper up near the door, then Brit ... “ I reach into my purse, pullout my keys and toss them to her “… you go get my car and bring it around but park on the other side of the dumpsters so no one in the RVs can see it.” They lift Piper up and carry/drag her to the front, dropping her in the driver’s seat. Tony is starting to regain consciousness so we need to hurry. I pull a curtain across the opening to the bedroom so that you can’t see into the rest of the RV. Picking up the cup, I grab Tony’s nose and start slowly pouring the drink down his throat. He gags and chokes, spitting some of it up but I manage to get him to swallow most of it. I then wad up his underwear, stuff them in his mouth and wrap the fifth dish towel strip around his head and across his mouth, gagging him. I tie it in a bow just below his nose. By now, he is almost awake. Brit comes back in. I slip past the curtain.
“Can you guys get Piper to the car without my help?”
“I think so” says Sarah.
“Take her and then wait for me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Make a call to my dad and then have a little talk with Tony.”
“You sure about that?”
“Very. Try to keep from being seen, if at all possible.”
“You be careful Honey.”
“You too.” They leave and I get my purse, retrieve my cell phone and call Bob.
“Hello Honey. Isn’t it a little early to be calling it a night? It is only 11:48.”
“We’ve had a little trouble.”
“Serious trouble?”
“Hard to say, we’re still in the middle of it.”
“Can I help?”
“No, you’re too far away. Piper was drugged and nearly raped. We got to her in time but I’ve got the bastard tied to a bed and gagged. I had to use your zapper on him.”
“Did it work?’
“Like a charm.”
“What do you plan to do now?”
“Put Piper in the car, have a short talk with Tony to show him the error of his ways and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Is that Tony King, one of the boys from the Mall?”
“One and the same.”
“Do not do any permanent damage. There could be repercussions.”
“What could they do to me? They don’t have my real name, my address or even what town I supposedly live in.”
“Yes but he obviously could identify Piper and link her to Sarah and Brittany. They might pay the price for your actions.” Good advice, as usual. “How long before you leave?”
“No more than five minutes.”
“Leave by the back entrance then. There is no video coverage.”
“We can’t. It’s chained and padlocked.”
“It won’t be by the time you get there.”
“How is that possible?”
“I am parked in a rental car just two blocks away. Thought you might need some backup.”
“You know, I really do love you.”
“We will talk about that later. Be thoughtful and careful.” He hung up. I sighed, what a man.
When I get back to Tony, he is completely conscious, twisting and squirming, trying to free himself. His eyes blaze with anger when he sees me. I trail my hand lightly up his right leg.
“Hey lover, we sure had some fun didn’t we? Hate to leave you like this but it’s time for me to go. Still ...” I reach up and stoke his inner thigh “... I’d like to leave you something to remember me by.” I start to fondle his balls with my right hand and stroke his soft cock with my left. Despite himself, he has an erection in seconds. It’s not very impressive, well below average if I’m any judge of cocks ... which I am. No wonder he uses Roofies. He is starting to moan into his gag. I keep stroking him, looking him straight in the eyes. Licking my lips, I open my mouth, turn it towards his crotch, and lower it within two inches from the tip of his cock, flicking my tongue out to just a fraction of an inch from its tip. I pull my tongue back into my mouth and slowly turn my head back towards him.
“This is what I want you to remember Tony.”
I squeeze his balls, slowly increasing the pressure. The erection doesn’t last long and he is soon shouting into his gag, begging me to stop.
“You drugged my friend and would have raped her if I hadn’t stopped you. You’ve got a pretty nice setup here, so my guess is that Piper wouldn’t have been your first.” I release his balls, his eyes reflecting the relief he feels. “If I ever hear of you doing something like this again, this is what will happen.” I jam the zapper into his balls and press the trigger. His entire body seizes, stiff as a board, while he screams. I’d dialed the power back to half strength, not enough to knock him out but more than enough to cause excruciating pain. Tears are streaming from his eyes. I release the trigger.
“And, if I ever hear even the slightest rumor that you are causing trouble for Piper or Sarah or Brittany” I wave the zapper in his face and slowly bring it to his balls. He is vigorously shaking his head “No“ and likely begging me to not hit him again. I do it anyway. He flails and flops until I release the trigger. He is breathing rapidly through his nose, eyes puffy and watery.
“And, if I catch the slightest whiff of you trying to find me.” His eyes are wide with terror. I reach down and flick his sensitized balls with my index finger, causing his body to jump off the bed. “I will come back here, cut these tiny balls off your poor excuse for a cock and wear them for earrings. If you don’t think I mean it,” I lean into his face “just ... try ... me.” I put the zapper back into my purse, walk past the curtain and out the door, locking it behind me. Checking to see if there is anybody around, I don’t see anyone, so I sprint to the car and jump in.
Sarah is in the front, breathing hard, Brit and Piper in the back. Piper is slumped against the door but they managed to belt her in.
“You guys have any trouble?”
“No.” Brit replies, glancing at Sarah. I start the car and head for the back entrance.
“Honey, we can’t go that way, it’s locked, remember?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got people”
True to his word, the gate is wide open when we get there and zoom out onto the street. There is no sign of Bob, but I notice a car smoothly pulling out from the curb after I pass it, following us home at a discrete distance the entire way. Bob has got my back, which is a very secure, comfortable feeling. We swing into the driveway and I park the car in the garage, don’t want the neighbors to see us take a limp teenage girl inside. Bob shows up about thirty seconds later, parks next to us and closes the garage door. Brit starts to panic.
“Oh God Honey, it’s your dad! What are we going to tell him?”
“Don’t worry, it’s cool. He already knows.”
“But what if he tells our parents? How do we explain this?”
“I said don’t worry. You guys will be fine. He’s not your average dad.”
“What about Piper? She’s not getting any better.”
“We’ll take care of it Brit. The first thing is to get Piper in bed.”
Bob opens the door next to Piper. “Hello ladies, are you all OK?” Sarah and Piper nod their heads, not sure what to say. They don’t trust him.
“We’re fine Daddy, a little shook up but fine, except for Piper. The test strip was red, that’s roofies right?”
“Correct Honey. I will carry her to your room. One of you can undress her and put her in some comfortable clothes. The best thing for her is sleep.” He reaches in the car, unbuckles her and picks her up, cradling her in his arms. “Sarah, if you would get the door please.” Sarah hurries to the door and opens it. Bob carries Piper into the house, straight to my bedroom and gently lays her on the bed. “Which of you wants to change her clothes?” Brit steps up.
“I will, she was my responsibility, it’s all my fault.”
I reach out and rub her shoulder. “No Brit, it wasn’t your fault. We were supposed to look out for each other. We’re all responsible. We’ll all take care of her.”
“Very well. Once you are done, I would like to talk with the three of you.” He turns and leaves the room. Brit and I start to strip Piper, but Sarah just stands next to the bed.
“Honey, is your dad pissed at us?”
“It’s hard to tell with him but probably not. Even if he is, I’ll handle it.”
“Honey ... all the stuff you did tonight ... the equipment you had ... where ...”
“Sarah, let’s get Piper taken care of, we’ve got all night to talk about what happened.”
“Tonight...SHIT! We’re all supposed to go to Brit’s house tonight! How are we going to explain this to her parents? We have to ...” I raise my hand.
“One problem at a time. Piper first, the overnight problem after that.”
“OK.” Sarah gives us a hand with Piper. “Do you have anything for her to wear?”
“Doesn’t she have a bag in the car?”
Brit slaps her forehead. “Of course! She’s probably got pajamas or something. I’ll get it.”
“Why don’t you go help her Sarah? Might as well bring all the bags in.”
“OK, we’ll be back in a jiff.”
Sarah and Brit hurry off. I wanted just a few seconds alone with Piper, to check and see if there was any evidence of rape. I don’t think Tony had enough time but I want to make sure. She’s already stripped down to her bra and panties so I finish the job. I spread her legs slightly to get a good look. No redness or swelling, no scrapes, no blood. I breathe a sigh of relief, pretty sure we made it in time. The girls come back with the bags and we look through Piper’s. She did have a pair of shorty pajamas so we dress her and tuck her in. Brit sits at the end of the bed.
“Aaahh Honey, what do we tell your dad about all this?”
“The truth, what else?”
“Whoa” says Sarah “you can’t tell him what we did tonight. He’ll tell all our parents, we’ll be grounded for life.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong. None of us drank, no drugs, except for what that bastard Tony did to Piper, no sex. We are all innocent victims.”
“How about what you did to Tony?”
I pause and look at Sarah. She shrinks away from me slightly.
“And what did I do to Tony?” She looks unsure of what to say. “You were in the car, weren’t you ... Sarah?”
“No, I wasn’t ... I didn’t want to leave you alone with him. I was afraid for you. After Piper was safe in the car, I came back to the RV to make sure you were OK ... I saw what you did to Tony ... I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. Hell, I shocked him myself ... but gawd Honey, that was practically torture.”
“Wait, what did she do?” asks Brit.
“No Sarah, it was torture, and he’s lucky I didn’t have more time or it would have been worse.”
“Would someone tell me what you did?” Brit demands.
“I forced the spiked drink down his throat, then zapped him in the balls twice.”
“After she almost popped them like grapes with her bare hands” added Sarah.
Brit looks shocked. “Way to go Honey! I’d have kicked him in the nuts myself if I had the guts. You gonna tell your dad you did all that?”
“Why not, he’s the one who taught me how to do it. That’s nothing compared to what he would have done to Tony if he had drugged me instead of Piper. Besides, if I don’t tell him the complete truth, he’ll know it.”
“Is he psychic or something?” I smile at that.
“No, but sometimes I wonder. Piper looks OK for now, let’s go talk to him.” I walk out into the living room, the girls slowly following me. Bob calls out.
“I am in the kitchen Honey. All of you may come in and have something to drink.” We walk in together. Bob is sitting at the table. “Have a seat. Get something from the fridge if you want it.”
None of us wanted anything so we sat down. Bob had a glass of water, which he sipped.
“From your conversation, I gather that you were all going to spend the night at one of your houses. Whose house?”
Brit raises her hand. “Mine” she says quietly.
“When were you supposed to be home?”
“1:00 a.m. at the latest.” I look at the clock, its 12:25 p.m. It seems much later. I realize that I feel very tired. The adrenaline from our adventure must be wearing off. Bob thinks for a few seconds.
“The first thing is to inform your parents of the change in plans. I suggest that Sarah and Brittany call home and ask if it would be acceptable for the overnight to be moved to our home. The reason would be that Honey had promised to fix everyone a big breakfast so you all decided to do the overnight here, if the parents approve. I can speak with them to assuage any concerns they may have.” I raise my hand.
“What about Piper? She can’t make the call?”
“Good point Honey. I can make the call, apologize that we did not call sooner, give her parents the same basic story. If they ask to talk with her, I will say that you all are watching a movie and that she had fallen asleep, then offer either Brittany or Sarah to speak with them to confirm my story. Which of you would be the better choice?”
“I guess that would be me “said Brit. “I spend a lot of time over there and her mom likes me.”
“Good. If anyone asks why you left the party early, you tell them that Honey insisted. I will handle that question. Are you ready to start?”
Sarah called her parents first and it was just as Bob planned it. After explaining the change in plans, she gave the phone to Bob.
“Hello Mr. Watson, this is Bob James…. It is no problem at all, they are fine girls.... Honey is quite the cook. I always gain ten pounds when she visits.... That is my fault. I told Honey to come straight home if the party looked like it might get out of hand.... I agree completely, you cannot be too careful in this day and age.... I think the same time as originally planned I imagine, the only change I am aware of is the location.... It has been nice to talk with you too, Good night.” I can see that Sarah and Brit are very impressed. Bob is as slick as snot when he wants to be.
Brit’s call was just about the same, though it was her mother instead of her father. Piper’s mother didn’t even ask to talk with her, Bob was that smooth. Sarah leaned over to me as he was wrapping up the last call.
“He’s really good at this. What does he do?”
“Daddy is a bit of a jack of all trades.”
“I bet. And he taught you what you did to Tony?”
“Not the specifics, just the general techniques.”
“You lead an interesting life Honey.” You have no idea Sarah. Bob hangs up the phone.
“That resolves the overnight problem. Now you need to tell me all about the party. I want you to tell me everything you all can remember. My objective is to determine if there are any loose ends that need to be tied up. Honey, you can start and you other girls can add any details you think she may have missed.” He walked over to the fridge and picked up some notepads and pencils from the top, then handed them out to all three of us. “You can use these to make notes so you do not forget any point you want to make.” He sat back down, picked up his notepad and pencil. “Go ahead Honey.”
I started with when we arrived and told him everything I could remember that happened all evening. Brit and Sarah didn’t say anything at first, but when I got to my dancing with Jerry, they just had to add details I really didn’t want Bob to know. He could see that I was holding back. He reached out and touched my hand.
“You went to this party to have a good time Honey. I supported that decision. Do not worry about telling me embarrassing details from the evening. Nobody here has done anything wrong to my knowledge. Just tell your father the complete truth and it will be fine.” I take a deep breath and continue with my story, including the more embarrassing facts. It’s still not good enough for the girls, they don’t let me keep anything secret. They seem to be enjoying it. I get to the part where we discover Piper was missing. Bob stops me.
“I want to go back in the timeline a bit. You girls were all together for most of the evening but not all. Sarah, I need to know what you did when you were not with Honey.”
Sarah was reluctant to say a whole lot but Brit helped fill in the blanks, they were buddies for an hour or so after all. Then Bob asked Brit for the same information and Sarah was more than happy to spill Brit’s secrets. There was no doubt in my mind that Bob knew exactly what he was doing, playing one girl off the other. He took a few notes then put his pencil down.
“I think I have a good idea of what happened during the party. Honey, pick it up where you left off, the discovery that Piper was missing.” I gave him the rest of the story, including what I did to Tony. Sarah didn’t add anything to that part. Bob made some more notes.
“Did you say anything to Tony while you were ... dealing with him?”
“I told him that if I ever heard of him drugging girls again, or bother Sarah, Piper or Brit or try to find me that I’d come back, cut off his balls and wear them as earrings.” I hadn’t told Brit that. She was shocked again.
“DAMN HONEY! ... Oh, pardon me Mr. James.”
Bob chuckles softly. “No problem Brittany. That was my exact reaction.” Sarah and Brit giggle together. I think he’s won them over. He sets his notepad aside. “I think it is very clear that you three did an outstanding job dealing with a dangerous situation. Piper owes you all a debt of gratitude. She may not remember everything that happened to her and what you did for her, which in the long run may be for the best, but I want to congratulate you on your calm, cool reactions and bravery. I also want to thank you for making sure Honey came home safe and sound.”
“It wasn’t us” said Sarah. “It was Honey Mr. James. She took charge and knew exactly what to do. Brit and I just followed orders. If Honey hadn’t been there, I don’t know what we would have done.”
“That’s right, Mr. James” added Brittany. “Honey deserves all the credit. She was totally awesome tonight, like a commando or something. I was scared to death but she just jumped in and kicked ass ... sorry.”
“Either way, I am proud of all of you. To be successful, each of you had to keep calm, do your jobs and not panic. It was a team effort. I am sure that your parents would also be proud of you, though I can understand why you might not want them to know about everything that happened tonight. You will need to tell them something. I suggest you just stick with the facts up until Piper disappeared and say that a couple of guys got into a fight and Honey decided to leave. That leaves us with Piper’s likely memory problems.”
“I don’t understand Mr. James” said Brit. “Why should Piper not remember what happened?”
“The test strip indicated that the drink next to Piper was spiked with Flunitrazepam, the trade name being Rohypnol, colloquially known as Roofies. It is not licensed for sale in the US but that doesn’t keep it from being readily available. Its primary effects are a muscle relaxant, a sedative and amnesia, an excellent rape drug. The victim becomes easy to control and their memory becomes jumbled at worst and wiped clean at best. Combined with alcohol, the effects become stronger. It takes effect fifteen to twenty minutes after consumption and has a half life of eighteen to twenty six hours. Depending on how much she consumed, Piper may not recall much of tonight, including what happened before she was drugged. You may need to jog her memory a bit, maybe even create a few.” Sarah raised her hand slightly.
“What will happen to Tony? Honey poured some of that stuff down his throat.”
“That may be a break for us. He was drinking alcohol before consuming the drugs, likely quite a lot. The effects on him could be even stronger. He may not remember much at all, despite Honey’s efforts.” He dips his head towards me, smiling. I smile back at him. “Any other questions?”
“Yeah, what do we do about Piper?” asks Sarah. “Don’t we need to get her to a hospital or something?”
“There really is not a specific treatment for Rohypnol. It leaves the system through her kidneys. An overdose can lead to breathing problems. So far, her breathing is normal. If we could get her to drink some water, that would be a good thing. I will stay up with her tonight to make sure she is alright.”
“We can stay up too” said Sarah. “She’s our friend, we should take care of her.”
“There is no reason for all three of you to stay up all night. I will agree for you to take shifts along with me, three hours apiece. Is that acceptable?” I won’t be able to sleep until I know Piper is OK but I could use some rest.
“That’s fine by me. What about you guys?” They both agree. Brit goes first, me second and Sarah last. Sarah had one final question.
“Where did all that stuff come from, that electric zapper thing and those matches?”
“Those are mine” answered Bob, “souvenirs from prior assignments. After Honey told me about her fears concerning the party, I decided to dust them off and let her borrow them, just in case.”
“Lucky for us she had them.” Luck had nothing to do with it, credit Bob’s careful planning.
We decide to go to bed. Sarah and I take Bob’s bed, Brit and Bob set up in my bedroom to watch Piper. Brit doesn’t have a change of clothes with her, but we put together something for her from my clothes and Sarah’s bag. I set the alarm for three hours and try to get some sleep.
It’s impossible. Thoughts keep swirling in my head. What would I have done if I found Tony actual raping Piper? I know that I would have wanted to kill him, but would I have done it? What if we had been caught? We aren’t out of trouble yet but there’s no real evidence of our actions and Tony should be either too scared to say anything or may not actually remember much if we’re lucky. But what if some one had seen us and called security? We’d all be in big trouble and it would have been my fault. I got them into that party, I didn’t keep track of Piper. I lost control and attacked that prick Tony. I drug the girls with me through all this. Obviously, things didn’t work out very well tonight but it could have been far worse.
“Honey, are you asleep?” It’s Sarah.
“No, I can’t.”
“Me neither. Can we talk?”
“Sure ... look, I’m really sorry about everything. If I hadn’t brought you guys to that party, none of this would have happened. I promised to keep everybody safe and I screwed up. I know Piper will never forgive me, but I hope you and Brit know that I did my best and won’t hate me.”
“Honey, are you nuts? I practically twisted your arm to make you go so we could come with you. We all wanted to go to this party. The buddy system was your idea. We don’t know what happened to Piper but it wasn’t your fault, it was Tony’s. If it wasn’t for you ... God knows what he would have done to her. I’ve never seen someone jump in and take over like you did. We all owe you big time. Well ... you and your dad.”
“Thanks Sarah. I still feel shitty about it though. Piper’s in bed next door and we don’t know how the roofies will affect her.”
“I know. The more I think about it, the more I think Tony got off easy. I really wish you had more time to work him over. You should have cut his balls off right then!”
“Sarah!”
“You should have! He deserved it, they all deserve it!”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“Boys!”
“What, all boys?”
“Yes, every last rotten one of them!”
“Hey, only Tony ...”
“Yeah, but he seemed so nice. I danced with him too, you know. I sat right next to him. It could just as easily been me naked on that bed ... how do you know who to trust? They all seem OK and then... how do you know Honey?” She’s sobbing into her pillow. I reach over and rub her back.
“It’s OK Sarah. They aren’t all bad.” Of course, you’d have a hard time proving it by me. Most of the guys I see are barely above the scum of the earth. The rest of them are the scum of the earth. “There are some good guys out there. Very few are out there drugging us.”
“Yeah, that’s true but I saw a lot of guys getting their dates drunk at the party. Always getting them drinks, the girls trying to match the guys drink for drink. A guy handles booze better than a girl and they know it. The only difference between them and Tony is patience. They’re willing to wait for the booze to do its’ work, Tony couldn’t wait. Thanks for keeping us away from it tonight.”
Shit! I hadn’t thought about it, but she had something there. I had been a bastard when I was a guy, but I never drugged anybody, I never raped anybody. Amy says I raped her but I sure as hell didn’t intend to. I wasn’t one of those guys. But sitting on this side of the bed, listening to Sarah sob, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I’d partied with a lot of women who had too much to drink, which I paid for. I didn’t pour it down their throats or put a gun to their heads, but I didn’t try to stop them either. A drunk chick is a lot easier to get into bed and I had fucked a lot of drunk chicks in my time. I never hung around long enough for them to truly sober up. Either I left or I paid the cabbie to take them home. I never saw the consequences the day after. Had I left a trail of women like Sarah in my wake? And Sarah hadn’t even been abused, at least directly. She just had empathy for Piper, hell I did too. How was Piper going to react? Bob may be right, it would be better if she can’t remember much of tonight. Had I been just a slightly more civil version of Tony King? Sarah’s still crying, though not as bad as she was.
“Come on Sarah, it’s not that bad. All guys aren’t creeps and rapists. Do you think my dad would do something like that?’
“Of course not! He’s a nice person ... for a parent.”
“Would your dad get a woman drunk and fuck her?”
“Please Honey! He would never do that!”
“How about Brit’s dad or Piper’s dad?”
“OK, I get your point.” She’s just sniffing now, no more tears. “They aren’t all bad, but your dad and mine are adults. What about guys our age?”
“You’re right, they’re more likely to be idiots and jerks. It’s the testosterone. All they think about is sex. They grow out of it eventually.” At least most of them do. Josh Thomas sure as hell didn’t. “Even now though, most of them wouldn’t drug a girl to rape her or plan on getting them drunk for easy sex. Think of all the guys you know, how many of them do you think would do that?”
“Not many, but I didn’t think Tony would do that either. How do you know who the bastards are?”
“You don’t. It takes time. Start off with your guard up and be careful. Get to know a guy before you start a relationship. If he’s looking for a quick fuck, he won’t wait around, he’ll be off looking for an easier target. And watch the booze. If you’re just looking for a hookup, there are hundreds of guys to choose from at any big bar in town and your odds of picking a jerk go way up. If you want a keeper, take your time.”
“You sound like a mother ... a cool mother maybe. Do you take your own advice?”
“Sometimes.”
“I guess guys aren’t the only ones who are stupid at our age.”
“Sarah, the best we can hope for is to not screw up too bad before we get old enough to know better.”
“And how old is that?”
“I don’t know, fifty?”
She starts to laugh then stifles herself, giggling. “That’s crazy, I’d be an old lady by then.”
“We all make mistakes until the day we die Sarah, just try to avoid the really bad ones.”
“Like tonight?”
“Most of tonight wasn’t a mistake. You guys enjoyed yourselves, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, and so did you.” She pokes me in the ribs. “It’s a shame about you and Jerry. He might have been a keeper.”
“About that ... you may hear some crazy stories about me and my dad.”
“What kind of ‘crazy stories’?”
“You’ll know it if you hear them. If you don’t, then Jerry could have been a keeper.” I glance at the clock radio near the bed. I’ve got two hours before I have to get up. “Let’s try to get some sleep, I’m sitting with Piper in two hours.”
“OK. I hope she’s alright.”
“I’m sure she is. Good night Sarah.”
“Night Honey.” She rolls over onto her side and is quietly snoring in a few minutes. I still can’t sleep because I’m reviewing all my relationships for the past twenty five years, at least those I can remember, for evidence of “Tony King”-like behavior. The closer I look, the worse it gets.
There were always girls around and they wanted to be with me but I took whatever I could get, whenever I could get it. When the girls became women, it didn’t change. Maybe the sex was truly consensual, maybe it was just not objected to, maybe they were too drunk to know what was happening. Didn’t matter to me, so long as I got mine. How many did I hurt like Piper is going to hurt? How many did I hurt who were their friends, like Sarah and Brit? Must have been hundreds. What kind of person was I ... am I ... whatever. Other guys on the team were as bad as I was ... well, maybe not as bad but pretty bad.
There were also guys who loved their wives and kids and didn’t screw around. It wasn’t being a jock, it wasn’t the lifestyle, it was me. No one and nothing to blame but me.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The alarm woke me up. I hit the off button before Sarah woke up too. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up. Guess I did get some sleep, though it wasn’t peaceful. I vaguely recall some dreams about all the girls and women I have had sex with, screaming and shouting at me, then zapping me like I did Tony, except it was my cunt and tits. I was Honey Sweet-Lay, not Josh Thomas. That was some weird shit. Come to think of it, I’ve been “Honey” in my dreams for some time now, no matter if it was a good dream or a nightmare. Wonder what that means. I quietly walk to my room and slowly push the door open.
Piper is asleep in my bed. Brit is slumped in a chair, snoring. Bob is sitting in a second chair, cup of coffee in hand, reading a book with one of those battery operated book lights attached. He looks up as the door opens and smiles at me, his face bathed in the light reflected from the white pages.
“Come in Honey. I believe that she is going to be fine.” I sneak over to Brit and gently shake her. She keeps snoring for a few seconds, then stretches her arms and legs and opens her eyes.
“Piper’s OK Honey. She woke up and I got her to drink some water.”
Bob puts down his book and pats her on the arm. “It was a good thing Brittany was here. Piper was understandably confused when she awoke. Brittany was able to calm her and get her to drink something. Piper was not fully aware, the drugs are still in her system but she should be back to nearly normal by morning.”
“That’s great!” I whisper. “You can go to bed Brit. I’ve got it for now.”
She nods and stands up, flexing her shoulders. “Good night Honey, Mr. James. It was nice talking with you.”
“I also enjoyed our conversation Brittany. See you in the morning.” Brit shuffled out, closing the door softly behind her. I sit down in her chair and snuggle deep into it, still warm from her body heat.
“What did you guys talk about?”
“Quite a number of things, she is very outgoing. I can see why you are friends, there are several similarities. We mostly talked about how guilty she felt about Piper’s situation. Brittany was under the mistaken impression that this was all her fault.”
“You straightened her out, didn’t you?”
“Certainly.”
“Glad to hear it, since it was all my fault.”
“Not you too? I do not understand why you girls cannot see the truth staring you in the face. You had every right to attend that party, took every reasonable precaution, avoided alcohol, and reacted efficiently and effectively when you discovered the attack, likely within ten to fifteen minutes of Piper first ingesting the drugged drink. There were just four of you in a group of over two hundred people. If I had been in charge of a surveillance team in a similar environment, I would have insisted on at least nine trained professionals.”
“Really, nine?”
“At a minimum. To protect four scattered targets from an unknown threat in an open, unscouted environment, any less than nine would be unconscionable. You all did a remarkable job. If Brittany is to be believed, you deserve most of the credit for that.” I blush, though Bob can’t see it.
“I’m sure she exaggerated a lot. We all did it together. We wouldn’t have had to though it if I hadn’t taken them to that party. I should have stayed home with you.”
“Piper could have been attacked at any one of at least thirty five teenage parties taking place this weekend. There is some kind of risk no matter what you do. The victim is not to be blamed for what the perpetrator did. Just because you choose to drive does not make the drunk driver who hits you innocent. The rapist cannot blame the sexy clothes of the woman he attacks. Piper and, to a lesser degree, all of you are the victims here. The criminal is Tony King. He, and his possible accomplices, are at fault.”
“’Accomplices’? You mean Tony had help?”
“Not necessarily, but the possibility cannot be excluded. We will know more when Piper recovers fully. Her memories, even if they are incomplete, will be vital information in reconstructing the crime.”
“Does it even matter? We got out alive and no one came after us. We couldn’t prove anything in court and the cops would never investigate. The odds are they would come after me for what I did to Tony.”
“Are you willing to let him get away with this?”
“Tony didn’t exactly get out of this without a scratch, you know. I’d like to have done more to him but there wasn’t enough time. Besides, it’s not up to me, its Piper’s call.”
“I admire your willingness to let this go Honey. You are certainly a bigger person than I would be if I were in your shoes.”
“You mean heels don’t you?”
“Yes, heels, certainly.” It’s too dark to see his face clearly but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Is there anymore coffee?”
“Yes, but I made it a little strong.”
I stand up. “That’s fine by me. You want a refill?”
“Yes, please.” He hands me his cup. I leave my bedroom and look in on Brit and Sarah. I think they’re asleep, can’t hear anything but breathing. Continuing on to the kitchen, I first smell then see the pot of coffee. I pour a cup and take a small sip. Whoa! He wasn’t shitting me! I better drink this quick or it will dissolve the cup. I top off Bob’s cup and carefully return to the bedroom. I hand Bob his cup.
“Thank you Honey.” He takes a quick slurp. “I hope it is not too strong for your taste.”
I settle back down into the chair. “It’ll do the job. I’d say it that it’ll put hair on my chest but we both know that isn’t going to happen.”
“I have found that strong coffee is a good companion on long nights when you need to stay awake.”
“I don’t want to nod off tonight.”
“You could safely do so. I am confident that Piper is past the dangerous part of her recovery. It is not necessary for you to be here.”
“Are you staying up?”
“Yes, just to be safe.”
“Then I’m here too, just to be safe. Besides, if I’m awake, I’m not dreaming.”
“Did you have some disturbing dreams about tonight’s events? That does not need to be a bad thing. Dreaming can provide a certain amount of psychological relief.”
“They were disturbing alright.” Should I tell him about them? I’d hate for Bob to know what a horrible person I really am ... or was. The whole thing is so confusing. Yet, if he is what he says he is, he might be a good person to understand about regrets for past bad behavior. I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around my legs. “Sarah and I were talking, we both couldn’t sleep. It was the same thing you and Brit were talking about, whose fault all this was. I said it was mine and she thought it was Tony’s.”
“Clearly an intelligent girl.”
“Yeah, you’d think so. Problem was that she blamed all guys, not just Tony.”
“Do you mean for tonight?”
“No, tonight was just an example of how all guys behave. I tried to show her that they aren’t all like Tony and I think convinced her. Unfortunately, she made some good points. It forced me to look closer at how I had treated women throughout my life. It wasn’t pretty Bob. You already know that I had been a jerk most my life, treated just about everyone like shit. But seeing how much Sarah was hurting gave me a new perspective, like a new pair of eyes. When I looked at my life with that new pair of eyes, things were clearer. And a lot worse. I am... such a horrible person. There is no excuse for what I did to so many girls like Sarah, Brit and Piper. Tony was a total bastard and deserved what he got but I am hardly any better ... I don’t know if I can live with myself anymore.”
He puts down his coffee cup. “I assume that you are referring to things Josh Thomas did?”
“That I did Bob. I am Josh Thomas. The crap that Amy did to me doesn’t change that. My body may be changed, my brain may be changed, my memories haven’t changed. Being Honey Sweet-Lay doesn’t get me off the hook.”
“You certainly have a dilemma Honey.”
“A dilemma? Is that the best you’ve got? I hoped you had some pithy bit of advice for me, a solution. Surely you’ve had some kind of experience in this area.”
“Are you referring to my prior employment?”
“Of course, what else?”
Bob rubs his chin. “I certainly have learned to live with the consequences of the deaths of many people, some innocent, at my hands.” He picks up his cup and takes a long drink.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“How have you learned to live with it?”
He takes another drink. “One day at a time Honey.”
“That’s it?”
“Afraid so. There is no magic bullet, no drug, no treatment program. We have talked about this before. Until someone invents a time machine, you will not be able to go back into the past and change what happened. You can only control what you do in the future, can only try to move forward and live a better life, to help others. If you could find the women you abused, you could apologize, though in your case, that would be an extremely interesting conversation.”
“This isn’t funny, Bob!”
“I agree, I said it would be interesting, unprecedented in fact. Given the restrictions on your movements, there is only one victim you are likely to meet.” He can’t be serious.
“Amy? You expect me to apologize to her after what she did to me?”
“Haven’t you already apologized?”
“Yeah sure, when I was trying to stop her from raping me.”
“So you have never given her a heartfelt apology?”
“Why should I? After all she has put me through, she doesn’t deserve it.”
“You don’t do it for her sake Honey; you do it for your sake, if you are truly sorry. If you are not, apologizing is a waste of breath. I will raise one more point. Before I do so, I want you to understand that I am not doing so to insult you or cause you additional grief but I feel it necessary to make sure you are fully aware of the implications of your behavior. Do you understand that?”
“I guess. What is it?”
“Your treatment of Tony has similarities with Amy’s treatment of you.”
“WHAT!” Piper stirs in the bed Shit! I lower my voice. “What are you talking about? How can you compare what ...” Bob raises his hand.
“Just hear me out. She believes that you intentionally raped her. You believe that Tony would have raped Piper.”
“He had his pants off and stripped her naked after drugging her! They weren’t going to play Mahjong!”
“Please let me finish Honey. Neither of you reported it to the police because each thought that the police would have sided with the man because he was more famous or well connected.” OK, he’s probably right there. “Each of you decided to take the law into your own hands and punish the perpetrator as you saw fit.”
Yeah, that’s technically right but it is also comparing apples to oranges. “Are you finished? Can I say something?”
“Certainly, go on.”
“Alright, I can see your point, there are some similarities, but what she did is way beyond what I did to Tony.”
“So you are saying it is a matter of degree.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Honey, all of life is a matter of degree.”
“Huh?”
“If you get angry at someone, whether you push them or shoot them in the face with a shotgun is a matter of degree. I could give you a hundred other examples. Society has drawn lines. On one side of that line, certain behavior is legal. Similar behavior that is more extreme crosses that line and becomes illegal. You could make the same arguments about moral verses immoral behavior, though lines are not as clearly drawn in that area and it is much more subjective. My point is that both you and Amy faced similar situations, had similar reactions, experienced similar feelings and came up with similar answers.
“What are you saying?”
“That due to your unique situation, you have been both the perpetrator and victim, of sorts, of rape. I am not counting the vengeance rape by Amy, which was just pure spite on her part. My question to you is, having experienced what you have with Piper, do you have some understanding of what Amy felt and why she did what she did? You do not have to agree with her choices, but can you see where she is coming from?”
Damn him, why does Bob have to be so logical all the time? One thing I am sure of is that I am not Amy Hanson. “Look, I can see what you’re saying but you haven’t lived with that bitch like I have. She has put me through hell, day in and day out, for years. Tony deserved what he got, it wasn’t vengeance, it was justice. No one else was going to do anything so I did. And I’d do it again. What Amy did to me is way worse than what I did to her. You and I both know she’s crazy.”
“Agreed, but was she crazy before you raped her or after?”
“Don’t lay that on me! We had sex, but I don’t remember the details, only what she told me about it. She might have screwed up the facts in that whacked out head of hers. Believe me; I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember exactly what happened that night.”
“It sounds like you are trying to rationalize some behavior. You can apparently accept responsibility for what you did to other girls, but not what you did to Amy. You are probably correct, her anger is so extreme that it is likely based on something other than the rape, but the rape could have been the triggering event and you became the focus of her rage. Honey, I am not an expert, other than through experience. You asked for my opinion so here it is in a nutshell. You will never be able to move on with your life until you come to terms with your past bad acts. One of the steps towards that goal is being truly sorry for all that you did, regardless of the victim. You will eventually need to face Amy and honestly apologize.”
“Will I have to apologize to Tony too?”
“Not at all, he deserved everything he got. You were just trying to protect Brittany, Sarah and Piper from further harm.”
“See, that’s why Amy and I are different. I was doing it to help others and she was just punishing me.”
“Be honest Honey, there was an element of punishment in your treatment of Tony, wasn’t there?”
I can’t see them but I can feel his eyes starring me down, forcing the truth from me. “Alright, yes there was.”
“A matter of degree Honey. Would you like some more coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I hand him my cup. “Could you add a little milk to take the edge off it?”
“Be happy to.” He gets up and heads for the kitchen. I hear him opening the fridge for the milk.
“Honey?”
It’s Piper. She’s awake! I get up and kneel next to her.
“Yes Piper, it’s me. How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. Where are we?”
“My house. I’ll turn on a light, watch your eyes.” I reach out to partially shield her eyes as I turn on the lamp next to the bed. She grimaces as the light hits her face, eyes shut tight. She blinks, then slowly opens them about half way.”
“Why are we at your house? We should be at Brit’s. Where are Brit and Sarah?”
“They’re in the bedroom next door, asleep I hope.”
She starts to get out of bed. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Wait, I’ll help you.” I lift the covers off her and grab her around the shoulder as she stands up. She’s a little wobbly. I keep a good grip on her as she slowly walks to the bathroom.
“Do you feel sick? Are you gonna throw up?”
“No, I just need to take a pee.” Ooookay. We step into the bathroom and I turn her around.
“Will you be OK by yourself in here?”
She reaches out and puts a hand on the sink, steadying herself. “I think so.” She seems just a little disoriented.
“You sure?”
She takes a deep breath and exhales. “Yeah.”
I start to shut the door behind me as I leave. “I’ll just be outside. Call if you need anything.” She nods “yes” and I close the door.
Bob comes back into the room. “Piper in the bathroom?”
“Yes, though she seems a bit out of it.”
“Sounds like she is better. Last time she woke up, she could barely sit up.”
“She was able to walk but needed some help.”
“Once she is done, get her to drink some more water, as much as she is comfortable with. It will help her kidneys remove the Rohypnol from her system. I’ll leave you two alone. She might be concerned about my presence.” He sets my cup down and leaves the room.
I wait outside the bathroom for a minute or two, but I don’t hear anything happening. I knock on the door.
“Piper, are you OK?” The toilet flushes and then the faucet is turned on. She opens the door and steps out, looking like hell. Her eyes are red and puffy, a vacant stare. “What took you so long?”
“I feel asleep on the toilet.”
“Here, have some water, don’t want you to get dehydrated.” I get her to drink two glasses and then help her back to bed.
“Honey, what happened?” Should I tell her? Probably wouldn’t understand it right now.
“Just a little food poisoning we think. Go back to sleep and you’ll feel a lot better in the morning.”
She crawls back into bed and I pull the covers back up, tuck her in and sit back down. I’ve got one and a half hours left on my shift. Hope Bob’s coffee holds out.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Bob came back into the room about ten minutes later. He brought me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It really hit the spot. We kept talking but just small talk, he dropped the serious stuff. Small talk with Bob is still more interesting than talking with practically anybody else; you just never know what he’s going to say. We plan the ‘big breakfast’ that I’m fixing in the morning. The less the girls have to lie, the less likely they are to get caught. I don’t know how good any of them are at lying. Bob may be able to give them a few more tips before they leave.
When Sarah comes in to relieve me, it’s just after 6:00 a.m. I stayed with her and Bob went out to get donuts. I gave her an update report on Piper, who was still asleep but not restless. She was relieved to hear that Piper seemed to be out of the woods. The next problem was what to tell her about the attempted rape. Assuming that she didn’t remember much, should we give her all the gory details or tell her just enough to explain her problems. I’d already punted on the subject when I told her she had food poisoning, but I was just trying to get her back in bed without a scene.
Sarah wanted to tell her the whole truth, everything we saw and did.
“How is she going to learn from this if we hide the truth from her?” I think that Sarah is a little pissed at Piper and wants to make her suffer a bit for ruining a nice evening.
“Sure, that sounds good but she could have some serious psychological problems if she gets too many details.”
“We can’t tell her just part of the story. If someone tried to do that to me, I’d keep asking questions and pushing it until I had the entire truth, and Piper’s probably more pigheaded than I am. If we tell her anything, she’ll want it all.”
“And then she freaks out, needs to see a shrink, her parents find out the truth, then your parents get the truth and all hell breaks loose. I don’t have a dog in this hunt. My dad already knows the truth and I’ll be long gone when the shit hits the fan. I’m just worried about you guys. I didn’t take you to that party for you to get in trouble at home.”
Sarah is quiet, thinking about what I said. “If we don’t tell her and then she found out we either lied to her or didn’t tell her the whole truth, it would destroy our friendship. We’ve known each other since grade school.”
“How would she find out?”
“Tony says something to somebody. Someone we don’t know about saw something and asks her about it, or worse, spreads stories about how drunk she was. There’s an investigation into what we did to Tony and questions are asked. And don’t forget Brit, she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”
“Really?”
“If you want the world to know something, tell Brittany Wells.”
“Even something this big?”
“Oh she’ll try, but eventually she’ll either crack or slip up. I love her like a sister but she’s a blabber mouth.”
“Dad always says that if two people know a secret, it isn’t a secret.” I sigh in frustration. “Guess there’s no choice, we’ll have to tell her, assuming she doesn’t remember on her own. How the hell do we do it?”
Sarah stretches her arms and yawns.
“I’ve got no idea. Hope your dad has some kind of plan. He seems good at that sort of thing.”
“Good isn’t even close.” I hear the garage door opening. “Speak of the devil.”
“Honey!”
“Don’t worry, he’d consider it high praise. I’ll go see what he got.” By the time I get to the kitchen, Bob has brought the donuts and pastries in and is arranging them on a platter.
“These look pretty good.” I pick up an apple fritter and take a big bite.
“Honey, save them for the guests.”
“Aren’t I a guest?’
“Not this morning. You are one of the hosts, at least for now. I will go take your spot with Piper and you can start your quiche.” We had decided on Crab Quiche for breakfast. It is fairly easy to make and I can fix it now, bake it later after everyone is up. Better get started.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Everything is ready by 7:45 a.m. I also ate another fritter. I went back to my bedroom. Piper was still asleep and Sarah and Bob were quietly talking.
“What’s up?” I whisper.
“Your father has a plan.”
“Big surprise.”
“There are no guarantees here” said Bob. “It relies more on Piper’s strength than anything else. Sarah assures me that Piper is a particularly strong willed and mature young woman. I believe that if all three of you tell her exactly what happened, it would limit the damage. She needs your unconditional support. Even if you discover that she made an error in judgment that gave Tony his opening, she should not be criticized. All of you seem to insist that each of you alone is responsible for last night’s events. I hope that I have convinced you otherwise.” He looks at Sarah.
“Yes, Sir” she said.
“Good. We do not want Piper to make the same mistake. I will leave you all alone but be nearby should I be needed. If she starts to have trouble, you should take a break to let her compose herself before continuing.”
“What if she can’t compose herself?” I ask.
“That is when you call me. I have access to some pharmaceuticals which I would prefer not to use, last resort type of thing. It is my hope that she will be able to handle the full truth because your quick action prevented the worst from happening. I would like for her to have eaten some food before we start. If she has not awakened on her own by 9:00, get her up and have her take a shower.”
“She was kinda wobbly the last time she was up, what if she isn’t any better?”
“One of you could shower with her.” Sarah and I look at each other. I open my mouth but Sarah beats me to the punch.
“Not it.” Crap! Piper better be rock steady when she gets up. Bob is trying to keep from laughing.
“Fine, but if I’m helping her, someone will need to finish breakfast.”
“Just give me directions Honey and I will take care of it. I suggest that Sarah go back to my room, shower and get dressed, Brittany also, if she is awake. If not, we can wake her up at around 8:30 so everyone is ready for Piper. That is my plan. Do either of you have other ideas or any objections?”
I’d already said what I wanted to. Sarah didn’t say anything so she didn’t have any problem or was intimidated by Bob. He does that to people once they get to know him.
“I’m going to put the oven on timer. If I have to help Piper, you’ll just need to put the quiche in when the beeper goes off.”
“Quiche?’ asks Sarah. “I love quiche.”
“It’s a crab quiche.”
“Oooohh, I’ve never had that, it sounds scrumptious. I’ll go shower and get dressed, then get Brit in gear. Thanks Mr. James, you’ve helped a lot.” Sarah stood up and left. I noticed Bob was smiling.
“What are you so happy about?”
“Just glad to see you taking responsibility for the welfare of your friends.”
“Bull shit. You were thinking about me and Piper in the shower together.”
“I really wasn’t, but now that you mention it ...”
“You just forget about it right now mister. She’s only seventeen. Don’t be a perv.”
“Well, how old are you?”
“Legally, biologically or actually?”
“Good point. You take care of the kitchen and I will wait here. Hurry back. It would be best that she see a familiar face should she wake up.”
I hustle to the kitchen and set the oven timer for pre-heat and cooking times. Piper is still asleep when I get back. We can hear the shower in Bob’s room, it’s probably Sarah. The noise, or something else, causes Piper to roll over onto her side. I freeze until she settles down, then sit in the chair.
“I didn’t tell you how well the Witness Protection story worked. I think Jerry bought it. We won’t know for sure for awhile, but he seemed to believe me.”
“Even if he does not honor your request to keep it to himself, he likely accepts it as true. The advantage of giving him two stories is that he should keep the second to himself and not be looking for you. By placing your ‘life into his hands’, you gave him a reason to feel special and trusted. That should reduce the chance of him telling someone else. Unfortunately, he may also feel the need to prove to his friends how special you thought he was by revealing the story to them.”
“I got the feeling he was mature enough not to do that.”
“That would be nice but you will be protected either way, at least as well as possible. With you working where you do, there is always the chance he or one of his friends will show up at the club.”
“Probably not for a couple of years. Anthony may not pay attention to many laws but he does card religiously. Underage customers in a place like that can bring down a lot of heat from parents and the authorities. Besides, it’s a pretty rough crowd and most young kids are looking for a tamer place for their first stripper experience.”
“I will defer to your judgment on that issue Honey.” There’s a quiet knock at the door. It’s Sarah.
“I’m done and Brit is getting dressed. Should we wake Piper now?” I check the time, its 8: 45.
“There is nothing sacred about 9:00” Bob said. “I would wait until Brittany is present. All three of you can wake her. That should allay any fears she may have about waking in a strange place.” We both agreed with that. Sarah sat on the floor and we waited, watching Piper sleep. Brit knocked about ten minutes later. She came in as Bob left. We gathered around the bed. Sarah was just about to shake her when I remembered something.
“She woke earlier and I told her she had food poisoning. We might as well stick with that for now, OK?” Neither of them had a better idea. Sarah started to gently shake her.
“Piper? Piper? Come on, wake up Piper.” She kept jostling her until her eyes opened. They were not as red and puffy as before. Piper slowly sat up.
“Uhhhgg, I feel like shit.” She stretches her arms. “What day is it?” Brit answers that one.
“Day? It’s Sunday, November thirtieth ... two thousand eight.”
Piper stares at her. “Jeez, of course it’s two thousand eight. How long do you think I’ve been asleep?” She looks around. “Where are we?”
“You’re at my house” I said. “You weren’t feeling well so we decided to stay here, it was the closest, plus you’d get a bed instead of sleeping on the floor.”
“Oh yeah, food poisoning. Did any of you guys get sick?”
“No” said Sarah.
I shook my head “Nope.”
“What did I eat that you didn’t?” Sarah, Brit and I look at each other.
“We don’t know” said Sarah. “It may have been a combination of things. How do you feel?”
“OK I guess. My head hurts and I feel weak, but my stomach is fine ... I may actually be hungry. Is there anything to eat?”
“I’ve made some breakfast. We can eat after you get dressed. Do you want to take a shower?”
“That’s a good idea. Where’s my bag?” Brit holds it up.
“Right here.” Piper slides out of bed and stands up while we hover around her. She seems like she has her balance.
“Give me some room, I’m fine.”
“You sure?” asks Sarah.
“Yeah, yeah, no problems.”
“You don’t need any help?” Piper looks at all of us.
“Of course not. The only thing I need is some food. What’s going on here?”
“Well,” I said “You woke up a little earlier and seemed kinda out of it. We just want to be sure you don’t fall down or something.”
“I’m fine, just get me a towel, I’ll shower and we can have breakfast or lunch or brunch or ... what time is it anyway?”
“A little after 9:00.”
“Good, it’s breakfast.” She yawns. “I hate to miss a meal. I’ll be ready in ten minutes” She picks up her bag, shuffles into the bathroom and closes the door. We hear the shower start in a few seconds.
“She seems OK. You guys stay here until she gets out. I’ll go finish breakfast. Call me or my dad if there’s a problem.”
“OK Honey” said Brit. “I take my coffee black with three sugars.”
“You can add your own sugar.”
I walk back to the kitchen. Bob is setting the table.
“How is Piper?”
“So far so good. She didn’t need any help in the shower, so too bad for your fantasy scene.”
He grins at me. “I have many more fantasies to keep me warm at night Honey.”
I move close to him. “Any you would care to share?”
He looks around. “Not with company here. We might have a hard time explaining that kind of father-daughter conversation. Are the other two keeping watch over Piper?”
“Yes, I came out to finish the quiche.”
“The buzzer went off so I put it in the oven about five minutes ago.”
“Good, it should be done in the next twenty minutes. If everyone gets here sooner, they can have donuts, juice or milk. Do we have juice?”
“Frozen apple and orange.”
“I’ll fix both, give them a choice.” I get one of each from the freezer, dump them in pitchers, add water and stir, then put the pitchers in the fridge, Sarah sticks her head in the kitchen.
“No trouble yet, though she’s taking longer in the shower than usual.”
“Sure she’s OK?”
“Yes, I can hear her moving around.”
“I won’t be ready for at least ten more minutes so she can take as much time as she needs.”
“It is best to let her go at her pace” added Bob. “We want her as comfortable as possible.”
“You got it.” Sarah ducks back out. I double check everything but it is all ready, except for the quiche. Bob pulls out a chair for me.
“Have a seat Honey, if there is nothing to do, sit down and rest.” I reluctantly sit.
“I’m kinda nervous, it’s hard to sit.” He reaches over and pats my hand.
“We’ve done all we can. I believe it will be fine.” I put my other hand on top of his.
“I hope you’re right. I don’t know what I’ll do if Piper has any problems.”
“No matter what happens, just remember that you have done nothing wrong and have made every effort to clean up someone else’s mess.”
“Thanks Bob, I appreciate that.”
I’d tell him again that I love him but he hasn’t responded very well to that in the past. Usually, when you tell someone that you love them and they don’t tell you that they love you too, that’s a pretty good sign that they don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything to him, just kept my mouth shut. Our situation is so weird; I don’t know what I thought he would say. I hoped that the feelings would be mutual, but it’s pretty clear that they aren’t. The timer goes off on the oven.
I get up and check the quiche. It looks done. I open the door and stick a knife in the center. It comes out clean so I remove the quiche from the oven and set it on a trivet to cool. Brit comes in.
“They’re coming!” she whispers. Piper is just seconds behind her, quickly followed by Sarah. Bob stands up to great them.
“Good morning ladies! Come in and have a seat. Honey promised you an outstanding breakfast and I believe she has delivered. We have milk, coffee, apple juice and orange juice. What would you like?” Everyone places their orders, Bob pours and serves.
I pass the donut platter. “The quiche needs to cool a few minutes so you can start with donuts, if you want.” They all take something, even Piper, and start to eat. There is silence at the table, we are all too nervous to say anything. Bob starts asking questions.
“Sarah, did you see many people at the party that you knew?”
“No, just us and the boys that invited us.”
“That was Jerry Pitman, Ken Wallace and Tony King?” Sarah flinches at the mention of Tony’s name. I steal a look at Piper; she doesn’t have any reaction, just keeps eating.
“Yeah, that’s them.”
“Did you make any new friends?”
“No, I didn’t, it wasn’t that kind of party, too noisy.”
“That’s a shame. How about you Piper, did you meet anyone new?”
“Just a friend of the guys, Tommy Whitlock.” She remembers something at least.
“Oh yeah” said Sarah “I forgot about him.”
“A nice boy?”
“Nice enough” said Piper.
“Did you meet any one new Brittany?”
Bob kept this up the entire breakfast, fairly gentle questions to all of us, including me, going back and forth through the evening, jumping around in time. He already knew most of the answers, it was all a show for Piper. I had gotten up after a few minutes and served the quiche. They all seemed to like it, they ate it at least. Bob had been avoiding the later part of the party, when we assumed that Tony or someone had drugged Piper. She seemed comfortable answering his questions.
“Did any of you girls take advantage of the generous open bar to try something more exotic than a soft drink?” Bob looks at me, our eyes meet and he quickly nods his head slightly.
He wants me to say that I had a beer or something, to see if Piper will admit to having drunk more than pop. There’s safety in numbers.
“I know that we agreed to no alcohol daddy but I did have a rum and Coke, just one though.”
“Honey! How could you?” cried Sarah. “It was your rule!”
“It was late, I was getting tired and I thought that one wouldn’t hurt, help me keep awake. It wasn’t that big a deal. I bet you had something too Sarah.”
“What?” She’s starring at me with narrowed, angry eyes. I subtly nod at her and then Piper. Her eyes suddenly widen. She got it.
“Come on, admit it Sarah, you had a drink didn’t you?”
“Not a big drink.”
Brit is astonished. “Both of you said no booze and then you go and break the rules! Why did we even bother?”
“I bet you had at least one too Brit” urged Sarah. She was trying to get her attention just as I did but Brit wasn’t catching on.
“I certainly did not! If I make a promise, I keep it.” We would be better off if Brit joined us but Piper my still say something.
Bob picked up where we left off. “I assumed that there would be some alcohol consumption, it is only natural. I just wanted to make sure that no one had too much. And you Piper, did you try something new?”
She hesitates, thinking. “Weeellll ... I did.” Come on Piper, say it. “Tony told me about something called a ‘Screaming Orgasm’; he said it was really good.”
“Did you have one?” He asked that so casually, like it didn’t matter what the answer was.
“I ... I … think so. I remember going to the bar with him and he ordered one ... he handed it to me ... I drank some of it.”
“Was it any good?”
“Not really.”
“What happened next?” We were all leaning forward, holding our breath. All except Bob, who was leaning back in his chair. Luckily, Piper was concentrating on him.
“I ... can’t remember. Maybe it was that drink that made me sick.”
“You cannot remember a single thing?”
“Some things but it’s all jumbled up.”
“What do you remember?”
“Being outside of the warehouse. I was hot and then cold ... I was carried a couple of times ... I think I was on a bed ... there was a car ride in there somewhere ... that’s about it. I might be able to remember more. Is it important?”
Bob stands up. “I will leave you ladies alone for awhile. Call me if you need help.” He walks over to Piper and touches her shoulder. “You have three very good friends here Piper. They just want to help you.” Bob leaves the kitchen and we all scoot our chairs closer to Piper, who looks concerned.
“OK guys, what’s going on?” I take her hand in both of mine.
“Piper … it wasn’t food poisoning.”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
She took it better than I thought she would; better than I would have if I had been in her place. Piper was more interested in what didn’t happen instead of what could have happened. Her memory came back a little as we filled in the blanks. We never could figure out if Tony spiked the drink or if the bartender did it on his instruction. It doesn’t really matter, though it would be nice to catch the bartender if we could prove it, keep some other girls from being victims in the future.
As we told her the story, Piper was first shocked, then impressed at all that we did in such a short time. I have to admit, I was kinda impressed myself. It all went back to the planning Bob did with me, running through all the things that could go wrong and what to do about it. We didn’t think of the exact situation that developed but there were similar ones and the principles were the same, except what I did to Tony, that was all my audible. I couldn’t tell the girls about all that prep work, how could I explain it? None of us had really talked to each other about what we did until now, we told Bob but had not rehashed it with each other, reliving it and savoring the results. You could almost see Sarah and Brit become more confident with each passing minute. I also began to feel more capable, like the old days. Just as Bob predicted, Piper blamed herself for what happened. She still wanted to kick Tony in the nuts but said none of this would have happened if she hadn’t broken the rules, which was true. We told her that people make mistakes and all you can do is learn from them and move forward, though if the unlikely chance presented itself, a kick in the balls for old times sake would be OK. We were actually able to laugh a little because Piper was so strong and accepting. When Bob came back in, we were giggling about what we saw in the first RV and Piper was pissed we hadn’t taken the time to shoot some video with a cell phone.
“It seems that all of you are feeling better. How are you Piper?” Bob asked as he sat down.
“OK, I guess. Nothing really bad happened, it could have but it didn’t, thanks to these guys. I’ll never let someone else handle my drink ever again, you can be sure of that. Thanks for letting Honey borrow your old equipment. They would have had a hard time dealing with Tony King without it.”
“Your welcome, but I think that they would have come up with an answer to that problem without my help.” Fat chance. We may have been able take Tony down, if all three of us worked together, but it would have taken time we didn’t have and probably brought security down on us. We know which side the security guards would have taken. “My only advice is that you not be afraid to seek professional help should you start to suffer any ill effects from the experience. We know someone who would have been better off if she had sought help instead of planning her vengeance, don’t we Honey?” He means Amy.
“Yes, we do.” What would my life be like if Amy had gotten counseling instead of plotting for years to pay me back?
“You don’t need to worry about that Mr. James. Our school has some good counselors, I’ve used them before on other stuff. Plus, I don’t need to worry about vengeance, Honey already took care of that for me.” She pats my hand. That’s me, the Enforcer.
The girls insisted on cleaning up, so Bob and I went to the living room and sat down next to each other. I sandwich his right hand between mine.
“Do you think she’ll be good Bob?” He puts his free hand on top of mine.
“Hard to say Honey. She seems to have a fine attitude now, but it may be an act or temporary. As long as Sarah and Brittany continue to look out for her, it should work out for the best.”
“I feel like I’m abandoning them.”
“What choice do you have? You have to return to the club tomorrow morning. You have done the best that you could for them.”
“We did the best. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more credit in there. You know that I’d never have been able to do any of that without your help. Just knowing that you were nearby took a lot of pressure off me. When we drove through that gate and you pulled out to follow us, I felt like I was already safe at home.”
“Thank you, Honey. This weekend has been much more eventful than we had planned. Still, a lot of lessons have been learned by everyone, including me.”
“You?! What lessons did you learn?”
“We will talk about it later today, I think the girls are done in the kitchen.” Sarah, Piper and Brit file out of the kitchen and stand in front of us. Sarah steps forward just a little.
“We’ve talked and wanted to tell you both something. This has been a screwed up couple of days, with some bad stuff happening but there has been a lot of good stuff too. We have decided that there’s more good stuff than bad and want to thank you both for all you have done for us. We got to go to a fun party and kick a bastard’s ass. I don’t know if we could stand many more weekends like this, but we are going to miss you Honey. You may be many things, but boring ain’t one of them. Brave, smart and loyal are. We hope that you’ll come see your friends next time your in town.” I can’t keep from crying.
“You guys are the BEST!” I stand up and we fall into a group hug, everybody crying. What would it be like to stay here, go back to school with Piper, Sarah and Brit? Right now, I think I’d sell my soul to try it. I look back at Bob and see what may be a tear in his eye. I’ve never seen him cry or even get a little misty eyed. Wow, this is getting to him too. He rubs his left eye.
“I appreciate your thanks ladies. Unfortunately, it is time for me to take you all home. Do you feel well enough to travel Piper?”
“Yes” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m still a bit woozy, but I can fake it.”
“I told your mother that you were asleep when I called to explain the change of address for the overnight. Everyone was watching a movie after the party. Is there a particularly long movie you all have seen before and could answer questions if quizzed?” They think for a moment.
“How about ‘Lord of the Rings, Extended Edition’? That’s like three and a half hours” suggests Brit. They’ve all seen it.
“Alright, here is the story. You stick to the truth on the party until the time when Piper disappears. At that point, you left because Honey insisted on it due to a fight breaking out between two guys. None of you saw the fight, only Honey did, she was leaving and she was your ride. The change in your overnight occurred because Honey offered to fix a special breakfast. When you came back here, you watched ‘Lord of the Rings, Extended Edition’ and either watched the whole thing or fell asleep, your call. Stick with the truth starting with this morning. That should get you through most questions by your parents. Any questions?”
No one had any so the girls went to pack their bags. Brit was going to keep the clothes she borrowed from me and Bob come up with a suit bag for her dress and stuff. We loaded the car, climbed in and left to take the girls home. Bob accompanied each one to their door and told whichever parent that answered what a nice, polite, responsible person their daughter was and how much we enjoyed their visit. They were suitably impressed. Bob can sell it so well, it’s scary sometimes. Sarah was the last one to be dropped off. We were both sitting in the back seat.
“Honey, if we never see each other again, I won’t ever forget you.”
“Me neither Sarah. If Tony causes problems for any of you, contact my dad.”
“What can he do about it?”
“You’d be surprised.” We hug each other. “Take care Sarah.”
“You too Honey. See ya later.” She grabs her bag, opens the door and heads for her front door, Bob walking right next to her. He gives the same speech to her mother when she opens the door. Mrs. Watson invites us in but Bob begs off, telling her that we must get home to prepare for my return to my “mother”. Bob walks back to the car, gets in and we drive away, Sarah and I waving to each other until we lose sight of her house. I sit back in the seat, sniffing away my tears.
“I’m never going to see any of them ever again, am I?”
“That is hard to say Honey. There are always the Christmas holidays.”
“Don’t sugar coat it Bob. We both know it won’t happen. They’re going back to school and I’m going back to Hell.”
“We still have the most of a day left. Is there something you want to do or see?”
“Nope, let’s go home. The games should start soon. We can have some beers and snacks while we watch. You do have beer don’t you?”
“I bought a twelve pack of your favorite when I learned you would be visiting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
“I wanted to save it for a surprise when you were feeling down. Also, we had underage company.”
“Thanks. It won’t make all the pain go away but it’ll help.”
“I did not get the beer for you to use it for self-medication Honey, it is just a little treat.”
“How many are you letting me drink ... Daddy.”
“I will leave that to your discretion and I would appreciate you not calling me ‘Daddy’ unless necessary. It brings up a number of uncomfortable issues for me.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“There is no way you could.” We drive on in silence, the mood a little frosty.
When we get back to his house, Bob quickly walks in, leaving me sitting in the car. He may be pissed at me, that ain’t good. I slowly walk in, looking around.
“Bob? ... Where are you? ... Bob?” I hear him in the kitchen. “Are you OK?” He’s in there, pouring potato chips into a bowl.
“You can go and start watching the pre-game Honey, I will take care of the snacks.”
“You sure?”
“I can handle it.”
Ooookaaaay. Probably best to do what he says. I have a seat on the couch and turn on the TV. After a few minutes, I hear the popcorn popper, then smell it. There is nothing as good as the smell of fresh popcorn, especially that unhealthy stuff at the movie theaters. About five minutes later, Bob walks out of the kitchen carrying a large tray with chips, pretzels and popcorn. He sets it down on the coffee table in front of the couch and walks back to the kitchen, returning right away with two beers. Actually two Guinness Stouts. He hands one to me and sits down on the couch, saying nothing. We sit there, sipping our drinks, until I can’t stand it anymore.
“I’m sorry if I upset you Bob. I don’t know what I said, but I’m sorry.”
“I am not upset with you, I am just thinking about some things. My social graces tend to degrade when my attention is elsewhere.”
“What are you thinking about?”
He sighs. “How to respond to your belief that you love me.”
Crap! Why did he have to bring that up? “Look, just forget I said it. You didn’t say anything at the time and we both know what that means. I’m sorry I even brought it up. I don’t want to screw up what we do have and you could probably never actually love someone like me so ...” I would have kept babbling if Bob had not reached up and touched my lips with his index finger.
“I refuse to sit here and let you denigrate yourself due to my shortcomings. You are a perfectly lovable woman Honey. It is my deficiencies that are the problem.”
“Wait ... are you saying that it isn’t me but that it’s you?”
“Putting it simply, yes.”
“OH COME ON! Don’t give me that old ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line! I’ve used that for years! You don’t love me, I get that, but at least tell me the truth. I deserve at least that!” I shouldn’t be so mad at him. Neither of us had ever promised the other much of anything. I shouldn’t be as pissed as I am ... but I am fucking pissed! How dare he blow me off with a cliché like that?
“I am willing to explain, if you want to hear it.”
“You bet I want to hear it!” I turn around on the couch and plant myself right next to him, staring daggers. “Go on, I’m waiting.” He takes a deep breath and starts.
“I have been very reluctant to reveal much about myself ...”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” I’m being bitchy. I know it but don’t care. He goes on like he doesn’t recognize it too.
“That is mostly because I am a private person but also because knowledge is power. The less others know about me, the more difficult it is to deal with me, to prepare for my actions. I try to take advantage of this whenever possible.”
“What does this have to do with you not loving me?”
“Patience Honey, please. I will get to that. It takes a different kind of person to do what I did for the government. There are a whole range of physical skills to be mastered but that is not enough. You must be psychologically suited for the job also. It is fairly easy to teach most any one the physical skills, but they have had very little success in adjusting a person’s psyche to make him or her a successful assassin. That means the government recruits those who show the proper mental aptitude and then teach the required physical skills. It is that mental state that made me an extraordinary assassin and very poor boyfriend material.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“The diagnosis is ‘Borderline Sociopathic Personality’.”
Oh. My. God.
“Would you like me to explain what that means Honey?”
I swallow hard, trying to keep from freaking out. “Sure ...Yes ... I would like that.”
“Please remain calm Honey. If I was going to harm you in any way, I would have done it by now, don’t you think?”
Yeah, that’s right. I relax a little.
“OK. Sorry about that. You can’t blame me though. I mean you’re talking, like, serial killer here, right?”
“There are many similarities but, as my doctor said, it is the ‘Borderline’ part of the diagnosis that is the difference between walking the streets verses a padded cell.” He smiles at that point but, somehow, I don’t see the humor. He continues.
“There are several similar psychoses; psychopathic, sociopathic, antisocial, dissocial, with a lot of gray areas between them. There are no bright lines, so you tend to land on a point along a continuum. A Borderline Sociopathic Personality tends to be more dissocial than antisocial, much less impulsive than a psychopathic personality but still has a lack of concern for others, lacks empathy with an inability to experience guilt. It is that lack of empathy and inability to experience guilt that made me a good recruit from the government’s standpoint.”
I don’t know what to think about this. I had some psych classes in college but rarely showed up so the words are familiar but I can’t remember, if I ever knew, what they mean.
“Luckily, psychopathy does not necessarily lead inexorably to criminal or violent behavior. A psychopath or sociopath with high social cognition may be able redirect their dissocial behaviors into more positive directions.”
I’m beginning to feel safe enough to ask some questions. “What is ‘high social cognition’?”
“Social cognition is how people process social information, especially its’ encoding, storage, retrieval and application to social situations. I have some problems with that and have made a point of studying how people act and react in various situations. I may not be able to understand it, but I can mimic it quite well. Unfortunately, not perfectly.”
This explains so much about his behavior. One minute a caring tender lover, the next like you’re feelings don’t matter at all. Claiming he wants to help, then suggesting a tracking device be implanted in me.
“What kind of ‘positive directions’ are you talking about? You were a killer. That seems pretty violent to me.”
“You are correct, but it was controlled violence, directed at the ‘enemies’ of the United States, though, in retrospect, I am not sure if they were all enemies of the United States or if some were just the enemies of my superiors. That is one of the reasons I was not upset when the MS forced my early retirement. That and their general incompetence. I am a ‘high function’ Borderline Sociopathic Personality, if you will.”
“How did this happen to you? Isn’t there some kind of treatment?”
“Just as with my MS, the cause is unknown and the condition cannot be cured. It cannot even be treated, unlike the MS.”
“Could they be connected? The same thing causes the MS and the Borderline Sociowhatever?”
“I cannot say it is impossible, but there is no statistical correlation between the two conditions. They are both relatively rare, the psychosis more so.”
“So you hit the lottery twice.”
“It would seem so.”
“So you don’t love me because ...”
“Because I could not truly love you or anybody else.”
“You have no feelings of any kind?”
“Not quite true, I have feelings, emotions; they are just not as strong as they are in the normal person, at least that is what I have been told. My test scores are well below the norm. Unfortunately, the negative emotions tend to be stronger than the positive ones, again an advantage in my prior profession but less useful in normal life.”
“So, there is no hope for us as a couple?”
“In addition to my emotional limitations, we still have the original problem of Amy Hanson and her plans for you. You are correct, there is not much hope for us.” He said “not much”, not “no”. Maybe I’m making too much out of a slip of the tongue.
“You said ‘not much hope’ Bob. Why?”
He reaches out and takes my hands, caressing them gently. “That is exactly what I have been thinking about. Something has been happening to me which I do not understand. I have been experiencing emotions in the last few weeks differently than ever before. They have become sharper, brighter, stronger, more frequent and harder to control.”
“I saw you almost cry when I hugged all the girls just before we left.”
“Good example. A month ago, that would not have happened. I have no explanation for this change; however the end result is that I find that I have strong feelings for you ... at least strong for me.” I slid closer to him, our knees touching.
“What kind of feelings?” I quietly ask.
He seems a little embarrassed. “I look forward to seeing your face each morning ... I wonder about what you are doing when we are not together ... I worry about if you are happy when we are together ... I am more sexually attracted to you than ever before, if that is possible ... I plan things for us to do when we see each other again ... I hate the idea of you returning to the club … that sort of thing.” My heart beats faster with each new example.
“Bob, that sounds a lot like love to me.”
“Are you sure that it is not just infatuation?” he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.
“Probably not, I’m pretty sure that you love me ... Sorry.”
“I was afraid that was the case. Love is a complication I had hoped to avoid.” He sighs. “What do we do now?”
“You mean you didn't plan for this?”
“No, it was not supposed to be possible. I just underestimated the power of Honey Sweet-Lay I guess.”
I turn my body and move up onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. He puts his hands around my waist. I nuzzle his neck, then nibble his ear.
“Could we be any more screwed up Bob?”
“You mean an ex-pro football player who is now an extremely beautiful, sexy, young woman and a crippled, semi-psychotic, ex-assassin who is now physically cured and in love with that extremely beautiful, sexy, young woman?”
“Uh-huh, though you left out that the extremely beautiful, sexy, young woman is also in love with the semi-psychotic ex-assassin.”
“No, we could not be anymore screwed up.”
“Any idea what we are going to do about it?”
“No idea what so ever Honey, at least for now. Let’s watch the game and I will consider our options.”
I stay on his lap as the game begins. It is reasonably entertaining but I’d rather be doing something else. From the erection I feel pressing against my ass, I think Bob would too. I go back to licking and nibbling his ear. He lets me do it for a minute or two then pulls back.
“Please Honey, stop. You know that we cannot do anything. You are likely protected from your ‘client’s’ diseases and I may be also but I really do not want to take that chance.”
“That’s why God made condoms, silly. Amy’s implant prevents pregnancy and a condom should protect you from any infections.” I pull his face close to mine and kiss him. “Let’s put all that training to the test, call it ‘Phase Four’.”
“I am not sure that is a good idea Honey. Given our situation and the feelings we have for each other, sex would likely make things worse.”
“How could things be worse? We love each other but can’t be together, I’m a cheap whore in a fourth rate strip club and will be there until the day I die, which could be a very, very, long time. Explain to me how a night of great sex isn’t an improvement on that.”
“Because it is only temporary, a brief respite from reality. We might enjoy it but it does not change anything.”
“So what if it’s temporary, that it doesn’t change anything? I’ll take what I can get Bob. I just want to feel good, feel loved, for as long as I can. If that is only for an hour or two or an evening or a day, I don’t care.” I slip off his lap and stand up, holding his hands in mine. “Please, don’t make me beg. I need you.”
“It is not that I do not want to Honey. Believe me, I would like nothing more than spending the rest of the day in bed with you. I just feel that it is not in your best interest.”
“I’ll take that chance.” I tug on his hands. “Come on, I’ll make it worth your while. Please ...” He lets me pull him off the couch.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.
“Very” I purr.
“Well, if we are, let’s do it right. “
He reaches out, grabs me around the waist, pulls me tight against his body and kisses me passionately. It takes my breath away. No tongue, just his lips, but it is as if he was charged with some kind of powerful sexual energy which he was passing to me. I feel as if I am melting in his arms, his strength washing over and passing through me. It takes a few seconds for me to respond. I throw my left arm around his neck and grab the back of his head with my right hand. I press my breasts into his chest and try to crush his lips with mine. Our tongues touch, then swirl against each other. His hands slid up from my waist to my back. We are pressed so tightly together, I start to feel light headed. I don’t know if it is from a lack of air or the sexual bliss. I break our kiss, gasping.
“God ... Bob ... where did ... you learn ... that?”
“Like it?”
I’m still breathing deeply, trying to catch my breath. “It was amazing! I was this close to passing out … have you been practicing?”
“No Honey, that’s just how I feel about you.” He bends down and quickly scoops me up, cradling me in his arms.
“WHOA ... careful there!”
“You ready for this Honey?”
“Probably not” I giggle as I put my arms around his neck. “Let’s do it any way.”
He carries me to the bedroom, gently setting my feet on the floor in front of him. My arms are still around his neck as he kisses the nape of my neck, working his way down to my tits, his fingers unbuttoning my hoodie just ahead of his lips. He runs his hands up my back, unhooks my bra and pushes it and the hoodie off my shoulders. I let go of his neck to slide my arms free of the clothes, which fall to the carpet. I return the favor, removing his shirt, then unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. He kicks off of his shoes, slides his pants and underwear down, and steps out of them. He’s already sporting a big erection.
It looks absolutely yummy. I lick my lips and shimmy out of my jeans and panties. We stand there, smiling at each other. He steps up to me, grabbing my waist. I take his cock in my hand and start gently stroking it. His hands slide around and down to my ass, squeezing both cheeks with his hands.
“Have I ever told you that you have the most perfect ass I have ever seen?”
“No” I giggle “have I ever told you that you have the most beautiful cock I have ever seen?”
“No, but most men would likely object to having their penis described as ‘beautiful’. Awesome, yes; overwhelming, stupendous, breathtaking, astounding, yes; but not beautiful.” I add fondling his balls to stroking his cock.
“Hey, I’m a woman. We think ‘beautiful’ is a compliment. Leave it to a man to complain that I didn’t use a manly enough word.”
He smiles. “I did not say I objected, just that most men would. I do not care how you describe it, just as long as you like it.”
“Oh I do, I do, but I looove what you do with it, so let’s get started.”
“Absolutely, but first I need a condom. Do you have any?” I release his cock, walk around the bed and pick up my purse.
“What self-respecting working girl doesn’t have some condoms.” I open it and pull out a strip. “I’ve got four.”
“That should be just about right.”
“Oooohhhhh, that sounds nice!”
I settle onto the bed and slowly crawl across it, my ass swaying. When I reach the edge, I signal with my finger for Bob to come closer. He walks towards me, his dick bobbing in front of him. I take the tip in my mouth and suckle on it. He quickly inhales and holds his breath. I lay on my tits, reach around to grab his ass and pull him towards me as I let his cock slide down my throat. Anthony always said I was the best cock sucker he had ever known. I swallow and gulp until my nose is buried in his pubic hairs. I breathe through my nose, inhaling his musky scent, as I massage his cock with the muscles of my throat, then I start bobbing my head up and down the shaft. Bob actually moans.
“That is wonderful Honey! Oh yes ... very ... nice.” His breath is coming in short gasps, his hips twitching forward, driving his cock deeper in my throat but he lets me control it, not trying to fuck my face. I can breathe and enjoy what I’m doing to him. His cock is getting stiffer and swelling a bit more. I don’t want him to blow his wad yet so I slow the pace, then let his cock slip out of my throat, swirling my tongue around it as it leaves my mouth. I quickly unroll the condom down the saliva covered shaft.
“There, all ready for action. Now what?”
Bob looks down at me, blinking several times. “That is quite a performance just to put on a condom Honey.”
I grin up at him and wink. “I’m full of tricks, you’ve only gotten a taste of what I can do.”
“It must be my turn then. If we are going to call this as ‘Phase Four’, then I will have to treat you like one of your regular customers, which means I will be concentrating on my pleasure, not yours. You will have to take care of your own needs. I do not plan on actually hurting you so you can relax and concentrate on the erotic sensations. Remember to masturbate if you need to. We can wait until you are ready, if you want.”
I roll over onto my back, spin around so that my legs are spread, each one on the outside of Bob’s, my pussy fully exposed. I reach down and finger my moist cunt.
“I’ve been ready for some time Bob.”
He leans forward and grabs my legs behind the knees. “I think you are correct Honey. If I cause you any pain or discomfort, stop me immediately.” He looks me square in the eyes. “Ready?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulls me towards him, wrapping my legs around his hips. I lock my ankles behind him. He rubs his dick up and down my pussy until the condom is coated with my juices. He then puts the tip of his dick at the opening of my pussy and drives it in all the way in one smooth motion. It is an electric sensation. He reaches down and grabs my wrists. I grab his wrists, locking our arms together. He pulls back, our arms straight, as he begins to slowly pump in and out of my cunt. I tighten my legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper into me. My breathing becomes quicker and shallower as he increases his pace. He’s not even looking at me, just staring out into space. As his speed increases, so does the force, each thrust harder than the last, forcing little, high pitched ‘yips’ from me. The sexual tension is building, like a spring winding tighter.
Bob releases my arms and grabs my hips, giving him more control over me. With my hands now free, I reach down and start rubbing and stroking my clit, the tension increasing. Bob’s eyes are almost closed, barely slits. He’s breathing through his mouth and nose, his lips curled away from his teeth. The look on his face frightens me a little, almost like he is an animal of some kind, pounding away at his bitch’s cunt. I squirm as he continues to thrust wildly into me, squeezing his cock with my pussy. By now, my ‘yips’ have become full moans.
“OOOHHH GOD YES! Fuck me! Fuck ... me … Bob. Harder ... Yeah ... harder. OOhh please fuck me!” Bob doesn’t say anything but pushes even deeper with each thrust. I’m madly rubbing my clit with three fingers in small, circular motions. My eyes are closed so I can concentrate on the waves of pleasure rushing through my body and the rapidly building pressure. Suddenly, he stops and pulls out. I gasp at the loss.
“NO! Don’t stop! I was ...” He picks me up, my legs falling away from his waist and tosses me on the bed, face first. He grabs my hips and lifts my ass up. I push my self up in the doggy position. Bob climbs up on the bed behind me, standing up, straddling my legs. He spreads my legs slightly and I arch my back so that he can get a better angle on my cunt. He rubs my wet pussy lips with his hand then plunges his dick into the sopping wet tunnel. He starts hammering away with his cock, driving it as deep as he can. The pace is slower than before but it is increasing. My big tits are swaying in rhythm with his fucking, smacking me in the face whenever I hang my head down. I drop to my elbows, the engorged nipples rubbing on the bed beneath me as I reach back and return to rubbing my clit. I quickly reach the same level of sexual tension I had before the position change, then shoot past it. I’m breathing so hard now; I can’t form words, just guttural moans and grunts. I can feel Bob’s sweaty legs pressing on my thighs and his heavy balls slapping against my ass. My eyes are closed again and I am lost in all the sensations assaulting me.
He smacks my ass. I jump a little, more startled by the sound than the pain. In fact, there was very little pain. I’m used to the johns smacking me during sex, usually followed by them calling me a bitch or whore or filthy cunt or worse. This time, Bob says nothing, though I can hear his breathing, deep and hard. He smacks my ass several more times, not too hard, but it adds to all the other sensations, my pussy, my clit, my nipples on the bed. The tension has built almost to the breaking point. I grab my engorged clit and pull it. The tension breaks and the orgasm rushes through me, muscles trembling and clenching. I start to slip down but Bob isn’t done yet. He grabs my hips and keeps me upright, still fucking me for all he is worth. I feel his cock swelling, ready to shoot. I’ve got enough control to clench my pussy muscles one last time. Bob drives his cock deep into my cunt and keeps it there. The surge of cum travels the length of his dick but I don’t get that satisfying splash into the depths of my pussy. I’m limp from my orgasm as Bob pulls his cock out and gently drops me back down on the bed. I roll over on to my right side and he lays down facing me, his right hand on my hip. I drop my hand behind his head and give him a long, gentle kiss.
“I assume that means you enjoyed yourself Honey.”
“Oh yes, I did. It was a change of pace for you though. Why did you go with the slaps?”
“I didn’t hurt you did I?”
“No, not at the time,” I rub my ass. “Though it is a little tender now.”
“Sorry about that. I was just adding a new sensation.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not new to me. Johns and Anthony slapping me around happens more than I would like.”
“That kind of treatment is a matter of timing. If you strike when the endorphin level is high, there is little pain and the mind interprets the sensation as sensual instead of painful. Also, you must not strike too hard.”
“It was fine, I’ll recover. You are right though, it was more enjoyable than painful. It was all wonderful. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me Honey. We did it, you and I, together. It proved you can still get sexual release from your daily ... activities.”
“You mean my whoring?”
Bob looked pained when I said that. I regretted it almost immediately. “Yes.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you were correct to do so. You are handling the reality of our situation better than I am.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m also not sure tonight proves anything.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it was you fucking me, wasn’t it?”
“I did it in the same style as your regular clients didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I knew it was you. Sex with someone you love is completely different than sex with a stranger, no matter what the technique. I enjoyed it because it was you. You were great, as usual, but even if a stranger was just as good, it wouldn’t be the same.”
“So all this has been a waste of time?”
“No, not at all! I’ve learned so much from you in the last couple of days. You have done all you could possibly do to help. It’s up to me now.” I kiss him again, then dangle the strip of condoms in front of him. “You said something about four being just about right. There are three left.”
He laughs. “You are insatiable! I guess that my mouth should not write checks that my cock cannot cash. Let me go to the bathroom, get a drink, then I will see about starting a payment plan.”
He cashed those checks, with interest. The second time, he was his usual tender, inventive self. I had several orgasms as he fucked my brains out. The third time I took charge, showing him some of my best tricks, fucking his brains out.
The fourth time was the best of all. We did everything together, both giving and taking, neither one in charge. We were making love, the sex was almost secondary. It was true intimacy, the most wonderful thing I had experienced in the past twenty plus years.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The penultimate chapters of the continuing sequel of "Team Spirit" by Janice Dreamer. Honey must return to the Club after spending the Thanksgiving holiday with Bob, where she meets one of Dr. Hanson's Special Clients. Chapters 40 through 44 of 48. Rating and Elements listed apply to entire story. The final posting will be 11/20/10. Enjoy.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
By Meps98
CHAPTER FORTY
When I woke up, I was face down in bed, Bob lying next to me on his side, his hand on my ass. He was still asleep. I roll back against him, draping his arm across my shoulder. I was kinda cold but his body heat quickly warms me up. We stay that way for about twenty minutes. I’d be happy to stay right here for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, I’ll be back in the club in ... I check out the clock ... three hours. I’ll worry about that later. For now, I’m with my lover.
My lover. God, who would have thought that even possible three months ago. I link my fingers with his. I’m a woman who just spent the last night madly, passionately fucking with the man who loves her, the man that she … I love. How could this have happened? I snuggle back against him, not caring how it happened but thanking God that it did.
Bob’s hand flexes around mine as he kisses the back of my neck. I kiss his hand.
“Good morning sweetheart. Have a good time last night?”
Bob reaches down, grabs my waist, and rolls on to his back dragging me with him. I laugh all the way as I roll to my stomach, my boobs pressed against his chest, my legs spread wide. “Good morning to you Honey and yes, I had a very good time last night.” He caresses the sides of my tits. “How about you?”
“Only the best time ever” I giggle.
“And what do you think about your breasts now?”
“Huh?”
“We talked Thursday about your changed breasts and you said that you did not know what to think about them. Have you made a decision yet?”
“That’s not a fair question. After last night, what can I say?” Bob had spent a lot of time last night concentrating on my tits, driving me absolutely wild several times. I wouldn’t trade them for a million dollars right now and he knows it. “Of course I love them, you played them like a harp last night. Hell, I love my entire body from the tips of my tiny cute toes, the bottom of my sweet ass, my tight cunt and my green eyes.” I lightly drag the tips of my fingers down the side of his leg. “I’m also pretty fond of your body mister.”
He chuckles at that. “I know what you mean Honey. Now that you have said it, I can tell you that I love your new breasts also. I did not want to sound like your typical, boob obsessed male.”
“Which you are.”
“Oh completely. I’ve always been a boob man. That is not to say that ...” he runs his right hand along my thigh “... I do not appreciate a stunning pair of legs ...” he tenderly squeezes my butt “... or an astounding ass ...” he touches my hair “... or luxurious, golden hair ...” he lifts my chin off his chest with a single finger “... or the most beautiful face since Helen of Troy.” I slide up his body and kiss him hard. He rolls over, pressing my back into the mattress. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, humping against him, trying to find that glorious cock of his.
“Honey, we have run out of condoms.”
“Screw the condoms, just fuck me stud!
“Please Honey, you know that I would like nothing more, but I just cannot. Perhaps I can visit you at the club. Anthony did make that offer.”
“OH GOD that would be so great! You have no idea what that’d mean to me! Just seeing you every now and then could make my crappy life bearable!”
“We can see what I will be able to work out with him.”
“Don’t worry, you want it from Anthony, you’ve got it. He’s scared shitless by you.”
“You don’t say?”
“Uh-huh. In fact, the more time you spend there, the better I’ll probably be treated, at least by him.”
“I assume Amy will not like it.”
“Probably not.” He kisses me, then pushes himself up off me. I reluctantly let go.
“Where you going?”
“I thought I would take a shower.”
I prop myself up on my elbows. “Wait for me.”
“Alright but no sex, promise?”
“Not even a blowjob?” I pout. “You don’t need a condom for that.”
“I thought that you did not particularly like giving oral sex.”
“It all depends on whose cock I’m sucking on.”
“You do not object to mine?” I roll off the bed, move up behind him, reach around with both hands and gently grip his dick. He doesn’t try to stop me.
“I love your cock. I’ll take it however I can get it, my pussy, my mouth ... my ass.” It jumps when I say that. So that’s how Bob rolls.
“What other cocks don’t you object to sucking?”
“None, just yours Bob, only yours.” He’s clearly thinking about my offer.
“Thank you, but no Honey. I will be happy to share the shower with you but that is all... for now.”
Oh well, I tried.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I did enjoy the shower, Bob lufad me all over. He also insisted on making breakfast while I packed. I decided to leave most of the new clothes here, except for the lingerie. Even though a lot of the tops and dresses are pretty sexy, they just won’t work at the club.
Bob made pancakes, which is good, because no matter how hard he tries, his eggs are still a little greasy. Normally, this is the time during my visits with Bob when depression usually sets in, but his promise to see me at the club keeps things from looking so bad. He notices the change.
“You seem to be in a fairly good mood today Honey, much better than usual for the end of one of your visits.” I shrug.
“The club’s still a crap hole and I’d rather have a root canal every day than keep working there but there’s nothing I can do about it. The difference is that you’ll come visit me there sometimes and that’s enough to keep me from going nuts.”
“I know we discussed this before but how do you feel about yourself?”
“You mean being a woman, a dancer or a whore?”
“Any or all.”
I’ve thought about this for sometime, but have been afraid to admit it to myself or any one else. “I hate working at the club ... but I can ... live with ... being a woman. There were parts of being Josh Thomas that were great but there were other parts that weren’t so hot. I was basically a jerk and an idiot. Even if I could go back to being him, I don’t know if I would.”
“Why not?”
“What would be the point? I can’t continue as a quarterback, even if I could explain where I have been for the last few years. There are the pending drug charges. All my money is gone. I was just a couple of years from being a washed up jock trying to live off my fading fame. Now, I’m a young girl, the prime of my life still in the future. I’ve got all the experience from my past life and a chance to make up for those mistakes. Besides, the sex is waaaayyy better now. Doesn’t matter though. Amy’s never going to give me a choice in any of this. I’m a stripping whore and will be until the day I die, whenever that is.” I reach across the table and take Bob’s hand. “But it’s all good, as long as you are with me now and then.” He pats my hand with his free one.
“I will do what I can Honey. There is always Christmas.”
“Oh wouldn’t that be fantastic?! The club shuts down two days plus the weekend. Christmas with you would be a dream come true. We could have a tree and everything. I’d only let you out of bed to piss.”
He stands up. “And on that romantic image, we need to go.” My bag is already by the door. He picks it up and we walk to the car. We get in and he starts the car.
“Do you have your cell phone?”
“Stashed in the bag. I think there are two or three places I can hide it at the club.”
“That is good. Call me anytime you need to talk. I will not try to call you. If there is an emergency and you cannot reach me, leave a message and I will get to you ASAP.”
“Thanks. I feel much better knowing you’re out there for me.” I reach over and hug his right arm. We drive off in silence until we get to the club. Bob stops in the front.
“Honey, have you given any more thought to apologizing to Amy?”
“Not really. She doesn’t deserve it, you know.”
“I know, but it is more for your benefit than hers. An admission to her of regret on your part is one more step on the road to recovery.”
“It would probably just piss her off.”
“You could be right. It’s just a suggestion.” He leans across the seat towards me and we kiss.
“Take care Honey.”
“See ya soon, I hope.” I get out, sling my bag over my shoulder and enter the club.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
By the time I get back to the club, Hanson has left three messages for me, all basically the same, what the hell is going on with Honey and why is she with Bob. Naturally, I’m supposed to call her as soon as I get the message. Fuck that shit. I’ll call her when I feel like it. First, I gotta talk to Tiffany about giving out my cell phone number. I pick up the phone to page her when Honey knocks on the doorframe to my office.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m back, Sir.”
I put the phone back down. “Come in Honey, have a seat.” She walks in, drops her bag and sits down in the chair across from my desk, leaning back and crossing her legs. Damn, she has great legs.
“So, how was your long weekend with Bob? Do anything special?”
“It was fine. I went to a dance.”
“You went to a dance? Didn’t Bob go with you?”
“It wasn’t that kind of dance, it was just for kids, well, teenagers actually.”
“So how did you get there?”
“I was invited by some people I met while shopping. Bob told me that I should go, so I did.” Why would Bob send her to a kids dance alone? Is he tired of her?
“Did you enjoy it?”
“It was OK. Really good food.” She seems better, not as down as she was last week.
“How are you feeling Honey? You seemed kinda depressed last week.”
“I’m much better now, Sir ... How was your vacation?”
“Great, just great! I should take more time off from this place. Talk about food, there was this buffet where they had these enormous bowls of shrimp ...” my phone rang. I picked it up.
“Hello”
“Anthony?”
“Speaking”
“I assume you are back at the club?”
“I just got back.”
“So why did you not return my many calls?”
“Hey! Hold on, I wasn’t ignoring you, I just hadn’t gotten around to calling you yet.”
“If I leave you a message, it is your first priority to return my call immediately as soon as you get it, understand. Where is Honey?”
“Yeah, sure. She’s sitting right in front of me, you want to talk with her?”
“No, I want to see her, to assess her state of mind.”
“Whenever you want, you know that”
“I will be there within the hour.”
“Fine.”
She hangs up. I slam the phone down, “BITCH!” Honey flinches. “Well, looks like we’ve got company coming Honey. Hanson wants to see you.”
She looks concerned. “What about, Sir?”
“Damned if I know, something about your state of mind. It’s not like anybody ever tells me anything that’s going on around here. You better take your stuff to your room and wait for her, she said she be here in an hour or so. Before you do, find Tiffany and tell her I want to talk with her.” She nods at me, picks up her bag and walks out.
Hanson sounded pissed, don’t know if it was at me, Bob, Honey or the world in general, hard to tell with her. I rub the palms of my hands against my closed eyelids. Just what I needed today. Couldn’t that vacation feeling have lasted at least one day?
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
I slam my phone down. Anthony is a lying bastard. He was dodging me. If I had not called him, I would not have heard from him for several days, if at all. This current situation is completely unacceptable. There was a time when Anthony did exactly what I told him to do. Now, it seems as if he questions everything I ask of him. Admittedly, our interests were fairly similar initially. The more Honey danced, the more men she had intercourse with, the happier I was and the more money Anthony either made or saved. When I added the “Special Clients” and had him videotape them for me, I agreed to increase the frequency of her rejuvenation treatments so that she would remain young and attractive despite their brutal treatment of her. We had gone more than three years like this without any serious problems. My control of the situation was absolute.
And then Bob James arrived. Ever since he walked through Anthony’s door, my authority has been constantly challenged, my control slipping away until Anthony is actively avoiding me. As for Honey, I have no idea what is happening with her. Initially she feared me, which was exhilarating. I lived for that fear. She was afraid of me, of Anthony, of the scum who fucked her at the club. Dancing was a complete embarrassment for her. Unfortunately, she adapted, as human beings tend to do. I had to make some changes to bring back the fear and despair I so dearly loved to see in her emerald eyes. Hence, the introduction of the men I recruited to abuse her with rough, violent sex. The more exotic, the better. Bondage, sadism, fisting, waterworks, sometimes just purely vicious fucking. The tapes of these encounters kept me warm and happy at night.
Now, things have shifted. It is possible that my interests and Anthony’s are no longer the same. Honey seems to have adapted again, thanks to Bob James. It is clear that changes must be made, I just do not know what they will be yet. I will deal with it after I return from Stockholm. Right now, I need to see Honey and determine how much damage Mr. James has done.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
The club is rather quiet when I get there. Some young girl is performing an uninspired dance in front of a small audience of dull-eyed drunks. Par for the course for this dump. As I approach his office, I can hear Anthony berating someone for providing his private number to someone else. I knock, then open the door. There is a wide-eyed girl sitting across from him, clearly frightened.
“I would like to see Honey, Anthony, where is she?” He seems upset, probably with the girl he was shouting at.
“Dr. Hanson, so nice of you to knock before coming in. Honey is in her room.” I close the door and head for her room. As I draw near, I hear music. I can hear it over the music from the dance area, so it is quite loud. I cannot recall Honey playing music before. I don’t recognize the tune but believe it is some kind of currently popular song. I turn the knob and crack the door open so that I can peek in.
Honey has her back to the door. She is dancing. Her radio is tuned to a top forty station and she is dancing. Not like a stripper but like a young woman, happy and carefree. She spins around, her eyes closed, a smile on her face, lost in the moment. I quietly close the door. It is much worse than I thought. In all the time since her transformation, I have seen Honey relieved when she had an orgasm, grateful that a particularly stressful round of sex was finished, thankful that Anthony stopped beating her and pleased at her successful completion of one of her cheerleading routines but I have never seen her happy, never expected to see her happy, never wanted to see her happy. It sickens me. This is not adaptation; it is acceptance, embracing her circumstances. What did Bob James do? How do I undo it? I need to question her but must be careful, not overreact to what I have seen. I don’t want to give away anything that she could reveal to James. I knock hard so that she can hear it over the music. Nothing. I knock again. This time, the music stops and the door opens. Honey stands there in the doorway, breathing hard.
“I’m sorry Dr. Hanson, I didn’t hear you knock.” She stands aside and I walk in. I walk around the room while she eyes me suspiciously. I sit down in the chair and indicate with my hand for her to sit on the bed. She sits down, one leg crossed under her, the other dangling off the side of the bed.
“I understand that you spent the last few days with Mr. James.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“I don’t know. I think Anthony suggested it, but I’m not sure.”
“Do you know why he suggested it?”
She does not answer right away. “I think that he was worried about leaving me alone in the club over Thanksgiving.”
“Why was he worried about that?” She pauses again.
“I ... wasn’t feeling ... very good and he thought ... something might happen to me ... if ... if I was by myself”
“Like what?”
She shrugs her shoulders, eyes downcast. “Don’t know.” She knows, she just will not admit that she was depressed.
“Are you feeling better now?” She looks up, eyes bright.
“Oh yes, much better. No problems.” She is not aware I saw her joyously dancing just minutes ago.
“What did you do while at Bob’s?”
She looks back down. “Just hung out, watched TV, made a Thanksgiving dinner, shopped a little.”
“Sex?”
She looks up slightly. “Yes, but I had to talk him into it.”
That seems odd. Bob struck me as a typical man as far as sexual activity goes. I designed Honey to be extremely attractive to the common, average man, the type who would value large breasts over a superior intellect. “Why did you have to persuade him to have sex with you?”
Honey seems embarrassed at this question. Good. “He said that your treatments likely protected me from my ‘client’s’ diseases but that he might not be protected.”
Hhhmmm, smart man. “He’s right. Your immune system would protect you but not actively kill any viruses or organisms still alive in your vagina, mouth or annus. His treatments would likely prevent damage but not infection. How did you overcome his objections?”
“I had some condoms so we decided to risk it on the last night. I only had four though.”
“Only four? How many did you use?”
She gives me a knowing smile. “All four Sunday night. I coulda used several more.”
Well, that explains some of what he did to make her happy. “I understand that Bob is ... proficient as a sex partner.”
“If proficient means that he is the best lover any woman could ever want, then yeah, he’s damn proficient.” Her big smile says it all, particularly given that the changes I made to her sexual responsiveness should have made it much more difficult for her to achieve satisfaction. If Bob could overcome that, he might be very proficient.
“It’s good that you are feeling better Honey. We can’t have you hurting yourself or doing something I can’t fix.” I stand to leave. She stares at me, a conflicted look on her face.
“Is there something else Honey?”
“No ... no, nothing else.” I nod to her, turn on my heel, walk to the door and grab the knob. “Yes ... there is.” Honey whispers. I turn back.
“Yes, there is what?”
Honey appears to sink back into herself, getting smaller, slighter. “Something else.” I return to the chair.
“What is it?” She just looks at me, clearly undecided about what to do. “Honey?”
“While I was at Bob’s, I went to a party. It was just for high school kids, so Bob stayed home. I was invited by some guys I met while shopping. Actually, I was invited along with three girls I met while shopping. They were really nice girls and they wanted to go so I went with them. Long story short, one of then almost got raped but we stopped the guy before he could finish. He drugged my friend before stripping her naked. We got there just in time.”
“We?”
“Me and my other two friends.” Friends? “I kinda worked him over after we got her out. She didn’t remember a whole lot but was hurt emotionally by it, along with the other two girls.”
“Who are these girls? Where did this happen?”
“I don’t want to say, I promised I wouldn’t. I’m telling you this because ... I felt really bad about what happened to this girl and how it hurt her and her friends. It hurt me too. I was also really pissed at the guy who did it ... so ... I ...” She stopped talking
“You did what?” I quietly urged.
“I tasered him in the balls and forced a drugged drink down his throat.”
Impressive. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I know it won’t make any difference, I know it is way too late ... I just have to say that I’ve seen what a terrible thing rape is and how it affects the victim and her friends ... and ... I’m sorry for what I did to you back in high school.”
I wasn’t expecting that. I sense that she really means it. Seeing the pained expression on her face and her withdrawn posture makes me believe her. She’s also right that it doesn’t make any difference, not now. I intended that she learn that lesson. She was supposed to learn it when I raped her years ago. What can you expect from a jock, they are all slow learners. She has many more lessons to come. For now, it is probably best that I accept her apology, let her think that there may be some kind of reprieve before the next course of torture begins.
“I appreciate that Honey. This apology comes as a surprise, particularly at this late date. I will have to give serious consideration to your current situation and future in light of your statement of contrition.” She doesn’t react but I believe I detect a little bit of hope in her eyes. Excellent. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Dr. Hanson.”
I go back to the doorway, step through and look back towards her as I slowly close the door. “Then I will see you in two weeks Honey”
“Yes, Dr. Hanson.”
I shut the door and pause in the hallway. She is clearly not currently depressed, which may not be a bad thing. The higher she climbs, the further she has to fall and the greater the impact when she reaches bottom. Let the tiny flame of hope grow in her heart. It will be that much more enjoyable when I snuff it out. All of this will need to take place later though, after my return from Sweden. For now, nothing has happened that I can’t undo or take advantage of, no matter what Bob James may think.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
The club is quiet for a Monday evening but it’s early, only 8:55. Rain’s been falling all day, which always reduces the crowd, no one likes to come out on a cold, wet night in December. I’m working the bar tonight, my regular guy had another lost weekend and called in “sick”... for the last time. Honey’s on stage right now, putting on a better show than this small crowd deserves. She’s really working her ass off up there. That’s one thing you can say about Honey Sweet-Lay, she takes pride in her work. Of course, I’d beat her if she slacked off but that’s never been necessary as far as her dancing is concerned. The whoring yes, at first, but then I just kept away from her and the addiction took care of the rest. After that, she enthusiastically fucked anyone or anything. Those were the days.
She’s been in a much better mood since coming back from Bob’s last week, which leads to satisfied customers and repeat business. If I knew what he did for her, I’d bottle it and give it to all my girls.
“Hey pard, can you tell me who’s in charge around here?”
I look over to my left. There’s a guy standing next to the bar, leaning on his left elbow. He’s about 6’ 1”, 180 pounds, mop of dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, big nose and tattoo snaking up his neck. He’s wearing a long duster type coat, jeans and work shirt. Doesn’t look like a biker but not a cowboy either, sounds like one though.
“That would be me. What can I get you?”
He fishes around in the pocket on his shirt. “This crazy sexy bitch was passing these out.” He hands me a crumpled yellow card.
Damn it! Honey just got back from her tune-up; I can’t really afford to have someone work her over now. “She said that if I brought it here, you’d have a girl for me, someone who can take care of my ‘special needs’, if you know what I mean. Thought it sounded kinda crazy, but hey, might as well check it out, ya know?” He’s looking around the room, a leer on his face. His eyes land on Honey, upside down on the pole. “She wouldn’t be the one, would she?”
“Yeah, she is, but look ... ”
“Well sheeeeiiitttt! This is my lucky day! Damn, that’s one fine looking bitch! My God, those tits are fucking huge!”
“Hey, hey pipe down! She’s the one, but there are some ground rules.”
He shoots me a wary look. “The crazy bitch said I could do whatever I wanted. You telling me different?”
“Look, you can do what you want, but I don’t want her hurt too bad. I’m not dealing with police or paramedics, you understand? If she loses days, I lose money and I hate to lose money, you got that?”
He looks me up and down, then smiles. “Yeah, I got it hoss, have fun but not too much fun. It’s only fair.” He claps his hands together, rubbing them. “Now, when do I get her?”
I’m getting a bad vibe from this guy, but he’s not much different than most of the nuts that Hanson digs up. If I toss him out, she’ll be on my ass, which I don’t need. There’s not much choice here ... doesn’t mean I have to like it though.
“You can have her after her set is done and she’s had a chance to clean up.”
“She doesn’t need to clean up, I like em’ hot and sweaty.” Honey is just finishing, picking up her costume and heading for the back.
“Wait here, I’ll go get her.” I leave the bar and walk to the back stage dressing room. Honey is sitting at the make-up table, toweling off. She looks up as I enter the room.
“Sorry Honey, you’ve got a ‘special client’ out here.” She looks like I punched her in the gut. I may not like these guys but she hates them. Can’t say I blame her, it’s one of Hanson’s more devious moves. Looking for perverts and abusers, giving them a free shot at Honey and I can’t stop them. Usually it’s my job to protect the girls from out of control customers but not Honey when they’ve got those fucking yellow cards. On top of that, I’ve got to tape it for Hanson to watch later. She’s got more than fifty tapes by now.
Honey stands up. “Can I clean up first?”
“No can do, he likes them ‘hot and sweaty’.” She shakes her head in defeat, so much for that good mood. She slips on a robe and we walk out. He’s waiting by the bar. I bring her over to him.
“This is Honey. And what’s your name?”
“Uhh, ... John Smith.” Right.
“Fine....Mister Smith. Honey will show you to the room. Remember what I said.”
“No problem pard.” He reaches out, grabs her robe and opens it up. “You are the finest piece of ass I’ve ever seen! This is gonna be fun.” Honey just stands there, taking it. She knows that Hanson won’t tolerate any resistance with the “special clients”. I close her robe.
“Save it for the room....Mister Smith.” He laughs and Honey leads him away.
I quickly walk to my office, open the closet and start the VCR. It’s connected to the receiver for the wireless camera hidden in the clock/radio bolted to the dresser in Honey’s room. Normally I watch a little while, just to make sure everything is OK but I’ve got to cover the bar tonight.
She’ll probably be OK.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
This jerk is grabbing my ass as we walk to my room. I can smell the booze on him, hope that means he won’t last long. The sooner one of these guys leaves, the happier I am. I open my door and he pushes me in ahead of him. I stumble but don’t fall down.
Great, he’s into abuse. That is the worse. He looks around the room, then checks under the bed. What is he looking for? Apparently he’s satisfied because he pats the bed with his right hand.
“It’s Honey is it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I like that. ‘Sir’. You keep that up bitch. Come on over and lay yourself down. Oh, lose the robe.”
I slip out of my robe, naked except for my heels. I climb up onto the bed and start to lie down.
“Nope. On your back, head hanging off the end. Spread your arms and legs wide.” I move around so that my head is upside down off the foot of bed, arms and legs spread eagled. He steps up and straddles my head, legs on both sides. He starts to knead my breasts, pinching my nipples. “Damn! These tits are real! Sooooo nice! Best pair of titties I’ve ever seen in person. Your mother got a rack like this Honey?”
“No, Sir.” He keeps working on my boobs.
“You not a talker?”
“No, Sir.”
“Screamer?” I don’t like where this is heading.
“No, Sir.”
“We’ll see.” He lets go of my tits, steps back, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of pliers.
OH, PLEASE GOD NO!!
He walks out of my sight and I turn my head to try and follow him. Being upside down is disorienting. I think he has gone over to my floor lamp, unplugged it and cut the electric cord off it. What is this guy into? He then cuts the cord in half and walks towards the head of the bed. I can’t see him anymore but I can feel him grab my right foot, tie the cord around my ankle, then tie it to something else, probably the bed frame. He walks back up towards me, past my head and down the other side, where he does the same thing with my left foot. He walks back up to the end of the bed and out of my sight. I hear my dresser moving and the snip of his pliers. He must have cut the cord on my radio. Amy’s going to be pissed at that. It’s her own damn fault, bringing these psychos into the club to fuck with me.
I try to move my legs. There’s a little movement but not much. I’ve been tied up by experts in the past but they used yards of rope. This guy did pretty good with just a little electrical cord. Now he grabs my right hand, ties the cord around my wrist and ties it to the bed frame. I can see what he does this time. He doesn’t use ordinary knots, so he’s a pro of some kind. In a few seconds, he’s done the same to my left wrist and I am immobile except for my head. I hear his coat rustle and jingle.
“I know you said you weren’t a screamer but I can’t take any chances, don’t want to attract any attention, particularly from that big son of a bitch downstairs.” He squats down next to my head, showing me an 8” penis shaped gag with straps. Shit.
“I won’t scream. I promise. Please don’t ...”
“Quiet bitch. Open up.”
He squeezes my jaws, forcing them open and then starts to shove the gag slowly past my mouth and down my throat. It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would. It’s uncomfortable but not terrible, at least for now. It’ll probably hurt like hell in a few minutes when my jaws start to cramp from the strain. He tightens the straps around my head until the gag is securely lodged in my mouth and throat. At least I can still breathe through my nose. What is this bastard’s deal? Is he into bondage, sadism, something worse? He’s gonna have a hard time fucking me in this position and I can’t do anything tied up like this. What’s going...OOWWW, he just stuck me in the arm with something! He squats back down next to my head, holding a syringe in his hand.
“Good night, Honey.”
This fucker just shot me with something! I try to get loose, twisting and straining at the cords but they don’t budge. I try to call for help but it’s hopeless, I can barely make any noise at all. As I keep pulling on the cords, my arms and legs grow weaker by the second. I’m still awake but they won’t respond. It only takes a minute or so before I can’t move at all. He standing over me but I can’t move my head or even my eyes. I see his hand come down and push something on the back of the gag in my mouth. It starts to quietly hum. I feel another stick in my arm but can’t even flinch. My breathing is very slow and shallow, but I’m getting plenty of air from somewhere.
This is soooo strange. It ... doesn’t hurt ... but I’m ... completely ... at the ... mercy of ... this ... nutcase ... who ... who ... knows what ... he’ll do ... Oh ... God......where’s ... Bob ... when ...
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It’s been almost 90 minutes since that blonde son of a bitch went to Honey’s room. Hanson’s crazies usually take much longer than the usual guys but this is pushing it. I’ve got two other guys waiting for her now. Hanson doesn’t want me to interrupt one of her “special clients” but it’s starting to cost me more than it normally does. It can’t hurt to just check the video camera and see what is happening in there.
“You guys wait right here, I’ll go check and see how much longer it’s going to be.”
“Tell him to hurry up, we aint got all night.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Trust me, this is one bitch who’s worth the wait.”
I quickly walk back to my office and switch on the TV. Nothing. No picture of any kind. The VCR is on, so is the camera receiver. I jiggle the cables but nothing changes. Looks like I’ll have to do this the old fashioned way. Striding towards Honey’s room, I don’t hear anything, other than the music from the stage. I put my ear to the door, still nothing. Maybe he finished and left her tied up. It’s happened before. I loudly knock on the door several times.
“HEY, MR. SMITH, TIMES UP! I GOT OTHER CUSTOMERS WAITING!” Can’t here anything, no movement, no voices, nothin’. Oh well, I’ve seen it all before in this job, so I open the door and stick my head in.
Blood.
Everywhere.
The floor, the walls, the bed. God, the bed is red with it. The room stinks of it. Honey is on her back, arms and legs splayed out, covered in red slashes. Her head is at the wrong end, flopped back off the bed, throat sliced in half. The blood had poured out of the cut, soaking her long hair and pooling on the floor. Mr. Smith isn’t anywhere to be seen. Jesus Fucking Christ!! The bastard kills my best dancer and runs for it!
I carefully step in to the room, trying to avoid the blood on the floor. Easing towards the bed, I can see that Honey has something stuffed in her mouth and strapped around her head. Her eyes are open but glassy and blank. Her chest isn’t moving. I can’t get any closer without stepping in the blood puddle that surrounds the bed. I can reach her right hand. Her wrist has a long, shallow cut just above the electrical cord tied there. Her hand and arm are slick with blood. I can’t find any pulse. Suddenly, I remember something Bob had said, that none of us knew what was in Honey’s blood. This may not be the safest place to be. I let go of her hand, then backtrack out the way I came. When I get out of the room, I close the door, lock it and check my shoes to make sure I’m not tracking any blood.
Time to take stock. I’ve got a dead girl in one of my rooms, two guys waiting to fuck that girl, a crazy doctor who lives to torture that girl and a maybe crazy ex-assassin who may love that girl. First thing is to get rid of the two guys, then pass the buck to the crazy doctor. I hurry back to the bar.
“Sorry guys, the last customer damaged the merchandise. I made sure he won’t do that again but she won’t be available for a couple of days. You can have free drinks for your trouble.”
That did it for them, now to call Hanson and drop this problem in her lap.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“The number you have dialed is not currently available.”
Damn! That’s the fifth try in the last hour! Where the hell is she?! The longer Honey’s in that room, the better the chance someone will find out what happened. No one answers the number at the clinic and it’s after 11:30 p.m. I did not sign up for this shit. She is going to freak when she finds out what happened, but it was her damn fault, so I can handle her. If I have to go to Plan B and call Bob, I don’t know what he’ll do and I sure as hell can’t handle him. I press redial on my phone.
“The number you have dialed is not currently available.”
Shit! Shit! Shit! Times up. Plan B it is. I dial Bob’s number.
“Hello, Bob James speaking.”
“Hey Bob, it’s Anthony ... look, I’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“It’s a big problem Bob.”
“Alright, what kind of big problem?”
“It wasn’t my fault, I swear Bob.”
“Now you have me worried Anthony, what is this problem?”
There is no good way to do this. “It’s Honey.” He doesn’t say anything right away.
“What about Honey?”
“I want to make sure you understand that ...”
“ANTHONY! What about Honey?”
“She’s dead.” I’m waiting for the explosion.
“Where is she?” I can hear the cold anger in his voice.
“Her room at the club. I didn’t do it; it was one of Hanson’s god damn fucking perverts. Said his name was ...”
“Excuse me Anthony, I don’t mean to interrupt you. I am sure that it is a very interesting story and I will be happy to listen to it later, but right now I would suggest that YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!! ... Understand?” There’s the explosion.
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing Bob, whatever you want.”
“Thank you Anthony. Are you sure she is dead?” That cold anger again.
“Oh yeah, she’s dead.”
“How was she killed?”
“The guy cut her up real bad, slit her throat. The room’s a mess.”
“Have you spoken with Dr. Hanson?”
“I tried to call her first, but can’t reach her.”
“That’s not a surprise; I believe that she is in Sweden.” Sweden?
“Why the hell is she in Sweden?”
“We can talk about it later. Does any one else know?”
“Not yet.”
“Good, keep it that way. Turn off your backdoor security camera and the lights in the back parking lot; I will be there in a few minutes. Meet you at the back door.” He hangs up. Well, the worst is over, at least for now.
I walk over to the security control panel and switch off the back camera. I need to go to the utility room to kill the parking lot lights. After that, I go to the back door and wait for him. It looks like there are five or six cars parked in the back. In about ten minutes, I see a pair of lights swing into the lot. The car drives past the door, then backs up so that the rear bumper is nearly right against it. Bob gets out and I open the door for him. He walks in, turns, opens his trunk and takes out a medium sized sports bag. He marches off towards Honey’s room with the bag in hand, doesn’t say a word. I follow along behind him. When we reach the door, he just points at the knob. I unlock it and gently push the door open.
He stands there in the doorway, staring at her body on the bed, one hand on the doorframe. All I can see is his back. I can hear his breathing, slow and deep, like’s he’s trying to keep control. He says nothing, just stands there, looking. After about a minute, he speaks.
“Correct me if I am wrong Anthony, but is it not part of your job description as pimp that you are supposed to protect your whore from this sort of incident?” He turns his head to look at me, his eyes bright with tears. “Am I right about that Anthony?” I think he wants an answer.
“Your right, it is, but this guy was not a regular, he was one of Hanson’s ‘special clients’. I’m supposed to leave them alone.”
He drops the bag, bends over and opens it. I look inside but don’t recognize anything. He pulls out a flat, thick, white square and shakes it out. It’s a paper coverall, which he unzips, steps into, pulls up his body, puts his arms in the sleeves and zips it up to his neck. Then he takes out three small packages, opens them and flicks them out one at a time. He puts the first over his hair. It’s a shower cap. The other two go over his shoes. Next, he puts on a pair of latex gloves and a paper mask over his nose and mouth. The last thing he removes from the bag is a large, rectangular, flat, black, nylon bag’ which he drops on the floor.
“What’s that Bob?”
“It is a suit bag. I plan to use it as a body bag if rigor mortise has not advanced too far. It will be tight but she should fit. Hand me that multi-tool please.” He points back into the bag. I reach in, grab the tool and hand it to him. He slips it into the pocket of the coverall, then walks into the room. Once he reaches the body, he first checks for a pulse in each wrist, then the neck. He doesn’t say anything but his head drops to his chest. It’s clear he didn’t find one. After a few seconds, he takes the tool out of his pocket, opens it, then cuts the cord around Honey’s right ankle. He works around the bed, cutting the cords as he goes. He stops to check several cuts on her arms, legs, body and tits. He puts the tool back in the pocket, unzips the coverall, reaches in and takes out his cell phone, which he uses to take several pictures, some up close and some from further away. After putting the phone away and zipping back up, he walks back to the door and holds out his hand towards me.
“The suit bag please Anthony.”
I pick it up and hand it to him. He returns to the bed, unzips the bag and turns it partially inside out. He starts with her head and works the bag down the body, unrolling it as he goes. When he reaches her waist, he rolls Honey onto her side, tucks her legs under her torso and continues unrolling and tugging the bag over her body. By the time he reaches her knees, he’s out of bag; it’s not quite long enough. He picks it up about a foot and jerks it several times. The body slides down a little, which gives him enough room to zip it shut. Frankly, I didn’t think it would work but I’m not dumb enough to say anything, at least not with the way Bob’s feeling. He leaves the body on the bed and comes back to the doorway.
“There is a plastic trash bag in there. Hand it to me.”
There’s actually several bags, along with at least one more coverall and several shower caps. I give him one of the bags. He unfolds it, then opens it by holding the mouth open and shaking it. He rolls it down like he did the suit bag, spreads it out on the floor and steps inside. Unzipping the coveralls, he pulls them down to his ankles, then steps out of each leg, leaving it and the shower caps that were on his feet in the trash bag. He takes the shower cap off his head, removes the gloves and mask, drops them all in the bag, then closes the bag with a twist tie.
Very neat, very clean, very professional. Got to hand it to him, Bob knows his shit. He sits the bag just inside the door way, then closes the door.
“Lock it.” I do. “We need to talk Anthony. You have some decisions to make.” Me? That’s why I called him! He steps away from the door, moving down the hallway about ten feet.
“Here is the situation as I see it. Stop me if you do not understand something. You have a dead woman in your club, brutally murdered by someone who has likely done this before.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it takes a long time to do what he did to Honey. There were approximately eighty cuts of varying depths and length, not counting the slit throat. There was no sign that he rushed the job. That means that he was either a remarkably poised and level headed rookie or that he has had practice. I vote practice. Assuming I am correct, the police are probably looking for him due to his prior offenses. This will not be written off as just another dead whore. If the prior murders are not all local, then other police agencies will be involved, maybe even the FBI if the prior offenses are out of state. I have not heard of similar murders in the Dallas area, have you?”
“No, I haven’t, but the cops could be keeping it quiet.”
“That is possible, but if our man is preying on working girls, the local rumor mill would have gone active, which it hasn’t. My guess is that this is his first local kill. If the police are brought in, there will be an in-depth investigation that neither you nor Dr. Hanson can stop or likely influence. That means that Honey’s paper thin false identity will be discovered very quickly.” CRAP! “Even if you could control the police, the press will become involved. If it bleeds, it leads. God knows there is enough blood in there to attract more than the local paper. Some bright reporter will want to do an up close and personal story about the poor victim. Bingo, same problem with Honey’s false ID.”
He’s right, as usual. “OK, we keep the police out, take care of it ourselves.”
“That is one option, but you have not taken Dr. Hanson into consideration. She may want you to do something else.”
“Didn’t you say she was in Sweden? What’s up with that?”
“I believe she is there for this year’s Nobel Prize ceremonies. The actual ceremony is December tenth but there are a number of events leading up to the final ceremony. Dr. Hanson is participating in one of those today, the eighth. She is not scheduled to return to Dallas until the twelfth, four days from now. It would be very difficult to keep this under wraps until she returns. The smell alone would be practically impossible to hide.”
“Why would we have to wait four days?”
“I believe that Dr. Hanson will insist on viewing the scene herself, instructing you to touch nothing until her return. I also believe that she will consider her time at the Nobel ceremonies more important than coming back early to deal with this problem. I do not suppose you have a large freezer where we could stash the body for several days?”
“No. Besides, that still leaves us with all that blood.”
“Very true. I assume that you still have not been able to reach Dr. Hanson.”
“Yeah, still not available.”
“I imagine her office has a number where she can be reached but you will not be able to get that until at least 8:00 a.m., which is …” Bob checked his watch “… slightly more than seven and a half hours from now. There is also the time difference between us and Sweden, which is I believe eight hours. If we were to try and clean this mess up and dispose of the body, we would have to wait for the late night, basically twenty four hours from now, even if Dr. Hanson gave her approval at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. The longer Honey’s body rots in that room, the longer the blood decomposes, the better the chance someone will discover it or call in the authorities to check it out.”
“So, exactly what are you saying, in simple, short words that I can understand.” He smiles slightly, for the first time tonight.
“You can either wait until the morning and contact Dr. Hanson for her opinion or you can get rid of the body and clean up tonight. At best, Dr. Hanson will agree with your decision to get rid of the body, at worst she will demand that you keep everything as is until she returns, which would greatly increase your risk of exposure. Besides, Honey is dead. Your business relationship with Dr. Hanson is also dead. The only thing she could do when she got back would be look around the room, agree that Honey is dead and tell you that you could now clean up. She would probably want the body for herself.” The look on Bob’s face when he said that told me a lot.
“You don’t want Hanson to get her hands on Honey’s body, do you?”
He hesitates. “Frankly, no. She put her through hell in life, Honey should at least have some peace in death.” Can’t argue with that.
“So Bob, what would you do?”
He grimaces. “You know what I would do. We are all done here, there is nothing left. Regardless of your decision, my relationship with Dr. Hanson is likely at an end. It is you who will face her wrath, such that it is. Honey died on your watch, she will blame you for that.”
“But it wasn’t my fault!”
“Whose fault was it?”
“Hanson and her fucking ‘special client’, Mr. Smith!”
“And you believe that Dr. Hanson will agree with you on that point?”
Of course she won’t, she’ll go nuts no matter what I do. Time to look out for Number One. “Alright, we do it now. What’s first?”
“The first thing is for you to go back out to the club and act like nothing has happened. Keep this door locked and every one away from this area but do not appear paranoid about it. Once you close for the night, we can move the body, the mattress, linens and anything else stained with blood out of here in your cargo van.”
“Where can we take all that stuff?”
“Remember our conversation a few weeks ago about whether or not I would have killed you? I said I never moved to an area without making arrangements for disposal of a body if it became necessary. It is now necessary. I have a place. While you keep the club running, I will go obtain the supplies I need to finish the job.”
“Who’s open this time of day?”
“Thank God for Wal-Mart. They are truly a full service store. They have everything I need, except for one highly specialized item, which is already on reserve for just such an emergency.”
“What about ‘Mr. Smith’? Are we going to let the son of a bitch get away with this?”
Bob clenches his right hand, slowly rolling his fingers back and forth, jaw taught.
“It is part of the price we pay for making your problem quickly disappear. We would need a full forensic team to come in and gather evidence to identify him. You cannot afford that kind of attention. I might be able to get some of my past associates here pro bono but that would also take time we do not have. If I am correct that he has done this before, then he will likely kill again. I will put out some discreet feelers. Should he resurface, I will speak with him concerning tonight’s events.”
I bet you will. If “Mr. Smith” knew what was waiting for him, he’d hide in the deepest hole he could find. I guess that it is the best we can do for now.
“Make sure you do not go back into that room until I return. I took those precautions because I did not want to spread evidence through the club, which would make the clean up more difficult. I also did not want to risk any potential contamination by Honey’s blood.”
“Yeah, I remembered you said something about that weeks ago. I got out of there fast when I did. Don’t worry,” I patted my pocket where the key to her door was “that door stays locked until closing time.” He holds out his hand, offering to shake. He must not blame me for what happened. I take it. He’s got a grip like a gorilla.
“I will be back by 2:00. Lock the back door behind me.” Bob releases my hand and we walk to the back door. Bob glances out at the lot. “Is this lot covered by any of your neighbor’s security cameras?”
“I don’t think so, no reason for them to look this way.”
“It is best to assume they are, better safe than sorry.”
He gets into his car and drives off. I look around the parking lot, still a half dozen or so cars back here, hard to tell without lights. I look up, it’s a cloudy night. Seems like we’re catching a break for once. I pull the door shut, lock it and head back to the bar.
If I just stay cool, it should all work out in the end.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
It’s 1:50 a.m. I had the girls stop dancing half an hour ago and sent them home, told them it was just too dead a night. Without the girls, most of the crowd split. Unfortunately, there are always stragglers. I can’t make too big a show of kicking them out. Just then, Bob walked in and had a seat near the stage. Our eyes met and he gave a subtle nod of his head. Everything must be going as planned.
I finally managed to get the last two guys out by 2:05 a.m. After locking the front door, we went to the back door. I unlocked it. Bob’s car was right there, just as before. The parking lot is empty. He opened the trunk and we started to unload it. There was a Shopvac, a dozen bottles of bleach, a big bundle of rags, assorted cleaning products, four big metal buckets, two five gallon jugs of kerosene, several plastic tarps. The back seat had four sponge mops and two large metal canisters, like big five gallon thermos jars. The front seat had a couple of bags with paper coveralls my size and more masks, gloves and shower caps. We set everything off to the side and switched my cargo van for Bob’s car. After getting dressed in the protective gear, we went to Honey’s room. I unlocked the door.
Everything was the same as we left it, though it seemed to smell worse. It might have been my imagination. I’d never admit it to Bob, but I’d never actual killed anyone. Sure, I’d roughed up a whole bunch of guys, broke a few arms, legs, ribs and faces, but they all lived to see another day. They often bled but I’d never seen a mess like Honey’s room. It made me kinda queasy. Didn’t seem to bother Bob much, though I did catch him staring at the body, lost in thought. I may have seen him wipe away a tear or two. We bagged all the clothes, towels, bed sheets, anything that was made of fabric. I emptied all the drawers of her dresser while Bob cleaned out her makeup table and bathroom. Everything was set just outside the door. We then removed the covers off our shoes as we stepped out of the room, put them in the bags and carried it all to the back. We did the same thing with the body and finally the mattress. The only things left behind were the empty furniture and the bed frame.
Bob had covered the floor of the van with a couple of plastic tarps and we loaded the bags and body in, putting the mattress upside down on top of everything. We stripped off our protective clothes, bagged them and tossed the bags in the back. The last stuff loaded were the Shopvac, kerosene, two metal buckets and the canisters, which Bob carefully handled, padding them with the bags of clothes and linens.
“What’s in those things?”
“The one thing Wal-Mart did not have in stock. It is a little volatile, so we need to take care.”
“What’s a ‘little volatile’ mean?”
“Nothing to worry about, as long as the containers do not leak, and they are top of the line so they should be fine. You can drive.”
“Where to?”
“I will direct as we go along.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“You have probably never been there before. Let’s go, we need to be done well before dawn.”
We both climb into the van and drive off. Bob gives me directions and asks questions about what happened with “Mr. Smith”, what he looked like, sounded like, even smelled like. I told him everything I could remember. He asked about the yellow cards and how they worked, how Hanson distributed them and what some of the other “special clients” had been like. There was no reason not to tell him the whole truth now. I had plenty of stories about some of the other freaks Hanson had found, God knows where.
We were in an industrial part of town that had seen better days. Most of the buildings had started as one business which eventually failed or moved and was replaced by something else. Bob points to a wide driveway to my left.
“Over there. Stop in front of the garage door, I have the key. When I open it, pull in all the way and I will shut the door behind you.”
“Got it.”
Bob hopped out of the cab, trotted to the door, pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the overhead door and pushed it up, catching the attached rope as the door rode up. I drove in through the door and stopped as soon as I cleared the entrance. Bob pulled the rope down, closing the door behind me. The building was completely dark except for my headlights. I just sat there, engine idling, then saw a flashlight ahead of me, signaling me forward. Turning towards the light, I saw Bob as the headlights swung his way. He had me move forward about thirty feet then stop. There was something about the size of a portable air conditioner at his feet. He reached down and pushed a button. There was a whirring sound, then an engine fired, settling down to a moderate hum. He pushed a second button and several sets of portable lights scattered around the room switched on. It was a generator, creating a dome of light in the gloom. Bob walks up to my door.
“There is a grease pit over there” he points to a pile of oil drums “that’s where we will dispose of everything.”
“What is this place?”
“It is an old auto repair garage, been out of business for about eight years. Back the van to within about ten feet from the edge of the pit.”
I swing the van around and back towards the concrete pit, Bob signaling me with his hands until the van is where he wants it. I turn the engine off and get out. The pit’s about five feet deep, ten feet long, four feet wide, straight on all sides except on the front, which slopes down to the bottom. It’s a bit steep but not too bad. We unload everything, starting with the mattress, then the bags, tarps, and finally Honey’s body. We tossed everything else in the pit but Bob insisted we carry her body down ourselves, carefully placing it on top of the pile. He rested his hand on the bag for a few seconds, head bowed. I think I heard him sniff back a tear or two. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and walked back up the slope. I followed about ten feet behind, giving him some space. Bob put the kerosene, buckets and canisters on the edge of the pit, then picked up the Shopvac and set it down next to the van.
“Anthony, take the van all the way back to the door. I do not want it near the pit when the fire starts.”
“You’re going to try to burn everything? We’ll be here all night and still have a bunch of crap to dispose of.”
“Trust me Anthony, I have done this before. Just move the van as I ask and then come back.” He’s been right so far, might as well stay to the end of the ride.
I drive the van to the far end of the building. It’s about two hundred feet long, like a big quonset hut, half-circle arches for the roof and no center supports. It would be great for a basketball court. By the time I walk back, Bob has attached a pole and rope to each bucket.
“What now?”
“There is liquid oxygen in the metal containers. It is extremely cold, you do not want to get any of it on you. Your clothes and shoes will provide little protection. I have heavy gloves for both of us but they will only protect against splashes, not immersion. I will soak everything with the kerosene, light it and then we add the oxygen by dumping the buckets over the flames. It makes the fire burn much hotter.”
Bob unscrews the cap on the kerosene jug and starts to pour it in the pit when he suddenly stops. “I almost forgot.” He sets the jug down, walks back down into the pit and unzips the suit bag slightly at the end near Honey’s head. He reaches in, grabs something and pulls. He removes his hand, holding a clump of her hair. I know she’s dead but I wince anyway. He takes a clear plastic bag from his pocket, puts the clump of hair in it and zips it shut.
“What the hell is that for?”
“In case Dr. Hanson requires proof of identity of the body.” He throws the bag to me. “You keep it. You are more likely to need it than I will.”
I look at the bloody clump of hair and flesh in the bag and shudder. It’s gross but he might be right. Bob climbs out of the pit and goes back to pouring the kerosene, dousing everything. I can’t really smell anything different, the whole garage stinks of gas and oil. Bob puts down the empty jug and opens the second. He returns to pouring it in the pit. After a minute or so he stops and brings the jug back to me, about thirty feet from the pit. Bob tosses me a pair of really thick gloves and puts on a pair just like them. He unscrews the top of the canister, picks it up and carefully pours the contents into one of the buckets. Fog is rolling out of the container and bucket, flowing across the floor. He does the same with the second bucket. I walk over and look in. There is so much fog, it’s hard to see inside but it appears to be a clear liquid. Frost is building up around the outside of the bucket. I turn back to look at Bob, who is now wearing a very dark pair of sunglasses.
“I am sorry Anthony, but I only brought one pair. You will need to close your eyes. I will take one bucket and you take the other. After I ignite the kerosene and the flames have spread through the pile, we move the buckets over the fire and pull the ropes to dump the oxygen. Make sure you keep the buckets above the flames and pour quickly. Do not jerk the rope because it my spray the liquid, which could be bad for both of us. A simple, smooth steady pull will be adequate. When you are done, move away from the pit quickly because it will get very bright and very hot very fast. We will dump on the count of three. Do you have that?”
I pick up the pole and heft it, pulling the rope a little to get the feel of it. Seems simple enough. “Yeah, I got it, on three. Let’s do it.” I walk around to the other side of the pit and get set. Bob takes a flare from the bag at his feet, strikes it against the cap and it starts to burn. He pitches it into the pit. The kerosene instantly ignites. Bob watches the fire for a few seconds.
“YOU READY?” he shouts.
“YES!” We both swing our poles over the pit.
“ALRIGHT. 1 ... 2 ... 3.” We pull our ropes and the liquid oxygen pours out. There is a humongous WHOOSH as it hits the fire.
Suddenly, it’s as if the sun came up and I’m standing right next to it. I drop the pole and stumble away, blinded, banging into a couple of barrels. My eyes are closed but I can still see the light, feel the unbelievable heat, smell the stench of burning oil, my face totally dry and hot, my skin scorched. I don’t know where I am. It’s probably better to stop and not risk falling into the inferno. My back is to the fire; at least I’m sure of that. I open my eyes and blink several times. My sight starts to return. I glance towards the fire. It’s fading out. I walk back to the pit and stand next to Bob.
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!”
“I told you it would get very bright and very hot very fast.”
“Yeah, but Jesus Christ, how hot was that?!”
“Between ten and twelve thousand degrees.”
“No fucking way! That is so cool!”
“I get that a lot, but only from men.”
“Women can’t appreciate amazing acts of destruction, which is exactly what that was!”
“The primary advantage to adding the oxygen is that the fire is so hot and intense, it reduces everything to a fine ash. Look in the pit.”
I sidle over to the edge and look in. The walls are completely clean. The accumulated oil and grease was burned off. There is nothing left of the pile, including Honey’s body. He’s right, it’s only ashes. The mattress, the clothes … everything gone. The concrete is popping and cracking as it cools off. I will have to remember this trick. I walk back to Bob.
“That is fucking amazing! Where did you learn that?”
“Where do you think? It is a little complicated, a tad exotic, but it does work. In about half an hour, the ash will be cool enough for me to pick up with the Shopvac.”
“I wondered why you brought that along. What are you going to do with the ashes?” All the color drains from his face.
“Sorry Anthony, that is my secret.”
“What if Hanson wants to know?”
“She and I will talk about it then. Either way, it is not your problem.”
Fine by me, I can live with one less problem. Bob has me bring the van back to the pit and we reload the equipment plus the extra kerosene and liquid oxygen. He brought the extra in case we needed it but the first try seemed to do the job. He took one of the poles, walked into the pit and stirred the ashes, said it would speed up the cooling. He did it every couple of minutes for about ten minutes.
“Anthony, plug the vacuum in and send it down to me. There is an extension cord next to the generator.” I plug everything in and roll it down to him, keeping hold of the cord. He turns it on and begins to methodically suck up all the ash. There is the occasional “thunk” where a clump of something gets picked up, probably metal of some kind that melted. He’s taking his time, getting everything. The vacuum fills up so he empties it into a double plastic trash bag. He’s done by 3:54 a.m. We’ve got probably three and a half hours until sunrise. He pushes the Shopvac up the slope and we put it in the back of the van, securing it to the side with bungee cords. I close up the van and Bob jogs back to the overhead door, lifting it up. I drive out as he runs back to the generator and switches it off, plunging the garage back into darkness. A few seconds later, he emerges from the murk, pulls the garage door down, locks it and climbs in the cab. We drive off.
Bob has me take a different route back to the club, just in case we were picked up by some traffic cams. In a few minutes, I’m totally lost but he seems to know where we are. Once we get to the main drag, I recognize some landmarks. We definitely are not taking a direct route back to the club.
We get to the club by 4:35 a.m. I back the van to the door, unlock it and we empty the back. We swap Bob’s car for the van and load the stuff in his trunk. He closes and locks the trunk and I do the same to the back door.
Bob picks up a bucket. “That is one job down, one to go. You fill one of those buckets with hot soapy water and take it to the room. I will fill this one with clean water.”
I realize that I’ve been running on adrenalin for the last few hours and am getting tired, fast. “How long is this going to take Bob? I’m beat.”
He frowns at me. “It will take as long as it takes Anthony. This is one job that must be done right if we are to erase all evidence of Honey living and dying in that room. Remember, we are doing this for your benefit. I can stop anytime you want.”
“Fine, fine, I got it. Let’s get started.”
We fill our buckets two thirds full and haul them to her room. After dressing in new protective gear, I unlock and open the door.
Oh yeah, the smell is worse. I almost gag. Bob starts with the soapy water and I follow with the clean water, first with the sponge mops on the floor and then rags on the wall, bed frame and furniture. When the water gets too bloody, we pour it down the sink in her room and refill from the bathtub. Everything gets washed and rinsed three times. After using soapy water, Bob switches to the bleach, full strength at first then diluted. The smell is so strong, I have to open the window. At least I won’t be falling asleep on my feet. We do it all over again, everything getting washed and rinsed three times.
When we are done, the place is completely disinfected. He pours straight bleach down each drain, then flushes with water. It smells like a hospital room but there is no doubt it’s clean. We strip out of the gear, bag it then carry everything to the back door. We fill up his trunk and back seat. There is just a hint of daylight on the horizon. I lean on the door to keep upright.
“I am so fucking tired right now I could fall asleep before taking ten steps. If it weren’t for that bleach, I’d have passed out hours ago. Why did you use bleach any way?”
“Chlorine bleach destroys blood evidence. Anyone investigating will know we used bleach, but there will be no evidence of blood, if we did it right.”
“Oh we got it all and more. You could operate in that room right now. It stinks though.”
“I would keep the window open, but the door locked. If you have a box fan, put it in the window, blowing out. The smell should fade in about a day and not spread through the club. If possible, smoke a few really cheap cigars in the next day or so, that will help cover the smell. When do you plan to call Dr. Hanson’s office?”
Shit! I forgot about that. Fuck! I’m too tired to deal with her right now. “I don’t know. I’d like to get some sleep first, at least a few hours.”
“I assume that you want me present when you speak with her.”
“Oh yeah.” Spread the blame I always say.
“I can be back here by 4:30 this afternoon.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have to return the liquid oxygen canisters, then dispose of the rest of the equipment.”
“The canisters I understand, but can’t you just throw the rest of it in a dumpster somewhere?”
“I could ... if I was an idiot. I plan to scatter them over a very wide area in several towns. If I had the time, it would be several states. If I am not back by 4:30, get the number from her office and we can leave a message for her later.”
“Are you OK to drive?”
“I have felt worse ... much worse. Get that fan going if you have one. See you later.” He gets into his car and drives off into the rising sun.
I lock the door and sleep walk to my office. There is an alarm on my desk clock so I set it for 11:00 a.m. and crash on my couch. I’m asleep before I stop bouncing.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
It has been a really crappy day. Not enough sleep, too much coffee to stay awake, that damn bleach smell and questions about where Honey is. I tell any one that asks about Honey that she is with Bob or that it is none of their damn business. By the late afternoon, I’m down to my last nerve. Bob’s not back yet so I call Hanson’s office before they close for the day. The receptionist doesn’t want to tell me squat until I mention that it involves Bob and Honey. Now that I have Hanson’s contact number, it’s just a matter of waiting for Bob to show up.
When he does, he looks like hell.
“Hey Bob, you look like you need some coffee.”
“No thank you Anthony, I have had more than my fair share of that today. I am not currently in shape for these 36 hour work days. Do you have Dr. Hanson’s phone number?”
“Yeah, took a bit of work though.”
“Yes, I feel your pain.” Guess we’re all down to our last nerves. “If we call her now, it is unlikely that we will reach her, but we can leave a message. I am willing to wait here a few hours to give her a chance to return the call. Have you decided how to break the news to her?”
“No, I’ve thought about it though. Unfortunately, I’ve got no bright ideas. How about you?”
“I believe that I have the solution to that problem. Let’s go to your office and make the call.”
We head for my office, passing Honey’s room on the way. Bob pauses at the door.
“I still smell the bleach, did you put a fan in the window?”
“Didn’t have one so I had to go buy it. It’s only been on for about two hours.” He nods his head and we continue on to the office.
I sit down at my desk and Bob sits in the nearest chair. I push the phone towards him. He picks up the handset and dials the number.
“Yes, I would like to speak with Dr. Amy Hanson, room 539, please.... No, I understand, we assumed that would be the situation. Could I leave a message?.... My name is Bob James, the message is that Honey has died.... Yes, died.... we will be here at Anthony’s club for another four hours waiting for her call, after that she will need to wait until tomorrow.... No, that is all, she has the number.... thank you, it was a shock to all of us. Good evening.” He hangs up. “Problem solved.”
“That’s a little cold, don’t you think?”
“It could not be any colder, which is Dr. Hanson’s style. There was no good way to break the news so we might as well use the direct approach. If you do not object, I will catch some sleep on your couch while we wait for her call.”
“I spent last night right there so feel free. This is the phone that will ring any way. If she calls, I can put it on speaker and we can all talk.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
He walks over to the couch, sits down, wedges himself in the corner and props his feet up on a nearby chair. He closes his eyes and falls asleep. At least he looks like he’s sleeping, you can’t be sure with him.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
I’m sitting at a table near the stage. If the customers see me, they tend to not act up. They know that I’m watching, so they behave. I hear a whistle from behind me. Turning around, I see Bob by the door, holding a clenched fist to his ear. Hanson must be on the phone. I nod towards him, he nods back, then walks towards the office. I have not been looking forward to this moment. When I walk in the door to the office, Bob is sitting next to the phone. He points at my chair.
“Anthony is here now, Dr. Hanson.” I sit down.
“This message had better be a drunken joke Anthony!”
Fuck it. “No joke. One of your special psychos cut her up bad. She was dead by the time I checked on her. He slit her throat, among other things.”
“What does that mean?”
Bob leaned in to the phone. “It would appear that he was torturing her. She had cuts all over her body of varying lengths and depths. It is called ‘Death by a Thousand Cuts’, quite painful and slow, also quite messy. He did severely cut her throat. It is likely that she was still alive when her throat was cut, there was a large blood pool below the cut, which indicates her heart was still beating, though, given the position of the body the blood could have simply drained out due to gravity, hard to say for certain.”
“And why are you there Bob?”
“Anthony contacted me when he was unable to reach you.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few moments.
“Anthony?”
“Yes?”
“How could you be so INCOMPETENT?! You had one simple job, keep her alive! You didn’t have to even keep her from being hurt, just alive! Apparently, that was too difficult for you ...”
“Don’t drop that shit on me Doc! I was just following your fucking rules! If I had my way, none of those sick bastards would have even been in this club! Sooner or later, something bad was going to happen so I don’t want to hear any crap about ...”
“YOU DO NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!”
Bob leans back towards the phone. “Dr. Hanson, it would probably be best for all of us to calm down. You are likely not in a location to freely talk about this matter, someone might overhear your end of this conversation.”
Silence. I think I can hear her breathing. “You are correct Mr. James. What’s done is done. I can deal with this when I return. I do not want anything touched until I get there.” Bob looks at me, that fucking smirk on his face.
“When do you plan to return Dr. Hanson?” asks Bob.
“The same as before Mr. James, December twelfth.” He called it, what a bitch!
“You don’t think returning early would be appropriate under the circumstances?” asks Bob.
“She is already dead; there is nothing I can do about that. I do want to view the body and murder scene.”
“How do you propose we preserve her body and the extremely bloody room until you get back? Decomposition will be well along by then and the room will be very ... aromatic.”
“That is your problem, solve it.”
“We already have.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you said Doctor, what’s done is done. The room has been scrubbed clean and her body cremated.”
“On who’s authority?!”
Enough of this. She doesn’t give a damn about me or my problems. “I made the call. She was dead. We knew what happened and we knew who did it. The longer we kept the body around, the better the chance of someone finding out she was dead. I wasn’t going to take the chance of the cops getting involved so we cleaned up the mess, all of it.”
“We should have discussed this Anthony before you acted.”
“I tried to call you but couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Was this your decision or Bob’s?”
“It was mine. Bob had his own opinion but it was my decision.”
“I am sure it was ... we can discuss this when I return. I will contact you.” She hung up. Bob slumps back in the chair and rubs his eyes. He looks beat. Actually, he looks more than tired, like he’s sad or depressed. He notices me checking him out and straightens up, then he stands up.
“That is it for now. I am going home and get some real sleep. Call me about the meeting time and place when you know something. I will make myself available regardless of the time. Good night Anthony.”
“Night Bob. Thanks for your help. It’s been a wild couple of days.” I hold out my hand.
“You are welcome Anthony.” He shakes my hand and leaves.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
This is utterly intolerable! Honey was MINE! Who are they to decide the appropriate course of action! If I was back in Dallas, I would ... I would ... I don’t know what I would do.
I had such plans for her. All my research, all my consultations, WASTED! The new regime of torture would have done the trick, finally, completely breaking her! Now, Honey has been ripped away from me, all due to Anthony’s incompetence! I am sure that Bob James also had something to do with this. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do from Sweden, but when get back, there will be hell to pay, that I promise!
* * ** * ** * ** * *
Hanson called me bright and early on the thirteenth, wanted to meet that morning. I told her to pick the time and place. She set it for 10:00 a.m. at the club, so she could check out Honey’s room. I called Bob and let him know. He said that he’d be there by 9:45, that we still had work to do to cover all the bases. I will be so damn happy when all this crap is done. If I had known at the start about all the shit I was going to have to put up with, I’d have tossed Hanson out on her ass when she came to me with her offer for Honey’s services.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
When I get to the club, the front door is locked. I ring the bell several times before Anthony finally unlocks it and lets me in.
“Come in, Doc.”
“I would like to see Honey’s room first Anthony, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem, be my guest.” He walks ahead of me all the way to the bedroom. He unlocks the door and steps aside so that I can enter. I march in and look around. It is empty except for bed frame, dresser, table with mirror, chair, bathtub and sink. I walk over to the dresser and open several drawers. They are all empty. Not only empty but utterly clean, no dust, no lint … nothing. The same for the table. The room smells faintly of bleach. There is no blood to be seen anywhere. I had brought something with me to test for blood residue. Removing the bottle of Luminol from my purse, I spray it on the floor around the bed. There is no reaction. Hhhmmmm, interesting. I return the bottle to my purse. I notice that the clock radio is no longer bolted to the dresser top. With any luck, Bob James did not discover why it was there.
“I have seen all that I need for now Anthony. Let’s go to your office and talk.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Doc.”
We exit the room and he locks it again. It is a short walk to his office. I open the door. Bob is sitting in the chair next to Anthony’s desk. I sit down in the chair opposite him while Anthony takes a seat behind his desk.
“Good morning, Mr. James. I do not recall inviting you to this meeting.”
“Good morning, Doctor. You did not but Anthony did. We have some issues that must be dealt with, some decisions that need to be made.”
“I should feel flattered that you are including me in the discussions. It was my understanding that you and Anthony were making all the decisions.” Bob smirked at that.
“Doctor, we did what we thought was best for all concerned. We attempted to reach you but were unable to do so. Even if we had, your request to leave everything untouched until yesterday was clearly impractical. I did take some photos with my cell phone to document the scene.” He hands me his phone.
I scroll through the pictures, each one more gruesome than the last. They are not exactly Hi Def. Most of the close-ups were adequate. There were several of cuts to Honey’s wrists, arms and torso. The wide shots show large quantities of blood on the floor and walls. Why didn’t the Luminol react? I remove the bottle from my purse and set it on the desk.
“Do you know what this is, Mr. James?” He picks it up and examines it.
“I believe it is Luminol, a product used by police to search for evidence of blood.”
“You are correct, can you explain why there was no reaction when I sprayed it in Honey’s room?”
“Certainly, Doctor. We triple washed and rinsed the entire room and contents with soap and water, then repeated the process with chlorine bleach. I assume that you know what that does to blood.”
“Yes, I do. What did you do with the body?”
“We burned it, along with the rooms’ contents, using a mixture of kerosene and liquid oxygen.”
“Liquid oxygen?! Where, in God’s name, did you get that?”
“I have my sources.”
“Which are?” He hesitates, tapping his finger on the desk.
“Normally I would not answer that question, but will in this case, as a sign of goodwill.” He takes a page from the notepad on the desk, writes a name and phone number, then hands it to me. “This is a welding supply shop. I had made arrangements with the owner when I first moved to town months ago for him to supply me with it on demand. I paid him a more than reasonable retainer.” He reaches into a bag at his feet. “Now, in the spirit of goodwill, perhaps you will tell me what this was doing in Honey’s room.” He tosses the clock radio onto Anthony’s desk. Damn! He knows.
“Clearly, you know what it is or you would not be asking the question. I had it installed so that Anthony could record Honey’s encounters with certain clients.”
“And who were these clients?” How much has Anthony told him? Probably enough to prevent me from lying about it.
“Clients that I recruited and arranged to have sex with Honey.”
“More than just simple sex, from what I have heard.”
“So, what have you heard, Mr. James?”
“That these particular clients specialized in abusive, exotic behaviors. It was just another form of punishment and torture for Honey to endure. You started documenting her encounters with regular clients then, when that became boring, raised the stakes. Her last client, Mr. Smith, seemed to be aware of the camera. He cut the electrical cord and used it in the murder, binding her hands to the bed frame with it. There is a brief tape of his activities.”
There is a combination remote on Anthony’s desk. Bob picks it up, switches the TV and VCR on and starts the tape. It shows a blonde man in a long coat directing Honey to lie on the bed, her head at the foot of the bed. He cuts the cord off the lamp, ties her ankles, moves out of the view of the camera, then the screen goes blank. He never once looked at the camera, always kept his head turned away or at an angle. I don’t recognize him at all. He looks nothing like any of the men I gave my yellow cards to this past month.
“I believe that he did not get the card from me. This ‘Mr. Smith’ is an imposter!”
Bob leans back in his chair. “And that surprises you Doctor? I am sure that after your painstaking research into the character and backgrounds of each of your recruits, you would have expected better behavior. You did thoroughly check each of them out before giving them unrestrained access to Honey didn’t you?” He knows that I didn’t.
“I do not appreciate the sarcasm Mr. James. What is your point?”
“My point, Doctor, is that Honey’s death was completely predictable. You robbed her of the natural protection a pimp provides his whore and then purposely exposed her to the most unbalanced , sadistic, psychotic thugs you could scrape from the bottom of the barrel. What little control you exercised was based on the naíve, myopic belief that your chosen vicious troglodytes would not pass those precious yellow cards off to someone even worse than them, either for money or drugs or just kicks, not to mention that they could have the card simply stolen from them. It was just a matter of time before someone truly deranged walked through Honey’s door. Is there any good reason why I was not informed of this insane, barbaric activity when I first became involved with you?”
Bob’s upset; normally he’s the poster boy for cool and calm. “I decided not to tell you because it was none of your business. It had nothing to do with my arrangements with the Wranglers. You were here to advise me on how to keep my operation out of the public eye, nothing more. How I used Honey beyond that was my business.”
“And you did not think that the almost certain death of the object of your hate and retribution for the last twenty plus years might not bring the attention of the public, including the police?”
“I object to your statement that Honey’s death was a certainty ... I will admit that this event has revealed some possible flaws in the plan but there were precautions taken that should have prevented ...”
“Doctor, do not talk like a fool. The only precautions were your ludicrously inadequate selection process and the assumption that Anthony was going to sit in his office and monitor each encounter, hoping that he could react in time if things went bad. The entire scheme was completely insane! On top of that ...” he picks up the clock radio, “... you did not even bother with using sufficient technology. You purchased a cheap, disguised wireless camera available at any tech toy store. Anyone remotely familiar with the technology would have recognized it in seconds, particularly the way it was installed. I think that it is clear that ‘Mr. Smith’ knew exactly what it was.” He slams it back onto Anthony’s desk. “It was broadcasting on a common band without encryption, for God’s sake!”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you even understand the limitations of your chosen technology? It is wireless, broadcasting an OPEN signal approximately three hundred feet, IN ALL DIRECTIONS! Anyone within three hundred feet of the camera with a commonly available receiver could watch what was happening in Honey’s room. There are hobbyists who do nothing but drive around and attempt to tap into those signals. How many people do you think have watched your supposedly private shows?”
“There are people who do that? Why?”
“High tech peeping toms. You should check out some of the ‘You Tube’-like porn web sites. It is eye opening. Honey may already be there, for all I know.” He is quite emotional about Honey’s death, much more than I would have expected. If he is too emotional, he may let something revealing slip. It is dangerous, but it could be interesting to push him a bit.
“What do I care if some techie perverts get off watching Honey get beaten up? I certainly did. She deserved everything that she received, every painful second.”
“You really have no concept of proportionate punishment, do you? At least the tapes could prove useful. You still have them, I presume.”
“Oh yes, safely locked away. I like to take one out and watch it every once and awhile. Very enjoyable.”
“I am sure it is ... for you. I have a more productive use for them though.”
“What is that?”
“We have taken care of almost all the lose ends, but at least one remains. Honey’s friend Candi is not currently in town, but will be returning within the next few months. She will expect to find Honey still working here, which obviously will not happen. She is suspicious of Anthony and likely will not accept any story he would tell. She might trust me but we can’t rely on that. It will be necessary for her to speak with Honey.”
“How do you propose to do that, a séance?”
“If your tapes contain recordings of Honey’s voice, samples can be taken and analyzed by a specialized computer program. Her voice can be reconstructed and then manipulated by that program, simulating a conversation by simply typing on the keyboard. You have probably seen the results of a more simplified version of this type of program when dead celebrities are inserted into modern commercials or movies. It is not perfect, but when combined with a slightly degraded cell phone call, it is very convincing. Is there much conversation on these tapes?”
“Only if you consider screams of pain and begging to be screwed conversation.” The muscles of his jaw tighten, he is clenching his teeth, and his hands tighten into fists. He’s trying to control his anger, without much success.
“Regardless Doctor, I will need to review these tapes to see if I can find some useful segments. When can you make them available?”
“Never.”
His eyes widen but his face stays blank, maybe too blank. He’s trying to look unemotional but is overcompensating.
“A very unhelpful response Doctor. It is in your interest to close this particular hole in our narrative. Why would you deny me access to vital resources?”
“Because I believe that you are systematically attempting to take every scrap of evidence of Honey’s existence away from me. You cleaned her room to the nth degree, you incinerated her body and all her belongings. Where are the ashes, by the way?”
“I have disposed of them.”
“Where? How?” His smirk returns.
“They are beyond all possibility of recovery Doctor, trust me.”
“Oh I do, Mr. James” I lied. “However, that just confirms my suspicions. I expect that you would destroy my tapes should you get your hands on them. I cannot permit that so you will never get the chance.”
“This makes my job much more difficult, Doctor.”
“Yes it does, Mr. James.” Just then, Anthony sits bolt upright.
“Shit! I forgot about her locker!”
“What locker?” I ask.
“Honey’s locker in the dressing room. She’d have her costumes, makeup and other shit in there. We forgot to empty it when we cleaned out her room.” Well, that is certainly good news!
Bob stands up. “We need to empty that locker right now; before the club opens for the day.” He looks around the office, “do you have a box or bag in here, Anthony?”
“No, but there are boxes behind the bar. I’ll go get a couple.”
“I will meet you at in the dressing room.”
I also stand up. “No, you won’t. I will take care of it. I want everything she left behind. I owned her and anything she used. Go get your boxes Anthony.” He glances at Bob, who sits back down.
“That is acceptable Doctor, though I insist that you bring everything back here so that I can inspect each item to make sure there is nothing that will conflict with our story.”
“Just as long as you remember that it is all mine and I am taking it with me when I leave today.” Bob nods his head.
Anthony and I walk to the bar and he points to the backstage door. I walk in while he acquires some boxes. It is a dingy, smelly crowded room with a small, lit makeup table and mirror, a few dilapidated chairs and a row of battered lockers against one wall. They all have locks except one. That one has a yellowed, peeling strip of masking tape on the door with “Honey” written in black eyebrow pencil. The entire room reeks of depression and ruined dreams. It warms my heart to think that Honey spent many unhappy hours here. Anthony comes in, a large box in each hand. I open the locker door. It is crammed with her dance costumes, shoes and props. We need to get this job done so I quickly remove the contents, hand them back to Anthony, and he stuffs them in one of the boxes. In the end, it all fits in a single box. He picks it up and we return to his office. When we get back, Bob is still in his chair. Anthony sets the box on his desk then starts to pull each item out, one at a time.
The first one is her maid costume, the next is the “Donna Reed” housewife costume, followed by an assortment of flashy bras and g-strings. Anthony hands each one to Bob. He inspects it and then passes it to me. I really don’t know what I am going to do with these things, perhaps I can have a mannequin made that looks like Honey and dress it in these costumes. It was a smart move on Bob’s part to burn Honey’s body. I would have had it stuffed and mounted on a platform, to stand in my living room. It would have been a small comfort, slight compensation for my loss. Anthony removes a wadded up scarf from the box. He holds it by an edge and it unrolls, dropping a small box in my lap. It is about 4 inches square, wrapped in Christmas paper with a red bow. There is a sticker on the paper with “To Bob, From Honey” written on it. Hhhmmm, what have we here? Bob reaches for it, but I pull back.
“Hold on Bob, this is mine.”
“What does the label say, Dr. Hanson?”
“To Bob from Honey.”
“Then it is mine, Doctor.”
“It isn’t even Christmas yet Bob. Surely, Honey wouldn’t want you to have it early.”
Bob reaches out with his hand. “Please give it to me, Doctor.” It wasn’t a request, it was a polite demand.
“I told you, everything of hers is mine.” I start to open the box.
“Doctor, I strongly suggest that you stop and give me the gift.”
“Or else what? Are you going to take it from me?” Bob was sitting forward in the chair but now leans back slightly. I can see the tension in his body though. I continue opening it. Once the paper is off, I lift the lid. It is a figurine of some kind with a string attached at the top. I lift it out by the string. It is a ceramic angel, white with glitter on it. Looks like a Christmas ornament of some kind. There is a second tag on it, “To My Guardian Angel”. I smile at that, what a saccharine sentiment! I can’t keep from laughing. “My God, did she get that wrong! Guardian Angel indeed! Honey always was weak but I didn’t think she was also a simpering, emotional child.”
He reaches his hand out again. “If you please, Doctor.”
“Not on your life. You don’t deserve this Bob. It is going on my tree at home.”
“I do not think so, Doctor.” I can feel the tension rising. So does Anthony.
“Hey, it’s just a lousy, cheap Christmas ornament. No big deal. There’s no reason to fight about it.” He doesn’t recognize what it is we are fighting about.
Bob eases up out of his chair and steps away from the desk. Oh no you don’t! You do not get to play the intimidation game with me! Not again! I stand up too and step closer to him, dangling the angel from my left hand.
“Come on Bob, Doc, don’t do this” says Anthony. We both ignore him.
“Well Mr. Angel, what now? Honey is dead and this is all that is left of her, you made sure of that. The only proof I have of her death are your pictures and your word. Would you accept that?”
“Anthony was there also Doctor. Don’t you believe him?” He moves towards me a step. I circle slightly to my right.
“Anthony is a fool. It wouldn’t take much to deceive him.” Anthony takes offense at that statement.
“Hey, screw you Hanson! I’ve been cleaning up your god damn mess for the past week! Honey was slaughtered right here by a fucking psycho that you sent. You don’t want to believe that, fine. Ain’t my problem anymore.”
“Anthony is right Doctor, Honey’s death is your fault, no one else’s. You created the situation just to increase the level of her torment when you grew board with just watching her whore her life away. Forcing her into a life of endless abusive sex was not good enough for you.” He steps towards me again. We are about six feet apart.
“Why do you care how I treated her Bob? You accepted my injections, you accepted the benefits. If I hadn’t helped you, you would be a cripple today. That was the deal. You get the treatments, Honey stays with me. Don’t be a hypocrite!” I slide to my right again. “Maybe your concern for her is more than moral outrage, maybe you had feelings for her. I saw how you looked at her, heard how you spoke to her. You promised to look out for her but now she’s dead, according to you. Where’s the anger, where’s the rage?” I dangle the angel in front of him. “She was MINE! To do with as I wished! Alive or dead! You tried to take her from me when she was alive.” I flip the angel up and grasp it in my hand. “This is now mine too and you will never have it!” I fling it down, the figurine shattering when it hits the floor, scattering white shards to all four corners of the room. Bob’s eyes are narrow slits, his mouth tight and thin. I step up to him, my face inches from his.
“Well Mr. Angel, what are you going to do now?”
It is risky, but I want to shatter his calm, controlled demeanor. Maybe then I will see the real Bob James. He pulls back away from me a few inches and shifts to my right slightly. His right shoulder dips about two inches. He wouldn’t dare ... everything goes white, then black.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
The final chapters of the sequel to "Team Spirit" by Janice Dreamer. Dr. Hanson and Bob have their final confrontation. Chapters 45 of 48 out of 48. Ratings and listed Elements apply to the entire story. I'd like to thank all the readers who have stayed with this very lengthy story. I hope that you found it worth your time.
TEAM SPIRIT: THE SECOND HALF
BY Meps98
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
I would have bet anything that Hanson was dead before she smacked the wall.
Hell, before he hit her that third time.
The first punch was a right to her jaw, snapping her head around. It would still be twisting if he hadn’t followed the right immediately with an equally vicious left. Doc’s body was dropping straight down when her chin ran into the uppercut.
It was just like a cartoon.
She completely left the ground, slamming into the wall behind her, then slumped to the ground. Bob just stood there staring at her...wasn’t even breathing hard. Took all of five seconds.
After a few moments, Bob walked back to my desk, scooped up all the shit from Honey’s locker, stuffed it in the box, and picked it up.
“Give me three minutes, then call 911. Call her office after that.”
What the hell was I going to say ... “No”? He was out the door before I could do anything.
I went over to Hanson’s body and was shocked when I found a pulse, a strong one too. She’s tougher than she looks. I did just as Bob said. Also called one of the cops I pay off. The ambulance showed up in about eight minutes, my cops about two minutes later. Had to make sure I wasn’t arrested for this crap. I didn’t say anything about Bob, Hanson can if she wants. I ain’t gonna cross that guy for all the coke in Columbia.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
My head and neck are throbbing. From the crown to my chin, one large, pounding, thumping cacophony of pain. I slowly open my eyes and try to move my head to look around but the pain is too great, so I just shift my eyes about. I appear to be in a hospital room, curtains drawn and dimly lit. My upper body is elevated to about 45 degrees. I think that there may be someone sitting in the chair to my left but it hurts too much to turn my head to look. I try to talk but my jaw won’t move, so I can only make a useless moaning noise, which attracts the attention of whomever is in the chair. A large, dark body moves in front of me.
“Finally awake, eh’ Doc.”
Wonderful. It’s Anthony. I try to tell him to get out but can only utter more unintelligible moans. He switches on a light, blinding me for a few seconds. Wonderful bedside manner.
“They tell me that your jaw is broken in three places and you’ve got a monster concussion. Your jaw is wired shut. The nurse left this for you.” He holds out a small whiteboard and marker. I slowly reach out with my right hand and take it from him, careful not to move my aching head. I prop the board on my lap and write.
“W.h.a.t. H.a.p.p.e.n.e.d.?”
“Bob hit you.”
“W.i.t.h. W.h.a.t.?“
He grins. “Just his hands.”
“N.o.t. P.o.s.s.i.b.l.e.”
“Oh yeah, very possible Doc. Let me tell you a little story.”
Oh please stop.
“I was watching one of those stupid reality video shows a couple of years ago. This particular video was from London, either a bus or train station surveillance camera, I don’t remember which, doesn’t matter. The camera was looking at a large waiting area and this big guy, not as big as me but good sized, was walking around, pounding on people. He was probably on drugs of some kind. Just walked up to someone and started wailing on them with his bare hands and kicking them. After a few punches, he’d stop, walk over to somebody else and start pounding them. The guy kept working the room, going from person to person, beating them. Didn’t matter if it was a man, woman or kid. No one really fought back, they just ducked and covered up. There wasn’t any sound so you don’t know if anybody was yelling for help but there weren’t any cops around.”
What is the point of this drivel?
“So, as this guy went around the room punching and kicking people, he gradually moved closer to the camera. There was this below-average size guy just in the bottom of the camera’s view. The big guy was headed right for him. The little guy took a couple of steps forward. The big guy was almost on top of the little guy when the big guy’s head snapped back, his body turned about thirty degrees to the right and he went down like he was shot. The little guy just kept walking, never saw his face. They did a slow motion replay and you could see the little guy hit him square on the jaw with a short jab, got his whole body behind it. No big windup, no big follow through. The punch probably traveled all of twelve inches and knocked the big guy out cold. The little guy knew his business, a pro. Fucking amazing!” I pick up my board.
“W.h.a.t. T.h.i.s. D.o. W.i.t.h. M.e.?”
“Cause that is exactly what Bob did to you, only three times in about two and a half seconds. Good thing my bookie wasn’t there because I would have bet everything I owned that he’d killed you. I called 911, the ambulance came, picked you up and here you are.”
“H.o.w. L.o.n.g.?” He checks his watch.
“Oh, about fourteen hours ago. It’s almost 1:00 a.m. The cops came too but it was a couple of guys on my pad. I didn’t tell them much, just that you and a guy were talking in my office, I heard a loud thump, came in, found you and called 911. Figured that you would want to tell the story your way.”
“W.h.e.r.e. B.o.b.?”
“Right now? No idea. He left right after knocking you on your ass. Haven’t heard from him since.” He stands up. “I told Connor that I would wait here until you woke up. She should be here around 8:00 o’clock this morning. I think she’s bringing some of your rejuvenation medicine with her. You should be eating solid food in no time.”
I franticly scribble on the whiteboard. “W.h.a.t. I.f. B.o.b. R.e.t.u.r.n.s.?”
“What if he does? He won’t do anything while you’re in here. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I believe that he pulled his punches. He sent you flying into the wall with no effort at all. If he wanted to kill you, he could have done it and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. You’re probably safe here.”
“P.r.o.b.a.b.l.y.?”
“Yeah ... probably.” He waves his hand and leaves the room. A nurse enters as he exits.
“I have some pain meds for you Doctor Hanson.” It’s about time. She injects something into my IV line and I quickly fall sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
When I wake the next time, my head feels better, I can move a little more without pain. The jaw still pulses but the intensity has lessened. I can turn my head far enough to see the clock. It’s 5:00 a.m. and the hospital is dead quiet. I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.
“Good morning, Doctor Hanson.”
Bob! My eyes fly open but I can’t see anything. I try to shout but can still barely make any sounds at all. My right arm flails around, trying to find the call buzzer.
“Don’t bother Doctor.”
He steps out from the shadows. How long has he been there? The call buzzer dangles from his hand.
“I unplugged this to make sure we had a brief time alone.”
He swings my tray across the bed, stopping it in front of me. Bending down, he picks up a rectangular flat object and places it on the tray, flipping it open. It is a laptop computer. He pushes a button and the screen lights up. After the start up screen, the desktop appears. He reaches across and I involuntarily flinch. He clicks on an icon that I do not recognize. Whatever the program is, it starts and a text entry box appears.
“Go on Doctor, type something. Ask me a question then hit ‘Enter’.”
I do. The computer speaks. “Why are you here?” It is Honey’s voice, a little stilted and flat but clearly Honey’s voice. From what he said, there was only one place where he could have gotten the samples he needed. I type another question. “Did you break into my house?”
“I will answer the second question first. Yes I did. I found the tapes. As for your first question, I am here to apologize for striking you. I let my emotions get the better of me and should not have lost control. Before we go any further, I would like to get one question answered. Am I correct in assuming that our arraignment is terminated?”
I type and hit “Enter”.
“Yes.” That voice is a little unnerving.
“A shame, but perfectly understandable Doctor. I accept your decision. Having said that, there are just a couple of parting thoughts I would like to leave with you.”
“Do not want to hear it. Leave now.”
“I would prefer that you not make me insist Doctor. It will only take a few minutes.” He fingers my IV line with his left hand.
“Point taken. Go on.” He may be smiling, it is hard to be sure in this darkened room.
“Thank you Doctor. We both need to recover from our respective obsessions with Honey Sweet-Lay. Mine was of much shorter duration and a more positive nature, but we were both obsessed with her or him as the case maybe, and still are, despite her death. If either of us is to have a good future of any kind, each must get past that obsession. I intend to get professional help, if necessary, and I hope you would do the same.”
Where is he going with this?
“On a similar note, I did not destroy the tapes, nor the contents of Honey’s locker. They are all at your home. I had a change of heart after cooling off from our meeting at the club. It is true that I intended to destroy all evidence of Honey’s existence for every one’s protection, but also to piss you off. I knew that you would want to keep everything you could as trophies once Honey died. You bought Josh Thomas’s house, kept some of his athletic awards and other personal property, destroying the rest. I assumed you would have done the same thing with Honey’s meager possessions. Keeping all that property is dangerous, but it is not my place to make that decision for you. If you are able to give up those items, it would be an indication that you are on the road to recovering from your crippling obsession with all things Josh Thomas.”
Thank heaven he did not destroy my tapes.
“I took care of the problem with Honey’s friend Candi, you can speak with Anthony about the cover story. I did not use the computer in front of you. While it is the latest technology available to the general public, it is not quite sophisticated enough to run the voice program. The program on your machine is a simplified version of what I used. With practice, your computer could produce a fairly convincing conversation. I am giving you that computer should the need arise to divert the attention of the authorities once I am gone.”
“Why you being helpful?”
“Because I do not believe you are a lost cause, Doctor. You are a brilliant scientist who has wasted a good portion of her productive years seeking vengeance for an act that occurred many years ago.”
“Have Nobel Prize. That a waste?”
“Do you believe that you have reached your creative peak? That there is nothing more you can accomplish?”
“No.”
“Since winning the Nobel, you have rested on your laurels, spending your time tormenting Honey. Properly developed, your discoveries could change the world for the better if you could come up with a legal way to create your drugs.”
“Legal?”
“The raw material for your treatments is aborted fetuses, more precisely, embryonic stem cells, which you import from Russia, the abortion leader of the world.”
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT HE KNOWS! So much for reporting him to the police for assaulting me.
“I suspected that your treatments were not actually individually tailored to each patient. You were treating more than eighty people, including yourself and staff. That is more than eighty individual DNA patterns. Science does not yet have a complete understanding of how the entire DNA sequence works, so creating eighty individual medications would mean that there would be too many chances for errors, possibly fatal errors. Yet, you had a 100% success rate, which is practically unheard of for any medical treatment, let alone an experimental one. Your only ‘failure’ was Josh Thomas, which was the one case where you actually did create a unique DNA based drug. The rest of your patients received a drug developed from embryonic stem cells, using their own DNA as the model for their rejuvenation. My suspicions were confirmed when I forced you to change injections at the last moment when we first met at your lab. I know that you had plans to transform me but when that was thwarted, you immediately reached for a different vial. It was extremely unlikely that you would have gone to the trouble of creating two separate and unique drugs, so the one I received was most likely generic, just the same as everyone but Josh received. Once I discovered the source of your regular shipments, everything fell into place.
“Whom have you told?”
“No one and I do not intend to. Should the authorities become aware of your use of aborted fetuses and embryonic stem cells, the consequences would be quite bad for you. More importantly, should that information become public, there are certain groups with a particular ... shall we say, ‘viewpoint’ about the use of embryonic stem cells, who would spare no effort to make sure your experiments ceased ... with extreme prejudice.”
“I am giving you the opportunity to discover other ways to do the same things with legal ingredients. It would make you an incredibly wealthy woman and the world a better place. Just because I personally believe you have done terrible things does not mean that you cannot do good in the world. Honey and I often spoke about karma and redemptive acts. You have great untapped potential Doctor; beyond your already recognized accomplishments. I would hate to see you waste it.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing Doctor. Your success is all that I require. Should you succeed and your treatments become available to the general public, I will benefit. For now, I intend to restart my original MS drug regimen immediately which should either prevent or reduce my symptoms in the future, assuming your treatments did not cure me. I also found that I enjoyed having female companionship, so I will start looking for Honey’s replacement.”
He is one cold son of a bitch!
“Unfortunately Doctor, my original argument for you to stop working for the Wranglers remains. As long as you are involved with that team, you are at risk of exposure. You must get away from them and it needs to be their decision. I suggest that you sabotage the program, that it cease working. There is no need to actually harm anyone, that could lead to a different kind of investigation. Simple failure is all that is necessary. That would help squelch rumors about an illegal advantage the Wranglers have and give them an incentive to terminate your services. Besides, with Honey’s death, you have no reason to attend their post Super Bowl parties any longer.”
“How will I replace the Wrangler’s money?”
“I can not answer that Doctor. All I can say is that when you start ignoring the correct actions due to concerns about a loss of money, then someone owns you. Do the Wranglers own you Doctor?”
“No.”
“Then do what you should do, money be damned. There is one last thing and I want to make sure you understand that I am serious about it. As I said, you are a brilliant scientist, likely more so than I realize. I believe that, should you put your mind to it, you could clone Honey. You have her DNA at your lab. In a few years, you could have a new person to torture. I hope you understand that this would be completely unreasonable. Just in case you do not, I plan on checking in on you now and then. If I find out that you are attempting that or anything like it, I will burn your lab to the ground and kill anyone associated with it. You ... have ... my ... word ... on ... this. Do you understand?”
I cannot clearly see him, but I can clearly hear him. His is the voice of death and destruction, of this I am sure. There would be no escape, no reprieve. I have no intention of cloning anybody, though it is an interesting concept. Regardless, it is a chance I am not willing to take.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. I have found our relationship both interesting and beneficial Doctor. Take care of yourself ... Oh, please check on Anthony now and then if you will, I have grown fond of him.”
My door opens quietly, there is a brief flash of light from the illuminated hallway and he is gone, silently closing the door behind him.
* ** * ** * ** * *
(Six Months Later)
Doc Hanson was at the club again tonight. She comes in about once a month now; we sit in my office and talk. Just after Honey’s death, she was here practically daily. The first time she came in, I gave her the hair that Bob tore from Honey’s head before we torched her body. I had kept it in my freezer. She seemed happy to get it. Those first few visits, she pumped me for details about Honey’s death, the bastard who did it, how we cleaned the room and where we burned the body. She brought some kind of specialist in to go over the room, looking for evidence of the murder I guess. We even tried to find the old garage but I couldn’t recreate our original route. I’m pretty sure Bob planned it that way. I think that she didn’t believe that Honey was actually dead. I told her that Bob was never alone with Honey and he ripped out that clump of hair just before we burned the body. In the end, I think she accepted it. Maybe. Not my problem.
The last few visits, she was more interested in what Bob was doing. She never pressed charges against him for beating her up, I didn’t ask her why. He was living in the same house, but I didn’t go over there to check on him, didn’t know if I was welcome or not. He did however have other girls come over to his place like Honey first did. I know that because I talked with other club owners. He approached them with the same offer he made to me. Unfortunately for him, none of the other girls worked out. Honey really was one of a kind, in more ways than the obvious. I had to admit that I sorta missed her too. What a cocksucker!
Honey’s regular john’s asked about her, but I told them the same thing Bob told Candi when he called her using that “Honey in a box” computer, that she had gone to Germany to work their clubs, said that a guy bought her contract from me. Candi never did come back to my club. I think she decided to stay in Houston. Other than that, Honey’s disappearance didn’t cause a ripple. I don’t know if it was sheer luck or all that Bob did, but I thought we were in deep shit when I first walked in on that bloody murder scene. Turns out I was wrong. It was all probably for the best anyway. There’s no more fighting between Bob and Hanson. I can keep those psycho creeps out of my club. I don’t have to worry about her ratting me out to the cops. I miss the money but, in the end, it just wasn’t worth the hassle.
After Hanson left, I went back out to the bar. It’s a Thursday night in June and the weather had been brutally hot. Anybody selling cold beer was doing OK tonight. No one was on stage right now, so I took a leisurely tour around the floor, making sure every one knew I was here. Talked with a few of my regulars, pressing the flesh. There’s a guy I don’t recognize sitting in the corner at Bob’s old table. He’s slumped forward, can’t see his face. As I walk closer, he looks up.
“Son of a BITCH! BOB! How you doing?!” Bob reaches up with his hand. I grab it and sit down.
“Hello Anthony. It is good to see you again.”
“Me too man, me too. How you been?”
“Fine, you?”
“Pretty busy. Doc Hanson was just here, left about ten minutes ago.”
“I know, I’ve been here awhile myself. I thought it best to keep her unaware of my presence. I was not sure how she would react. There was no need to risk causing a scene, particularly given the reason I am here tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“I am here to say good bye Anthony. I have been unable to find a companion since Honey’s death, so it is time to move on.”
“That’s a shame man. Where you going?”
“I am not sure, possibly back East. Did I ever tell you that I am originally from the New York area?”
“You never told me anything about yourself Bob. You don’t sound like a New Yawker.”
“It took some effort to get rid of the accent. I miss winter and snow. I will see what area appeals to me. I just wanted to stop by, relive some old times and bid you farewell.” His eyes are a little misty.
“You still miss her, don’t you?”
“Very much so, but life moves on.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder. “Take care Anthony.”
“You too Bob. Do you want me to tell Hanson about this conversation?”
“It makes no difference to me. Do whatever you feel is in your best interest. Good bye.”
He slowly walks towards the exit, looking this way and that as he leaves. When he reaches the exit, he turns and dips his head towards me. I nod back. He slides out the door.
I feel a lot more comfortable knowing he’s not in town anymore. A great guy to have on your side when there’s trouble around, but it seems there is always trouble when he’s around. I’d rather not have the trouble in the first place.
* * ** * ** * ** * *
(Three Months Later)
Summer was making its last stand in the middle-sized town of Bloomington, Indiana. Bloomington is a college town, home of the main campus of Indiana University. The town itself surrounds the campus on three sides, mostly older homes and neighborhoods, many of which have seen better days. A large number of the bigger houses have been converted to student rental housing, internally subdivided into multiple apartments. Some neighborhoods have resisted the creeping commercialization. Much of the University faculty resides in those neighborhoods, those and the sprawling subdivisions on the outskirts of town.
Today, the air is hot and moist, filled with the sounds of children playing in the neighborhood park. An average sized man, of average weight and indeterminate age with auburn hair pauses to watch a basketball game in that park for a few minutes before strolling down the street to a white, fenced, Victorian style house. He opens, then walks through the wrought iron gate, up the short concrete sidewalk, climbs the steps to the front door and rings the doorbell. There is no answer, so he rings again. The door swings open, revealing an attractive, middle-aged woman, dressed in a pale yellow sundress.
“Hello Bob. It is Bob today, isn’t it?”
He smiles. “Yes Susan, Bob James. I have been using this legend exclusively for almost two years and have grown quite comfortable with it. May I come in?”
“Certainly. I thought you said you would be here after 5:00. It’s only 4:15.”
“The traffic around Indianapolis was much less than I anticipated and there was no delay at the airport. I can come back later if you wish.”
“No, no come in. We may have more to talk about than you originally planned.”
They walk into the living room. Susan gestures towards a chair. Bob sits down while she has a seat on the couch.
“So, how is Ms. Taylor doing?” he asks.
“Amazingly well. Given her history, I would have expected a much more difficult transition to a normal life. She has really taken to the therapy, works very hard at it. You deserve a lot of credit for her willingness to accept what happened to her and put it in the past. I must admit that when you first came to me, I didn’t believe you. The whole story seemed too fantastic. If you had not been my patient when we both worked for ...”
“Yes, I remember.”
“As do I. Because of our relationship, I knew you were not the kind of person to make such claims lightly. Once she was able to trust me, she told me the entire story.” She shook her head. “Absolutely dumbfounding. That such technology exists is both thrilling and horrifying. Are you sure that Debbie is the only victim?”
“Yes, quite sure. Isn’t her name Deborah?”
“She prefers Debbie, don’t you like it?”
“Oh yes, it is cute and wholesome. ‘Debbie Taylor’. It suits her; of course practically anything would be an improvement on ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’. Where is she?”
“Out with friends. I believe the plans were to do some shopping at the Mall and then go to school to work on some banners for the new football season. I don’t expect her back until 6:00, though I did give her strict instructions to be home in time for dinner.”
“She’s not a cheerleader, is she?”
“No, they wanted her, for obvious reasons, but she wasn’t interested, for equally obvious reasons. Debbie still helps out though; she’s that kind of person, very generous and giving.”
“How is she doing in school?”
“Better than one might expect. Having been through high school once before is an advantage to her, but not much of one. Her then athletic talents gave her or him a bit of a free ride, at least in his later years. He must have learned and retained something because Debbie is getting B’s and A’s in Advance Placement classes, even the Home Ec class.”
“Home Ec?”
“She insisted. School has not been easy; she does put in the hours on home work and group projects.”
“I understand that she also works part time. What kind of job?”
“A clothes store, primarily teen fashion. I thought that it would give her a chance to interact with a large cross-section of people and help her become more comfortable out in public. It should also help her catch up on years of ‘fashion experience’ that she never had, giving her more in common with her peer group.”
“Debbie does not really have a peer group.”
Susan frowns. “You know what I mean Bob.”
“And she has friends?”
“Quite a few, particularly given that she only attended school for the spring semester. She naturally attracts attention, as you well know.”
“How about ... boyfriends?”
His voice catches on that question, which does not go unnoticed by Susan.
“Yes, there have been a couple. As I said, she naturally attracts attention, particularly from boys ... and men under the age of ninety.”
“Any ... serious relationships?”
“No Bob, none.” He visibly relaxes. “That is one of the things that we need to talk about. Would you care for something to drink?”
“Just water please.” Susan gets up, goes to the kitchen and returns with two glasses, water for Bob and tea for herself. She sits back down on the couch.
“As I was saying, Debbie has made remarkable progress in almost all areas except one. She cannot form a romantic relationship of any kind with males of her peer group. And no, she is not a lesbian, as you well know.”
“Is that a serious problem?”
“Yes, I believe it is. She has passed up several quite acceptable prospects.”
“Maybe she just has not met the right boy.”
“That is the problem, she’s sure she has.”
“I do not understand. Are you saying she is attracted to a boy who is rejecting her? If so, there is your homosexual. No red blooded male would pass up on an opportunity to date Hone ... Debbie.”
“No Bob, she’s rejecting all romantic overtures because she is in love with you, completely, totally and utterly.” Bob smiles broadly but says nothing. “And therein lies the problem, because we both know that you are incapable of a healthy relationship with anyone.”
“Now wait a moment Susan, that is not exactly true ...”
“How long was I your therapist, Bob?”
“At least ten years.”
“Ten years. In all that time, did we ever make any progress on your ability to actually bond with another person.”
“Certainly, by the end I was ...”
“Capable of convincingly faking it. You could fake most any ‘normal’ behavior but you never really felt the emotion. You remained an isolated person, which in your profession was a strength. You cared for no one, needed no one, relied on no one, shared with no one ... loved no one. You were able to convince Debbie that you and she had a relationship, you likely believed it yourself, having never demonstrated a propensity for cruel behavior for cruelties sake. We both know that the reality is something else. You never had a close, emotional connection with anyone in your life, though you tried. If things became difficult, you simply disappeared. Emotional connections with people would have been a liability when working for .... the ‘company’, but they are mandatory for a successful relationship.
Your condition makes success very unlikely with even a psychologically strong woman. To attempt this with Debbie, after all she has been through, would be unconscionable. I refuse to let her continue with this delusional relationship when she is so close to making an unprecedented transition from an abused, forcibly feminized male to a strong, secure, emotionally balanced woman. I only care about her best interest, not yours. You were my patient, but she is my patient.”
“May I say something?”
“Yes.”
“I do love her, with all my heart. The last nine months have been very difficult for me.”
“They haven’t been a walk in the park for Debbie.”
“I understand that, I do not mean to compare our respective levels of misery. I just want you to understand that I really love her.”
“You may have loved ‘Honey Sweet-Lay’, though I doubt it; you do not even know ‘Debbie Taylor’. They are not the same person.”
“Fine, then let us have a chance to get to know each other.”
“No.”
“Shouldn’t that be her choice?”
“Normally yes, but this is hardly a normal case. I have done things not found in any textbook. God, if I could write a paper on this, I might get my own Nobel Prize. Debbie would do anything to make you happy so, in this area, her judgment can not be trusted.”
“Susan, I am a changed man! I swear!”
“I am sure that you believe you are, but your behavior says otherwise. Debbie told me of a number of instances where you put her in very difficult situations to accomplish your objectives. You did not get her consent for this. Her safety was secondary to your objectives.”
“Her escape was my objective! Chances had to be taken and I could not get her consent without risking failure. This is just like the Syrian matter. You ivory tower types have no idea what working in the field is like. Compromises must be made in order to succeed.”
“You don’t risk the life of someone you love!”
“You do if it is the only way to save them!”
“We disagree, but since I am the therapist, I win.”
“Susan ...”
“And don’t try to intimidate me Bob. I know all your tricks.”
“Not all of them.”
“I know that you respect me and my capabilities, otherwise you would not have asked for my help, which, by the way, is a point in your favor.” Bob says nothing for a moment or two.
“What if I tell her the truth?”
“You have been lying to her?!”
“NO! I have not lied to her ... not as far as anything important. I did not tell her many things, but that is not lying ... it is just not full disclosure.”
“A very subtle difference when you are the one being deceived, Bob.”
“I am offering to tell her the complete truth about me, my history, my job, my problems … that you have been so kind to point out, everything that is not classified. Would that satisfy you?”
She thinks about it for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Love truly is blind. She might not care about any of it; things that would drive any sane person away screaming might be blithely accepted ... I am sorry, simply telling her the complete truth is a minimum requirement. You also must promise me that you will not leave when things get difficult, and make no mistake, things will get very difficult. Debbie is much more stable than anyone could have expected, even hoped for, but she is far from being done with her therapy. If you and she became romantically involved and then you abandon her, the harm to her could be cataclysmic. Can you guarantee me that you would stay with her no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things become?”
“I would do the best I could.”
“That is not nearly good enough. If history means anything, your best will not be adequate ... I’m sorry Bob, but I can't support you, it is not in Debbie’s best interest.”
He nods his head. “I understand Susan. You must do what you think correct. All I know is that I have never felt this way before about anyone. There is no guarantee that will not change, but ‘normal’ couples are in the same situation, as evidenced by the current divorce rate.”
“Agreed, but they are not my responsibility, Debbie is.”
“All I ask is that you do not actively lobby against me.”
“I will tell her what I think ... I do not hate you Bob. You have many admirable qualities, mostly honest, trustworthy, unbelievably resourceful, a strong moral base, a preternatural calm in the face of stress or danger. But you are also ruthless, single minded, relentless, self-absorbed and willing to do most anything to successfully complete your objective. In a difficult situation, I would trust you with my life; I just wouldn’t date you, even at gun point.”
He nods his head again. “Fair enough Susan.”
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
It’s a good thing I brought a change of clothes. This hallway is hot as hell! School doesn’t start until next week so the AC isn’t on yet. Even with the doors open at both ends, the stifling, humid air is just sitting there. We can’t turn on a fan because the thirty foot paper banners spread out on the floor would go flying down the hall. My shorts and tank top make it bearable, but just barely. I’m starting to get sweaty bra rash. Jackie and Sherry are sweating as bad as I am, but they’re cheerleaders so their eternal peppiness keeps them from bitching about it, which leaves me with no one to complain to.
“How many of these do we need to make?” I ask. Sherry shifts from her hands and knees to sitting back on her heels, scratching her nose with the back of the enormous black marker in her right hand.
“One for the cheer section, one for the band, and one in each end zone.”
“Don’t forget the hoop,” adds Jackie “The hoop’s a bitch.”
“But we’ve got two weeks, why do you need these done by Friday?”
Sherry wipes the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “That’s what Emily wants and she’s head cheerleader. I told you that you should have tried out. I’ve seen you dance, you’d have kicked her ass! But noooo, you had more important things to do, like school and work.”
I throw my marker at her but she dodges it, laughing. Jackie and I laugh along with her. “If you’re going to insult me, screw you guys, I’m going home.”
Jackie stands up, brushing off her knees. “She’s not insulting you Deb. Everybody knows you’d be a great addition to the squad. You already spend half your free time with us anyway, might as well make it official. Anybody want a drink?”
I stand up too. “Water.”
Sherry chimes in. “Diet Coke.” Jackie heads for the ice chest at the end of the hall. I sit down next to Sherry.
“I hear that you’ve been seeing Larry Boyd.”
She swats my arm. “Who told you?!”
“I hear things at the store. Besides, you aren’t making a secret of it, parking at the lake.”
“I wish I had your sources, I’d be rich from blackmailing half the senior class. I do know that you turned Chris Bailey down again. Jeez Deb, he’s like the biggest catch in the whole school. Starting quarterback, rich family, a complete babe and ...” she lowers her voice “... a decent fuck, if you believe Joni Shipley. What’s the four-one-one?”
“I know, my Aunt Susan says that I should say ‘yes’ but ...”
“It’s the old boyfriend, isn’t it?” says Jackie as she tosses me a bottled water. “He must have done a number on you to turn you off the great guys who chase you all the time.” I twist open the bottle and take a big swig. Oooohhh yeah, that hits the spot. She sits down and hands Sherry her Diet Coke.
“They aren’t all great guys. Bob didn’t do anything wrong. He was great ... more than great, the best. All that and something else. Sweet, kind, smart, brave, supportive, and ... on Joni Shipley’s scale of one to ten, Bob was a fifty, on a bad day. And he never had a bad day.” They both gasp, then start giggling wildly.
“GAWD DEBBIE! You slut! You never told me that!” cried Jackie.
“No wonder you miss him! Where is he?” chirped Sherry.
“I ... I … don’t really know” I sighed. “We haven’t seen each other in almost ten months.”
“Bummer! Why’d he leave you?”
“Actually ... I left him ... it’s complicated guys.”
“Hey” said Sherry, “if it wasn’t complicated, it wouldn’t be any fun. Still, if he’s not around, maybe you could just try to hook up with somebody else.”
“You should form a club with my Aunt Susan. I have tried ... it’s just ... compared to Bob ... they’re all just ... children, you know?”
Jackie laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know, guys are like children most the time anyway. You better start seeing somebody soon or people will think you’re a lesbo.”
I grin. “Weeeelllll, now that you mention it....”
“Shut UP! You slut!” Sherry shrieks. Jackie falls onto her side, laughing hysterically.
I push myself up off the floor. “Enough fun, let’s get these done. I gotta be home by 6:00 and can’t help tomorrow, I’ll be at the store all day.”
Sherry jumps to her feet. “Hey! Are those cami tops still on sale? I really need to get a couple before school starts.”
“Yeah, but the sale ends Saturday. Come in tomorrow and I can get the commission.”
“How about the employee discount?”
“You know I can’t. If the manager caught me, she’d fire my ass, then my Aunt would kick it.”
“That’s OK Deb, I’m just screwing with you. You’re right, back to work.”
* * ** * ** * ** * *
“I’m home!” I shout as I open the door. It’s 6:12 but I’ve got a good excuse. ”Susan, I’m home!” She steps out of the kitchen, stopping in the doorway.
“You’re late.”
“I know, I’m sorry. We were cleaning up and getting ready to leave, but then football practice ended and the team walked in. Sherry just had to talk with Larry and she was my ride home. Then Chris started chatting me up. I was lucky to get out of there when I did. Supper’s not ruined is it?”
“Actually, I haven’t started it yet. Something came up. We will probably have to order something.”
“That’s cool. What happened?”
“I had a visitor, friend of yours.”
“It wasn’t Pam was it? I told her that I had no interest in Steve Lane. He was the one who chased me at the pool party last week. She can have him.”
“He sounds like a charmer, no it wasn’t Pam Sharp.”
“Not Mark Richardson I hope. He’s been showing up at the store to ‘shop’ every day for the last three weeks. If I’m not there, he leaves. If I am, he stays for a couple of hours. He doesn’t buy anything, just browses and tries to get near me.” I shudder. “Creepy.”
“No, it is an old friend. He’s still here.”
Old friend? He? I don’t have any old friends, at least none who know where I ... NO! SHE’S SHITTING ME! IT CAN’T BE ...
“Where is he?!”
“The kitchen.”
She steps away from the doorway and I slowly approach, not letting my hopes get too high, then peek in. He’s there, leaning with his back against the sink.
“Hello Debbie. Susan says that you are doing quite ...” That’s all he gets out before I rush in, throw myself into his arms and kiss him as if to suck the fillings out of his teeth. His arms are around my waist, holding me off the ground, my arms locked around his neck. I keep kissing him until I get dizzy from the lack of air. Breaking our lip lock, I look into his bright eyes and smiling face.
“Hey Bob. Nice hair.” I dive back in. We keep it up until he lets me slowly slide down his body, my feet finally touching the ground. I’ve still got a death grip around his neck.
“Debbie, I would appreciate it if you would release my neck. I would prefer to stand upright.”
“Only if you promise not to leave.”
“I promise not to leave right away. How long I am here depends on what we decide today.” I kiss him again, then let go of his neck but quickly grab his right hand. He’s not leaving my sight. I look back towards the kitchen door. Susan is standing there, a frown on her face. What’s her problem?
“Why don’t we all have a seat at the kitchen table. We have a lot to discuss,” she says. I’m so happy, so giddy, that I’d probably float away if I weren’t holding Bob’s hand. Everyone sits down but I keep the fingers of my left hand tightly intertwined with the fingers of Bob’s right.
Susan clears her throat. “Debbie, Bob’s here because I thought you were ready to deal with him.”
She’s shifted into therapist mode.
“I can’t tell you how proud I am of the progress you have made since we first met. Your acceptance of and adaptation to the changes in your life are nothing short of amazing.”
I know I’m blushing. Bob gives my hand a little squeeze. I glance at him, he has a satisfied smile on his face, almost a look of ... pride? In me? I look back to Susan.
“Naturally, you have been full of questions ever since you got here and I have answered them truthfully as far as I can, but I know very little of the complete story. Bob has told me what I needed to know … but not much else.” She and I share a knowing look. “I felt that it was best for you to come to terms with your ... situation before bringing Bob back into your life.”
“So you’re the one who’s kept us apart all this time?!”
“That is not quite correct.” Bob says. “There were other activities that required my absence.” Bob slowly releases my hand. “I am here to answer your questions, all that I legally can. Once we are done today, you will know everything that I did and why I did it.”
“Does that include questions about who you really are, where you came from, everything?”
He raises his right hand. “The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
Finally! I’ve wanted this for sooo long! I’m actually feeling just a little aroused thinking about it.
“Do you want to ask me questions or should I just start at the beginning?”
“The beginning. If I start asking questions, I’ll never stop ... oh wait, there is one, what’s with the hair?” He chuckles and runs his hand through his auburn locks.
“This is my natural color. I dyed it a more bland brown color when I worked for the government. As I got older, the red faded and the brown remained so I stopped dying it. One of the effects of Dr. Hanson’s treatments was the return of the original color. I went back to the hair dye so as to keep my appearance unremarkable. Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, very attractive, very sexy.”
Susan shakes her head. “Let’s stick to our objectives and keep the flirting to a minimum.”
Spoil sport.
”Agreed” replied Bob. “From the top. You already know how I came to be at Anthony’s club, what I was looking for and why I chose you. All of that was the truth. You know how I discovered your secret. What I did not tell you was that from the moment I discovered that secret, I began working on a rescue plan.”
I KNEW IT!
“At first, it was purely an academic exercise, an interesting logic puzzle. The objective was to get Josh Thomas back.”
“What?!”
“As I said, it was an academic exercise. The situation was so unique that I could not resist the challenge.”
“What was so wrong with me that you wanted that jerk Josh Thomas back?!” Bob seems surprised at my reaction.
Susan tries to ease the tension. “I am sure that Bob meant no offense Debbie. He’s probably not aware how disassociated you are from Josh Thomas.”
Bob grabs at the lifeline she just tossed. “Remember, this was many months ago, I had only known you a few weeks and did not know Josh Thomas at all. I was not choosing between you and he, there was no intention at the time of implementing any plan I may have created.”
I feel a little better. “Sorry, go on.”
“Thank you. I quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way to bring Josh Thomas back. It would require the complete cooperation of Dr. Hanson and that would never happen. Neither force nor blackmail would work. She would have killed you before letting that happen. So, I changed my objective to getting you out of her clutches. Obviously, the primary obstacle was your addiction to Anthony’s semen. I briefly explored the possibility of synthesizing some kind of replacement but had no luck with any expert I consulted. The other possibility was to gain her trust and persuade her to remove the addiction. That required me to become a part of the conspiracy.” He paused.
“What? Come on Bob, go on. I want to know.”
“I am not particularly proud about what I did next. At the time, it made perfect sense and I had no problem doing it. In retrospect, I regret making that choice, though it was still the correct move, from a purely tactical standpoint ... it is difficult for me to explain why I regret it ... and I am not just saying that to mollify you, Susan.”
“What is he talking about Susan?”
“We can discuss that later. Go on Bob, you promised Debbie the truth.” Bob was clearly very uncomfortable.
“I did promise the truth ... I gave you enough information to attract Dr. Hanson’s attention, knowing that she would torture you, that you would resist to the last possible moment, then break and tell her what I told you.”
“You knew she would torture me?! And you did nothing to stop it?”
“I not only knew it, I was counting on it. In fact, I practically arranged it. This was no longer an academic exercise. After spending more time with you and finding out how you were treated by Hanson and Anthony, I decide to try to save you. If you recall, you were willing to let me try.”
“Sure, you told me that you would try, but then she found out about it and you traded my freedom for your treatments!”
“That was all part of the plan. Please withhold judgment until the end of my story. Where was I? ... Oh yes, torture ... as soon as Hanson discovered Anthony’s agreement with me, she would strongly object and want to question you. That was inevitable. I decided to attempt to control the timing. That meal at the restaurant where she saw us eating was not picked at random. In reviewing her financial records, I discovered that she often ate there. It was in her charge card records. I bribed the reservation clerk so that she would contact me the next time Hanson made a reservation and then make one for me a half hour earlier. The fall that brought her attention towards us was not an accident; it was an intentional act on my part. I knew that once she became aware of our relationship, she would go directly to Anthony for an explanation, and then she would question you. If you had a secret to keep, she would dig until she got the truth. The more you resisted, the more believable it would ultimately be. I knew I could give you just enough information to whet her appetite for more but that I could not tell you my real plan, you would not have been able to keep the secret. I knew that this put you at risk but trusted Dr. Hanson to have enough control to not irreversibly harm you.”
“You mean kill me, don’t you? Or did you think that I was too weak and would break before she got that mad?”
“Either one would work and they were not mutually exclusive. I knew how the addiction affected you. Unfortunately, I did not realize how hard you would struggle to keep the secrets. I understand that you were extraordinarily brave, but no person on earth could have resisted.”
“Could you?”
“Resist? No, but if the secret was important enough, I would have either killed myself or made sure that she did it for me. I can be quite infuriating when I want to.”
“OH COME ON!”
He looked towards Susan. She nods her head. “He’s not lying dear. It was part of his training, plus I did his psych profile. He’d have done it.”
“Wow.”
“I believe that this incident is the one that Susan most objects to.”
“We will deal with that later Bob,” says Susan.
Later?
“As you wish, you are the professional. Once Hanson became aware that I knew her secrets, she could not let me go free. Her plan was to either convince me I was wrong, which was not very likely, or Anthony would have to shut me up, possibly kill me. I am sure that you remember how that worked out for her.”
“God yes! It’s one of my best fucking memories!”
“Debbie! ... language.”
“Sorry, Susan,” I sigh. Bob’s face is blank but his eyebrows are raised. I smile at him, guiltily. “I’m trying to clean up my potty mouth, to be more ‘lady-like’.”
He suppresses a grin. “A worthy objective. Once both of her plans failed, I subtly suggested a third option, the one I wanted her to take, but it had to appear to be her idea, not mine. That was her controlling me by treating my MS symptoms but not curing the disease.”
“Wait ... you’re not on Hanson’s drugs anymore are you?”
“No, I am back on low levels of some of my prior medications as a preventive measure. There have been no signs of new damage from my MS, so it is possible that I have been cured but there is no way to tell for certain.”
“Why did Hanson cut you off?”
“Our relationship ended when I broke her jaw in three places.”
“YOU DID WHAT?!
“I think that will come up later too.”
“You bet your sweet ass it will!”
“Debbie! Langua..”
“I know! I know!” Bob can’t hide the smile this time. “Sorry, go on Bob.”
“Naturally, she never intended to follow through with that agreement. She was just bidding her time until she could get me under her control. You warned me about that, if you recall Debbie.”
“I thought you were crazy to trust her.”
“Since I did not trust her, I must not have been crazy.”
There’s the smirk I know and love ... sometimes.
“I believe that she was planning to repeat what she did to Josh Thomas, maybe make me your twin sister.”
I start to giggle at the image. “That could have been interesting Bob.”
“Briefly interesting, perhaps, but that was not my plan. I had to wait to the last second to thwart her, so that she had no time to come up with a coherent response.”
“What if she had a backup plan?”
“Her ego is too large. She refuses to face the possibility of failure and the need for an alternate plan. As fatal a flaw as there can be.”
“Well, it was a close call anyway. Good thing you had your friends to watch your back.”
“There were no ‘friends’, we were alone.”
“No… no … what about the phone call, the blood pressure trick?”
“All technology. I have a false tooth. When I worked for the company, it was switched out for each assignment, to contain whatever I needed for that particular job. I kept the devices when I retired. In this case, it had a blood pressure sensor and a short range transmitter to a receiver in the trunk of my car, which was just outside the window. That was one of the reasons why I insisted on providing my own transportation. The more powerful equipment was in the trunk, including the voice synthesizer and the automatic dialer. There were a few pre-recorded phrases, which I could trigger by manipulating the tooth. There is no such thing as an organized group of retired assassins.”
I look to Susan. Now she’s smiling. “It’s true. I’ve seen the equipment, or at least something like it.”
I’m speechless for a few moments. “My God! Then it was all a ...”
“Bluff, but a well thought out one. I have given some thought to organizing all the retired assassins though, it is not a bad idea.”
“But if she had called your bluff ...”
“I had some options.”
“Such as? Because you could hardly move, if I remember correctly.”
“Well, my last option was enough explosives in my car to level the building, on a timer so that if I did not go out and disarm it, we all would have died in an hour or less.”
“Holy crap!”
“Another act that I believe Susan objects to.”
“Later Bob.”
“Right. So, you see, I had the bases covered, one way or another.”
“But if it hadn’t worked, if she had called the bluff, you could have ended up like me or dead.”
“You would have been killed too, you know.”
“Yeah, but you really risked your life to save me. That or ending up transformed ... and you knew what that meant, the addiction and everything, the hell your life would become, and you still took the chance.”
“It was a small risk Debbie. My ‘Plan A’ worked as I expected. Please, do not dwell on the ‘what ifs’.”
How could I not? No one had ever taken that kind of risk to help me. And we weren’t even lovers yet, that was weeks in the future and certainly not guaranteed to happen. We were hardly even friends. He took an unbelievable risk to save me. I had to know.
“Why would you do that for me?”
“You had agreed to put your life in my hands; I owed you my best efforts. It was what was required to succeed. No risk, no reward. Dr. Hanson was too smart, too resourceful, to take half measures to defeat. Once I accept a challenge, I do what is necessary to successfully complete the objective.”
He is a weird guy. A weird, dangerous guy.
“Once brought into the conspiracy, the next move was to get Anthony on my side, but it had to appear that I was supporting him, not him supporting me. That way, I could start building a case for removing the addiction. Hanson would always be suspicious of that idea, so it was a stroke of luck when she asked me to kill someone to prove who I was.”
“Would you really have killed Hanson’s secretary?”
“Janet Lester? No, of course not. Though I must admit, Dr. Hanson surprised me with that request of proof of my bona fides. I thought that we were past that point in our relationship.”
“You were surprised?”
“Yes. I am not infallible Debbie. I assumed that something like this might crop up early in the process but not at this late stage.”
“Couldn’t prove it by me. You didn’t have a scheme ready to go?”
“Nothing exactly on point. Luckily, I noticed that Lester was gathering her things as I came into the clinic. Having done bios on all of Hanson’s employees when my investigation began, Lester was the perfect choice anyway; young, married, a mother and not vital to the function of the clinic. When I realized that she had already left the building, Janet Lester became the target.”
“Then it all backfired on Hanson.”
“Correct. After that plan failed, she was on the defensive and my tracking device gave her a face saving way out. It would also shut Anthony up. No offense, he had grown bored of practically daily sex with you. Once convinced the tracking device would give him some relief, he became its’ biggest advocate.”
“I wasn’t exactly happy to see him every day either, you know.”
“I remember. After manipulating the situation to have your addiction lifted, it then became a matter of timing. Hanson was intent on keeping total control of you. Once she saw that you were still exhibiting evidence of free will and independent spirit, she was prepared to redouble her efforts to torture and abuse you. With the addiction gone, you could have run away but the tracker made that difficult, not impossible, but difficult. She would never, ever give up pursuing you. The only answer was to kill you.”
“Which explains why I woke up in a motel room with bandages on both arms and my side”
“That is jumping forward in the story a bit, but yes. Hanson would not search for you if she believed you were dead. It had to be done when she would not be available to view the ‘body’. I could fool Anthony but not her, if only because Anthony would not inspect your extremely bloody corpse too closely. Her attendance at the Nobel Prize ceremony gave me a five-day window. I also needed to know that you were prepared to deal with life after your escape. It would have been a hollow victory if you ended up in a psych ward somewhere.”
Another piece of the puzzle clicks in place. “Is that what all that ‘accepting myself’ stuff was about?”
“Yes, also getting you out in public in normal life situations, to see if you could handle it.”
“Wait … did you arrange my meeting Sarah, Brit and Piper?”
“No, that was completely serendipitous. I was only interested in seeing how you handled the crowds and shopping. Observing how you interacted with them, how quickly you developed a friendship with them and how you handled the party and the problems that developed told me that you could survive outside the club. It also increased my admiration for you as a caring, capable and brave human being.”
“Really? You admire me?”
“The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
“Was it that important, figuring out if I could make it in the real world?”
“Yes it was, though at Susan’s suggestion. I had already recruited her. I could not accomplish this on my own, though solo jobs are my preference. I also needed her expertise in helping you after your escape, and arranging for the surgery to ultimately remove the tracking device, but I am getting ahead of myself again.”
“You also needed that scary guy who came to the club, the one with the big coat and blonde hair.”
Bob lightly chuckles.” That was me, Debbie.”
“NO WAY! He was taller, thinner ... had a tattoo ... a big nose ...”
“It was me, but back to the correct chronology. I adopted the disguise of one of Hanson special recruits, the ones she brought in to give you a particularly hard time.”
“You don’t need to remind me ... you knew about them?”
“I suspected something unusual was occurring. You told me of the ... clients who treated you more roughly than usual and that they tended to show up just before you were scheduled to get your semi-annual ‘tune-up’ treatments from Dr. Hanson. I noticed certain men arriving at the club who did not pay to get access to you but instead gave Anthony a yellow business card, which I discovered they had obtained from Hanson.”
“How did you figure out what was happening?”
“I bought a few drinks for some of them after they left your room. They were generally quite proud of their activities.”
“They were all bastards!”
“Undoubtedly, but they gave me the opening I needed. I did tell Susan about them so that she could deal with it in your therapy.”
“How’d you get a card?”
“I lifted an old card from Anthony’ collection, added the blue contacts, wig, nose, fake tattoo, elevator boots, waist wrap, duster coat and voila, ‘John Smith’. I hid my equipment in the coat.”
“What equipment?”
“The makeup, prosthetics, extra blood, wire cutters, drugs, gag ...”
“Yeah! That gag! It hurt!”
“But not for long. It was coated with an anesthetic to numb your throat and was a vital component of the plan. I needed to knock you out and simulate death. I ultimately settled on two of the three drug cocktail used in executions. They paralyzed your muscles and greatly slowed your breathing. The gag contained compressed oxygen to keep you alive.”
“I do remember feeling something like that just before passing out.”
Bob hands me his phone. “Here are the pictures I took of the scene for Hanson. They are a bit graphic.”
I scroll through them. Damn, he wasn’t kidding! No wonder Anthony didn’t want to get near me. My throat hurts just looking at the one with my head laid back, a bloody slash nearly decapitating me.
“How did you do this? Where did you get all that blood? I’d say that I was dead too if I wasn’t sitting here.” I hand the phone back to him.
“Makeup and prosthetics. The blood was real, expired whole blood from the local blood bank. That slit throat is a bit of an optical illusion. There were some real cuts, as you know, for the close-up photos. I also needed the one on your side so that I could disable the tracker. I hope that the scarring was minimal.”
“There weren’t any.” I hold up my arms for him to see, then stand up and strip off my tank top. “See, not a mark.”
“Debbie!” cries Susan. “What are you doing?”
“I’m wearing a bra! It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before.” And I hope again in the very near future.
“I don’t care about that! Get dressed.” I pull the top back on. Bob has an intent look on his face. I think he enjoyed the show.
“I hoped that Hanson’s drugs were still in your system so that you would have a rapid recovery, apparently I was correct. Once I had bagged your ‘body’, Anthony locked the door and I left to get supplies to clean the room. I did not actually leave though. Picking the locks, I snuck back to your room, picked you up, and brought you out to Susan’s car, which was waiting in the back parking lot. The replacement body was in her car so I took it back in to your room, relocked everything and left.”
“Replacement body? You didn’t kill someone ...”
“Of course not! It was not a real body. It was a silicon model of your body. I am often amazed at what you can find on the internet. The company will make a copy of a person’s head if you provide them with the necessary information and attach it to one of several standard body models, though they will customize for an additional fee. It has an articulated skeleton and is ... anatomically correct. You may recall that I left you alone at the mall after Thanksgiving. I was contacting the company to make last minute adjustments to the body because of your ... recently enhanced figure.”
He’s blushing. How can somebody do what he does and then blush when talking about my tits? “I also removed some of your hair and left it with the fake body so that I could later pretend to rip it out of your head to prove that it was really you in the body bag just before I burned it.”
So that’s what happened to my hair. I rub a spot at the back of my head. It took weeks to grow back.
“Anthony and I collected the ‘body’ and all the disposable items in your room, took them to a remote location and burned them with a combination of kerosene and liquid oxygen.”
“Why use that stuff?”
“Because it burns very hot, some rockets use the combination as fuel.”
“I wish I could have seen that.”
“It was impressive.”
“Wait, wouldn’t the silicon stink when it burned. I’ve never smelled a burning body, but I don’t think it smells like burning plastic.”
“You are correct, but I chose an abandoned garage with a pit that was coated in old oil and grease. The smell of burning petroleum products covered the odor of burning silicon. After disposing of the body and the rest of the evidence from your room, we returned, cleaned up the mess then contacted Hanson to give her the bad news.”
“I bet she was pissed.”
“Quite, but there was little she could do from Sweden. The face-to-face confrontation occurred a few days later. There was a dispute over who should get the Christmas present to me that was left in your work locker.”
What? “I didn’t have a Christmas present in my locker.”
He smiles at that. “I know, I planted it there earlier to guarantee an argument between myself and Hanson. Luckily, Anthony remembered that we had not emptied it out when we cleaned your room, but I was prepared to ‘remember’ that fact if necessary. I needed to give Hanson a reason to terminate our agreement. Your death would likely have been adequate but I wanted to make sure. Of course, it had to be her idea, not mine. We had a ... brief physical altercation and Hanson ended up unconscious with a concussion and a broken jaw.”
Way to go Bob!
“You don’t have pictures of that do you? Please have pictures!”
“I do have one of her in the hospital.” He holds out the phone again.
“Gimmee! Gimmee! Gimmee!” I squeal, snatching it from his hand. She is laying there, propped up, head flopped to the side, a metal brace around her head, everything below her nose is black and blue. It is not as bad as I hoped. Unfortunately, it would be impossible for it to be as bad as I hoped, unless she was dead. I reluctantly pass the phone back to Bob.
“Thank you. I appreciate that Bob, really appreciate it.”
“You are welcome Debbie. I thought you might enjoy it. Once the arraignment with Hanson was terminated, I started taking my MS medications again and auditioning Honey’s replacement.”
“OK, hold it right there. What exactly does ‘auditioning’ mean?”
Bob chortles, then smiles. “I had to act as if you were dead. That meant a return to searching for someone to care for me in my anticipated ultimate disability.”
“And exactly what services were you auditioning for Bob?” I inquired.
“Why, the same ones you were originally recruited for Debbie, cooking, cleaning, eventually nursing ... and others.” The son of a bitch is playing with me.
“Care to be more specific as to what ‘others’ consists of?”
He continues smiling. “I remain a gentleman Debbie and gentlemen do not talk of such things.”
“Bullshit!”
His laughter fills the kitchen. “Sorry, I could not resist. I promised the truth. There were no ‘other’ services; I did not have sex with any of the candidates. They were all reasonably attractive but they did not appeal to me. It was all an exercise to convince Hanson that you were truly dead. At first she did not believe it, but eventually came to accept that you were gone.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Susan had stopped correcting my language. I think she was engrossed in Bob’s story.
“I gave her a laptop computer loaded with a program to simulate your voice, a simpler version of one that I had used to persuade your friend Candi that you had willingly left the country.”
“Was that really necessary? I was hoping that I could ... you know, some day ... maybe ... see her again.”
“We will see about that, but I would not hold my breath if I were you … sorry. The computer is also hard wired so that I can remotely access it. It was top of the line when I gave it to her and she has decided to use it as her primary laptop. I know everything on it, including her diary entries. It is possible that she suspects I have done something like this and it is all a ruse on her part, but all of her actions indicate she believes you are dead. Still, there was no reason to take unnecessary chances. I waited what I thought to be an appropriate amount of time and then moved to New York. I then waited long enough to make sure that I was not being monitored and then came here. That is about it, any questions Debbie?”
“It’s all so overwhelming Bob. I honestly can’t think of anything right now. I know I will later, after I’ve had time to think about everything you’ve said ... actually, I do have a question. Why?”
Bob looks confused. “Why what?”
Susan leans forward. “I believe she wants to know why you did all that you did. It has come up frequently in our therapy sessions. Can you answer that question Bob?”
“I believe that I can, but it will bring in other issues we have not yet dealt with.” He looks at his watch. “It is after 7:00 p.m. and none of has had supper yet. Should we take a break and order something?”
I jump up from my seat. “Yes, please. I’m starving and need to shower too. I smell like a gym bag and my hair’s a mess. How about Mother Bear’s pizza? Have you ever had Mother Bear’s before Bob?”
“I can't say that I have.”
I grab a take out menu from the fridge and flip it to him.
“Order me a small, deep dish sausage and mushroom and I’ll go shower ... Oh sorry, is this OK Susan?”
“Sounds fine to me. Since you’re buying Bob, I’ll have a medium cheese with onions and anchovies, regular crust.”
He picks up the phone. “I did not realize that this was my treat. Still, it will be a cheap date, the first I have had in a while.” He starts to dial and I dash upstairs to my room.
I quickly strip off my clothes, adding them to one of the piles littering the floor. It really is a mess in here. Susan’s been on my case for weeks to clean it but I kept blowing her off, I’ve been so damn busy with school and work and everything. If she’d told me Bob was coming, it would be immaculate. Now, it’s too late. I can’t bring him up here, it’s just too pitted out, particularly the way he kept his house. I rush to my bathroom and to take a quick shower. Do I have time to shave? Probably not. Thank God I cut my hair to shoulder length; it reduced my prep time by two thirds. After finishing, I wrap the towel around me and sit down at my make-up table.
What message do I want to send? What image? “Hey Bob, why don’t you throw me down on the floor and fuck me, right here, right now.” Or maybe “Pleased to meet you Mr. James. Why don’t you have a seat and tell me one of your droll stories.” How about “Hey Bob, nice to see you again. Come on in and we can hang awhile.” Looking at all my dirty clothes piled around me, I realize my choices are limited. I settle on pink shorts, white polo shirt, matching bra and thong with sandals, mostly because they are clean and comfortable. I pull my hair back into a short pony tail, spritz on some perfume and go back downstairs.
Just as I get to the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rings. Bob walks out of the kitchen, reaching for his wallet. We walk to the front door and I open it. The delivery guy is standing there, balancing three boxes on his right hand. When he sees me, his eyes go wide and he almost drops the boxes.
“Whoa, sorry, sorry, close call there ... You call in an order to Mother Bears?”
Bob looks over at me. Guess I’m going to handle it.
“Yes, we did.
“Good. Let’s see, I got a small deep dish sausage and mushroom; medium onion, cheese and anchovy; and ...”
“Extra-Large barbecue chicken” Bob finishes.
“Extra-large! You pig!” I poke him in the ribs, just like old times. Bob counts out the money as the delivery guy hands me the boxes, making sure that our hands touch. I look over the tops of the boxes. The delivery guy’s grinning at me.
“Hope you like them. If you order again, ask for Carl.” He winks at me, “I’ll make sure you get taken care of.” Bob hands him the money. He counts the bills. “Thanks man.” He winks at me again and heads back to his car. I take the boxes to the kitchen as Bob closes the door and follows me. Susan’s not in the kitchen when we get there.
“Is that a common occurrence for you?” he asks.
“What?”
“The reaction of the delivery boy. He was actually startled by your beauty and then almost immediately hit on you. Does that still happen often?”
“Enough that I don’t notice it any more unless it’s extreme,” I sigh.
“Has it been difficult to adapt to the real world outside of the club?”
“Sometimes. I never could have done it without Susan’s help.” I look around and lower my voice. “She can be a pain in the ass, but she’s OK, a real professional. I’m glad you hired her.”
“I did not hire her; she volunteered once she learned of your situation, though I did agree to pay her costs. You are correct, she is quite good. But how are you doing?”
“Compared to life in the club? This is Nirvana. No creeps pawing me, screwing me, beating me. It would be perfect …” I reach out and touch his hand. “… if a certain person was here.”
He gently takes my hand, brings it up to his lips and kisses it, then lets it go as Susan walks back into the kitchen.
“Good, the pizza’s here. There should be some drinks in the fridge, help yourself Bob.”
He goes to the fridge. “What would you like Susan? Debbie?”
I ask for a Diet Coke, Susan has a beer. Bob takes a Sprite. We all sit down.
“Should I continue with my story or perhaps we need to talk of something else. My career with the government is not exactly dinner conversation. Debbie was just getting ready to tell me how she is doing. I understand that her grades are quite good.”
I think he may be directing attention towards me to avoid some touchy subjects. “They’re alright, A’s and B’s last semester.”
“But they were all AP courses Debbie” said Susan. “That’s very good, particularly since you have not been in school for years”.
“Yeah, but I already graduated from high school once; a lot of this isn’t exactly new.”
“Your courses in high school the first time around weren’t particularly challenging and you received preferential treatment as an athlete.”
“I could get preferential treatment now, if I wanted it.”
“What exactly does that mean?” asks Susan.
“You know, with these” I point to my boobs “I could get away with murder. You know Mr. Daly, my chemistry teacher? He can hardly keep his eyes in his head sometimes. I bet I could get any grade I wanted out of him if my top was low enough.”
Debbie! You wouldn’t ...”
“No, it’s not right. I’m just saying.”
“Well, you’ve earned your good grades. I’ve seen you studying late at night and weekends.”
“I always said that you were very intelligent,” Bob says, reaching over and patting my hand. “You also work part time don’t you?”
“Twenty hours a week at ‘The Vault’, $8.00 an hour plus commission. I do pretty good with the commission. Susan makes me put most of the money in the bank.”
Bob appears to be confused. “I don’t understand. I told her that I would pay any expenses. If you need additional money, all she needs to do is ask me.”
“It’s not about the money Bob, it’s about time management, responsibility and blending in.” says Susan. “It fits with her legend as my niece, Debbie Taylor, from New Orleans. She doesn’t come from money so the job fits, plus it lets her experience normal life with other teens and prepare her for the future.
She’ll graduate midterm this year, you know.”
“That is impressive. You have really accomplished quite a lot in only eight months Debbie.”
After we finish supper, Susan suggests we move out to the living room, it’s more comfortable there. Once settled in, Bob starts again.
“I have already told you about how your escape from Dr. Hanson was arranged. Susan was brought in because I knew and trusted her, she was my therapist while I worked for the government. We all had therapists; it was part of the program. They were supposed to monitor our mental condition and warn our employers if a problem developed in addition to keeping us on an even keel. She was the first to provide the diagnosis of Borderline Sociopathic Personality. When she retired, she joined the faculty of Indiana University. Her job, this town, it was all ideally suited for you to both hide and recover. Once I convinced her that I was not a raving loony, she agreed to help.”
“And I haven’t regretted one minute of it Debbie. It’s been a challenge but you’ve worked so hard. I’ve never had a better patient, including Bob.”
“I was a lousy patient, that is why I knew that she was so good. If she could help me, she could help anyone. I had to build your legend from scratch, but I tried to incorporate as much of your real life into it as I safely could, adjusted for your age and sex of course. Once you are done here, I can create another if Debbie Taylor is not to your liking.”
“I really don’t want to start again with another new life. I don’t know how you’ve done it all these years Bob. I’ve got friends, I’ve got a job, I’m in school ... it’s all good. Being Debbie Taylor is fine, unless I have to change.”
“It is your decision Debbie. Legally, you are now eighteen years old so you can go out on your own, if that is what you want. After tonight, you should have new information which you can use to help you make a decision, though one is not needed yet.”
“But,” adds Susan, “you’ll be graduating in four months, so you will need to do something by then.”
I’m worried now. “Are you saying that I am going to have to leave in four months?”
“NO! No, not at all. I just don’t want you drifting along. You need to keep the momentum up, keep moving forward. Don’t let fate or someone else control you. You need to make positive choices, but you don’t have to do it tonight. This is just to provide you with information and options, nothing more. You’ve got plenty of time to give it a lot of thought. I’m always here to help you.”
She has been a good friend and therapist, if you can combine the two.
Bob clears his throat with a quick cough. “Now, as to my history. I was born Richard Blaine Jackson to an unwed, drug addicted, alcoholic mother in Plains, New York. My father is unknown. When I was born, I suffered from a mild case of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and had both heroin and cocaine in my system, gifts from my mother’s continued consumption of her favorite vices during her pregnancy.”
“Not surprisingly, the local child protective services removed me from her care before she left the hospital. Eventually, her parental rights were terminated and I was adopted by an older couple, Dennis and Cynthia Riley. My last name was changed, so officially, I am Richard Blaine Riley. Sounds Irish, but there is no evidence of any actual heritage, beyond that shared by most third or fourth generation Americans. My biological mother died of a drug overdose six years later. I have tracked down other members of her family out of curiosity, but never made contact. Alcoholism seems to be a common thread among them, which is the primary reason I do not drink much. My adoptive parents are also dead; they were in their late forties when the adoption occurred so that is not surprising.” He stops to take a drink, and then continues.
“I am afraid that I was not a very good son. Not evil or too badly behaved, but not the loving child they wanted and deserved. I exhibited symptoms of what was eventually diagnosed as Borderline Sociopathic Personality Disorder from the start, not bonding with either parent despite their repeated attempts to do so. I was not a disobedient child, just inner directed. I did what I wanted to do, which sometimes meant doing as they requested and other times not.”
“There were many years of assorted therapies and I eventually developed several coping techniques, which made life easier for everyone, but never solved the basic problem. Fortunately, I did well in school but found almost everything too easy, and therefore boring. I was definitely a discipline problem in my early years, but again I was able to formulate coping techniques and managed to graduate from high school on time and with honors.”
“We were not rich by any stretch of the imagination and while I had an interest in attending college, I did not want to go deeply in debt to do so. Eventually, I decided to join the Army, intending to stay long enough to qualify for GI Bill benefits. Not surprisingly, my discipline and control problems emerged in such a controlled environment. I was not opposed to following orders, I just had a tendency to ask why I was supposed to do something and then come up with a better way to do it. An advantageous attitude in most environments, but not at the platoon level of the Army.”
“I was on the brink of dishonorable discharge when there was a visit by a recruiter from a different branch of our fine government. He had a proposition for me. Come join his elite group of problem solvers, get well paid, educated and trained, see the world ... and kill people, all to help the United States of America. Well, that was basically the same thing as being in the Army, just with better benefits and more independence, so I said yes. Both adopted parents were dead by then, though that may not have made any difference in my decision, so I was ‘killed’ in a training accident on the Army base one day and reborn the next as an agent for ... we used the euphemism of ‘the company’, lower case ‘c’, with a new identity, the first of many.”
Bob stopped and took a long drink from his Sprite.
“Here is where I must draw a line in my story. Practically everything I did for the company is still classified and therefore I cannot tell you about it. Susan is aware of the general outlines of certain operations but is not privy to details either, which put a crimp on our therapeutic relationship. Even if something was not classified, I probably would not say much, simply on principle alone. These were secret operations, ordered presumptively by the highest level of our government, and I was tasked with completing them quickly, quietly and mostly cleanly.
I took to the job like a duck to water and had many years of satisfactory service. I might go an entire year without an assignment, so I would just train and go to school. Some years, there would be two or three assignments but they rarely took more than six weeks, at most. The rest of the time was again training and schooling. I never received formal degrees, but have the equivalent of two masters and a doctorate without the dissertation, plus other assorted classes. Most of the assignments were individuals in foreign countries, sometimes political, sometimes criminal, often both. It was very disillusioning to discover how frequently the two mingled.”
He stopped for a third drink, but doesn’t start back up right away, seemingly reluctant to say anything more.
“Go on Bob” Susan prompts.
“Right. The assignment that started me questioning my chosen profession involved a drug lord in an unnamed South American country. It required killing not only the primary target but everyone and thing that resided with him, his wife, children, other family members, even pets and livestock. I was one of three operatives tasked, which was rare because I was almost always a solo act. The job had to be done quickly and there were too many targets for one person but two could have handled it. The third was likely there to make sure the other two did not balk at the last minute. We did the job, but no one would explain the logic behind it. I was told to just follow orders. Eventually, the entire district in this particular country became embroiled in an all out drug cartel war in which hundreds of innocent people died, not counting the ones I killed myself.”
He stops again. After a few seconds, Susan starts to say something but Bob has already begun again.
“After that, I began to question my orders more closely and checked up on the results of my prior assignments. I discovered that the situations that developed after I finished a job were often worse than before, that my orders were frequently a knee jerk reaction to some event and that all possible consequences had not been properly examined. Needless to say, when I began to offer alternatives to my assignments, my superiors were not pleased. Eventually, I was relegated to simple jobs where previously I had been the fair-haired boy.”
“My diagnosis of MS was more a relief than anything else. I resigned with full benefits, not that I needed them financially. The company gave me a nice little retirement party, full of phony platitudes and false regrets at my departure. And so began the search that led me to Anthony’s club and the bewitching Honey Sweet-Lay.”
He had this wan little smile on his face and seemed deeply sad. I wanted to go over, hug him and tell him that everything would be OK. Even Susan appeared to be affected by his story, though I’m sure she’d heard it before, at least parts of it. Ever since I got home, there seemed to be this ... fog of anger hanging between them. Neither said anything remotely pissy to the other, but I don’t know what happened before I got home. Now, Susan seems to have softened a bit. We all just sat there for a moment, saying nothing. Bob broke the silence.
“Which brings me to one of the reasons I was driven to save you from Amy Hanson’s clutches. We have spoken about this at length, but you might now have a better understanding of my motivation. I have caused such pain and suffering throughout my life, I now feel compelled to try to make amends. I thought that my opportunities to do so would be limited due to the MS, but finding you presented me with the chance to both help an abused young woman and improve my health so that I could go on and help others. Some may quibble with how I went about achieving my objective …” he glances at Susan “… but my motives were pure. You do not have to subscribe to my belief system, but understanding it helps understand me and why I do what I do.”
“No one here is questioning your motives Bob or your objectives, just your implementation” says Susan.
Is that what all the hard feelings are about? “Look guys, I’ve got no complaints about what Bob did for me and how he did it. I’ll admit that at the time, I was confused, scared or mad a lot of the time, but he clearly knew what he was doing. It worked; I’m free, end of story.”
“It’s not the end of the story Debbie,” said Sarah. “There is your future to consider. You are in a different situation now. What was acceptable behavior then isn’t necessarily acceptable now. If you are going to make a decision that will affect the rest of your life, you need a clear, unemotional head on your shoulders.”
“Susan is correct” said Bob. “You have a great deal to consider, which brings us to the third act of tonight’s drama. So far, we’ve just been dealing with the past and present but now the subject is the future. Unfortunately, she and I have a dispute about that. It will be your choice, but we have to make sure you understand your options and our concerns.”
“Before we start, I want to get a couple of things on the table. I am not saying this to influence you in any way. Susan is already aware of my intentions in this area ... I promise that, regardless of your final decision, if you want to go back to college or some other form of education, I will pay for it, all of it. Should you want to start a business of some kind, I will finance it, within reason. I will not leave you in the lurch, no matter what you decide, unless you specifically ask me to leave you alone ... and then I will.”
That last part sounded like it was torn from his heart. I didn’t like where this conversation is going. Before I could say anything, Bob gestured towards Susan with his right hand.
“You may go first.” She nods her head towards him.
“I want to start off making it clear that I am not criticizing anybody, this is just how I see the situation, and I would be doing you a disservice, as my patient and friend, if I did not tell you what I believe. We all know that you have strong feelings for Bob. We also know that Bob believes that he has strong feelings for you. I’m just not sure that those feelings are genuine. His Borderline Sociopathic Personality Disorder prevents him from forming lasting emotional connections with people. He is quite capable of simulating that connection, I helped him learn how to do it. After talking with him, I believe that he believes that he loves you.”
YES!
“But I am not convinced that he does. Understand, I am not accusing him of lying but I am saying that he does not have an adequate frame of reference to make that statement. To a certain degree, actions speak louder than words. I can point to at least three occasions where he put your health, even your life, at risk while trying to help you escape. You yourself have told me of several conversations where he seemed to swing between loving attention and cold indifference. Bob is not illogical or impulsive. Everything he does, he does for a reason but I am afraid that your immediate well-being is not his primary concern.”
“You have been through a very difficult last four years Debbie. Your first objective should be improving your own psychological health. An ongoing romantic and sexual relationship with Bob, given his limitations, does not, I believe, help you. I realize that separating your feelings for Bob from this process will be very difficult, but you must try.”
“Relationships that develop under stressful situations tend not to last long. A person tends to grab any lifeline that comes their way and hang on for dear life. Bob was your lifeline. He helped you greatly at the time, but you are no longer that person, you are not ‘Honey Sweet-Lay, hooker with a heart of gold”, you are ‘Debbie Taylor, young lady with a bright future’. You would not be here without his help and you owe him a great deal, but you do not owe him participating in a doomed relationship.”
“We both want you to have a happy, normal life or at least as normal as possible given your history. The questions you need to answer are what do you want out of life, what do you need to do to get there and is a romantic relationship with Bob the best way to achieve your ultimate goals. If you are going to have a relationship with anyone, they need to be stable, strong and as normal as humanly possible.”
“Can I ask something?”
“Certainly Debbie, go ahead.”
“Can’t Bob be treated for the disorder? I’ve known him for some time and the difference between when we first met and now is like night and day.”
“There is no known treatment and certainly no cure. The condition is remarkably resistant to therapy. We do not know the cause. Subtle brain damage is suspected, along with chemical imbalances and environmental effects.”
“How about genetic defects?”
“The condition does not statistically occur frequently in the same family or identical twins so genetics does not seem to be involved. I know how you feel about Bob, but you haven’t had any decent relationship with anyone else since your transformation, you have nothing to compare it with.”
“Now that’s not true. Josh Thomas was in lots of relationships, most of them pretty unhealthy, so strange as it may seem, I know a bad relationship when I see one.”
“A valid point, but would you be able to recognize a good relationship?”
“I don’t know.”
“Which is my point. I also want you to consider the possibility that you are hanging on to your relationship with Bob because he knows your secret, that you were once a man. This is something that you would have to explain to a future boyfriend or husband.”
“I wouldn’t have to tell him. Look at me, who would ever suspect I used to pitch instead of catch?”
“Secrets undermine and poison relationships, Debbie. Sooner or later, you would have to chose between the truth or losing him. That is not a problem you have with Bob, he knows almost all your secrets already, even those that most people would find beyond belief.”
“So, you’re saying I should date Bob?”
“No, I’m saying that makes your relationship with him easier, more comfortable, than starting fresh with someone else. Just because the familiar is easy does not make it the correct thing to do. I don’t have anything else to say right now. Go ahead Bob.”
He doesn’t say anything right away, just taps his right index finger on his leg. I’ve seen this before, when he was deep in thought. He straightens up in his chair and begins.
“This is not a debate and I do not plan to argue with Susan, that would not help you Debbie. I also cannot dispute most of what Susan has said. I did put Honey at risk, sometimes great risk, while working towards her ultimate escape. I did not seek her permission because it would have compromised the plan. I decided on my own what I thought was best for her and acted accordingly. But as Susan pointed out, that was then and this is now. I will not act that way in the future. If you agree to start ... I guess, dating me, I promise to make it a balanced relationship.”
“As for my medical condition, I am not a doctor or therapist so I must defer to her on that point. I will say that since I met Honey, my feelings for her have grown by leaps and bounds. These are not figments of my imagination; they are different from anything I have ever felt about anybody before. I can't say that I am fully normal, because I do not know what that is and I can't explain what has caused this change. It is possible that Dr. Hanson’s treatments have had an effect, but there is no absolute proof either way. Regardless of why I have changed, I swear that I have.”
I’m still confused, but now for a different reason. “Changed from what? You both talk about simulating or faking emotions. What exactly do you mean?”
Bob goes back to tapping his leg, then stops. “It is Christmas. You are sitting around the Christmas tree with your family. Your Grandmother hands you a gift from her, you open it. It is a hideous, hand-made sweater. The wrong color, wrong size, completely un-wearable but she spent a month making it. What do you do?”
“You tell her you love it?”
“Exactly! You smile, thank her profusely, say it is just what you wanted and act as if it is the perfect gift. Now, assume that you did not know the appropriate response was ‘fake’ happiness and thankfulness, that you had to determine the correct response to this particular situation by analyzing all the available facts and comparing them to a mental checklist which would tell you how you should act, what emotional response is the right one, laughter, tears, anger, or disdain. Add to that the determination of the strength of the response, such as a belly laugh, a snicker, a chortle, a chuckle or a guffaw. Do you have that in your mind?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Now, think what it would be like if you had to do it for every waking hour of your life for over forty years.”
“MY GOD!”
“It gets easier with practice.”
I turn to Susan. “Is that true?”
“His description of the problem or that it gets easier with practice?”
“The problem!”
“As I understand it, yes that was what his life was like, day in and day out. But he is also correct that it gets easier with practice and experience. Plus, his observational skills are incredible. I swear, sometimes I think he can read minds.”
Tell me about it. “But living like that would drive you crazy!”
“It almost did’ said Bob. “But Susan helped me adapt to my problem so that I survived, even thrived ... until now. After I began my treatment program with Dr. Hanson, I started to feel the correct emotion, not create it after a logical review of the situation. That rarely happened before the treatments, now it happens all the time, actually more often than I would like. Careful what you wish for, eh. That is the change. These last few months have been the hardest in my life. Every day, I fought the urge to just drop everything and come talk to you.”
“You could have called me Bob. I missed you too, you know.”
“It was not safe yet. Actually, there is no absolute guarantee it is safe now. My best judgment is that you are safe unless something changes.”
“Like what?”
“Something that would bring Debbie Taylor to Amy Hanson’s attention, a photo in a newspaper, a television story she might see, that sort of thing.”
“The odds of that are pretty long I’d think.”
“I agree, but I was not going to risk your discovery by prematurely communicating with you ... I do not want to put you between Susan and myself, but we can't agree on what happens next so the decision falls to you.”
“That’s right, the decision has always been mine. It’s my life and I’ll do what I think is best for me. I’m not being ungrateful, there’s no way I could ever repay either of you for what you’ve done for me, but I’m not an inexperienced kid. I’m ... what, forty three years old in my head. Some really fucked up years but they taught me a lot. Whatever my future is and who I choose to spend it with is my call. I’ll be happy to listen to whatever you have to say, but it’s my call.”
“You’re right Debbie. They are your decisions, and both Bob and I will support you as best we can,” said Susan. “As long as you give our professional opinions due weight, everything should work out for the best.”
She means her professional opinion, unless I plan on killing someone, then it’s Bob’s turn to offer advice.
“Debbie” said Bob, “I only want what makes you happy and fulfilled. If I should force you to choose some course of action that is not in your best interest, then all my efforts will have been wasted. I do not know what will make you happy and I can't give either you or Susan a rock solid guarantee that I will succeed, personal relations being somewhat new for me, but I can promise that I will do the best that I can to make this work, should you choose to give me a chance to get to know Debbie Taylor better.”
Now I’m completely confused. “You guys have really dropped a bomb on me, you know. I wasn’t planning on dealing with this kinda stuff for a couple of months, at least.”
“Neither Bob nor I are saying you must decide tonight, it is after 9:00 p.m. There are a few weeks before you need to send out college applications, assuming that is something you want to do. You have time and now you have information ... Do you have any questions you would like to ask me or Bob?”
“No ... not now ... maybe later.”
“Do you have any idea where you want to go from here?”
“Not the vaguest.”
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
(5 years, 1 month, 17 days, 22 hours
and 18 minutes later)
(give or take)
The doorbell rang again, for like the hundredth time tonight. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to get some reading done before bedtime. Thankfully, I’m ahead in everything but Econ 310. I push myself out of the futon chair and walk to the door, picking up the plastic cauldron as I open it.
“Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat!”
There are four kids on the porch, one dressed as a witch, the second a biker, I think. The third is a soldier and the last a ninja. I don’t recognize any of them as local kids but that’s not unusual. Our neighborhood gets a lot of traffic on Halloween and our house more than most. That’s what happens when you give out full sized candy bars instead of those little ones, you quickly get a reputation. I step out onto the porch and hold out the plastic tub half-full of assorted candy bars.
“Those are very nice costumes, particularly the Biker, you are a Biker, aren’t you?” The boy looks like he’s 9 or 10 years old, wearing black plastic pants and vest with chains, a Harley logo on his hat. “I really like the beard. How did you do that?”
“Uhhhh” He’s embarrassed. “Makeup.”
“Well it’s a very good job, all of you look wonderful.” I try to say something positive to every kid who comes to the door. “Each of you can have one of whatever you want” I lift the black plastic cauldron up in front of them and they all quickly reach in, grabbing a bar. I glance at the two parents standing on the sidewalk below our porch. I smile and nod at them and they nod back. The kids say thank you and hurry off to the next house. I pause a moment to look around. It’s almost dusk and I see several small groups of kids and adults roaming up and down the street, some with flashlights. Looks like I’m not done for the night, hope we have enough candy. I walk back inside, close the door, and settle back onto the futon, pulling my legs up underneath me. I try to get back into the book but it’s hopeless. The young children have been through already. They usually show up shortly after supper with one or both parents. The next wave is grade school kids. Then they get progressively older throughout the night. The bell rings again so I get up. I’m getting my exercise tonight. This time, its three boys, probably middle school, dressed as rappers. I recognize two of them from the neighborhood. They look disappointed when I open the door.
“Nuts! Where’s your costume?” asks the blonde kid.
That’s the other thing our house has a reputation for. In the past, I’ve dressed up to hand out the candy, usually in a fairly sexy costume. Nothing like I used to dance in but enough to attract attention. Last year I was ‘sexy doctor’ in garter belt, stockings, heels, lab coat, stethoscope, and clipboard. We get a lot of teenage boy traffic and fathers bring their young kids by frequently. This year I’m wearing light gray yoga pants with a zip up long sleeve hoodie.
“Of course I’m wearing a costume. I’m ‘lazy student’.”
“That’s no costume!”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to see me dressed up this year. Tell you what, next year I’ll do something special. OK?”
“Sure!”
“Great!”
“You’ll just have to settle for candy tonight.” They reach into the container. “Only one each, you know the rules.” They shout their thanks as they rush to the neighbors’ house across the street. I check my watch. It’s about 7:45 and getting darker. Things should start to calm down.
I’m almost back to my chair when the doorbell chimes again. Returning to the door, I open it. I almost miss him, or her, it’s hard to tell. I was expecting older kids but it’s just one small child, not even four years old, I’d guess, dressed in a store bought monster costume with a plastic mask held by an elastic band covering the face. It holds out its bulging bag with both hands.
“Twick or tweat!” The mask muffles the child’s voice.
I step out on to the porch and look around. There are no adults to be seen, not even older brothers or sisters. This child is much too young to be out alone, particularly this time of night. Maybe she got separated from a group. There’s probably a mother or father completely freaking out about now. I squat down to get closer to eye level.
“Hello there” I say in a quiet, soothing voice. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing. Is your mommy or daddy with you tonight?” The child says nothing. “Maybe a sister or brother?” Still nothing, though she fidgets a little and turns to look back towards the street. Suddenly, I hear a voice in a stage whisper coming from the bushes next to the steps leading up to the porch.
“You don’t have a mommy or a daddy, you’re a monster.” A veerrryyy familiar voice. Now I know what is going on. The child turns back to me.
“I don’t have a mommy or a daddy, I’m a MONSTER! GGGRRRRRRRR!!!!!” She drops her goodie bag and raises her arms, spreading and curling her little fingers like claws. I try to keep from smiling, but it’s a losing battle.
“You’re a Monster? Well Mr. Monster, what do you want?”
“I’m not a boy Monster, I’m a girl Monster!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. What does Ms. Monster want?” She pauses and the voice in the bush prompts her.
“You want candy.”
“I want candy! GGGRRROOARRR!”
“Are you sure? Because I heard that monsters love to eat brussell sprouts.”
“Yuck, No! Monsters love candy.”
“How about ... rutabagas?”
She giggles a little “No, candy.”
“How about ... succotash?”
“What’s suc-tash?” The voice speaks up again.
“Give me candy or I’ll eat you!”
Her hands come up again and she starts to walk towards me “Give me candy or I’ll EAT YOU!”
“OH Please don’t eat me, don’t eat me!” I start to slowly jog around the porch while the little monster chases me, giggling, laughing and growling the entire time. After a few laps around the porch, I let her catch me.
“Oh you got me Ms. Monster! You’re sooo fast. I guess you have to eat me now.”
“Mommy, I’m not a monster, I’m ME, I’m ME!” She flips the mask up.
“NO! You’re Samantha? Well you really fooled me! I was so scared!” She is giggling and jumping up and down so quickly that she can barely keep her balance. “If you’re not a monster, then where is Daddy?” She runs to the edge of the porch and points to the bush on the right.
“THERE! He was helping me!”
“So you both fooled me!” The giggle fit returns.
A dark figure emerges from behind the bush, climbs the steps and scoops Samantha up in his arms, while she squeals and wriggles. He holds her on his right hip with one arm while reaching behind my head with his left, pulling my mouth to his, gently kissing me. After a few blissful seconds, I lean back.
“Hey buddy, you trying to eat me?”
“Not now, maybe later.” He let’s Samantha slowly slide down his leg until she touches the ground.
“Good job Ms. Monster. I think you really scared Mommy. Why don’t you pick up your candy and take it to the kitchen?”
“OK, Daddy.” She flips the mask off her head, carelessly letting it fall to the floor, picks up her bag of candy and walks into the house.
“Whoa there Sam! You forgot your mask. Come back and pick it up, you don’t want to lose it.” She comes back, picks the mask off the porch floor, hooks it on her arm by the elastic band and skips back into the house. We follow her, my right arm around his waist and his left around my shoulder. He kisses the top of my head.
“Were you busy tonight, babe?”
“About the usual, there were some disappointed customers though.”
“Why’s that?”
I point to my hoddie. “No costume.” He laughs.
“I bet they were very disappointed. You’ll have to make it up to them next year, maybe that little French Maid number in the back of the closet.”
“Michael! There’s a difference between teasing and propositioning. Most of them are just kids anyway.”
“Jerry Adams isn’t a kid. I overheard him tell Frank Vasco that stopping at our house with his kids is the highlight of his Halloween.”
“Jerry did seem a little disappointed when he came by tonight ... hold it a minute. SAMANTHA?” No answer from the kitchen. “SAMANTHA?”
“Yesth.”
“Are you eating candy?”
“Yesth.” She swallows whatever she had in her mouth. “Daddy said I could have three.” I glance over at him.
“Didn’t we agree to spread it out until Christmas, just one piece a day?”
“She was very good, didn’t run ahead of me once. I thought I’d reward her.”
“Michael, you will spoil her rotten. I don’t want to keep being the bad guy ...”
“You’re not the bad guy, you’re the perfect Mommy ... and wife.”
“If I’m so perfect, why did Sam leave dressed in a Princess outfit I spent last weekend making and came back dressed in a store bought monster costume?”
“She wanted to try to fool you.”
“And who’s bright idea was that?”
A grin creeps across his face. “It was a mutual idea.”
“You mean that you both thought of it at the same time?”
“Weeellll, maybe I mentioned the possibility to her first, but she ran with it.”
“How long did she wear the Princess outfit?”
“The monster was just for you. She changed in the car after we made the rounds through the neighborhood. Everyone loved the Princess. Any time someone told her how pretty she was, she did a little spin, thanked them and said ’My Mommy made it special for me’. Your reputation as Super Mom is intact.”
Super Mom. Who’d have guessed that anybody would ever call me that with a straight face. I sigh; time to be bad cop again.
“Samantha, come on out, it’s bath time.” She shuffles out of the kitchen, a familiar pout on her face. She could be my clone.
“No Mommy, I wanna stay up, I’m not even tired yet.”
“With all the sugar you’ve eaten ...” I give Michael the stink eye, he smiles back at me “... I’m not surprised. But that was the deal, you get to go out for Trick or Treat late but you agreed to go right to bed when you got home, remember?”
“I remember.” She’s not happy about it.
“Here” I hold out my hand to her. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll give you a quick bath.” Michael lets his arm fall off my shoulder.
“I’ll do it Deb, you stay down here and rest; you’ve had a busy night.” He bends down, grabs her by the waist and lifts her high in the air. “How about a bubble bath Sammy?” She’s smiling again.
“Yay! Bubble Bath!” He cradles her in his arms and they head upstairs, him tickling her and she giggling wildly. She’s turning into quite the Daddy’s Girl, not nearly as clingy as she was when I stopped breast feeding. The door bell rings again. So much for getting some rest.
There’s only a couple more visitors in the next twenty minutes, all older boys hoping for a show. After I send the last group away with a couple of bars each, I check out my face in the mirror by the door. My driver’s license says that I’m twenty four but, honestly, I barely look nineteen, if that. I still get carded whenever we go out on the town. I don’t know if it’s my borrowed genes or the remnants of Hanson’s treatments, but my aging is still really slow. Who knows how long that will last. I’m actually looking forward to looking like a mature adult.
Thank God, Samantha is healthy. When we became pregnant, it was a total accident. Neither of us was taking any kind of precautions because of Hanson’s experimental birth control implant. She said that it was supposed to last for a year but it just kept working so, well ... we forgot about it. When Dr. Patel said I was pregnant, we were both completely stunned.
Michael proposed that night. We had talked about getting married but Samantha forced our hand. I was not going to be an unwed mother. Problem was, we had no idea if I could safely have a child. All the plumbing checked out, but what about my DNA? Plus all the drugs Hanson gave me? I know that I’m a combination of more than one person’s DNA, at least that is what she said. If she screwed it up, any baby I might have could be in serious trouble. Michael and I had considered adoption to avoid the possibility, but again, Samantha took care of that.
I can hear them singing upstairs. She really seems to be a perfectly normal three year old girl, the spitting image of what I might have looked like if I had ever been a three year old girl. We did every test possible during the pregnancy to make sure she was OK. I could never tell Dr. Patel exactly what I was afraid of and why, he just thought that I was unnecessarily concerned. In the end though, it all went smoothly, even the birth. You gotta give Hanson credit; she really built me one hell of a body.
The water is draining from the tub so they must be done. I’m curled up in the futon chair, eyes closed. Not sleeping, just resting. I hear someone on the stairs and turn to look. Michael and Samantha are coming down, holding hands. She’s barefoot, dressed in her pink nightgown, holding the rail with her other hand, taking one step at a time. When she reaches the bottom, Michael releases her hand and she scampers to me, climbing into my chair. I pull her close, hugging her, smelling her damp hair.
“Mommy?” She sounds worried, a mother can tell.
“Yes, pumpkin?”
“Did I scare you when I was the monster?”
“Yes, a little, but not too bad.”
“Mommy?” Still worried about something.
“Yes, pumpkin.”
“Did I scare the babies?” She reaches out with her little hand and rests it lightly on my baby bump. I put my hand on hers.
“No Sam, the babies weren’t scared. They know that their big sister will always look out for them. Won’t you?”
She gives me a big smile, she loves it when I say that she’ll be a big sister. “Yes Mommy, I will.”
“You are three years old so there is ...”
“Mommy! I’m not three, I’m three and a half!” Michael manages to keep from laughing but barely.
“You’re right Sam, I keep forgetting about the half. I’m sorry.”
She snuggles against me. “That’s OK Mommy.” Michael comes over and picks her up. I’m reluctant to let go. I so love these quiet moments with my daughter.
“Time for bed Ms. Monster.”
She grabs him around the neck. “No, I want Mommy.”
That’s right baby, Mommy loves you too. She is tired though.
“Mommy will be up in a few minutes. How about I read you a story?” says Michael.
She leans into his chest. “OK” He bends down, bringing her close to me “Give Mommy a good night kiss.” I kiss her over his shoulder, her head immediately dropping down to rest there. She won’t last five minutes. Michael smiles at me and heads upstairs. As he carefully carries her to bed, I think about the differences between Michael and Bob.
Of course, there are more similarities, but the differences are amazing. Michael is much more laid back, more willing to have fun for fun’s sake. He’ll talk to someone like a regular person, you don’t need a dictionary for every fifth word. He’s smart, smart as hell, but he doesn’t lord it over you. He’s friendly too. He helps out all around, and half the guys in the neighborhood are here each weekend, at one time or another, though I probably have as much to do with that as he does. All the wives and girlfriends tell me how lucky I am. I have to agree. Since he works from home on his charitable foundation, one of us is always here with Samantha, but he has the time to take her out to the park and on play dates when I’m in class or at the library.
Looking around the room, I can see at least three renovation projects he did in the living room alone. When we bought this place, it was in desperate need of repair, dragging down property values for the entire block. Once it was clear that we were going to fix it up right, we were the most popular couple in the area. Most of the work was done by professionals, but Michael tackled a few “specialized” ones himself, including the gym and party room in the basement. He’s going to move his office to the renovated attic because we’ll need the space for the twins.
The twins. I rub my tummy. Twin boys. We’ve done the same tests on them that we did on Samantha and it’s all good, knock on wood. This time, it wasn’t an accident, though we didn’t plan on twins. When Michael found out, he was floating on air for about a month, could hardly talk about anything else. Thankfully, he came down to earth and we’ve been planning for the changes in our lives. We’re including Samantha so that she feels a part of the process. I’ve got six months to go so I’ll get this semester finished before it gets too uncomfortable. I can skip the spring semester and then graduate in the fall of next year. I hear a creak on the stairs and look that way. Michael is sneaking back down. After he reaches the bottom, he walks over and sits on the couch.
“She was out by the time I got to page six of ‘Hop on Pop’.”
“Why didn’t you come down then?”
“Just wanted to sit there and watch her.”
“I do that a lot on her afternoon naps.”
He swings around and lays down on the couch, propping his head on the armrest. “Did you recognize any of our customers tonight?”
“Only twenty, twenty five percent. Sherry and Larry Boyd stopped by early, they brought little Charlie with them, dressed as a bunny. They only stayed for about ten minutes”
“Charlie’s what, seven months?”
“Six months. Samantha would have gone nuts, he’s a real cutie.”
“That’s probably your hormones talking. Right now, you’d think anything in a diaper is adorable. Remember when you were pregnant with Samantha and fawned all over the Schwartz’s baby. That was one ugly kid!”
“She wasn’t that ugly! I saw her just yesterday and she’s a lovely child.” She’s no Samantha, but then what child is.
“Yeah now she’s fine, but as a baby, someone hit her with an ugly stick.”
“Speaking of hormones, remember what other thing I experienced while pregnant with Samantha?”
“Uhh ... morning sickness?”
“Please, don’t remind me. That’s not it.”
“How about your craving for pineapple, jalapeno and cottage cheese pizza?”
Actually, that sounds pretty good right now. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Give me a hint then.”
I untuck my legs, slip out of my chair, slowly strut over to the couch, kneel down next to his head, take it between my hands and kiss him hungrily. We play tonsil hockey for a couple of minutes, then I pull back, leaving him with a wide smile of anticipation. “Ah yes, now I remember, you were often horny.”
“Veerrry horny, and this time, its twins.”
“You’re not trying to drop a hint are you?”
“Oh, I think I’m way past the hint stage.”
He sits up. “I thought you were tired.”
“I caught my second wind.”
“Well let it never be said that Michael Robert Nelson failed to rise to the occasion and fulfill his husbandly duties. You check the back door, I’ll get the front and set the security system then meet you at the bottom of the stairs. Let’s synchronize our watches.”
I get up off my knees. “I’m all for synchronizing, but why waste it on our watches. Don’t be long.” I walk to the kitchen as he watches me go, making sure to add an extra wiggle to each step.
I check the door and windows when I get there. Everything is closed and locked tight. The security indicators switch from red to green. Michael did the security system himself and it’s what the state of the art will be five years from now. We both can check on whatever is happening in the house or yard any time of day, wherever we are, with our cells. By the time I get back to the stairs, he’s waiting for me. He reaches out with his right hand and I take it. We tenderly kiss as he slips his arm around my waist and we walk upstairs, side by side. I pause when we reach the top.
“Wait” I say quietly. “I want to check on Sam.” I creep over to her door and slowly open it. I can see her lying on her side, tightly gripping her stuffed dinosaur, Terry. She’s not sucking her thumb, which is a pleasant change. I lean over her bed, kiss her cheek and tuck the blanket around her. Michael comes up behind me, reaches around to cradle my tummy, then nuzzles my neck when I straighten up. I put my hands over his and settle back against him, sighing.
“She looks more like you every day, you know” he whispers in my ear.
“I know, that’s what scares me.”
“She’s fine Deb. You’re fine and she’s fine.”
“But what if that changes?”
“How’s that make us any different than any other family babe? There are no guarantees in life.”
“That’s certainly comforting.”
He kisses my ear. “Sorry, that’s the way of the world, which you know better than most. Come on; let’s go scratch your itch.” He goes back to nuzzling my neck. I stifle a giggle and let him lead me to our bedroom.
Once inside, I turn on the built-in baby monitor and close the door behind us. It swooshes shut like the door of a walk-in freezer. The bedroom is another of Michael’s “special” renovations. Extra thick walls and door makes it pretty much sound proof. It’s also a Safe Room. We can hear what’s going on in Samantha’s room, but she can’t hear what’s going on in ours’, unless we want her to. On its face, it looks like a completely normal bedroom but he put in extra storage space and carefully concealed the unique equipment we occasionally use when we’re feeling extra frisky. We’re not likely to need any of that tonight though, it is a little late and I have to be up early for a 7:30 class and he has a teleconference at 8:00. I watch as Michael strips off his shirt.
Hhhhmmm, nice, very nice. Strong shoulders, well defined muscles across his chest and back, bulging arms, the hint of a six-pack. Up until I became pregnant with the twins, we’d exercise every morning in our gym, mostly weights and a bike on a windtrainer, treadmill or rowing machine but also a lot of martial arts. Michael’s taught me a great deal in the last couple of years. I’m not nearly as good as he is, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself under normal circumstances. We still exercise, just not as strenuously, for obvious reasons. I’m still in really good shape for a pregnant woman in her first trimester, but nothing like I was three months ago. Then I was probably in the best shape of my life, which is saying a lot for me. Michael’s body has changed from kinda fatty and undefined to nicely chiseled. Not like weight lifters, just on the right side of babaliscious. As he approaches me, I snap out of my fixation on his chest. He sits me on the bed, bends down, removes my cross-trainers and begins to massage my feet. I fall back onto my elbows, letting the sensations spread up my body.
“Ooowww, that’s good. You always know just what I need ... why is that?” He keeps working on my feet and ankles.
“I just pay attention. You seemed to be walking kinda gingerly so I assumed your feet were sore. Plus, you have been pregnant before so we’ve been down this road. How are your ankles?”
“A little swollen ... uuuhhhh, yesss.”
After a couple of minutes, he stops and tugs at the legs of my yoga pants and I help him pull them off, lifting my hips off the bed. He tosses them on the chair next to the bed, then starts to massage my calves, working up to my thighs. By the time he gets to my waist, I’ve pulled off my hoodie and removed my bra, adding them to the pants on the chair.
Michael kisses his way up my body, giving special attention to my slightly bulging tummy. When he reaches my boobs, he stops. They have gotten more sensitive recently and right now, less is more. He gently caresses them, flicking the swollen nipples with his thumbs. If he does this for another minute or two, I’m gonna cum just from the feelings from my tits. He’s got a wicked smile on his face, so he knows it too. Just as I get near the edge, he backs off and moves to my shoulders.
So that’s how it’s going to be tonight, start and stop. A game I can play with the best of them. When he moves behind me to massage my shoulders, I give him a few seconds, then turn and push him back onto the bed, straddle his legs and start to remove his pants. Michael lets me undo his belt, unzip his fly and work both his pants and underwear down his legs. When the clothes reach his ankles, I roll off and go to the foot of the bed to remove his shoes and socks, then finish taking off his pants.
His legs and thighs are just as developed as his chest and arms. I can’t wait to touch them, feel the muscles flex. I start to kiss my way up his body, repeating what he did to me. When I get to his chest, I suckle on his nipples. His breath catches in his throat. Guys aren’t supposed to enjoy their own breasts but it’s still an erogenous zone, man or woman. Those taboo feelings can be very erotic. His pulsing cock tells me I’m right. I switch back and forth, sucking one nipple while lightly pinching the other, whatever feels good to me, I do to him. Unfortunately, this alone won’t get him to cum, but his occasional moan tells me I’m on the right track. After five minutes, I sit up and fall back, my head level with his crotch, my body at about a forty five degree angle across the bed. I reach out and take his engorged cock in my left hand, stroking it, while rolling his balls in the palm of my right hand.
I love the feel of his cock, in my hand, my mouth, my pussy ... and my ass. It took some time, but we came to an understanding about anal sex. He could do me ... if I got to do him first. Fucking Michael in the ass with a strap-on was as close as I would ever get to being a guy again, not that I missed it. He thought that I was kidding but changed his mind when I got a harness and double ended dildo through the mail. It took a lot of beer and some Anal-eze, but he eventually did it. I was slow and careful, two things my clients didn’t do when I was butt fucked at the club. He didn’t like it exactly, but he didn’t hate it either. Then it was his turn to do me and he was just as slow and careful. Over time, we both came to enjoy it as an occasional ... diversion. Not tonight though. Tonight, I’m going to suck his balls dry ... eventually.
His cock is hard and hot in my hand. I scoot closer and take the tip into my mouth, enjoying its velvet-like texture. I swirl my tongue first around the head and then the shaft as I work my way down towards his crotch, bobbing up and down as I go. He shifts his body until it is parallel with mine. I feel has hands at my cunt, pulling my thong aside, and then his tongue, licking my clit. We are lying on our sides, in the classic 69 position. Michael is trying to catch up to me but I’ve had a head start on his cock. I can already feel it throbbing. His balls pull up and he is just about ready to spurt so I stop, letting his cock slip from my mouth.
Now we’re even.
I keep stroking his cock, keeping him near his peak. I don’t want to have to start from scratch when he finishes teasing my pussy with his mouth and fingers. My orgasm is building quickly. Michael really does know what buttons to push. My hips are starting to twitch, grinding my cunt into his face, sending thrilling sensations shooting up my spine right to my brain. I’m getting near the edge now, he’s cutting it close.
“OK ... You’ve made your ... point ... you ... can ... ssttoppp ... mmmmm ... anytime ... OH GOD!”
The orgasm hits hard and fast. He never intended to stop. My hips are bucking uncontrollably, Michael gripping my ass and keeping his face buried in my crotch, trying to keep contact with my clit, extending my orgasm. Another wave hits, taking my breath away. I lose my grip on his cock, my body a mass of muscle spasms. The room spins around me. When I come down from my orgasmic peak, Michael has switched around so that we are face to face, my thong dangling from his hand. I lightly smack his chest.
“You bastard! I thought we were teasing and stopping.”
“I changed my mind. You upset?”
“No, course not. I just had a great blow job going ... it was great wasn’t it?”
“Deb, you are the finest cocksucker the world has ever known.” I blush. Not the kind of compliment a woman normally seeks, but he does mean it as a compliment. It was a hard earned skill, honed through a lot of unpleasant practice, but I’m happy to put it to good use now.
“Anyhow, I had a good one going and now I have to start from the beginning.”
Michael rolls me over on my side so that he is behind me. “Save it for later babe.”
He rubs his still hard cock along my labia, covering it with his saliva and my juices, then slowly enters my cunt from behind. He pulls my body back towards his with his left arm, which is wrapped around my waist from underneath, just below my baby bump. As he rocks his hips back and forth, he drapes his right arm up over my ribs, playing with my tits and nipples. He increases his pace and my boobs begin to bounce wildly. He is doing his usual wonderful job of fucking me senseless. I cry out between breathes.
“Oh God! ... Fuck me! ... Please FUCK ME BOB! ... OH ... OH ... Damn ... Fuck my pussy Bob! ... OH GOD! HARDER ... UHHH ... HHUUHH ... OH ... BOB! ... GOD I’M CUMMING!”
The combination of the sensations from my cunt and tits have me ready to orgasm again. Michael is breathing hard on my neck. I think he is almost there himself so I try to hold up, waiting for him. As my orgasm breaks free, Michael drives his cock deep into my pussy and shoots me full of his cum in two, three, then four separate ejaculations. He holds me tight against his body as my orgasm surges through me, then kisses the back of my neck and caresses my tits until my breathing returns to normal. I feel his cock soften and shrink.
I always enjoy that sensation. It means that he’s cared enough to stay close to me after the sex is done. At the club, no one ever stayed, not that I would have wanted them to, it was just sex. It’s not just sex with us.
It’s love. A complete, total commitment to each other and our growing family. He would do anything for me and I would do anything for him, and we would do absolutely anything for Samantha. No questions asked.
I roll towards him and lay my head on his shoulder. His arm is under me and on my back, holding me tight against him. My left hand is slowly, lightly rubbing his chest, our legs intertwined.
“I’m sorry” I quietly say.
“About what?”
“You know ... the ‘Bob’ thing.”
“Don’t worry sweetheart, it happens.”
“But it shouldn’t. I try hard to remember, I really do, but ... sometimes, when my concentration slips ... I just blurt it out.” He strokes my hair. I love it when he does that.
“I know you’re trying. The only time you slip up now is when we are making love, and usually it’s just us, so there’s no harm. Besides, that’s why I chose ‘Robert” as my middle name, just in case. Fortunately for me, if I screw up and call you ‘Honey’, it sounds just like ‘Babe’ or “Sweetheart’ or ‘Dear’, just another term of affection.”
“But you never screw up. I don’t know how you keep it all straight. You’ve had like eight or nine different identities in your life. I’ve only had three.”
“It helps to be crazy.”
“Don’t say that! You are not crazy! We’ve spent so much time with Susan, working both separately and together. You’ve just got an extraordinary brain, so ... compartmentalized? Is that it?”
“Yep, I kept each one in its own mental file and pulled out whichever one I needed for the particular assignment. Thankfully, I had to start from scratch when I decided to ditch them all and create ‘Michael Robert Nelson’. Besides, they were all middle aged by now and I didn’t want to be accused of robbing the cradle when you agreed to be my girlfriend. It gave me a chance to create an identity that matched the changes in my life.”
“Speaking of changes, does Susan have any better idea why your test results no longer fit the profile of “Borderline Sociopathic Personality Disorder?”
“Not really. She’s assuming that I had some kind of subtle childhood brain damage, maybe in the womb from my birth mother’s drug and alcohol abuse. Hanson’s treatments eventually repaired that damage. Her intensive therapy since then has helped me overcome the years of neglect to my emotional development.”
“I guess that’s as good an explanation as any. The important thing is that you stay cured.”
“That’s what Susan says.” He reaches over and tips my face towards his. “I have it easy this time. All my prior ‘lives’ were chosen for me. ‘Bob James’, ‘Richard Johnson’, the others, they each had particular aspects which made them good covers and helped me do my job. I had to bend to fit them. This time, I created the legend to fit how I felt, what I liked, to finally be the person I’ve always wanted to be” he kisses me deeply “to be with who I want to be with. This is my ideal life. You’re the one with the hard job. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t train for years to switch identities at the drop of a hat. You’re the one stuck with a life you didn’t ask for.”
“Doesn’t mean that I don’t want it.”
He looks stunned. “In all our sessions with Susan, you never once said you wanted this. You accepted it, thanked us for helping you through it, for saving you from Hanson, but never actually wanted it. What happened?”
I snuggle closer to him. “I realized it this evening, talking to Sherry Boyd when she stopped by. She was saying how lucky she was to have found Larry, how happy she was to be a wife and mother, then she said “But I don’t have to tell you, look at all you have”. After they left, I sat down and thought about what she had said. I decided that she was right. I live in a lovely home, good neighbors and friends, getting ready to graduate from college, after actually going to class and earning my grades this time. I have a bright and beautiful daughter with two sons on the way ...” I reach out and place the palm of my hand on his cheek “... and finally, I have a handsome, brilliant and witty husband who I dearly love, and I think that he loves me too.”
He turns his head and kisses my hand. “More than life itself sweetheart, but you do know that I’m not handsome, right? You’re looking at me with love drunk eyes.”
“Sorry, no choice, they’re the only eyes I’ve got ... wait, are you saying that you accept ‘brilliant and witty’ but not handsome?”
“No one’s perfect Debbie ... except you of course.”
“Now who’s got love drunk eyes?”
“You really want this? You’re not just saying it or trying to talk yourself into it?”
“What more could a person want? I want this life, my life, and I’ll kick the ass of anyone who tries to take it from me.”
“Well Mrs. Nelson, we’re a team so I guess that means we’ll both be kicking the ass of anyone who tries to take our lives from us.”
“Including Amy Hanson?” It has always been a rarely discussed fear of mine, what if she found out about me?
“You know that is not very likely, there’s no reason to dwell on ....”
“No Michael, what if? You never walk out of this house without a primary and two back up plans. We didn’t install the home security system because you were afraid of burglars. It’s not just us anymore, there’s Samantha too. Hanson’s crazy, she’d do anything to hurt me and the best way to do that would be to hurt Sam. In a few months, they’ll be two more targets. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it ... what if she finds us?”
He strokes my hair for a few moments. “I’m convinced that she’s not looking so it’d be extremely unlikely. I also believe that she took my advice and sought professional counseling, which could help her act more rationally should she discover the truth.”
“You’re avoiding the question Michael ... you’re doing it again and you promised you wouldn’t. I know you have some kind of plan, but you haven’t told me what it is. You’ve been making decisions about our family’s future without discussing it with me. You’re right, we are a team but you aren’t treating me like a teammate. I’m being left on the sidelines. We’ve been round and round about this with Susan. If our marriage is going to work, you’ve got to include me in the decision making.”
“It’s no big deal Deb, I didn’t want you to worry about it so I just didn’t say anything.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“NO! God, of course not!”
“Do you think that I couldn't figure out on my own that Hanson might be able to find us?”
“Sure, but the odds ...”
“Screw the odds, you knew that I’d worry whether we talk about it or not ... you can’t protect me, or us, from everything Michael. I’m going to think about and worry about a lot of stuff. I’m a mother, you’re a father, we’ve got all sorts of things to worry about without Amy Hanson ... so, will we talk about this?”
Michael looks away for a moment, staring into space. He sighs and turns back towards me.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. We are a family and families make joint decisions. Even if you didn’t create the plan, you need to know what it is should we ever need to implement it, as unlikely as that is.”
“Apology accepted sweetheart. I know you’re only doing what you feel is the best for all of us. I appreciate you not wanting to upset me, but I need to feel like I have a say in my own life, our lives. So ... what’s the plan?”
“You want to talk about it now?”
“Why not? You going somewhere?”
“I guess not.”
“You tell me what it is and I’ll tell you what I think about it.” He sighs, then gets an extremely serious look on his face.
“If Amy Hanson comes after you or any of our children, she will be dead before she hits the floor. No warnings, no hesitation, no reasoning with her, no bargaining, no questions asked. I gave her a chance when I didn’t kill her five years ago because I thought she had the potential to help mankind. To my knowledge, that’s what she’s trying to do now, but if I’m wrong and she returns to her vengeful ways, I’ll put her down like a mad dog. If she sends someone else, that person is dead and then I’ll track her down and finish the job. If I catch her snooping around in our pasts or find someone else doing it on her behalf, the same thing will happen, no second chances. Nothing is more important to me than you and our family Debbie. Nothing.”
Simple, straightforward and final. It takes my breath away.
There’s Bob’s iron fist inside Michael’s velvet glove. It’s been a while since I’ve heard him talk like that, and, to be honest, it’s a little thrilling, a reminder of the powerful, unpredictable man I was first attracted to. He’s still there, underneath a veneer of civility. I don’t say anything at first, just reach down and slowly stroke his wonderful cock.
“I’ve got no problem with that.”
“None?”
“Nope.”
“Glad we had this talk ... so, if we’re a team, who’s the quarterback?”
“Both of us.”
“Don’t two quarterback systems tend to fail?”
I slide down his body and give his now hard cock a long lick. “I think we’ve pushed that analogy as far as we can, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
Time to give him that blowjob I promised. After all, we girls are always falling for the bad boys.
© 2010 by Meps98 ©. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of the copyright holder.