Sacrosanct Ch. 04

Rory was surprised how good she looked with so little preparation. A lacquered chopstick, a pin, and some drugstore makeup, and she looked at herself in the mirror. Perfect. Almost. Her gun was a tight fit, but she managed to strap it into her bra, out of Darryl's sight. The dress came with a pair of strappy sandals, but all the straps were just simply connected green and white rhinestones. That, and the satin purse and she was sitting on Darryl's bed, watching him dress in a stunning tux.

"Wow. Will I have to pistol whip these bitches to keep them off you?" She stood up, wrapping her arms around Darryl's waist, reaching up to his chest and shoulders.

"Eh, I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."

Rory raised her eyebrow. "I noticed."

He turned and was about to advance on her with a growl, then thought the better of it when she reached for his jacket on the bed. He turned and allowed her to put it on him. This is how it should be, he thought. He wanted to settle down, but that would only work if he had Rory. They were ready, so they left.

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Rory tried to hide her amazement at the sheer opulence of the place. This is a charity function? She thought to herself as she held onto Darryl's hand, weaving back and forth between vine covered columns and sarong clad servers. Tantra was bedecked as a Polynesian paradise, its real grass floor tickling Rory's feet. She'd decided to check her shoes when she arrived, just to enjoy the paradox of being inside, but feeling grass with every step. She thought she saw a familiar face in the crowd, but then was quickly drawn closer to Darryl's side. "Hi, Paris."

"Hi, Dr. Laughlin." Rory looked up and saw the willowy figure of the heiress. She was holding an appletini and swirling her tongue around her swizzle stick, in a gesture VERY familiar and reminiscent, so Rory couldn't help but laugh. Paris pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow. "What is it your escort finds funny, Doctor?"

Darryl stood straight up and pulled Rory closer to him protectively. "My date" – he accented the word – "Is remembering a joke we shared earlier, right?" Darryl knew EXACTLY what Rory was laughing at, but he knew that if he reacted the same way she had when discussing the incident; it was going to be hard to keep the peace.

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Taylor valet-parked her BMW M3 Convertible, then looked around the corner to the rest of the valet parked cars. Damn, she couldn't tell if he had shown up. She entered and tried to scan the room as she greeted people and finally located him. She had heard that he was hot, but he surpassed her cousin's description of 'hot, redhead, country boy'. Damn. Taylor's heart sank. He was with someone. Nice looking dark chick in a green dress. Taylor opened her purse and looked inside. It looked like the E and Rohypnol that she had bought for the after-party were going to have to be put into use. Taylor shrugged, but noticed with a smile that the couple was kind of stuck in a conversation with Paris, and she could make great use of the distraction.

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Paris leaned against the bar and smiled, focusing the brilliance of her smile on Darryl. "So what was it that you found so funny?"

Rory couldn't take it anymore. "It was your technique. You look the same way you do in the video. Your eyes roll back like you're doing an alien brain probe with that thing!" And Rory dissolved into giggles.

Paris was aghast. "What did you say, bitch?"

Rory had regained her composure. Darryl's face was totally red. He wanted to laugh, he was trying to hold back the laugh, but he barely held on as he said, "She said that you looked like you were trying to scour your throat with his dick." He finally started laughing, leaning in on Rory. He couldn't help it anymore. It WAS funny, he couldn't pretend.

Paris face fell, her lip trembled. She couldn't believe this nobody had this guy, one of "her sort", laughing so hard. Rory looked up. She initially thought she had embarrassed her lover, but finally calmed down long enough to realize that he found it funny too. She turned to the bartender and asked for a scotch, neat.

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Taylor saw her chance and crushed the tablets in a napkin. In the moment between the bartender placing the drink on the bar and Rory reaching for it, she dropped the powder into the drink and gave it a swirl. He can't tell the difference, she thought to herself. Some doctor he is.

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Darryl gave the drink a swig. It was a little gritty but refreshing. He offered Rory some, but she was sticking with the Coke for now. She finished the drink, and then looked at him. "Do you wanna dance, Darryl?"

"Sure." The drug was beginning to work its way through his system. He moved to his feet unsteadily as he led Rory out onto the floor. Thank goodness it's a slow song, he thought. His feet felt like lead as he cradled Rory in his arms and gently led her across the floor. Despite his slowing state, he looked graceful as he danced with Rory and even managed a few twirls and dips before- -

"Listen, Kitty. I'm gonna hit the head, I'm not feeling so well."

Rory took his arm and walked him to the edge of the dance floor. "Thanks, baby." Rory kissed Darryl on the forehead and he made his way to the bathroom. Out the corner of her eye she saw a brunette in a hot pink dress slide off her stool and move in his direction. She thought it odd, but thought nothing of it.

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Darryl felt horrible. He was blacking in and out, feeling not quite himself. Oh, God, he thought, what was in my drink? He hoped he could vomit it up and did a little, but he just couldn't shake the feeling. What was he being poisoned with. For the first time in a long while, he felt afraid, that right when life was coming together, some asshole was going to kill him. He was losing grip on consciousness, like he was being suffocated in a fire. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned a button and splashed water on his face. Finally, he crawled to the lounge adjacent to the bathroom, sat on a bench and closed his eyes, passing out.

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Taylor entered the lounge and saw Darryl asleep, hand covering his eyes and his hair gently mussed. Perfect, she thought. She unbuttoned his pants and boxers and saw his limp dick resting against his leg. Even when flaccid, Darryl still had an impressive member. Taylor knew that it would take a little extra effort to get him up, but she would get what she wanted. She got between his legs and put some warming lubricant on her hands and began to stroke his cock. Darryl didn't stir but his member slowly began to stiffen. While not as hard as before, it was slowly becoming hard enough. Taylor wrapped her lips around Darryl's reddening head and slowly sucked. Taylor kept her eyes on the sleeping man whose dick she was sucking. She knew that if he woke up, she would scream rape. But, so far, so good. She tasted precum. To her mind, it was sweet, like money.

Taylor raised her dress to expose her snatch. While Darryl's penis was not totally hard, Taylor reasoned it was hard enough to penetrate her. She straddled Darryl and felt his dick twitched. She looked up. He was still unconscious, beads of sweat strewn across his forehead; she put her hand on his chest and realized that he was burning up. That might be a bad thing, she thought. No good he dies while I'm fucking him. But she was too close to getting what she wanted.