A Graduation amongst Equals Pt. 02

"People keep telling me it's bad for my health,

cause kicking back don't make it.

Out of control, I play the ultimate role.

Don't know how to fake it."

-Ozzy Osbourne, "Hellraiser"

*

Note: This chapter ended up being much shorter than I'd have liked. So, for this 20th story, I'm throwing in a bonus scene from an unfinished story.

"Called to a Night Interview" was going to be the story of how and why Jeanne was picked to be Helen's new maid. Sadly, my collaborator and the inspiration for Jeanne, RobotUnit8, has been out of contact long enough to convince me that it won't ever be finished. Therefore, I shall present you with something from that story.

* * *

The pizza boy came to the door. It was his last delivery of the night. He knocked on it and waited for an answer. When the door opened, he stood staring at the gorgeous blonde wearing the sheer nightie who answered.

"Pizza, ma'am." He said nervously.

The woman licked her lips slowly and deliberately. The pizza boy thought nothing of it. She was obviously hungry and had been waiting for some time.

"Oh, yes." She answered breathily. "Won't you come in? My purse is on the coffee table."

It seemed safe enough, so he followed her in. The house looked quite familiar but he thought nothing of it.

"So, you've brought that extra thick sausage I ordered?" The woman asked him.

"Hot and ready for you, ma'am." He replied eagerly. He thought he heard the sound of giggling from somewhere but ignored it.

The blonde reached into her purse as he slid the pizza out of the warmer and set it on the coffee table. She looked him up and down while she counted out the money.

"Oh dear!" She exclaimed as she stepped in closer. "It appears that I don't have anything for a tip."

"That's all right, ma'am." He replied, stepping in to take the money and look into her eyes. "Giving you what you need it is all the reward I require."

This time, for a second, he thought he heard raucous laughter coming from one of the other couches in the room, but when he looked, there was nothing. He forgot about it.

"Nonsense," she said. "You came all this way to deliver what I need. It's only right that you should be properly thanked."

The customer played with the buttons on his delivery jacket before suddenly yanking all the snaps open.

"Oh dear." She gasped. "I've snapped open all the snaps on your jacket. You can't leave now!"

"You're right," the Pizza Boy agreed. "I'd be out of uniform."

He was almost certain he'd heard laughter at that but immediately dismissed it. She looked into his eyes with a predatory grin.

"It looks like you're stuck here." The Customer said to him. He felt her hand cup the bulge in his jeans. "I guess you'll just have to stay and make sure the customer is satisfied."

She slid to her knees and unzipped his pants.

"Well, ma'am." He said as she took him in her mouth. "We are here to please."

* * *

"This is fucking inspired." Helen said to Susan as they watched and laughed on one of the couches. "Using The Thing to make them BELIEVE they're porn characters. You have a LOT of good ideas, Susan!"

"It's almost a defining characteristic." Susan said, winking imperceptibly at no one present.

The two of them looked over at Brenda. She sat on the other end of the couch, watching the action. The evening was young, so thus far, she'd only been commanded to tease herself as she viewed. She moaned her approval of the scene.

"And," Helen said with a smooch. "You've found a most receptive audience."

"Audience for now." Susan smooched before turning back to Troy & Julie's scene. "We're on next."

Helen looked nervous about that.

"What are we going to do?"

"Well," Susan answered. "This is Troy's day. What do you think he'd want?"

She thought a moment, then had it.

* * *

Agent Troy Equals crept into the villain's lair. The ninjas outside had been no problem and he hadn't seen any internal guards yet, but that didn't mean he was in the clear. He stopped at the edge of the dining room. His entrance had been too easy, and it was still looking too easy.

Equals surveyed the room beyond. To all appearances, an ordinary living room in an ordinary house in an ordinary neighborhood. He knew better, though. That he'd found the hidden sanctum of a deadly villain with a fiendish plot. It was then that he noticed the thin red beam of light at ankle level. Suddenly, the room was full of them. Carefully, he made his way through the lasers to reach the locked door. He took a piece of coat hanger out of his pocket and stealthily unlocked the internal door.

He padded carefully into the darkened bedroom. Darkened except for the sight of a woman strapped into the bed with handcuffs. He approached her and began to work on the cuffs. The gagged woman shook her head and tried to warn him.

"It's going to be ok, Vagina Fantastico. I'm here to rescue you."

A voice from the darkness made itself heard.

"And who is going to rescue you, Mr. Equals?"

He turned as the lamp switched on. He KNEW this had been too easy! He saw the woman with the lightly-singed hair to whom the voice belonged sitting nude on a chaise lounge.

"THUNDERPUSSY!" He exclaimed.

"Indeed, Mr. Equals. And may I say that you've stumbled into my trap beautifully. I trust you remember my henchwoman, Connie Lingus."

With that, a karate chop struck him in the back of the neck, and he dropped to the floor. The last thing he saw before passing out was a third woman standing over him, another karate chop at the ready.

Troy came to on the bed. He was now the one handcuffed to it.

"Now, Mr. Equals," Thunderpussy said, standing over him. "If you really want the shutdown code to stop my Doomsday Beam from sending the moon crashing down onto the planet, there's only one way you'll get it."

Julie's voice came from somewhere distant, as if she were speaking through a cardboard tube.

"Sixty minutes until Doomsday Beam activation."

Thunderpussy looked down at him; Connie and Vagina crawling up on either side of her.

"The only way to get the code and save the world, Mr. Equals, is to satisfy the three of us in time."

Troy swallowed as she mounted him and he prepared for the most dangerous assignment of his life.

* * *

At the end of the night, four of them sat on the couches in the living room. Brenda knelt in mindless bliss next to Helen. They then brought her out of it because although they liked fulfilling her fetish; in practice, it would have made for a creepy evening. Briefly checking the morning news confirmed that the slightly-singed look had caught on with the newscasters.

"I knew that was going to be fun." Troy said with a drink. "But this is fun and amazing."

"It didn't all go to plan." Susan said, sharing a cup of cocoa with Helen. "Maybe if I'd thought to buy a cop costume instead of going with cosplay stuff we had around."

The scene had been a noisy cheerleader sleepover that would then be interrupted by a cop whom the girls would seduce. Unfortunately, the closest thing they had on hand was a Judge Dredd costume and interrupting the lesbian orgy with "I AM THE LAW" took everyone out of it.

"Speaking of plans, Master," Julie asked. "What's the plan for Monday?"

"I hang my diploma on the wall of my office and get back to work, Mistress."

While Troy was in college, he created a small business as a financial advisor. It was here that he most frequently made use of his own power; creating investment plans that people can afford, then making certain they stick to them.

"You could always take the Minister of Treasury job," Helen offered. "Put your theories into practice." Since she'd been in charge, Helen made it clear to the Minister that if a man named Troy Equals ever came into his office and said he wanted the job, the Minister would immediately be transferred to another post in the government. Because she occasionally reminded Troy of the offer, she already knew his response.

"You know that's too high profile for me, Helen. We have enough famous people in the family." Troy answered, patting Julie's knee. Julie's art career had taken off since Helen became her patron. Between this and Helen and the twins being royalty, he was closer to the spotlight than he'd have preferred.

"What about your other plan?" Brenda asked, getting dressed to leave. "Troy's got his degree; you've got your studio going. When are kids coming?"

"Wonderful impression of my mom." Julie said back with a smile. "We made those plans before Byroni and Vincenzo were part of the family. Now that they are, we're fine with letting it happen naturally."

"The way you two fuck," Susan added. "It will."

Brenda went home. The others went to bed to dream of the future.

* * *

Scene: Jeanne's first day at Castle Finzione. She's been told La Contessa's secret and just seen her room. Now she is looking for La Contessa.

A bit less than an hour later, Jeanne found Contessa Helena de San Finzione smoking in the dining room. She was not seated at the table, but at a smaller chair and a side table with an ash tray and a box of Kleenex on it, in front of two paintings that hung side-by-side on the far wall on the room. The chair and table were out of place with all the other furnishings in the room, however had been deliberately positioned where they were as though La Contessa had ordered long ago that they were not meant to be moved from their spot. As Jeanne approached, she thought she heard a clicking sound coming from La Contessa's unseen hand that didn't hold a burning cigarette.

"Don't worry, Jeanne," Helen said in French without turning to see who was approaching her. There was a small choke in her voice, and Jeanne could now see a wastebasket beneath the table that had several wadded-up Kleenex at the bottom. "I don't come here as often as I should. Maria couldn't have thought to inform you yet that I usually prefer to be left alone when I am sitting here."

"I am disturbing you." Jeanne said, turning to leave.

"No. No, really, I'd like you to. Pull up a chair." She looked around. The nearest chairs were for a covered children's table that was not going to be used that evening, and Jeanne took one of those. She positioned it to sit behind and to the left of La Contessa, when Helen motioned for her to bring the chair forward and sit by her side, her face never turning from the wall.

Jeanne sat and looked over at her. Helen had been careful to catch her tears before they damaged her makeup, and only by sitting this close could Jeanne notice the spots where she'd been too late. She looked down and saw that the rattling sound was coming from a string of beads that Helen rolled back and forth in her palm.

Jeanne looked up at the paintings of two different white-haired old men. The one on the right had been a posed portrait of a handsome old gentleman in royal garb with a trimmed white goatee and mustache. The one on the left had been painted from a photograph of a smiling old man with a larger, bushier beard and mustache; his arms open wide, ready for a hug. Jeanne at first thought he might be Father Christmas due to the beard and red smoking jacket that he wore before noticing the tan trousers and lack of a hat. There was nothing on the wall to the painting's left; however, space had been reserved for another.

"The man on the right," Helena informed her. "Is Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione, forever does he reign in our hearts. My first..." She took a drag of her cigarette before continuing. "And last husband." She turned to face the other man. "This man was no one you would have heard of. His name was Byroni Medina. Everyone who knew him called him Propappou, which is Greek for Great-Grandfather. The only reason that the spot on the wall to the left of him is bare is because his Great-Grandson has refused all of my requests to sit for a portrait."

"With what you can do, I would not think any man could refuse you anything."

Helen's response came after another long drag.

"He can." she said flatly. Jeanne sensed that the subject was closed and returned her gaze to Propappou's painting.

"He seems quite nice." Jeanne said. Helen nodded, not looking away from the paintings.

"He was the one who taught me that the concept of 'nice' exists in the world. I never really had a father; not one worth speaking of, anyway. When I still believed that prayer accomplished anything, I used to pray that he could be my father."

"You no longer believe?"

Helen took a long drag of her cigarette and tamped it out.

"What I got instead of a father beat that idea to death along with my mother. The American courts buried it for good when they said Propappou was too old to adopt me."

Helen dumped the contents of the ash tray into the wastebasket once she was sure they were out. She stood and turned to face Jeanne.

"Guests will be coming shortly. Tonight, you are a guest too, so you do not serve. Your seat will be across from Generalissimo Santori and between the Minister of Science and myself. I'm sorry to throw you into such a position before you've even officially started; however, Lady Maria says that the Generalissimo makes her uncomfortable, and prefers to be seated away from him. If he makes you uncomfortable, mention 'that matter in the garden' to me at dinner, and I'll find an excuse to dismiss you from the table."

Jeanne nodded. She wasn't certain what she was getting into, but any idea of certainty ended for her at Le Bourget. She stood as well.

"My background check should have covered known food allergies," Helen continued. "However, if you have any preferences that you wish to discuss with the chef, the kitchen is through that door. You should probably meet him anyway before we begin, since you'll be working with him and his staff, too. Don't feel awkward about them serving you tonight; you are a special guest, and so were they, at a dinner like this one when they started, too. It's a little more special for you, but we can discuss that later. I have to go prepare for my entrance. It's a big part of this job."

Jeanne didn't have any food allergies, but it was not a bad idea to meet some of the other staff. As Helena was leaving, Jeanne called to her.

"Madame Contessa?"

Helen gave a tiny laugh at that.

"I'm only six years older than Lady Maria and yourself, Jeanne. My preference is simply 'Contessa,' but yes?"

Jeanne mimed the spots on her own face to show where Helena's makeup had been marred by her tears. She nodded her understanding.

"Thank you, Jeanne." She said with a smile as she left.