High Life: Alice Makes a Change Pt. 04

"No-one is. That's just fantasy."

"It's so sad that you doubt him. Better make it reality."

"How?"

Jodie reached into her pocket as I surveyed her with dread. She pulled out a folded tissue, unwrapping it to show me a tiny square of coloured paper.

"You're familiar with this. It's just been dried onto the paper. You know what it'll do to him."

She wrapped it up again and held it out to me.

"Take it."

I took the little bundle and slipped it into my pocket.

"Good girl. Let me know how it went."

Jodie brushed past me, and I found myself alone, standing in the middle of the aisle, still staring at the block of cheese in my hand, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

---

The note had specified that we were to turn up in casual clothes, which filled me with a sense of foreboding. The event was to be held at Sanctuary Point, the new health spa on the hill overlooking the lake. A couple of my friends had been and they'd raved about it. Dutifully, we'd hopped into the car in jeans and casual t-shirts, both of us, and were now leaving the suburbs behind, driving through the hills, circumnavigating the lake to our destination.

"I found something out," James said.

That he'd broken the silence in the car made me aware that we'd stopped talking a while back.

"Yeah?"

"I had a quiet word with Campbell McCall. I figured if we're gonna get ahead of the game somehow, Campbell could help."

"Uh, I'd have liked to be asked. He's a creep. Why on earth did you go to him?"

"Relax, I didn't tell him anything, Alice. I'm not that dumb. It's just that, it's his job, right? He's a fixer. Remember the Cromwell brothers, and that nightclub thing?"

"Yes, but what...?"

"He made sure it all went away. He's been solving problems like that for the team for years."

"But you're not in the team anymore, James, you retired."

"You never retire, you just stop playing."

I frowned in irritation.

"And he's going to help us? This isn't a dust up over girls in a nightclub."

"I didn't ask him to help. I just asked him how he went about it. I got some tips. I didn't say anything about us."

"Still, I don't like it. He's just, uh, weird."

"And good at his job."

"Sure. So what did you get out of him?"

"I ran them through Kikster," James replied, "Jodie, Delilah. It brought up nothing on them, like they went out of their way to keep a low profile. Nothing on the feeds, a few things related to the fundraising, nothing useful. Then I put in a search on Davis, and he's a whole different ballpark."

I looked across at James and saw that he was smiling.

"So, you found something?" I prompted.

"Yeah. Sanctuary Point, it hasn't been open long. Guess who owns it? The Scott Group."

"So?"

"Davis Scott."

"You mean...?"

"Yeah, the little fucker from the dinner party is also a property tycoon."

James grimaced, then fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me.

"What's this?"

"Open up the pictures. I found this."

I fiddled with the phone, but my mind was on other things.

"He's young. How'd he get the money to build Sanctuary Point?"

"He didn't Alice. It's his father's company."

"So he asked his Dad?"

"No. Have you got the picture up yet?"

James sounded excited.

"Hold on," I told him.

"He didn't have to ask his Dad."

I opened up the gallery and saw the picture. It was a scene in a graveyard, with people dressed in black, from a report in the social pages of a newspaper. I zoomed in, scanning faces. I recognised Delilah first, then Jodie next to Davis, looking a few years younger. Next to him was a bulky man with tanned skin, rugged with blonde hair turning to grey at his temples, no-one I'd seen before, and then a woman at the end.

Like Jodie, she was older, about the same age, elegant, with long blonde hair run through with silver. But she wasn't looking down at the grave, she was staring into the camera, her eyes the pale blue of glacial ice.

"Where did you get this?"

"Society section. Did you read the caption?"

I zoomed back out, scanning the text along the bottom, reading the names.

"Richard Scott? This is his funeral."

"His father. Seems Davis inherited the empire from his old man."

There was something about the way they were all standing, Jodie with her arm around Davis, the look on her face as she surveyed the coffin. Richard had meant a great deal to her, too.

"You see?" James asked.

"See what?"

"The way they're standing."

I looked again, then replied, "They're, uh, close. You don't think...?"

"Like father like son," James replied.

"What does that mean?"

"I think she was his old man's mistress. I reckon Davis got handed down more than money from his father."

"Who are the two on the righthand side?"

"Dunno. I looked up the guy, Andrew. He's in property in New York."

"And the woman at the end?"

"Cynthia's local. I don't know how she fits in."

I handed the phone back to James, and he slipped it back into his pocket.

"Anyway," he continued, "Now we have more names. Plus, it's interesting that this booking is at the spa Davis built with his father's money. We need to stay sharp. There might be something we can use."

I nodded.

"We're gonna get them Alice. We just keep our shit together and we'll get through. We're a team, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, trying to put the enthusiasm into my voice, "We're a team."

"We'll get through this, you'll see."

James squeezed my knee with his hand, flashing me a grin. I smiled back at him. James shifted his attention back to the road and I turned away, looking out at the world going by. My smile faded and I found myself just staring into space.

"This is it."

I jumped, unaware of how long I'd let my thoughts drift, turning to see the Sanctuary Point sign in stainless steel lettering on three sandstone pillars. James slowed the car and we turned off, up a sweeping gravel road that crested the hill, running down the other side to a car park in front of a low sandstone building. We parked up, the tires crunching in the gravel, and got out.

"Where do we go?" James asked, "Did the note say?"

I stared at the polished dark wood of the front door, the only feature in the warm, honey-coloured stone.

"The chalets are to the left, down the hill. We're supposed to go into chalet four."

"Okay. Guess this is it then. You ready Alice? Game time."

"I guess."

James wrapped his hands around my shoulders, giving me a little squeeze.

"C'mon," he murmured, "Better than just you guess."

"Okay, I know."

"Yeah, that's better. You know you're ready. Let's show these fuckers what we're made of."

I found myself staring up at him, into his kindly eyes. I didn't doubt that he meant every word. My spirits began to lift. Maybe we'd get through this after all.

I walked with James, hand in hand, skirting the main spa building, finding the path down to the chalets. The walkway was covered, everything looked new. I counted five chalets in total, and when we arrived in front of the fourth one, the door was wedged ajar.

"Game time," I breathed, pushing the door open.

The chalet was empty. There was a single bedroom, off to one side, but it looked untouched. The lounge area was also pristine.

"I don't get it," I said.

"Over here, Alice."

James was in the kitchenette, holding up a large shopping bag.

"There's a note. Want to do the honours?" he said.

I took the note and read it aloud.

"Put your clothing into the bag. When you're changed, the party is in chalet five. You'll need to knock to enter. Leave nothing behind."

"That's it?"

"Not quite. There's one more line from Jodie telling us to make sure everyone is satisfied. What's in the bag, James?"

"You're not gonna like it."

"Just show me what's in the goddamn bag."

James pulled out a set of clothing. There was a set of leather shorts and a little leather waistcoat, with matching bow tie.

"You've got to be joking," I hissed.

"Oh, this is nothing. It gets worse."

James pulled out another set of clothing and handed it to me. I stared in disbelief.

"She's not... surely I'm not supposed to...."

"And I'm not supposed to wear this?"

James was holding up an additional piece of his costume between finger and thumb.

"What on earth is that?" I gasped.

"I fucking do not know."

He took it between both hands, stretching it out, letting me see what it was.

"I guess I'm gonna go get changed," he muttered, "See you in a bit."

James disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me with a pile of clothing of my own. I felt a cold, furious hatred for the woman who had ensnared us, looking down at what she'd arranged for me to wear. Even though I knew she'd left me with no choice, I couldn't bring myself to start stripping off and getting into the costume I'd been given. I was still staring at it when the bedroom door opened.

I looked up to see my husband striding towards me. He had the bow tie around his bare throat, the waistcoat done up over his chest, and the tight leather shorts on. They didn't come very far down his thighs, and as he did a spin for me, I saw how tight they were across his buttocks. He faced me again, hands out to either side.

"Ta daaa!" he said, "How do I look?"

"You look, uh," I stumbled, not finding the words I needed.

The outfit was ridiculous, but there was something about the way he was wearing it. James wasn't uncomfortable or foolish, his grin was infectious, and I had to admit to myself that far from making him look like a chump, the tight little shorts and the snug waistcoat only amplified his physique.

"I look hot," James concluded, "Right?"

"I guess."

"There you go again."

James swept me up in his arms and pulled me close to him. Even dressed like he was, even knowing what he was about to do, I felt a little thrill deep down as he held me.

"What about the other thing?" I asked, tentatively.

"Oh, shit. Yeah. I gotta tell you, that was a little confronting."

James broke off the embrace, stepping back and unbuttoning his shorts. I looked down, watching with sullen fascination as he peeled the leather aside to reveal what he was wearing underneath.

"Touch it," he murmured.

"God, no."

"It's okay, I want you to."

I reached out, sliding my hand into the front of his shorts. Instead of the soft warmth of his manhood, I could feel a cool, slick material.

"It's a sheath," I whispered.

"Yeah, there's straps round the back. Feel that though."

"The bumps?"

"Yeah, it's contoured," he murmured.

My fingertips explored him further, and I felt his flesh begin to firm under my touch.

"I'm ribbed for your pleasure."

I gave him a quick look, withdrawing my hand.

"Not my pleasure."

James withdrew, buttoning himself back up.

"I wish it was your pleasure, Alice."

"Me too. Shit, really, that would be incredible."

I looked up at him, feeling my resolve wavering.

"I wish so much that it was just us two," I told him, "Checked into the spa for a night. I just...."

"Hey, eyes on the prize. Let's not lose focus," James interjected, "Get through this, then we've got the rest of the night to ourselves."

He nodded towards my little bundle of clothes, neglected on the table.

"You gonna change?"

I looked back at my costume.

"It's horrible James. Jodie really wants me to suffer."

"That's a matter of attitude. You only suffer if you choose to suffer. Whatever she planned, we're gonna just roll with it. That sad, dried up bitch thinks she's going to freak us out with this, well, Alice, she don't know us too well, do she?"

He picked up my costume.

"How about if I do it? Will that help?"

I didn't reply. I just bit my bottom lip and nodded. James pulled my t-shirt up over my head, then undid my jeans. I concentrated on the feeling of his hands, trying to banish everything else from my mind. He'd been forced into a tiny leather outfit and was bearing it all with grace and humour; this was the least I could do to help him.

He unfastened my bra, freeing my breasts, pulling me to him unexpectedly. Being in his arms again, standing in just my panties, I began to feel the thrill inside. I pressed my groin against his tight little leather shorts and managed to grin up at him.

"You're so hot," James murmured, kissing me.

"Not bad yourself."

He kissed me again, and I felt his hands slide down my back, over the curves of my bottom, the tug of material as he shucked my panties off me.

"Ready?"

"I...."

"Don't say you guess. I wanna hear it."

"I am."

"Okay, let's go Alice, let's get this party started."

He unfurled my costume, grinning, and I held up my arms. It was a French Maid outfit, but unlike my husband's attire, mine was cheap synthetic fibres, stitched together into an all-in-one outfit that he now pulled down my body. The front was padded, gathering up my breasts into prominent, tight cleavage, hugging my waist, coming only halfway down my thigh in lacy white trim.

"Whoa," James exclaimed, his eyes taking in my body, "That's so hot."

I looked down at myself, blushing as I realised how much my breasts were on display.

"It's not. It's really not."

"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder babe."

I grimaced at him, but he just laughed.

"It's not funny," I snapped.

I watched my husband's expression change, the smile fading.

"It is, babe. It really is," he said, "Look at what she dressed you in. Look at what I'm wearing, for fuck's sake. We got her good, if she's responding like this."

He took my face in his hands, looking into my eyes like he could read my mind.

"The secret, Alice," he continued, "When you're this deep in, and you're eye-to-eye with the opposition, and they think they've got your measure, you know what it is?"

"No," I replied, in a tiny voice, feeling suddenly a long way out of my depth.

"Never let them see you bleed."

He held up a set of fishnets. I took them.

"Get these on, let's get this over."

I pulled the fishnets up my legs, adjusting them around my crotch.

"No panties," I observed.

"Of course. But there are these."

James produced a pair of black stiletto heels. The material was shiny black plastic, embossed with a leather pattern. They must have been from the same shop as the rest of my outfit. He put them down on the floor and I stepped into them.

"How do I look?" I asked.

I looked down at myself, feeling my cheeks burning with embarrassment, seeing how the cheap maid outfit left nothing to the imagination. I tottered around on the cheap heels, trying to get used to them.

"Let's just say, after this night is done, we might be keeping the outfit."

I noticed a distinct bulge in my husband's shorts.

"Is this really turning you on?" I asked.

"Honestly, you look so hot. I'm tempted to take the sheath for a test drive right now."

James was grinning at me, eyes sparkling. It made me feel better; the way that he was looking at me gave me a little boost. The situation was awful: I was dressed like a whore, with my husband barely clothed at all, and four women in the next chalet waiting to be fucked by him, but I had to admit that I felt it too. James looked hot. I wouldn't have put up a fight if he'd decided to make a move on me.

"Guess we need to save your energy for the show," I replied, reluctantly.

"Yeah, probably."

I began to pack all our clothing into the bag, making sure we'd left nothing behind as we headed back outside. We made our way to the last chalet.

James knocked on the door, while I stood there in my tiny maid uniform. James had the worse deal, but he seemed to make light of it.

"Don't you feel a little, uh, self-conscious?" I asked him.

"Nah."

"Why?"

"You said I look hot. Good enough for me. Now, ready? Game face."

The door rattled and my stomach lurched. I grabbed my husband's hand, but he patted me away, rolling back his shoulders and puffing out his chest. The door opened.

"Hi," James began, "I believe we're expected."

"Yeah, but you're fucking late."

The woman who opened the door was blonde, taller, slightly younger than us, with a fuller face and a sneer on her lips.

"Sorry," James continued smoothly, "Just wanted to get the attire perfect."

The woman looked my husband up and down.

"Yeah, you'll do."

Her eyes flicked to me.

"And you're the sidekick, right?" she smirked, "Here to make sure we don't go overboard?"

"Alice," I replied, "My name's...."

"Yeah, whatever, you coming in?"

She opened the door wider, beckoning us inside. I followed behind James, feeling very conspicuous in my ridiculous maid costume.

"You meant to look like a stripper, or is this just your thing?" the woman asked me.

"And you would be?"

"Marielle."

"And it's your party."

"You got that right, bitch. It's my party. I'm the customer."

Marielle was dressed up in a white cocktail dress, on heels that were higher even than mine. She swished into the main lounge area, her hips wiggling delectably. I had no doubt she was turning it up for James. Her very first look had given her away. It made me shudder, the way that this awful woman had looked at the man I loved like he was a piece of meat.

James seemed unfazed, stepping into the middle of the room, to be met by catcalls from the three other women present.

"Jacee, Cybil, and this is Ophelia, but call her Fee, as in costs a lot of money to interact with."

She turned to the women, grinning.

"And this is James, but I'm sure you recognise him. You may recall him from various times your husbands have been glued to the screen, calling out his name. Tonight though, you get a chance to call out his name yourselves."

"You weren't bullshitting, then," Jacee replied, crossing her long legs, adjusting the hem of her short skirt.

They were all dressed similarly, in their cocktail outfits. I recognised their type immediately, I'd seen enough of them in my trips to the charity galas and fundraising balls: trophy wives, thin, expensively styled, almost always blonde regardless of the colour that nature gave them. Marielle, Jacee, Cybil and Fee were no exception, the latter three sporting chunky diamond rings on their left hands. Fee, however, caught my attention. All four women were glamourous, carefully primped and beautiful, but she stood out: waifish, refined and utterly beautiful.

I realised that I hadn't been introduced.

"So, how's this gonna work, Marie?" Cybil asked.

"First a top up, don't you think? James, would you like a glass?" Marielle responded, "You'll have a glass. We need more champagne."

She turned to me, halting, watching me expectantly. I looked at the faces turned towards me, feeling suddenly conspicuous in my cheap French Maid outfit.

"Uh, I assume that's why you're dressed like that?" Marielle pouted, "There's a fresh bottle on ice."

She nodded over to the kitchenette and I saw the ice bucket on the counter.

"Well, go on then."

I hesitated, stealing a glance at James. He shrugged fractionally. I gave in, tottering over to get the champagne, imagining how I looked to the chic women behind me in my short dress and my fishnets. Jodie had humiliated me, turning me into a drinks waitress to serve the women who would be fucking my husband. I gritted my teeth, forcing a smile as I turned back to the group.

I needn't have worried. All eyes were on James. Marielle was making a show of inspecting him, glass in hand. The other women had also approached him now, clustering around him.

"So, James, think you've got the goods?" she asked, "Ready to take us all on?"

Her hand brushed down my husband's little leather waistcoat and my steps faltered. I had to force myself to go on.

"Your agent was insistent that we should give her our honest feedback. Do you want a five-star rating tonight?"