Night Games Pt. 21

Susan and Spencer both smiled. Susan gave Spencer an "I told you so" look.

"In fact," Helen continued. "All of you have skills that San Finzione could put to good use. Oscar, you know I own a movie studio, right? And they've got a makeup department that's just aching for a legend like you to teach them a few things. Buffett's cool and all, but how would you like to tell the grandkids you're doing something real?"

"That sounds lovely." Oscar said with a smile. "Not sure how they'll feel about visiting me in your prison."

"I've been thinking about that as well. Since this entire matter is now a state secret, I can't just keep you all in the Baglio on work release without a reason. I mean, I'm La Contessa, I totally CAN, but I wouldn't. I guess you'll all just have to be my guests here at the castle until we can find suitable housing for you. It'll also make your cleanup duties here easier. There's my Study to clean up, the Grand Ballroom after the party." Helen looked around the immaculate Throne Room. "Oh, and you're gonna need to clean this place after we're done."

Tracy looked around at the spotlessly kept room.

"This place looks fairly clean, Contessa." She commented. "Your staff do an excellent job."

"Yes, they do." Helen agreed. She nodded to the Ultimado closest to the table that her friends were standing near. He went to the plastic cases and opened them. "But they shouldn't have to take care of the next item on the agenda: the whole 'you fucking shot me' thing. It wasn't with a real gun, but that stuff in it was still bad. That matter needs to be addressed." She turned to her friends. "If you could all see what Gabriel has in the boxes for you, I think it's time to carry out the rest of the sentence."

Her friends walked over to the boxes, saw what she had in mind, and took out the contents. Helen produced a paintball gun from under her robes.

The crew scattered. Morris tried to help Gordon hobble away on his crutches. Julie proved that her father had taught her to shoot as well as she could fight and nailed Gordon in the back of the head. A bright yellow explosion of color splattered his hair.

"Careful, everyone. There are some valuable antiques in here." Helen warned as she shot Tracy in the chest. Oscar was the only one nobody shot at. The rest of the team were covered in multicolored splotches of paint. Alice ran behind a pillar. Franz joined her.

"How much ammo do you think she has?" Franz asked, paintballs smacking their cover. Alice heard them impact, free from the paint, but wondering how best to get it out of mahogany.

"A sufficient amount." Luc said, stepping around the column and firing. Franz took one in the chest, and they ran for new cover as the room exploded in fleeing criminals and paintballs.

* * *

That evening and a change of clothes later, Tracy and Helen were on a couch in the outer sitting area of La Contessa's bedchamber. The others had retired to their own rooms to let them talk. Jeanne Carpentier placed a cup of Earl Grey in front of Tracy and a cup of cocoa in front of Helen. As she left, Tracy noted Jeanne's walk in the traditional French maid's uniform she wore. When she looked back at Helen, Tracy noticed that she'd been doing the same. Helen spoke to cover her own noticing of Tracy watching Jeanne's ass.

"Everyone settled in?" Helen asked.

"Oh, yes. The rooms are very nice and the Ultimados you have guarding us are quite polite."

"You're my guests, but you're still prisoners." Helen commented.

"I think everyone's too grateful for your allowing us to live to try anything. Franz in particular, but not just yet."

During the cleanup in the Throne Room, Helen had a word with the con man about his cocaine problem. Several words which included a command to stop using and get help.

"My command should take care of the mental and psychological parts of his addiction. The physical's going to be entirely his problem."

"It's a shame you weren't able to do the same for your..." Tracy started to say "parents" before realizing that she'd only been in the position of sitting down for a nice cuppa with La Contessa for the past hour and wasn't certain if her biological family was a subject to bring up. Helen gave her a look that said it was all right.

"I learned how to do The Thing the night it happened." Helen explained. "Wade had been locked up for what we thought was going to be the weekend. Troy & Julie just started teaching me and I snuck back in to get some clothes so I could stay another night and go to school with them in the morning. I got there just in time to see him do it. My first use of this power was to tell him 'don't move until the cops get here.' Sometimes, I do think about how they knew the secret for two years before teaching me. You've read my bios, so you know Propappou. Troy was raised by a man who spent most of the 20th century safely handling explosives. Caution and responsibility are things that were bred into him. I know that he spent our pre-teen years debating himself about teaching it to me. With Julie pushing for it the whole time I wasn't there. Troy's always been concerned about what I might do with it. I've given him enough reason to not hold it against him. That's why I contribute my ideas when I'm around for the 'what if we one day have to stop Helen' conversation."

"And he gets to call you Helen. Just him."

"Susan gets to because I wish I'd known her as long as those two. But yes, I've always been Helen of Troy and he's always been Troy of Helen. It's a thing." Helen blew a long stream into the air. "You've been asking the questions; therefore, you've been controlling the conversation. I want to know more about you, Tracy. My first read on you was 'Oh, good, ANOTHER psycho stalker.' Getting on that list isn't exactly booking a tee time on the Old Course at St. Andrews. But there's more to you than that. I mean, there's the vision board thing, however, you're right there. I'm aware that I'm hot; Julie says that the name Helen has always suited me. So, I know you're not the only one who does that."

Tracy's cheeks reddened. Helen reflected on how amusing it always was to embarrass a Brit.

"She's quite an artist. She'd know beauty."

"She's been one her whole life. Who do you think was her first nude model?" Helen asked. "Susan's got that job now."

"And yet, she hasn't displayed any of them." Tracy commented. "Quite a tragedy."

"You read the letter. Those works, that aren't part of my private collection, are locked away with the same instructions I gave Susan: If I die, go ahead and profit from my death. Release the nudes, write a scathing tell-all. I've always liked doing nice things for the people I love. I WANT you to get whatever you can out of it. Jeanne, too. The woman who just served our drinks. I've read the first draft of her 'What The Maid Saw' story. It's in French, of course, but that makes it hotter."

Tracy scooted a little closer both to hear more and to get a better scent of Helen's perfume through the smoke.

"That is a lovely scent." She complimented Helen.

"I told the parfumier 'Everyone says I smell like smoke, and that's not stopping any time soon, so work with it.' And they did."

Tracy took that as an invitation to lean in closer and inhale a deeper scent. At this distance, it was only courtesy for Helen to do the same. She liked what she smelled.

"So," Tracy asked breathily. "This power of yours. Do you ever use it for... fun stuff?"

"We call it 'enhanced seduction.' Troy says that forcing ourselves on someone would be wrong, however, persuading them is called seduction and it's how the human race continues existing. We help things along, but we never do anything against someone's will. There's one person, but that's because being a mindless sex slave happens to be her fetish, so she asks us to do it. But yes, there's plenty of consensual ways to enjoy The Thing. Susan's always finding new ones."

Tracy chose that moment to press her lips to Helen's. Helen's tongue met hers and their dance began.

"So, if someone else were to ask for it," Tracy asked. "What would you do?"

Helen raised an eyebrow, accepting her challenge.

"Well, the first thing I'd do is tell them to stand up and start undressing."

Tracy rose to her feet and began slowly obeying the command Helen had worked into the end of that statement. Helen stood and started doing the same.

"Ooh!" Tracy oohed, removing her bra. "I see where your friend gets it."

"Here's another one someone special likes. What if we were doing this... on a pirate ship? Go there now."

Tracy's perceptions shifted. Helen's perfume was still there, but along with its scent came the salt air of the sea. The walls and ceiling shifted to be replaced by clear blue sky and deep blue sea. She felt the unsteadiness of the floor below her moving. Tracy looked down, and where carpeting had been before, now she stood on a floor of bare planks. The luxury accommodations of La Contessa's chambers now replaced by the sights, sounds, and sensations of being aboard an old wooden ship at sea. She looked around in fascination. Helen took her hand and led her belowdecks to what Tracy knew was her bedroom but felt like the captain's quarters of an old sea vessel.

"And how many filthy, lusty pirates will be watching us?" She asked.

"As many as you want."

Helen gently pushed her onto the bed. Tracy laid back and raised her arms up to her head.

"A shame your cop friend probably left with the handcuffs."

"Who needs them?" Helen asked. "Don't move."

Tracy tried to move but couldn't. She gave a delighted squeal.

"I love it!" She told Helen. "Any fool can tie up your body with rope. Who can tie up your mind?"

Helen smiled. She proceeded to show Tracy other things that one could do with the power of mind control in the bedroom.