Rag Doll Ch. 06 Pt. 01

As we lay in our sweat, my softening cock slipping from her, Shari raised her head to look into my eyes, grinning as she spoke.

"So baby, how did you like your first Christmas?"

In answer to her question I slid my hands around her taut little backside and pulled her close against me.

"Thank you for making it so special for me!" I grinned, kissing her on the tip of her nose as my hands roamed over her, squeezing and stroking her, making her alternately gasp and giggle.

"Stop it, Bobby, I need a quick snooze after that, no, stop it!"

I grinned, and gave up on gently torturing her, Shari smiling back as she snuggled down against me.

"Wake me up in half an hour, okay, Bobby? Please? Don't let me sleep Christmas Day away!"

"To hear is to obey, your wish is my command!" I whispered, pulling her closer and flipping a corner of the bed covers over her.

"My Bobby, love you baby!" she murmured drowsily.

I wasn't in the least bit sleepy, just very relaxed, but I reset the alarm clock, just in case, and turned my attention to looking at my beautiful half-sister.

I was still a little puzzled at what exactly she saw in me, although eternally grateful she saw enough to stick around and do these kinds of things with me! No, I guess I still felt a little undeserving of her, my overwhelming sense of entitlement having finally way to perhaps just a hint of an inferiority complex. Yaz and Shari had never tried to hold my lack of experience of the real world over me, nor had they ever once been pitying or "understanding"; that would have been just as galling. No, they'd just showed me stuff, told me things, and left me to form my own conclusions about how the world worked.

Both my sisters believed I was an adult, and left me to it. It was working, although some things I saw or read about just made no sense, because I'd never been a part of the life around me. I had no friends, nor did I actually know how to make any. Conversation was another closed book; I could talk to Rick, Yaz or Shari, because I knew them, but I had no clue how to make that initial approach to someone new, to say "Hello, what's your name, my name's Bobby". I think that was what made Shari saddest, that our father had handicapped us so thoroughly, making social pygmies of us by keeping us apart from the world, probably so we'd feel no connection to it when it came time to take over from him. Rick had managed to break that programming. I was still working my way through it, but with Shari's help, I believed I was making some headway.

Thinking heavy thoughts like this, I must have dozed-off; the next thing I knew, the alarm was buzzing and Shari was lovely and warm and soft next to me, yawning prettily as she stretched. I was tempted to set the alarm for another 30 minutes and huddle down next to her; she was just so nice to cuddle up against on a deep mid-winter's afternoon, and lunch was going to be at least another hour, so we could do this. I leaned over to reset the alarm, and Shari pushed it out of reach.

"Uh-uh, sleepyhead, Yaz and Ricky are working hard to make your first real Christmas special, don't mess with that! Tell you what, though; I need a shower, you're welcome to do my back if you want...?"

How could I resist...

Christmas lunch was superb. I'd never actually eaten turkey before; our father had never bought one, preferring much cheaper foodstuffs for us; we'd never celebrated Christmas, so I'd only ever seen a Christmas dinner in pictures, and my first one was almost overwhelming. Yaz and Rick had really gone all out to make our first Christmas as memorable as possible, and I was dazzled by all the different things there were to eat and enjoy.

Afterwards, we cleaned-up and retired to the family room to spend Christmas Day together, at the request of Yaz, who'd always treasured the time spent on this day with her mother and sister, and lately, Rick, too. We sat around discussing the things we'd do, with Nicky top of the agenda. It didn't seem incongruous discussing him on this day of all days; Yaz and Shari seemed to have developed a real need to talk about their missing brother, where he was, what he was doing, his family now, what they were like, and how they'd feel if we suddenly turned-up looking for him.

The consensus was that he'd be shocked, but that he'd accept us, all of us. The letter, more than anything else, had convinced the girls that Nicky would be, if not pleased, at the very least intrigued to find out what had happened, and to meet his baby sisters. The day after December 26th, Rick and I were going to see a solicitor to get our passport applications notarised, then Shari and I were driving down to the Passport Office in Liverpool, and once we got our passports, we'd be sending them via courier to the American Embassy in London, to get our visas. Once that was done, we were going to Albany, to find our brother.

We had no choice but to go; Shari had drawn a blank with locating an agency of any sort that was actually interested in tracing our missing brother; virtually all the PI's she'd found were only interested in doing background and security checks for corporate clients: they had no time or patience for our kind of search. Similarly, a trawl of the internet had proven equally fruitless. No-one by the name of Nicholas Davies was popping up, at least none of the right age, occupation, or ethnicity. As Shari had finally confessed to me one night, we couldn't be sure he was even using the Davies surname; what if he was so filled with disgust and hatred for us and all we stood for that he'd dropped the name entirely? What if he was using his mother's maiden name? We didn't know what that was, so that put an end to our internet search.

Finally we agreed on one thing; the only way we'd ever find him was if we looked for him ourselves. We would have to go to Albany, visit every garage and car repair shop, show them his picture, and ask the question; does this man work here?

*

And now, all the preparations were over, and here I was, on a cold, late-January day, cooling my heels in the departure lounge at Birmingham International Airport, waiting for our flight to Albany. The girls were excited, but I don't mind admitting, I was scared. It didn't seem possible that the huge jet clearly visible through the panoramic windows of the Departures Lounge could actually get airborne, no matter how many times I'd seen it on TV; up close it just didn't seem credible that such a huge mass of metal could even move at all, let alone leave the ground and fly, and the thought of being inside that thing worried me to the point where I was actually sweating. Shari noticed I wasn't talking or joining in the conversation, and pulled me to one side.

"What's wrong, baby?" she murmured, then her eyes followed my gaze to the monster jet just outside.

"Oh, flight jitters. Don't worry, Bobby, I've been in one of those before; there's nothing to worry about, I promise! I'll even hold your hand, if you like...!"

I looked down at her cheeky grin, and I couldn't help but grin back; her calm confidence more than anything else helped me to level-off a little. Both Shari and Yaz were wearing stretch jeans and stiletto-heeled ankle boots, and smart, military-cut box-jackets complete with epaulettes, and Balmain T-shirts underneath. They'd elected to travel with their fabulous long bronze hair unbound. With their beautiful features and sexy figures, they looked elegant and truly stunning; it was really no wonder more than one pair of eyes followed them around the lounge as we waited to board our flight. Watching the two of them helped to take my mind off things, but eventually I'd return to brooding about getting into that monster and hurtling down the runway at 300mph.

Just when I thought I'd go mad from the waiting, they called our flight. We lined up and filed down the boarding ramp and into the plane. We had adjoining seats, a block of four, so we didn't have to worry about strangers clambering over us or falling asleep, drooling, or getting sick on us. It was a long-ish flight, over eight hours, so I'd brought a book along in case I couldn't sleep; fat chance; I was so keyed-up that sleep or reading were the furthest things from my mind.

When the engines began gunning as the plane lined up on the runway, I heard Shari gasp. I looked at her, her face was twisted in pain, and I realised I was squeezing her hand so tightly it was hurting her. I apologised with my eyes; Shari grinned and patted me gently to show she understood, then Yaz, seated on the other side of me, slipped her arm through mine as well.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got you too!" she grinned cheekily, her touch and warm humour relaxing me slightly. Now I had two gorgeous, exotic redheads huddled up against me, holding my hands and resting their heads on my shoulders; no wonder I was getting envious, resentful stares from some of the other passengers! I jumped when a dull thud sounded underneath us. I glanced questioningly at Shari, and she just smiled back.

"It's okay, Bobby, it's just the undercarriage coming up, no need to worry; we're on our way, Baby, and relax, please, it's safer than crossing the street, I promise you!"

*

We had an uneventful flight, the only jarring note being when we came in to land, as I once again nearly crushed Shari's hand as I waited for the crash! Once we collected our baggage and cleared customs, we followed the signs for the exits and taxis. A man in a peaked cap asked us if we wanted a cab, and when we nodded, he beckoned over a bright yellow MPV-type vehicle with a modern black chequer-pattern on the sides. Rick handed him $5, and he smiled as he opened the cab door and saluted us in.

"Where to, please?" asked the cabbie.

"The Ramada Plaza Hotel, please," replied Shari, leaning across me as she peered out of the window at the freeway rolling past, getting her first look at Albany.

The hotel was only a couple of miles from the airport, and I helped the hotel concierge team unload and separate our luggage while Rick paid and tipped the cabbie. Then we followed the luggage trolley up to our rooms. Rick and Yaz had the suite next to ours, with an interconnecting door. Our room was the largest, most luxurious room I'd ever seen, with an absolutely enormous bed, a gigantic flat-screen television, and a luxurious bathroom with a bathtub you could have swum laps in. Shari sat on the edge of the bed, then flopped back and stretched-out, smiling tiredly at the ceiling.

"Baby, come here a second!" she called, and I left my study of the Albany skyline to hike all the way across that vast room and join her stretched out on that huge bed, our feet on the ground as we stared up at the ceiling.

"Okay, Bobby, now we're here, phase one is done; now we move on to phase two. In about an hour, there's a Private Investigator coming to see us; I spoke with him yesterday, and what we're asking is not what they normally do, apparently none of them do, but I waved money at him, and I guess he couldn't resist it. Anyway, he's agreed to assist us, so we'll need to have every scrap of information you and Ricky can dredge up. After that, maybe we should get some dinner, or just get Room Service; I don't know about you, baby, but I'm absolutely buggered! My watch says it's 7pm, my body clock says it's after midnight, and we've had an eight-hour flight; I really, really need some sleep, so please keep me awake during this meeting."

I scrambled further up the bed and Shari wearily clambered after me, sliding up against me and slipping her hand inside my shirt and around my waist.

"Mmm, nice and warm! Wake me up in a little while, baby, I just want a quick snooze, ok?"

I brushed her forehead with my lips, but she was already asleep, so I lay back and looked around in wonder; I was actually in a foreign country, in a luxurious hotel room with a beautiful girl. Six months ago the very thought of it would have been dismissed as an impossible fantasy, but it was real, I was really here, and so was the girl! There was no way I was going to fall asleep; I was too keyed-up. Prior to making the preparations for this trip, I'd never been outside Carlisle, so this was an entirely new experience for me, and I intended to savour every nuance of it.

I was going over the events of the last few weeks in my mind when there was a light tapping at the connecting door between the two suites. Gently disengaging Shari from me, I went over and opened the door. Yaz was standing there, wearing that brief robe she was so fond of. She nodded over at Shari, who was fast asleep again.

"Bobby, that bloke from the detective agency or whatever they call themselves over here is going to be here in about twenty minutes, you'd better wake her up and get her in the shower quickly, otherwise she's liable to fall asleep during this meeting. Actually," she grinned at me and held her nose, "you could do with one as well!"

I turned her around and swatted her bottom, Yaz giggling and stumbling back into her suite, where I could see Rick stretched out on the bed, as flaked-out as Shari.

"You cheeky little bugger, show some respect for your elders!" I called after her, and ducked as she chucked a cushion at me and jumped giggling onto her bed, jarring Ricky awake.

"Okay Bobby, I know, I heard!" came Shari's voice, still blurred with sleep. I decided that after this meeting, we'd have a light meal sent up, and we'd all get some rest. Shari was right, it may have been early evening in Albany, but our bodies thought it was after midnight, and we'd had a long, heavy day.

Shari sat up and wearily began stripping off her jacket and boots. I moved in and helped her, Shari flopping back on the bed with a sigh as I tugged her boots off, then unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them off, with her lifting her bottom to allow me to pull the tight jeans all the way off. I held out my hand and she took it, hauling herself upright. I looked at her and shook my head; she was exhausted. Maybe planning a meeting fresh off the 'plane hadn't been such a smart move, and I think she was probably thinking that too; but it was too late now; the Private Investigator was due in less than half an hour, so she needed to be fully awake and aware.

Once she'd stripped off, I led her to the shower. She was almost stumbling with weariness, so I quickly shed my clothes and pulled her into the wet-room, turning all the spray-heads on at once, so she was hit from all angles by the hot needle jets.

"Oooh, yess, that feels so good!" she drawled, leaning against the wall and then sliding down into the alcove seat as the spray pummelled her, her eyes closing as she once again began to slip back into sleep. This was not what I intended, so, after a few second's deliberation, and somewhat reluctantly, I hit the temperature regulator, turning all the spray heads to 'Cold'.

Shari shrieked as the frigid water woke her up in a hurry, galvanising her back to her feet as she gasped, trying to find the shower control panel. I wasn't as affected as she was; remember, for the past few years all I'd ever had was cold showers, but I think this was the first time she'd ever had one.

"BOBBY! TURN THE FUCKING HEAT BACK ON!" she screamed at me, shivering as she groped for the control panel, which I just happened to be leaning against.

"Are you awake now, baby?" I asked her, to get her small fist in my chest as she thumped me.

"YES, YES, YES I AM, NOW FUCKING TURN IT OFF!" she yelled, so I did, then grabbed a gigantic soft towel off the rail and wrapped it around her. She glared at me, her beautiful grey eyes furious at what I'd done.

"DON'T touch me, you pig!" she snarled, wrapping the towel around herself as she shivered, so I ignored her and briskly rubbed her down, helping to get her circulation going again.

"So, are you awake enough for this meeting, or do you want another dose?" I asked her as I rubbed and massaged her, enjoying myself immensely. Her eyes narrowed.

"If you ever do that again, I swear, I'll slap you so hard our grandchildren will feel it!" she hissed, but still wriggled against me as I rubbed her down.

"So we are having grandchildren, then?" I enquired innocently, then gasped as she reached down and pinched my cock, hard.

"Yes, but don't push it, buster, I haven't forgiven you for what you did in there!" she grated, her fingers still applying pressure to my most delicate bits.

"Okay, truce, you can have a go at me later, right now we have a meeting in..." I looked at the wall-clock "...fifteen minutes, so can we get a move on?"

She relaxed her grip, letting me breathe a sigh of relief.

"Okay Bobby, but you owe me!" she whispered, giving Bobby Jr. a meaningful shake before letting go. Five minutes later I was dried-off and dressed, wearing jeans and a pullover shirt. Shari had on just a simple shift dress, something I'd never seen her wear before, noticing all over again just how spectacular her long creamy legs were; she always wore jeans or leggings, so I almost never got to see her legs during the day, and I made a note to myself to make it happen more often; her pins were far too good to be hidden away like that!

Ten minutes to blow-dry and brush her fabulous hair, and we were ready to meet this P.I. character. We'd already asked the Front Desk to ask him to come up to the room, so all we had to do was wait. The connecting door opened, and Yaz and Rick joined us. I was intrigued to see that Yaz was wearing the same pattern dress as Shari; obviously the similarities between the two of them were more than just skin-deep. We were making small talk, Yaz looking pityingly at me when Shari told her what I'd done to wake her up, when there was a knock at the door. Shari tensed slightly, so I patted her hand as she twined her fingers in mine for a second, then I got up to answer the door.

The caller was an attractive young woman, in maybe her late twenties, wearing a subdued, but very smart business suit, and an elegant white blouse open at the neck, her dark hair in a modern but unfussy style, and carrying a black briefcase. She looked for all the world like any young executive one might pass on the street: smart, professional, completely unremarkable, and totally anonymous.

"Miss Shahida..?" she enquired, holding out her hand as Shari came forward.

"That's me. I was expecting Mr. Krall...?"

The young woman smiled.

"I am his associate; my name is Melanie; Mr. Krall prefers to work unobtrusively, so my function is to meet clients, assess the level of information they require, go through the scale of fees, and explain our processes and procedures. I have been given to understand that because this is outside our normal type of enquiry service, a more...personal scale of fees has been agreed, tailored to the needs of this enquiry. I assume there are no legal attachments or impediments to this enquiry?"

Shari smiled back, then sobered.

"No, no legal issues. All we want to do is find our brother; he's been missing for almost four years now, but we think he may be somewhere in this area. We'd like you to find him; that's all. I discussed and agreed the fees and conditions with Mr. Krall when I made the original enquiry, so if you would like me to sign an agreement engaging your firm's professional services, I am prepared to do that right now."

Melanie seated herself at my invitation, and took a sheaf of papers from her briefcase, various contracts and agreements, which Yaz read through quickly, and nodded. Shari signed in duplicate and once Melanie had checked all was in order, she handed one set to Shari and smiled professionally.

"I understand that you have some information that might be of assistance. If possible, we need a recent photograph of the subject, plus any other personal information that might be of relevance in tracing the subject."