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Spooky, Roxanne thought as Yvette held out her hand to help Roxanne off the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~
Yvette rang the doorbell at Cynthia Knowles' house in the hills. When the door opened Yvette took notice of Cynthia Knowles' au pair, Christina. Christina was a younger, slightly smaller carbon copy of Cynthia. She was stunningly beautiful in her midriff top and thong; her blond hair long and flowing. The girl had a long, lean body and nice, small breasts.
"Dr. Knowles is out by the pool. She said for you to join her. Do you need a suit ma'am? Or," Christina quickly added before Yvette could answer, "You can go nude. Most of the doctor's guests do, ma'am."
When in Rome..., Yvette thought. "Uh, where, uh, do I, you know, uh strip?"
"Right here is fine ma'am. I'll fetch you a robe and take care of your clothing for you."
"Thank you."
There wouldn't be much clothing for the 20 something girl to take care of. It was a hot day already shortly after noon and getting hotter. Yvette was dressed in a simple, sleeveless white linen sheath dress with only panties underneath. Yvette slipped the sheath over her shoulders and let it fall in a puddle around her feet; she quickly shucked out of her panties, collected dress and panties and handed them to Christina. She took the silk kimono Christina held out to her.
Christina took a long, obvious look at Yvette's body as she pressed the crotch of Yvette's panties to her nose with both hands. Yvette stared amusingly at the audacity of the girl.
"You had sex this morning. I can smell it. He tastes good. Is it your husband or have you taken a male lover?" Christina bore an intense look and spoke in a quick, flat tone.
"What a strange girl you are. It's my husband. What about my smell?"
"I love it too. Musky, very musky and I like it."
Christina moved closer to Yvette. With her eyes shifting from side to side she quickly whispered in her flat tone, "The nanny has the children on a trip to the beach. My room is the last door on the left down the main hall. I want to fuck you. I'll make you scream. You'll like it; I'll make you like it."
It was difficult for Yvette not to laugh out loud, the girl was so outrageous, but then again, so was her employer. Yvette arched her eyebrows and managed a polite but amused smile while reaching for the top of the girl's thong.
As Yvette gave a strong upward jerk to the thong, pulling the material tightly between Christina's labia she said, "Maybe, little bitch; I'll think about it. Maybe you'll scream for me though. You look like fun meat to fuck." With that Yvette turned, pulled her sun glasses down over her eyes and walked out toward the pool, the kimono folded over her arm. Christina was trembling; urine began to run down Christina's thighs; she let her orgasm come as she peed on the floor of the entry way. Christina would have it clean the piss puddle up.
As Yvette saw the plastic surgeon stretched out, nude, on her back on a lounger she wondered to herself if David Lynch was going to pop out of the shrubbery. She reflected she wanted decadence when she came to Southern Californian not just weirdness. Maybe it was some sort of requirement that, at least in California, decadence and weirdness had to go together. "The last thing in the world I would expect to see is a tall, perfectly proportioned, absolutely beautiful plastic surgeon stretched out nude, in the sun."
"Yvette, my dear! How good to see you! Come; lay out with me for a while.
"The reason I am out here is very good sun block and I simply cannot resist the caress of the sun on my body. It's, it's like being wrapped in my lover's arms and having a continuous orgasm."
"Well, if you say so." She sat on a chaise, kicked off her sandals and laid back.
Cynthia was sitting up on the side of her lounger, admiring Yvette's body. "We'll get you some sun block and then we can talk of babies!" Abruptly - so abruptly that Yvette jumped - Cynthia called out, her voice harsh: "On the deck NOW! With a towel and sun block!"
Jesus, Yvette wondered, what was with the attitude?
Shortly Claire, nude, appeared with a towel and bottle of sun block in hand. She gazed at the ground as she stood at the foot of Yvette's lounger stone still. It struck Yvette that the woman almost looked like a well trained dog waiting for her master's next command.
"Rub her down," Cynthia commanded in her harsh tone.
With dog-like eagerness Claire knelt on the deck and began rubbing sun block on Yvette's feet and then slowly and sensually moved up Yvette's legs. Claire knelt between Yvette's feet when she couldn't reach Yvette's thighs. When the lotion and Claire's soft hands rubbed up the inside of Yvette's thighs Yvette felt her cunt fill with blood and her nipples stiffen. Yvette noticed an almost imperceptible smile on Claire's otherwise emotionless face. Claire had immediately noticed Yvette's arousal.
The lotion applied to Yvette's thighs, Claire chanced a look into Yvette's eyes for her next move. Yvette smiled and shifted her body slightly, arching her breasts and belly toward Claire. Claire repositioned by straddling one of Yvette's thighs and began kneading the lotion over Yvette's bare mons, her hips and belly. Yvette moaned her approval.
Cynthia laughed softly, "It's doing a good job from the sound of it my dear."
Yvette hummed her assent as Claire repositioned to rub the sun block over Yvette's breasts and then gently massaged the lotion into Yvette's throat and face. When she was finished, Claire stood up beside Yvette's lounger, her gaze to the ground, emotionless.
Yvette really looked at the woman for the first time. There was intelligence in Claire's eyes. Her body was neither tanned nor toned as Cynthia's and every other woman's body in Cynthia's circle of friends were. Claire's body was very white; she had a bit of a paunch with prominent stretch marks and her breasts were long, almost banana shaped while still seeming flat. Yvette decided the woman had obviously had children and nursed them. Yvette also noticed the marks on the woman's body: cigarette burns around her breasts, clamp marks on her nipples and rope ligature marks around her throat and wrists, thighs and ankles. When Claire finally turned to leave, Yvette noticed the red linear marks on Claire's back. Whip marks? Yvette wondered.
"Thank you, that was very nice of you to massage me like that," Yvette said, looking for an emotional response in the woman's face. There was none, in fact it appeared as if the woman paled some.
"Yvette," Cynthia said with exasperation in her voice, "It should not be praised or encouraged in any way."
Yvette turned her head toward Cynthia. Cynthia had her eyes closed. Yvette quickly reached, ran her fingertips up the inside of the massage girl's inner thigh and then squeezed the woman's hand to show her appreciation. "Gee, Cynthia, sorry about that; I didn't know."
Cynthia smiled into the sunny sky, "You'll learn dear."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Roxanne?" There was a long pause on the phone and Roxanne was about to hang up when the voice returned, "This is Stacy. Stacy Masters." The voice on the other end of the phone was small, strained and desperate.
"Stacy! How they hangin', bitch?" Roxanne said happily and cruelly.
Masters pressed the phone to her forehead and leaned against the wall, tears flowing down her cheeks. She thought about hanging up but she was desperate. When Masters didn't answer Roxanne got a bit concerned, but only a bit. "Stacy?"
"Do you know where I'm at?" Roxanne could hear the tears and sniffles in Masters' voice.
"Uh, no. Should I?"
"I'm at the Rampart Division and I need to make bond. I don't have the cash and I need someone to help me."
"Jesus Stace, we've been adversaries for all these years, why are you calling me?"
"Roxanne, I...you had to know...I never stopped wanting you," Masters blurted out. "All my friends are running for cover. I need some help, now! You were the only one I could think of...if you can't help then..."
"What are they holding you on?"
"Uh, first degree manslaughter."
"Stacy, you're putting me on. You're a senior assistant D.A. Surely you've still got friends; surely somebody's going to cut you some slack. I mean, Christ, aren't they releasing you on your own recognizance?"
"No!" Masters almost screamed into the phone. "No slack, no friends, no RO. Roxanne, I'm desperate. I'll beg if you want me to. I'll do anything you want; I just can't be in jail!"
There was a long pause. Roxanne didn't know what to think. Stacy Masters had been trying to bust Roxanne and her girlfriends for various sexual crimes involving the drugging and sexual assaults of college women over the years. Now she was begging Roxanne for help.
"Uh, Stacy. No preconditions except that you tell me what's going on. I'll come bond you out. How much do I need to bring?"
"It's uh, $50,000 cash."
"Christ! I'll be there."
~~~~~~~~~~
Stacy Masters looked terrible. Her eyes were bloodshot; she wore no makeup, her hair was in a mess and she was in a torn, over sized t-shirt (that bared a shoulder and almost a breast) and a pair of old sweats. She was bare foot. The police arrested her at dawn. They raided her house with a full SWAT team as if she were a dangerous felon and not an assistant district attorney with a spotless reputation. They cuffed her in her bed and took her to the Rampart Division station in the clothes they had found her. She settled into Roxanne's GT, a stunned, disbelieving look on her face.
"So Stace; what's the story, babe?" Roxanne asked gently as she regarded her passenger and started the car.
"I'm being framed for murder. They have a tape showing me having some very rough sex with a girl and it shows me strangling her while I'm fucking her doggy style. But she was alive! I...I just can't remember much about that night though. I keep drawing a blank. If they hadn't showed me the tape, if I hadn't seen myself fucking the bitch, I'd have never believed them."
"So this didn't happen last night then? Or did it; Christ, you look like hell."
"No, uh, it was a week or so ago. I don't remember leaving the girl's apartment; I just remember waking up in my bed and thinking what a wild night I must have had."
"Sounds like you were drugged."
"Yeah, sounds like." Masters looked at Roxanne and spoke carefully, "You like to drug your bitches Roxie, are you framing me? Is this the coup de grace for all the years I've tried to bust you?"
Roxanne abruptly pulled the car over to the curb and took Stacy Masters' face roughly in both her hands. "You fucking listen to me, Stacy! Listen goddamned good! We've had our history, sure. You've been a pain in my ass since I kicked your needy cunt out of my bed our sophomore year at Duke but I wouldn't do this to you or anyone. I'm kinky. I'm not depraved; at least not that depraved. Understand? Besides, if I were framing you I wouldn't have just plunked down fifty large to bail your ass out. And if you jump, by the way, I'll have you hunted down and killed."
Masters slowly nodded her head, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Let's get you home."
Masters bowed her head and spoke quietly, "I can't go home. Crime Scene Investigation is picking it apart. No doubt they're expecting to find more evidence."
"Got a favorite hotel then?"
"I uh, I don't have any money either. My bank and credit accounts have been frozen."
"Jesus Christ! All this fuss over one college cunt? Who was she for Christ's sake; one of the President's daughter?"
"That's what's funny, I can't remember her name. She was just someone I picked up. She was fun to fuck. We were having fun. They, uh, they apparently think this girl is not my first. That's the big deal.
"They're going to make the case I'm a sexual predator and a serial killer of young college girls. When it hits the L.A. Times tomorrow, O.J. is going to seem like a goddamned model citizen. I just don't know what the hell is going on."
Roxanne pulled away from the curb and headed for Sunset. "Huh. The irony is not lost on me, not that you really wanted or needed to hear that. Uh, I can't put you up at my place; I'm seeing someone on a regular basis now. But I'll put you up for a couple of days in a hotel until you can get your head together, okay? Have some room service; it's on me."
"Uh, thanks, Roxanne."
~~~~~~~~~~
Yvette had just about enough sun. Her body was warm and her skin was nicely brown and glistening. She sat up from the lounger and took several steps and dived gracefully into the pool.
Cynthia Knowles sat up too and watched Yvette's hips and beautiful ass sway as she moved to the pool. Cynthia wondered what Yvette would be like in bed. She then decided she'd find out after Yvette's swim. Yvette undoubtedly appreciated Cynthia's perfect beauty. Cynthia thought Yvette must have great self control not to have begged Cynthia to make love to her. Cynthia smiled to herself.
Yvette swam a few laps, barely disturbing the water with her graceful form, and then stood near Cynthia's lounger in the water, her breasts resting nicely on the edge of the pool.
"So, Cynthia, what's your deal with having babies?"
Cynthia was sitting on the side of her lounger. "Come here!" she commanded in her harsh tone. The woman came from the shadows of the house, still nude. "Stand in front of the doctor."
Yvette pulled herself out of the pool and looked at the woman, still looking for a sign of emotion. All she saw this time was the woman appeared to be quite aroused and possibly stoned. Cynthia came and stood beside Yvette.
"You probably think I'm cruel with it."
"I did kind of pick up a vibe there. Why don't you call her by name?"
"It's better to not let it personalize. It's best for it. It's just modestly human. It's more an animal, a steer, or breeding stock."
What an unbelievable crock of shit, Yvette thought.
"It's been the incubator and womb for my two children. I had it artificially inseminated with my fertilized eggs. I mean Yvette; I can't afford to have my beautiful body scarred up with stretch marks, my perfect tits stretched out like a cow's udder! With it carrying the children, I still keep working and I maintain my exquisite beauty."
"You've, uh, certainly thought this through," Yvette was mildly sarcastic but Cynthia didn't pick it up.
"Thank you."
Yvette moved a piece of the woman's hair to get a better picture of her face and noticed a ligature mark across the Adam's apple and extending under her jaw.
"So, how'd you come by your, uh, good fortune?"
"It was a runaway wife. Two children by age 17 but had no sense of responsibility. You know with cats who can't mother you euthanize them; they ought to make it the same with these sub-human types in my opinion. But anyway, turns out she's not quite all there. Her IQ is sub-par; she's not retarded but she's a bit slow except at certain things, like sex. I've trained her well, I think. And she takes to sex like a duck to water; it's incredible."
Yvette marveled at Cynthia's absolute arrogance. She'd never really noticed it before. Now, it was starting to annoy her.
"It was living as a sex slave to a man in Manhattan. He said the only thing it was good at was being a cunt." Cynthia shrugged as if to say she knew better. "But once I had it checked out medically, I knew I had I something. It was a stroke of genius really. I mean, its white, no name, no family, no social security number, no life except what I provide. Maintenance is minimal; she barely eats anything and except when it's absolutely necessary, she's always nude."
"You're not worried about her lack of, uh, intelligence?" Yvette could see intelligence in Claire's eyes; she didn't buy for a second the line that Claire was sub-human.
Cynthia gave a thin laugh as if Yvette was so out of her league. "Yvette, dear. They're my eggs, my husband's sperm. I'm beautiful and extremely intelligent and my husband is handsome and intelligent. The children, consequently, are just fine."
"Wow," Yvette said in a mocking tone that Cynthia never picked up on, "kind of god-like, eh Cynthia?"
"Yvette, you flatter me. You can have her for $25,000. Half now and half when you check to make sure she's viable to breed."
Yvette felt a little sick. She didn't know whether it was from wondering if Cynthia was completely insane or whether it was from the idea of actually owning a human being and using her like a mindless animal for her own vanity that aroused her.
"Look," Cynthia said. "Run your hands through its hair; full and lustrous." Cynthia yanked the woman's head back, slapped the woman's face and commanded "open!"
"See, nice teeth and gums."
Yvette noticed the prominent ligature mark again and couldn't help herself. "What's up with this? She - I'm sorry, it try to hang itself?"
Cynthia appeared to be momentarily perplexed and then she got it. "Oh! That. We were using it at a party the other night; all the girls and their husbands or lovers." Cynthia gasped, "Oh. Oh, Yvette, I'm sorry. I forgot to invite you and your husband. Well, next time?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. So you were using it, how exactly?"
"Oh!" Cynthia stood closer to Yvette and laid her fingertips on the slope of one of Yvette's breasts, "we would hang it by a rope from the rafter's in the pool pump room and masturbate it with a dildo on the blade of a reciprocal saw. When it orgasms it becomes oxygen deprived and its body starts to twitch in the noose. God," Cynthia sort of husked out while moving her fingertips down Yvette's breast to her nipple. "It is so hot to hear it and watch its body twitch in pleasure.
"But anyway," Cynthia stepped behind Claire and put her hands on Claire's hips, "nice wide pelvic girdle for breeding." Cynthia ran a hand up Claire's belly to one of Claire's breasts and held it out toward Yvette, "Breasts are great for milk. And," Cynthia said as she stepped back around and re-established contact with Yvette's breast, "nice strong thighs below a very tight cunt and ass. I personally tightened it up after each child. It's absolutely perfect as a sex toy; sucks cock and cunt equally well."
Yvette was completely appalled but Cynthia's touch was getting to her and Yvette found herself wanting sex. Gently she put both her hands around Cynthia's exploring hand and looked Cynthia in the eyes; Yvette could feel Cynthia's breath on her lips. "You know, Cynthia, you keep touching me like that and I'll need to, uh, you know, come."
"So I'm having the desired effect?" Cynthia moved her fingertips up across Yvette's collarbone. Cynthia felt Yvette shudder slightly and saw goose bumps rise over her Yvette's chest, her nipple swelling even more. "I bet though you're from the Midwest you fuck like a thoroughbred."
"I have my moments. (Were Midwesterners sub-human too? Yvette wondered.) I can please you too, Cynthia." Yvette intoned with just the right degree of submission and promise in her voice that made Cynthia almost literally purr.
"I want to watch my husband Robert fuck you while you pleasure me."
Yvette shrugged, "If he wears a condom, he can have his way."
"Umm, no, dear, bareback only; his skin on and in yours, filling you up with his cum. I'll guarantee that he's clean; all my party guests are free of disease and none of them use IV narcotics."
"Then he can fuck my ass; I've quit taking the pill; I had no idea of your surrogate method so Herbie's doing me a couple of times a day."
