A Conspiracy of Sluts Ch. 01byfastandsloppy©
Author's note: This is the first part of a five part novella. Each chapter will be devoted to a different category of erotica: i.e. lesbian, group, interracial, BDSM, exhibitionism/voyeur (in that order). Although the five parts constitute a complete story I have tried to write each chapter so it could be enjoyed stand-alone as well (although I prefer you read the whole thing of course). I will post each chapter about a week apart. Enjoy!
Twelve floors above the streets of Manhattan Paige was stalled on the cusp of escape. She fidgeted impotently with her purse while anxiously eyeing the narrowing entrance to the small, movable room. As the gap between the steel doors contracted she rocked forward on the balls of her feet to peek into the corridor. She spotted Doug. He was just outside her office, looking the other direction, towards the fire exit. She moved back a step and sighed with relief; he hadn't seen her. But, as the doors drew to within a few inches of each other, just as she was nearly free, a tiny arm thrust through the gap and broke the infrared safety beam. The doors stopped with a dull click. They began to open again.
Paige stepped to the left to keep herself out of Doug's line of sight as a petite woman darted into the elevator. She was Asian: a pretty little thing with big, brown eyes, long, lustrous hair and a healthy, if not massive, chest. She carried herself with a casual self assurance far beyond what Paige could hope to muster. Confidence must come easy for someone like that, thought Paige as she frowned at her own indistinct reflection in the burnished steel of the door.
"Sorry," said the petite woman. "Didn't see you in here."
"s'OK," mumbled Paige as the other woman repeatedly jabbed the "close door" button.
"Hey, hold that elevator!" called a voice rushing towards them. Paige's shoulders sagged in defeat. It was Doug's voice.
"Sorry!" called the woman through the narrowing gap as she continued to hit the 'close door' button. "In a hurry."
Paige smiled gratefully at the back of her companion's head as the doors finally shut and the car started to move.
The woman turned towards her. A mischievous smirk lit up her face. "That was kinda bitchy, huh?" she said as she scrunched her head into her shoulders in a well practiced ain't-I-a-stinker gesture.
"No problem," said Paige. "I was trying to avoid that guy, actually."
"Doug?" asked the woman. "You know Doug?"
Paige blushed. She'd had no idea this woman knew Doug too. She wondered if she knew him in the same way.
"Oh God! You do!" She laughed. It was more of a cackle. "Did you sleep with him?"
Paige blushed deeper. She could feel the tell-tale ring of hot air settle around her neck as her skin lit up like a red Christmas bulb. Oh God, after getting through high school and college without getting noticed by anybody, now -- in her professional life, of all places - she was going to get a reputation as a slut.
"Oh, don't get embarrassed," urged the other woman. "You'd be surprised by..."
With a shudder followed by a sharp upwards jerk, the elevator came to an abrupt stop. The petite woman was pitched forward off her heels, grabbing Paige around the waist on her way to the floor. Paige choked back a scream and seized the woman by her upper arms, supporting her as her face came to rest mashed against Paige's chest.
"You OK?" asked Paige as she helped her to her feet.
"Shit," said the woman. "Oh. Sorry about that..." She nodded to the smear of smoky red lipstick and taupe eye-shadow across the left breast of Paige's white blouse.
Paige looked at the smear. She rubbed at it briefly but gave up when she realized she was only pushing the pigment deeper into the fabric. As she looked up she caught the other woman'sgaze lingering on the swell of her chest. Their eyes met briefly, strangely. Paige looked away.
The woman bent over to see which buttons on the panel might be worth pushing. She randomly hit a few. One set off a loud, ringing alarm. She let it ring for a couple of seconds before pushing another that turned it off.
"Ugh. Too loud," she complained. "We'll leave that for our last resort."
"This is what I get for not taking the stairs," said Paige.
"The stairs, huh? You afraid of elevators or something?"
"No. I lost a lot of weight recently. I'm trying to keep it off."
The woman turned towards Paige and looked her up and down with a practiced, critical eye that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. The woman said, "You really should. You've got a good body. But... you did all that by walking stairs?"
"No. I mean, I've been doing other stuff too. Lunges, crunches... that kind of thing."
"Ugh, crunches. I fucking hate crunches. But still, they get the job done. I must do, like, a thousand a week... lookie here," said the woman as she began unbuttoning her blouse from the bottom up. She opened the shirt up to her bra and tightened her abdomen. Every toned ripple and crease showed in anatomy textbook detail.
"Oh! Where are my manners? Here I am showing you my bod and I hadn't even introduced myself. I'm Marie. Marie MacDougall," said the Asian woman.
"Funny, you don't look Scottish".
Marie laughed and pointed at herself with a thumb. "Halfbreed, An Okinawa souvenir, as my dad used to say."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry..."
"Pfft. Don't worry about it."
With a hum and a slight tug of inertia the elevator started moving again. Both women cheered. Paige looked up at the floor indicator: just a few more to go. She wondered if she'd ever speak with Marie MacDougall again.
"My name is Paige, by the way. Paige Hellar."
Marie looked at her. She seemed to be appraising her again... but not her body this time. She seemed to be reading her the way poker players look for tells in their opponents. It was unnerving.
"We should have a girl's night out, Paige; finish this conversation."
Paige smiled, surprised. "I'd like that."
"You have a business card or something?" asked Marie as the elevator announced its arrival at the lobby with a soft tone.
"Yeah, I just got a new box yesterday. It has all my new numbers..." prattled Paige before she realized she just opened herself up to a bunch of questions she didn't feel like answering.
But Marie didn't ask why her numbers were new. She merely pocketed the card and smiled. "I'll give you a call," she said. She winked as she stepped out of the elevator into the Oreskos Corp lobby, walking towards the Avenue of the Americas entrance. Paige watched her call out to a group of young executive types. They paused, smiled and waved her over.
Paige watched in awe. How she'd love to be a woman like that. She let her freshly flowered admiration of Marie bloom into a brief fantasy of instant popularity with the most powerful cliques in the company. She imagined tagging along as Marie's plus-one to one of the scandalously swank get-togethers that What's-her-name Oreskos -- the spoiled young heiress of the company's late founder - was rumored to host in the executive suites. She imaged handsome executives smiling at her from across the room. She imaged whirlwind romances; delirious sex on yachts and private jets; a surprise proposal; a life of luxury...
But then an elevator directly in front of her opened and Doug stepped out. "Paigey!" he said brightly as Paige's face fell. His eyes dropped to the smear of makeup on Paige's chest. "What happened to your tit?"
Paige sighed. Daydreams would have to wait.
She'd got a text from Marie on Friday afternoon, suggesting they meet at a vegan place. It was right around the corner from Paige's apartment but Paige had never tried it. It was, after all, a vegan place. Nonetheless, Paige agreed to meet Marie there at eight. It'd be good to try something new tonight.
Paige got there first. It was nice: woody with pale paneling and unpainted furniture; lively with brightly colored wall hangings, tablecloths and napkins that favored reds, greens and yellows. The music was some wheezy third world stuff that was boring but easy to tune out. She was shown to the booth by the window and handed a menu and a wine list. She eyed the wines but ordered a white tea instead. As she waited she immediately commenced to fretting that Marie would stand her up.
It would serve her right if she did. Just before leaving her apartment Paige had sent Doug a text canceling their date. Then she blocked his number. They were supposed to go some party: a "wild" party, he'd said. She'd only agreed to it to get rid of him. She had delayed canceling until the last possible minute so as to not endure hours of his exhausting attempts at persuasion and now she was feeling a little guilty. Why was she so intend on giving Doug the brush off? Sure, he was balding, kind of short and pretty dorky, but he was nice - if a little crude - and he was a successful guy. And, as she had discovered last week, he had other favorable attributes, or rather, a particular attribute: an attribute that had made her come several times during their one night together and left her with a few days of lingering soreness in some tender places.
Paige fought to push those memories down. God, how embarrassingly out of control she had been: moaning and scratching like a cat in heat, begging him to "fuck her harder", letting him do things to her that she'd never done before. She had frightened herself.
Her tea had just arrived when a long black limousine double parked out front. It sat there for several minutes, no one entering or leaving. As she sipped her tea Paige amused herself by staring into the tinted glass and imagining various famous people in there, watching her. She finally settled on Bradley Cooper, imagining him smitten by the way she pursed her lips to blow lightly across the steaming surface of her beverage. She imagined a message sent to her with an invitation to join him in the limo. She imagined a slow drive around the city and through the park. Would he be an insistent lover, roughly taking what he wanted while Paige put up a token resistance? Yes, she decided, he would. She shifted in her seat and could feel a bloom of wetness, stirred up by her silly imagination.
She shook her head. What's wrong with me lately? She thought.
When the door to the limousine finally opened it was not Bradley Cooper who stepped out, but Marie MacDougall. She turned and bent over to say something to someone inside the car. Paige watched two guys on the sidewalk going opposite directions as they ogled Marie's posterior. They smacked right into each other with a ragged 'oof' and nearly went down in a heap. Paige laughed behind her tea as they untangled themselves while glowering accusingly at each other's carelessness.
As Marie stood and trotted towards the restaurant, Paige got a good look at what she was wearing. It was a red dress: tight, low-cut and short. Slutty would be the word Paige would use to describe it she decided. Very slutty.
Marie tic-tacked up to the table in her lofty red pumps. As they said their hellos a tall willowy woman with translucently pale skin and a long mass of frizzy, white-blond hair flitted up. "Hello Marie," she said in a soft, singsong voice.
"Hi Heather," chirped Marie.
"Hey, I wanted to know, are you going to the..." began Heather.
"Heather," interrupted Marie. There was a slight edge to her voice. "This is my new friend Paige. We're having a girl's night out."
"Oh... of course," said Heather. "I won't bother you then." She turned and glided away, leaving a miasma of patchouli where she had stood.
"Heather just opened this place," explained Marie. "I thought I should show some support."
"I wouldn't have minded if you two wanted to talk," said Paige.
Marie shook her head. "Don't worry about it."
"OK... hey, whose limo was that?"
"Another friend," Marie said with a shrug. "I was offered a ride."
"You have quite a spectrum of friends."
Marie tilted her head and smiled. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
They talked about work for a while. Marie was in HR, but "only sort-of", she said. "I'm doing a special project for the big wigs." Paige told Marie she worked in accounts payable, a detail Marie already knew since she had read Paige's personnel file that afternoon. It seemed like a predictable thing to do, especially for someone like Marie who seemed to be used to getting her own way. But still, it irritated Paige.
"So," said Paige slowly, trying not to be annoyed about the minor invasion of privacy. "What else did you learn from my file?"
"Birth date, address, phone number, salary... that sort of stuff. Boring stuff. Tell me something interesting. Like, you said you lost a lot of weight. What was your secret? I might need it if I ever, you know..." Marie puffed out her cheeks and bugged out her eyes.
"You wouldn't be interested," said Paige tersely. She had always hated it when skinny people made fat faces.
"Why? Did you have your jaw wired shut?" joked Marie with a laugh that died in her throat as she saw the hardness seep into Paige's face. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh come on, Marie. I'm sure it's in my file that I was out of work for five months. Right?"
"Well, I saw that, yeah... I'd..."
"You want to know how I lost so much weight? I got scarlet fever, then pneumonia, then blood poisoning. I was in the hospital for over almost two months, in the ICU for a couple of weeks. My parents were picking out caskets at one point. I was so weak afterwards I had to live at my parents for a while just to work myself up to being able to walk again." Paige spat out the words, irritated that she had to relive it again for a curious acquaintance, annoyed that her near-death illness was the most interesting thing about her.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."
"I lost, like, almost half my weight. I don't even look like myself anymore. I look into the mirror and I see a stranger. It still kind of freaks me out."
"But... You're hot. You know that, right?"
"But that's just it. Everything I know about myself tells me I'm a plain looking fat girl." Paige pointed to herself. "This isn't me."
Marie laughed. "No offense, girl, but that's a good problem to have."
"That's what people tell me."
"It's weird. I notice guys looking at me now. You know what I mean, looking?"
Marie nodded. She knew.
Paige sighed. "Y'know, I had sex with Doug just because I could tell he genuinely thought I was desirable. I'm just not used to that. I was a complete pushover. Before the accident I'd only 'done it' maybe four times since college. But I don't want to go overboard the other direction. I don't want to be a..." she found herself looking at Marie with the word on her lips. She choked it back when she saw Marie leaning forward with her boobs seemingly eager to pop from her tight red dress.
"A slut?" offered Marie.
"Um... well... yeah."
Marie laughed. "Like me?"
"I'm not saying that you're a...um... a slut."
"What if I was? Could you be friends with a girl like that?"
"Well, people are free to do what they want... With their own bodies, I mean."
"So what's the problem? I mean, what's the problem with you doing what you want with your body if I'm free to do what I want with mine?"
Paige shrugged. She felt embarrassed about her outburst now. She was eager for this night to be over so she could get back to her tiny apartment and kick herself for implying her first prospective new friend in years was a slut. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it had been Paige's quick temper and snarky attitude that had kept her lonely all these years, not the extra weight.
"Well, whether or not you decide you want to sleep around, you need to learn how to be a beautiful woman. Fortunately, I have some practical experience in that area, if I say so myself. I'll be your guide."
"Guide to what?"
Marie flashed a charming but wicked grin. "You'll see."
Marie had insisted Paige switch to cosmopolitans from white tea. Paige barely resisted before accepting the cocktail. After her little snit about her illness she was eager to calm her nerves.
After the first cosmo, her nerves were calm. After the second, they were a little numb and tingly. After the third, both women were laughing loudly at their own jokes and beginning to slur their words. Heather approached the table again.
"You guys have drank quite a bit."
"Bingo," said Marie cocking her finger at Heather like a pistol and winking.
"Well... but we prefer not to have it too rowdy in here... you know? There are some nice bars over on..."
"Well bring us 'nother drink. Maybe we'll start gettin' groggy next," suggested Paige.
"No," said Marie. "Let's go. We need to stop fucking up the ambiance in Heather's nice new restaurant."
"I didn't say you guys were..."
"Hey!" interrupted Marie, as if they'd already left Heather and her flakey little hole-in-the-wall eatery behind. "Didn't I read in a confidential personnel file somewhere that you live really close to here?"
"Surely not," laughed Paige. "That would be irresponsibly slutty of my file to let just anyone read it."
"Your file loved it. She was begging for more!"
"Oh no! My poor file's going to end up having a bastard litter of untitled Word documents! Hahaha!"
And so on...
They jabbered a silly and unbroken conversation from the booth at the restaurant to the bodega on the corner where they picked up a pint of vodka and a half gallon of cranberry juice. As they exited the store a couple of Hispanic kids whistled and loudly offered their services.
"You couldn't handle me, homeboy," taunted Marie.
"I'd prefer the blonde chicka with the big titties anyhow," answered one of the kids.
Instinctually, Paige braced for the laughter she'd come to expect after some cruel boys taunted her. She turned away and hurried forward, her face burning hot with anger and embarrassment. When she turned to Marie, she saw she was still several yards behind, walking in a slow, wiggly strut away from the boys, smiling wide as she gave them a show.
Paige's brow contracted into a confounded knot. Marie winked and smiled. "Don't worry about them," she said. "They don't expect any more than a look. Come on, walk with me."
Paige let Marie take her by the arm. They walked the fifty or so yards to the door of her apartment building, the catcalls following a few yards behind. Paige heaved a sigh of relief when they finally got inside.
"See?" said Marie. "I told you were hot. You just need to get comfortable with it."
"You enjoy that sort of thing?" asked Paige as they stepped onto the elevator and she hit the button for seven.
Marie shrugged. "I choose to view it as an honest appreciation of my feminine attributes."
"It's fucking rude."
"Men are simple beasts. You have to take them as they are."
"I guess... What choice do I have?"
Marie gave her a long, dry look. "There are always options, Honey."
Paige threw Marie a quizzical glance but the doors opened for her floor. Marie strode out into the hall and Paige followed, feeling suddenly nervous.
"It's apartment Seven-Twelve, right?"
"Yes... that's right," Paige said, trotting after her. At the door Marie stopped and turned to face her. Paige paused with the keys in her hand. "Look, I don't want to think I've misled..."
Marie reached up and took the keys from her. "Don't be silly," she said. Paige said nothing as Marie unlocked her door, pushed it open and motioned her in. Paige stepped reluctantly into her own apartment.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked Marie.
"Why? Are you a vampire or something?" asked Paige with a nervous laugh.