Chapter 3
Pliant white girl pUSSy in toughgirl disguise was how in her eyes Cassandra had hastily configured the heroine for her script. She'd give it a try. Consomme of cunt-juice ladled Cassandra's thighs as she cupped her eyes from the sun. "Hello? Did I hear someone?"
She gave her clit one last squeeze.
Closed her knees.
Reached for the duster of raw silk brocade that lay loosely over the deck beside her. Tossed the lightweight robe over her shoulders.
Shading tanned white tits.
Shielding tawny ivory thighs.
Obscuring faintly sunpainted fanny from any prying eyes.
"Roxanne?" Cassandra sighed.
She let the duster fall open wide.
"Is that you, Cassandra? Thought you might be up here."
Roxanne appeared, nude.
Body lubed.
Sucking an ice cube.
Pussyfuzz trimmed razor sharply.
Sporting bare clitoris where her labial forest had been defoliated.
She carried an opened bottle of champagne lazily by the neck, dangling it behind her bare fanny. Held two long crystal flutes against the cranny between her brightly nipped tits.
"How's about some pinkie champers, doll?" Roxanne jawed slowly. "I'm like so totally awesomely wiped out I need some bodacious fizzwater in my veins."
"Glad you brought up the bubbly," Cassandra said, sucking out the melted liquid in her glass. "I too was in dire need of drink."
"Bombs away," Roxanne said.
The bottleneck foamed. Sparkling liquid overflowed the champagne flutes. Rolled in frothy slips over her breasts.
Roxanne tittered.
Shivered.
Shot a snootful of liquid into her gullet as she trained her gaze on Cassandra's gams.
Up past Cassandra's partially revealed pubes and boobs, to her face.
"How's the sunburn coming, doll?" Roxanne drawled. "You in it for the long haul?"
"What do you think?"
Cassandra lifted her leg.
Showed her ass.
Pressed a pinkish nippletip between thumb and forefinger.
Snapped it like a trigger.
She threw her other arm over her head like a ballerina and aimed a freshly depilated armpit at Roxanne's face.
"You could use a little more of that below the waist, Cassandra."
"If you insist," Cassandra smirked.
She herky-jerked her clit with her fist.
"No," Roxanne giggled. "I meant the depilatory, silly dolly. Your pussy's beginning to look like a mangy collie."
"Thought I'd get a trim this afternoon," Cassandra mused. "Any other criticisms of my physique?"
"Well, the color of your tan seems a little weak. I mean, it's even and all that. And I know you're layering it on slowly-"
"I still want to look white," Cassandra said, reclining back into sunning position. "You know, there are a lot of people around who think I'm some kind of Creole bitch."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Cassandra. And yours was just a little one."
"Yeah," Cassandra blurted. "I married for love. Tell me about it. In any event, I won't let it happen again-"
"You haven't yet."
"Since then," Cassandra said with a smoky gleam to her eyes, "I've managed to keep my love life and my married life separate."
"You didn't love L.L. Jebal?"
"No."
"Not at all."
"Never."
Roxanne cast her eyes at the small tape recorder. "Working?"
"I guess. I have a lot of thoughts on the cassette now. I should give it to Danielle and let her figure it out."
"Yeah, Cassandra. You've done enough work for today. Pack it away."
"Okay. Talked me into it."
"Want to take a dip with me?"
"I think not. That kind of exercise doesn't seem to appeal to me right now. But thanks for the thought, dear one."
"Yeah, well, anyway," Roxanne said. "I almost forgot. There's this dude down at the big house waiting to see you."
"Huh?"
"Danielle told me to tell you when she saw me coming out here with the champers. I thought I had his card somewhere with me." She puzzled her brow. Crinkled her nose. "Where the fuck is that?"
A bright look passed across her face. She reached around to the back of her waist. Slid her digits between her ass-cheeks.
Brought out a mildly moist rectangle of cardboard. Held it aloft. Wafted it under Cassandra's nose.
Cassandra read impassively.
The card was embossed in the center with plain capital letters spelling out BUCKMINSTER BLACK. In the lower left corner, set in small italic type, was the single word consultant.
"I know him," Cassandra said slowly. "Or I know who he's supposed to be. Didn't expect him so soon. He's a private dick."
"Something wrong?"
"Not any more than usual."
"You knew Mercedes blew."
"She left already? Big fucking deal. And you knew
Belladonna's due."
"Shit. Fucking harem whorehouse this place is turning into. Retreat for lovers and wives of those guys L.L. Jebal and Antoine Chevalier-"
"Among others. But remember-legally and on paper, the decisions are mine. Motherfuckawd believe it. I think it would be a good idea to have a little extra house security on our side as a preventive measure."
"Sure blows me away," Roxanne said. "But then, you're the smartypants around here."
"Stick around me, sis, and you'll become a prodigy in a jiffy."
"What about that Buckminster Black dude that's waiting around? Tell him to kiss off or what."
"Shit. I'll see him."
"Shall I send him up?"
"No. I'll have to get dressed before I meet him."
"But, like, Cassandra. He's not one of us, you know. He's like-almost like a servant. You shouldn't have to care whether something like that sees you naked. I mean, you wouldn't care if a hound were around while you took a shit-"
"I'm afraid I do have to treat the boy as if I think he's half human. I need his good professional graces in light of the occasion."
"Too bad."
"Oh?"
"In more ways than one. I caught a look at him while he was talking to Danielle in the foyer-he didn't see me-and if he weren't so common he might be a bit of fun."
"Hmmmmm. That's one thing you can begin to learn, Roxanne."
"Huh?"
"You don't have to forgo fucksucking someone simply because of their supposed social status or dearth of imagine-ass family background."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Roxanne put her arm around Cassandra.
Leaned her mouth into her head and whispered into her earcup. "As long as the conversation's getting a little personal, Cassandra-just what was it that drove you to-uh-love Antoine?"
"In how many words?"
"So he really was a good screw, huh?" Roxanne said. "Too bad about that temper."
"So I did have an affair or two. Shit, Roxanne. He was out banging every slice of cuntmeat he could buy."
"And he gave you a divorce?"
"It was my claim first. Then the black prick coun-tersued, saying I was a prostitute from the first and fraudulently entrapped him into marriage."
"Fuckingchrist. And him a fake king. Who won?"
"Settled out of court. If anyone won, the lawyers did."
"Jewboys, I bet."
"Roxanne-please be a bit more open-minded. Yes, coincidentally the attorneys involved did happen to be Jewish. But mine was a woman."
"You fuck her, Cassandra?"
"You tease. If you didn't have such tight little titties, Roxanne, you'd never get away with half the foul things you say."
"And who's this private dick sucker supposed to be anyway?"
"He comes most highly recommended as one who is sensitive to the values people like us hold in our hearts and minds."
"What values are those?"
"I'm going to set him to a little matter that has come up pertaining to some pearls."
"You mean the pearls you."
"Those are the ones I have in mind."
"Leatherfaced whitelady," the black man mumbled to himself without a trace of irony as he finished resuming his clothing. He patted the mask of rawhide that decorated the marble face of the depravely sculptured bust of a helmeted female that stood on a pedestal in the peach-marble rotunda off the foyer of the cliff house at Hood Cove Conservatory and Arboretum.
"They get one look at this Halloween outfit," he said bemusedly, "and it's an open-and-shut case as far as the police are concerned."
His voice echoed unexpectedly loud.
He shrugged.
Laughed.
Gave the statuesque woman warrior with leather-masked winged helmet a hug.
Loved the touch of cool marble next to his ruddy mahogany skin.
Peeked under the mask.
Looked about with ears keened to make sure no one else was within sight.
Bussed the statue's nordic cheek with liquid lips like poured melted chocolate.
He then laced the marble Valkyrie's face with a quick French kiss. Licked up underneath and into the narrow nostrils.
"Too bad this tootsie stops just below the neck," he muttered. "I'd like to get a mitt on some marble tits."
"Pardon the wait," Cassandra's voice crystallized behind him. "I see you like Brunhilde."
"The mask. I like the mask. Girl's got not such a bad mug on her, either. But I like that mask."
"Try it on?"
"Oh, no. I don't go in for any of that kind of stuff. Not for real. But I read about it." Cassandra drew her breath in deeply. Her slightly tanned tits popped up offhandedly from between the padded lapels of her handpainted silk kimono.
Edges of light-colored nipples were seen.
There was rounded titflesh as smooth and pure as the marble from which the Valkyrie had been cut.
"Look before you leap," he peeped.
His head seemed to clear abruptly. "I don't know why I said that. Must be a habit."
"I know what you mean," Cassandra said, extending her hand. "Restraint is always a virtue. Anything unleashed can mean trouble."
"Ask any masochist about restraints-that what you call the ones who like to be tied up?"
"Tut-tut."
The man peered back at the pert pink nips that peeked at him out of Cassandra's cleavage. Took her loose fist. Shook her by the wrist.
"Pleased to meet you," Cassandra said. "Aren't you going to give me a kiss?"
"Me too. Not until I know the answer to the question: Which one are you?"
"Pardon?"
"You the rich bitch or the little witch."
"Excuse me?"
"In your books. There's usually two nifty numbers. One doll's real cold-calculatingly manipulative. The other gash just makes hash of the arrogant male romantic interest through her naive, offhand sexuality."
"You knew?"
"I'm a fan, madame. Of the other dame-the name you write under. From your books I know you're familiar to some extent with my professionyou can probably guess the rest."
"So you already investigated me. Mister-uhBuckminster."
"Black. Buckminster's the first name. A lot of people just call me Buck. It pays me to know who might be hiring me."
"I see, Buck."
"I forgot to tell you. I don't necessarily like for people to call me Buck-but they do."
"Cute. Buckminster?"
"Fine. If it's all the same to you-"
"Cassandra. Although-I guess like you-I'm used to being referred to by my professional namethat's good, Buckminster. You do your homework. Mind if I smoke?"
"Go ahead, choke."
"So far, so bland. Someone teach you to pull that chocolate soldier tough-guy act?"
Buckminster said to Cassandra, snidely and airily: "Literary cock-tease."
"And cuntsqueeze. Most of my readership is female. You a faggot, by the way?"
"Thought I heard you say-"
"Queer. You seem to read a lot. That's suspect these days for real hard guys like you."
"I guess you could say I'm a gay blade. But don't let that get into your way. I'm not real delicate with the poetry these days."
"You fuckingchrist studied Shakespeare in true home style. Actor?"
"Awhile back. Thought I'd give this line of work a crack."
"Acting must come in handy."
"Lots."
"I hate to make it sound as if you're auditioning for a part. But tell me how you intend to express your investigative art here."
"Well, trouble is my business. The main problem I run into is when somebody hires me for no particular reason. Maybe they have too much money and too little to do."
"A sad state of affairs."
"Boredom is the root of much evil. These people simply want somebody to have around to play with. Then if they're romantically inclined they might come up with schemes involving undercover work."
"Undercover. That is romantic."
"Not when you see how it actually works. They may want me to set up dangerous liaisons to entrap their spouse-so they can have documented grounds for divorce. Or else-believe it or notthey might even want to try to seduce me to see how mercenary I can be."
"The games the rich do play-"
"I know your books are not strictly fiction. I see those shenanigans myself."
"Do you want to hear my situation? Or do you want me to continue to pay you to be my personal literary critic?"
"Either way. I'm game."
"Pearls are a nuisance."
"I heard that one before."
"If the plot is jaded, Buckminster, I'm sure that the money is not."
"Correct. Shoot."
"The pearls in question were to have been included among the pieces to be auctioned as part of a charity function we are organizing."
"Oh, really. Socially concerned, are you?"
"That's neither here nor there. I tell you quite frankly that I am hosting this event in order to clear my name-so to speak."
"Have anything to do with your married life?"
"Mister Buckminster-I mean Black. Buck. Shit-I let it slip. Please pardon me, Buckminster, while I blush."
"You're too much."
"So of course you know about Antoine."
"Claims he should be King of New Spain. Sultan of Timbuktu. Emperor of Liberia."
"Spanish, isn't he?" she grinned wearily. "That is-you know-not from Spain."
"Wasn't sure you knew. Part New Orleans Creole by birth, but he's been around."
"You know him?"
"I remember him from when I was a kid. He was a plainclothes detective in the neighborhood for about six months before he was dumped from the force-they had a housecleaning. Got rid of all the good guys on the force."
"So Antoine was a good guy once?"
"He's still a righteous hombo. It's just his ethics have shifted somewhat."
Cassandra flinched her vision off Buckminster. Faked a quick grin.
Buckminster jawed: "Don't believe me, babes?"
"I do."
"Maybe you shouldn't have said those last two words so often."
"I married Antoine quickly and divorced him twice as fast because of young love. I didn't care whether he was royalty or a pimp. I have my own money and I did not particularly care to hear about the source of his. It was there."
Cassandra's eyes told Buckminster she did care about something-fiercely. But it was not necessarily the men in her life.
"And as for my later extremely brief and now no-longer-lamented period of wedlock with Mister L.L. Jebal Hood-" Cassandra tossed her head and blew out furls of smoke from flared nostrils and darted to another subject "-Buckminster, what do you know about pearls."
"They're for girls."
"I may have only misplaced them. But once they're recovered, I think they should be kept under guard."
"If they weren't stolen-why now?"
Cassandra was silent a split second too long.
"Let me help you," Buckminster said. "You want to maybe let on to the press that the gewgaws are pretty and pretty valuable. Lay onto them how the pearls were recovered and how it was so upsetting that they were lost. Nice little column in the newspaper with a nice big picture of you with the pink bangles hanging out over your boobs. Draw some big spenders to the upcoming event you're hosting. Am I okay so far-or am I off the wall?"
"I haven't announced publicly yet that I'm planning to auction the pearls. I only had the idea, actually, early this morning. When I went to look for them, they were not where I normally keep them-among my lingerie, as I am sure you would ask anyway-"
"Thank you."
"I asked Danielle to ring up your office. I knew you were already somewhat familiar with my affairs through your work for Antoine Chevalier during the negotiations for our divorce."
"I wasn't the one. It was a couple other operatives who work through the agency."
"Nevertheless. Since your firm did such outstanding work peeping on me, I thought you might do similar good deeds spying in my service."
"Tough lady."
"I use only the best. Whether it's champagne, bodycream, or private Ds."
"Smart lady."
"It's simple logic. Only the best works best for me. What's that look, Buckminster? I assure you that the pearls are not in their usual place. Stolen? Misplaced? That's what you're here for."
"Who's this Danielle?"
"She met you at the door, I believe."
"Your-uh-maid?"
"Secretary. Though I shouldn't call her thatshe's much more. Danielle helps me put my books together. She has a fine public relations head and very able in the kitchen. Unless there is a formal occasion, we by and large try to get along out here without servants."
"I see. So the butler didn't do it cause there's no butler."
"You don't think Danielle-"
"She's got to be covered. And I tell you I have to do it straight. You can warn her first that I have to question her, but don't let her escape. Who else you got running around here?"
"Roxanne is visiting. I know her through my fundraising efforts on behalf of international athletics. She's a synchronized swimmer and diver in the combined watersports events."
"Roxanne? Did I hear of her in the Olympics?"
"Not yet the Olympics. As a swimsuit model she's been on the covers of quite a few magazines. Perhaps not any you read. Higlistrung, but a simply delightful girl."
"And it shall be delightful I am sure to converse with her. Who else? Maintenance personnel?"
"Filipino boy comes for the pool three times a week. Jap gardener once a week and one full week a month with a slope-eyed crew. Deliveries-but none of the above ever get in past the door."
"That you know of. Maybe they cased the digs."
"I thought of that. There are no servants, as I said, and we do have the cliff house electronically protected."
"You don't want to think it's an inside job. I understand. But I gotta do my job. Now this statue of the Viking dyke, for instance? Bugged?"
"We did have the place swept for eavesdropping devices. You don't think--? "
"The more I can think of the better. The more you can think of the better."
"Yes-s-s. You have not by chance run into my ex-stepdaughter-in-law Belladonna?"
"Briefly in the foyer."
"That kitten is from one of L.L. Jebal's previous wives, though he is not actually Belladonna's father-she's way too white. And she's older than she looks."
"And acts."
Cassandra cracked an empty smile: "I received a message Belladonna called and announced she was going to be hiding herself out here and there for a few days. Didn't know she arrived already."
"In hiding?"
"Antoine Chevalier-her godfather-sold her upon birth as a bride to Sheik Asani Saba, who happens to be in town this week. Another reason I thought we could use some security around here."
"This kind of stuff go on around here much?"
"We just now are in the process of opening up. I want to acquire permanent security-independent of the foundation's hinders."
"Donovan should be back in a couple days. He's the one you should talk to there. In the meantime, I think I can dispense with any further questioning of Belladonna."
"Oh? Did she grate on you?"
"Sat in my lap."
"I take it you let her know you don't go for that. Who do you want to start with."
"Who's closest, besides you?"
"Danielle."
"Yes, Cassandra?"
"This is Mister Black. Buckminster. I believe you two have met?"
"Sorry," Danielle said. "I couldn't hear what you were saying."
She pulled the earphones from her ears. Made sure the audiocassette filled with Cassandra's morning musings was on hold.
Danielle mechanically dangled a pair of slipper sandals laced in gold piping.
Crossed her ankles.
"I don't know what I should say, Danielle. But there has been a disappearance here-as you know-about the pearls-uh-"
"I understand," Danielle said. "Buckminster wants to talk to me about it."
"Enough said," Cassandra sighed. "I'll be either on the sundeck or in the conservatory."
As Cassandra left, she left the door to the study open wide.
Buckminster took a look around the room.
"Aren't you going to close the door?" Danielle said, burning the end of a cigarette with a fizzing matchstick. "Give us some privacy."
"So soon?"
"Thought I might as well get it over with. Do you want me to record our conversation."
"No. I think my memory will do."
"Cassandra thinks the pearls might be fakes. Did she tell you that already."
"Yeah. Do you?"
"Don't know. I've only seen them occasionally. Cassandra rarely wears them." Danielle blew out a trail of cigarette fumes toward Buckminster's face. "Mind if I smoke?"
"You know what you like. What were the occasions upon which you personally viewed the pearls?"
"When we go through her things-you know, rummaging through her clothing-"
"You're her secretary?"
"Oh. More like a-her advisor. On literary matters. But, yes-we do have a bit of a personal relationship as well."
"Going through each other's clothing."
"Something few men could understand. I have been with Cassandra for a number of years."
"And she seems to find you trustworthy. After all, she did have you call to set up this appointment. You had no hesitation upon meeting me at the door before. All obvious signs say you're innocent. But I gotta go through this routine for the record. Think she lost them?"
"Misplaced them-I hope."
"Oh, listen. I was wondering about that fake Zimbabwean ceremonial garden out there on the grounds. You know. The statues-"
"Want to donate one? Couple hundred thou should do for now. You'd be one of the first."
"Oh?"
"Those on display now are the first selections to the Hall of World Culture. How you get elected is someone fobs us the money to fund the exhibit."
"Plus some extra mazuma for incidentals?"
"Why not underwrite Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.? There was a coon you couldn't refuse."
"How about Abraham Lincoln?"
She tossed her head back. Snapped her jaw open and emitted a cackling peep.
"Ninini."
She screeched: "Abraham Motherfucking Lincoln! Aiiiii! Jolly."
"Humor me and show me around this office here? Library, study-whatever you call it."
Danielle smirked.
Blew out a scarf of cigarette smoke. "So let's do a few turns," Danielle said. "Tell me where you want to look first."
"Under your skirt," Buckminster blurted. "Is that your idea of flirting."
"It's called a joke."
"Only if it's funny."
"How's looking where the lady keeps the valuables?"
"Safe," Danielle said smoothly. "I can open it for you. Underneath the desk here."
Danielle hunkered down to the floor.
Buckminster inspected the crack of her ass as she bent forward and twiddled with the knobs on the front of the file-drawer-sized metal box. The material of her dress was filmy enough to show off not only that she wore no underpants but also the wooly contours of her pubic flocculence erupting from underneath her rump.
Buckminster saw her hips pump.
She grunted once.
The door to the safe sighed open.
"Get down, Buckminster. Look inside."
Buckminster shot a finger to his nuts.
Loosened them up.
Got down beside her like a pup.
"Sure enough," he said. "Lots of bucks. Few little trinkets-diamonds, emeralds."
"But no pearls."
"Why did she keep them with her lingerie? If she kept her other jewels in here."
"You'll have to ask her."
"Thought maybe you'd know. Being so close to Cassandra and all."
"We're friends. But not that close."
She threw her head back haughtily.
"Watch your noggin," Buckminster said as Danielle's head bumped the underside of the overhanging desk.
He brought his palm up to cup the back of Danielle's head.
"It's okay," Danielle said. She paused a long second. "But you can kiss it to make it better."
Buckminster wettened his lips with his tongue. Brought Danielle's head forward. Applied a kiss to the point of her skull. As Danielle's head dropped straight into his lap. He sucked the back of her brain through her waved tresses. She sucked his cock through the seam of his trousers.
The zip released his prong with a zinging sound. Buckminster felt the wetness descend from the crown to the top of his scrotum.
Danielle's tongue rotated about the tip. Then she suckered the entire shaft of Buckmins-ter's dark dick into her yip.
She held the coffee dingdong firmly in her grip. As though to prevent him from giving her the slip. Her hands tightened about the neck.
Prickhead popped out wider beneath her eyes. Increasing in size with theingestion of pulses of the dark blood of erection.
"Help me come off," Danielle wheezed. "I'm dying for an orgasm."
"Will it make your day."
"My hour, anyway."
"Let's hope."
Darkling fingers split into teeming white flesh. She gnashed teeth.
Buckminster wheezed out in a light spatter of saliva: "This all right?"
"Uh huh. Now do the rest."
Buckminster grappled with her dress.
Hiked it over her hiney.
Danielle lifted it over her breasts.
"Now the other accoutrements," Danielle seared through her lips. "You'll find them in with the other valuables, lover."
Buckminster reached into the interior of the safe. Pulled out twined strips of leather with whip-like dangles on either end.
Danielle wrapped her wrists together behind her back. Whined aloud.
"Tie them, please," she breathed.
"Tight, I take it."
"Yesss. So sweet."
Danielle pumped the crack of her translucent rump into the air at Buckminster.
Shot her heels out, wiggled her toes, and crossed her ankles.
Buckminster began to wrap Danielle's feet with two lengths of the braided leather twine.
He rolled Danielle out from underneath the fruit-wood desk. Trussed her wrists with a strand of twine down the split of her behind, running it to her tied ankles.
"Aaaaah, yesss," Danielle slathered. "The best. Give me the best."
"There's a mask in here. Want me to wear it? It's got eyeholes."
"Yes. Put on the black mask. So you can see me. But I can't recognize you."
"The fuck--? "
"It's the thought that counts. And I'm thinking of your masked cock. In my cunt. At me front and back and all over."
"Stick it where the sun don't shine."
"Inside me. Stick your nigger prick inside me. Fuck my mouth. Fuck my ass. Fuck my cunt. Make me your pig, your slut."
"That all?"
"Fuck me quickly."
"In which order?"
"Take a spin."
"One thing you should know beforehand is that my prick ain't no nigger."
"I was just kidding."
"Not to you or to no one else."
"Yesss."
"My prick ain't no nigger. But I is."
"Give it to me."
Buckminster slashed his pelvis in an arc. His prick speared clear into something.
He felt her body open up.
His thick black prick jerked right up her ass with a rutting shudder.
Danielle felt her clit stutter.
Buckminster pulled his twanger from her backside slowly. With no additional lubrication, Danielle's assoils had proved insufficient for fuck friction.
"No!" came Danielle's harrowing scream.
"Shhhhh. I just want to pack my pecker with a little liquid from your slit. Then I'll go right back in."
"But I want it to hurt so much," Danielle said. "So that it ruptures to the touch."
Buckminster struck up inside her cunthide. Twat-lips spread apart.
Danielle's bound wrists jacked Buckminster off as he fucked her from behind.
The twine about Danielle's ankles scraped Buck-minster's blue-black bull shit as she crushed into them with her heels.
"Now hit me," Danielle said.
"First give me the news."
"Beat me to a fucking pulp, you sniveling dingy sleuth. Blind me with your jungle jizzom first. Then maybe I'll tell you a story."
He smacked her temple gently with his open palm. Continued the rutruck in her cunt.
"Unh," Danielle sighed.
"Okay?"
"Again. Isn't there a sap in there? A little leather club-the kind that cops use."
"Here we go." Thwap! "More."
Wap!
"Harder."
Ssshlat!
"Hit me harder, mother-fucker!" Zeee-ap!
"I'm come-ming!"
Danielle twirled Buckminster's testicles with her tied ankles.
Kicked them with her bound feet.
The rush of white-chocolate jizzom flared first in his brain.
Danielle's tied limbs cranked and curlicued uncontrollably. Face a mask of alternate spasmic grimace and orgasmic rictus.
Limbs bound.
Cunt gagged.
She couldn't leave him if she tried.
"Danielle."
"Mmmmm."
"Danielle. Hear what I'm saying?"
"Hmmm. Oh, fuck. Please whack my bloody brains to jelly."
"Cassandra kept that string of gumdrops where she did-and not in the safe. From what you know about Cassandra on an amiga level-"
"You're the private investigator. If you take a crack at it I'm sure you'll come up with something better than I could ever. Ask Cassandra."
"We'll get to her. Can you give me a little hint, nielle?"
"Ummm-you know I don't want to implicate anyone. If I were a detective I'd to consider everyone-not just people hanging around-"
"You won't be implicating anyone, Danielle. I'm just trying to ascertain our lady's rationale for her unsafe hiding place."
With dick exploding come inside her bound form, Danielle coughed out.
"For goodness' sake. I'm coming off now without even being hit. You really can work that stick. Why don't you try the lady in the lake?"