Shadows of Pearl (The Pearl Trilogy, Part 2)

by Arianne Richmonde

  Her thumb is inside, the balls are doing their thing – she’s got her four fingers resting on my mound, on my clit…the pressure…oh wow….any second now I’m going to come again. I’m rubbing my Venus hard on her hand. This feels so horny. It’s coming…it’s coming…

  But she stops.

  What is she playing at?

  My nails are clawing into the material of the couch, wrists in front of me tied with the silky bandana. She has me so worked up. Teetering on the edge. Please!

  “Please Alessandra,” I plead in a desperate voice.

  “Quite a selfish lover, aren’t you?”

  But I told you I’m not gay. I don’t do girls.

  “Turn over,” she commands.

  I do as she says. I feel my wetness hot between my legs. I bring my arms down to touch myself. I just need that little push and…

  “Not so fast.” She grabs my wrists and puts my hands above my head. I’m on my back again. Ouch, my butt is sore. “Bend your knees up and press the small of your back into the couch, it’ll take the pressure off your ass,” she instructs.

  I do as she says- all my nerve endings tingling with trepidation, my Venus pounding…wanting round two. Not round two of a beating…no, I think I’m done with that little experiment for good, but round two of….oh wow, I can feel her warm breath on my inner thighs. She splays my legs apart some more and I detect her mane of hair nestling between me. Softly. I flex my hips up higher to meet what I can feel is her tongue. Oh wow. She’s licking me now with long swipes using just the tip of her tongue. I’m writhing and pressing my groin into her – her tongue is resting so, so gently on my clit – I’m going to come, I’m going to come…

  But she stops.

  Pussy-teaser. “Please,” I beg.

  She’s moved away from her position now. What’s she doing? My blindfold is still keeping me in my dark little world, each movement is multiplied a hundred times – each sensation more pronounced. I smell the rose incense and calamine lotion and her sweet minty breath – she must have brushed her teeth in the bathroom. She’s licking my tits now, flicking her tongue around my nipples, nibbling them gently with her teeth. I sense her hand on my head and she slips the blindfold off me in one quick movement. The room is dimmed but suddenly everything seems bright. Her cherry-red lips parted seductively, her dark hair falling like a cascade about her bare shoulders – she has taken off her shirt and her breasts are full, the nipples erect - but she’s still got her jeans on, straddling me, not sitting on me, just kneeling on the couch. Tendrils of her long hair rest on my cheeks. She is breathtakingly beautiful and I gasp at this unusual situation of not just having an upcoming movie star desiring me and pleasing my desires but a woman!

  “You really are stunning,” I hear myself say.

  Her lips graze me lightly on the chin and then linger on my mouth without moving. I shouldn’t do this! But she smells so sweet, her skin soft as silk. I find myself parting my lips and offering her the tip of my tongue. Slowly – so slowly we lick each other, playing with just the tips, flickering together like a flame of a candle. Desire shoots like a current of electricity down to my groin. I moan into her mouth.

  Her lips are lightly teasing - her finger tapping my clit as she kisses me. Oh, yeah. Her kiss gets deeper, more sensual and I think, I am loving this. She’s making little circles now with her fingers flat against my mound, pressuring me in all the perfect places. I’m gyrating against her and yes, oh yes, the build, the stairway…I start climaxing in a rush of rapture – Seventh Heaven - ignoring any preconceived notions of what a woman should or shouldn’t do with another female. My tied hands are grasping, fisting in her wild hair as she pleasures the fuck out of my Venus. I see stars of color flashing through my brain. The orgasm is long, it keeps going - rolling over me, under me, through me, the jingling balls wriggling about inside as I cry out with intense gratification.

  Finally, the waves roll into ripples and the ripples begin to fade. Alessandra gets off the couch and adjusts her position. With one leg firmly on the floor and one still on the sofa she holds my knee and thrusts it between her crotch – the material of her jeans pressing hard into my knee. I feel her heat. All it takes is a few dry rubs and I see the expression on her face change to a clenching of the teeth, her nipples hard as nuts and with one last push she screams out. “I’m coming Pearl, coming hard.”

  This is a first! If Alessandra weren’t so beautiful I would laugh out loud at the madness of it all but her vulnerable face as she looks at me with such an expression of bliss and her tight, peachy ass thrusting her crotch on my knee in such a sexy way as she tips herself into ecstasy, makes it all okay.

  I kissed a girl and I liked it. The song captures my imagination as the tune hums about in my head.

  But Alessandra is looking serious. Like a guy who has just got what he wanted, she gets off me and slumps herself down into the armchair opposite. I’m relieved. The idea of post-coital cuddles with another woman would be going too far. It was curiosity. Sex. Carnal desire. A physical release. An adventure. But it’s Alexandre I want, not a woman. That’s clear to me. Crystal clear - however much fun I’ve just had.

  I still stand by my resolution, though. I won’t accept marriage if I have to live in a proverbial threesome with Sophie.

  I observe Alessandra. She’s lying back in the chair, her legs stretched out before her, her pretty toes pointed, her bare golden torso smooth as caramel.

  “I have extremely intense orgasms, Pearl,” she whispers. “Afterwards, I feel drained – wiped-out. This one’s been building for a long time, thanks to you. Excuse me, I just feel like resting a while,”

  I take the terry robe which has been strewn over the back of the couch and put it back on. “That’s fine,” I whisper back. I notice her eyes are closed now. Good. I can leave - slip away and she won’t get upset. Phew.

  I tiptoe to the bathroom, untie my wrists and gather my clothes together. I check out my butt in the mirror. It’s red, alright, with a couple of obvious welts. Lucky Alexandre won’t be around to see. I pull the jiggle balls out, wash them with hot soapy water and leave them by the sink – somehow I don’t think I’ll be using these again, fun as they were. I get dressed back into my panties and jeans, gently easing each article of clothing over my sore behind, trying not to graze the sensitive skin. I quickly put my bra and T-shirt back on. My sweater must be in the kitchen.

  I tiptoe past her. “Bye,” I say quietly but she doesn’t hear me. Or she’s pretending not to. What a fascinating character. It seemed like it was her mission to kiss me and now she got what she wanted she feels as if she’s won me in some way. But I won’t be returning.

  I grab my sweater and handbag from the kitchen. I check inside for my car keys, but now I remember…I didn’t put them there because they always get lost in an ocean of darkness. Where did I leave them? By the stove? In a bowl? Where? Lucifer trots into the kitchen, light on his paws, and starts doing a pole dance against the furniture and my legs.

  “Where did I put my keys, Lucifer?” I whisper. I don’t want to wake Alessandra, I need to hightail it out of the scene of the crime – yes, I do feel as if I’ve broken the law. CSI could be arriving any minute to scan for evidence. I am a naughty girl, no two ways about it.

  As if by magic, Lucifer jumps up onto one of the worktops and starts clawing at another basket piled high with bills. “You clever puss,” I marvel, finding the BMW rental keys right there. “Are you a warlock pussycat? Do you understand human talk?”

  He meows as if answering and stares at me with his shimmering green eyes. Jesus, this cat really is magic! I grab the keys from the basket and then something catches my eye. Again! But this time it isn’t a letter. It’s a photo peeking out from under a bill. I freeze. Is it really…? No, surely not. My hearts starts pounding. I ease it out from the pile.

  Alessandra…and yes, unmistakably…Sophie. Nude bodies entwined in an intimate embrace, Sophie’s hand on Alessandra’s breast -
both grinning away at the camera. The picture tells a story…best friends? Nuh, uh - I don’t think so. They look like a couple in love.

  I grab the photo and shove it in my purse.

  And run.

  Chapter Eleven

  I drive the car over the creek very carefully as frogs have gathered for their night-time chit-chat and I don’t want to run any over. The noise is impressive as they croak in the pebbled rush of water amongst the bulrushes. Once I am safely out of sight from Alessandra’s lair, I pull the car over at the end of the potholed driveway, kill the engine and turn on my cell which has been switched off for hours.

  There are six voicemail messages. I listen to the first.

  “Pearl darling, we got cut off. As I said, I’m on my way to L.A. I’ve organized a plane. Can you meet me at the Van Nuys Airport in…I don’t know, five hours or so?”

  No mention of Sophie. As if he hadn’t heard a word I said.

  Next voicemail: “Pearl, chérie, why aren’t you picking up? I’m about to take off. I’m gutted about what you told me. Hang on in there. We’ll talk about all this when I see you. It was not your fault, baby. We all have a past. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And don’t think I won’t hunt those fuck-heads down for what they did to you. But first we have our marriage to attend to. I’ve organized it all and we’re going to Vegas tonight. Meet me at the Van Nuys Airport and I’ll pick you up there. The pilot will wait and we’ll fly to Las Vegas.”

  Again, nothing about Sophie or separating the business. This guy has not heard me. He thinks we can just marry and that will be that - everything sorted, solution over! No, Alexandre, I will not just marry you in Vegas before you’ve dealt with HookedUp first! Especially now that I know Sophie has been screwing with me and my movie deal right from the beginning – she is Alessandra’s LOVER! A coincidence – I don’t think so!

  Next voicemail – sent five hours later. “Landed, baby. Your cell is still switched off, what the fuck is going on? I’m really worried now.”

  Finally, the penny is dropping.

  Next voicemail: “Okay, baby, I get it; you’re really pissed off about Sophie. I swear I’ll deal with it but please, please trust me on this. I just want us to get married. We’ll be a team and we can sort it out together. Where are you? I’ve hired a car, I’m on my way to the hotel in Santa Monica.”

  Next voicemail. His voice sounds as if he’s almost in tears. “Baby, they say you checked out. I’m so worried, you alone in L.A. and stuff. The only thing I can think of, right now, is that you’re at Alessandra’s. But she’s not picking up her phone, either. I’m on my way there now. Please don’t leave. Please, Pearl. I beg you. I need you. I’m coming to find you.”

  Next voicemail…hang on, this isn’t him. A woman’s voice. An English accent. Educated, softly-spoken. “Pearl, you don’t know me. I’m sorry to bother you like this. I finally tracked down your number. My name is Laura. Alexandre’s ex…maybe you know who I am?”

  My heart is pounding through my sweater, my hands burst with a sheen of sweat - a prickly nausea envelops my entire body. Why I feel so nervous I’m not sure…a premonition?

  The urgent but friendly voice goes on: “I’m calling to warn you. Sophie is really crazy. She could be out to hurt you. I’m sorry but….” There’s a long pause…. “I had a terrible accident several years ago and could have died. It wasn’t an accident at all. Sophie tried to kill me.”

  I press my ears closer to my phone. There’s a slight pause and the voice continues:

  “Why do you think I broke up with Alexandre? I had to keep well away. Stay away from her, too, Pearl. I know you love Alexandre but you’re life is at stake. She’s powerful. She’s even more dangerous now than then. She knows people…she could have you topped off at the click of her fingers. Do not go to Vegas. It’s too dangerous for you there. She owns great chunks of it… hotels et cetera, corrupt police officers, officials all in her pocket like little pawns doing whatever she asks. Sophie could do anything and will, believe me. I won’t bother you again but as one woman to another, I thought I owed you this. Goodbye, Pearl. Good luck.”

  I feel sick - all this information flooding into my exhausted brain like sewerage. Sophie tried to kill Laura? Then why does Laura still go to Alexandre’s house in Provence with her husband for vacations knowing she might bump into Sophie? Alexandre told me they were friends and that Sophie thought ‘the sun shone out of Laura’s ass.’ Unless…he was lying, sticking up for his sister, as usual. Painting her with a rose-tinted brush when, in fact, Sophie still hates Laura. Jesus – she tried to murder her? That nutcase will stop at nothing!

  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Sophie and Alessandra are a couple????? Or if not a couple, best friends/lesbian fuck buddies. Alessandra lied to me, pretended she’d only ever spoken to Sophie, that she didn’t know her personally. I was totally set up by Sophie. It was all planned out! Alessandra Demarr was suggested for the movie role by Sam Myers, meanwhile Sam Myers in cahoots with Sophie from word go. Clever, really clever. Knowing I wanted a female lead for the role, Samuel Myers put the idea of Alessandra Demarr into my head – made it look like it was my choice all along. Or was it my choice? Now I can’t even remember our conversation.

  Alessandra and Sophie lovers? But Sophie’s married! She has a step-daughter. Alexandre never mentioned anything about his sister being gay.

  Never before have I felt such a fool. So dumb. Summa cum laude? They got that wrong, alright. What a dense dumbass I’ve been, congratulating myself on getting a gay female lead who is not only Sophie’s lover but who also seduced me! No, worse! She didn’t even have to seduce me – I was up for it. Like putty in her hands. Acting like a little slut again.

  I got snagged right into Sophie’s spider web. Tangled right in the middle of her Black Widow trap.

  Laura’s right, Vegas would be suicide.

  I put the car into drive and move off. Great, I told Alessandra where I was going. Sophie could have me tracked down in Kauai. But I guess Sophie would find me anywhere in the world – she has the means and with GPS as sophisticated as it is nowadays hunting me down would be a piece of cake if she set her mind to it. She wants me to back off from Alexandre. And I want her to back off. Who is going to win this duel?

  It depends on him. Who does he love more? His own flesh and blood? Or me? He once told me that the expression, blood is thicker than water doesn’t exist in the French language. If so, he’d better prove it.

  As I’m moving off, a car is pulling into Alessandra’s driveway but I can’t see the face of the person behind the wheel. Alexandre? Jesus, maybe it’s Sophie. Either way, I rev my engine and double my speed. I look in my rear-view mirror and think the driver hasn’t seen me, but I’m wrong. The car is screeching in a U turn and coming right after me. I hang a sharp left on PCH in the direction of LAX, just getting the green light in time and flatten my foot on the accelerator. If it’s Sophie, I need to outrun her. Alexandre, ditto. I know him – he’s so persuasive he’ll have me on that plane, abducting me and whisking me off to Vegas to tie the knot. He’s used to getting what he wants.

  Well not this time, buddy.

  My foot is all the way down. I’m cruising fast. This BMW is smooth and speedy – thank God I traded in the Cadillac. I’m outrunning the driver, way ahead but can see its headlights flashing at me. I feel as if I’m in some car chase in a movie and it gives me a wicked thrill as a surge of adrenaline spikes my veins. The driver is careering about corners with a keen, formula one style. Uh, oh, I recognize that technique – that easy panache, those gear changes. I see what kind of car it is – a sleek, black Mercedes – yes, that’s him, that’s Alexandre. I don’t stand a chance. We are both hell bent for leather, flying two times past the speed limit as if we were on a German autobahn. We’ll both be arrested, for sure. He’s catching up with me now, zooming between two other cars. He has overtaken me and I can’t do a U turn.

  I’m busted. If I don’t want us bot
h killed I’d better pull over. I see a safe spot up ahead and pull into a restaurant parking lot. He does the same a little way ahead. My heart’s pounding but I’m secretly enjoying the attention. A twenty-five year old sex-god, babe-magnet, the best looking-man-in-the-Universe is tracking me down and wants to take me to Vegas to marry him! Hello? Am I dreaming? He’s running towards my car now and I can’t help it; a huge grin is spread right across my face. I zap down my window, trying so hard to stifle my beaming smile, biting the insides of my cheeks. But he’s got my number.

  He leans into the open window of my car. “Quite a madwoman, aren’t you? Trying to get us both killed?”

  “I meant what I said, Alexandre,” I say, pursing my lips to stop myself laughing, my only ammunition against his drop-dead gorgeous smile – a smile that’s giving me butterflies and turning my stomach inside-out. “I’m not going to Vegas with you; I’m going to visit my father in Kauai.”

  He opens my door and leans in, his apple-mint breath on my face. He says in a soft, low voice, his face touching mine, “Correction. We are going to Vegas. Now. I’m going to marry you tonight or,” he looks at his watch, “early tomorrow morning as it’s already ten thirty. “Then we are going to Kauai for our honeymoon.”

  “NO!” I shout. But it’s too late. He grabs the keys out of the ignition and scoops me out of the driver’s seat and hauls me over his shoulders as if I’m a weightless doll. He walks round to the trunk.

  I’m kicking and flailing about. “Put me down Alexandre!”

  “No. You’re acting like a child, Pearl, and need to be treated like a child.” He opens the trunk and takes out my suitcase - awkward but he manages. His determination and strength have him holding the suitcase in one hand and the other clamped about my rear in a tight vice. He locks the car with the remote. He’s marching forward now towards his hire car, his arm still clenched around me. Ouch, my sore, whipped butt hurts! I can’t escape, he has me in a firm hold. The fireman’s lift. Oh yes, he knows I love this fireman thing, however much I’m screaming and kicking.