Stiletto Dolls

by C. L. Black

  Danielle shot back. “What did you expect, baby, a brand spanking new lipstick red Ferrari F-Four-Thirty?”

  “Fuck yeah! That would be so cool.” Catherine eyed the tiny pink car from end to end. “Did that K-K chick forget her Barbie car?”

  “Just get in, baby.” Danielle opened the driver’s door.

  “Whatever.” With a huff, Catherine slid into the driver’s seat. She started Drivers’ Ed classes at school, but quit when they told her she couldn’t wear her boots. They said it was dangerous. Now, she was about to drive in higher heels. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  Without bothering with the door, Danielle hopped into the passenger seat. “Buckle up, baby.”

  “It’s stuck!” Catherine was pulling on the seat belt. “It won’t budge. Really!”

  “What?” Danielle unhooked hers, reached across the student and attempted to free Catherine’s.

  They were face to face. Catherine made her next move. Filling her chest, she leaned forward. She did her best to tempt Danielle to steal a kiss.

  Danielle’s back bumped against the steering wheel. “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself, teach.” Less than an inch separated their naked lips. The words practically dripped right into Dani’s open mouth. You want some? Don’t ya, baby? I can almost…

  “Got it!” Danielle pulled back, safety belt firmly in moist palm. “There you go, baby.” She clicked the belt in. “Now, I feel safer.” She sat back and buckled her own.

  “Yeah, me too,” sulked Catherine, starting the three-cylinder seventy-horse engine. She searched for the gear thingy. The wind left her sails. “What the fuck?” She searched again. “Where the fuck is it?”

  “Paddle shifters.”

  “What?”

  Danielle chuckled as she pointed to and then explained, “Smart Cars don’t have a stick, baby. The transmission uses an electro-hydraulic mechanism to facilitate gear changes. Just tap the right paddle to go up and the left to drop a gear. Like this. See?”

  Baby looked on as Danielle selected first gear. “Whatever.” Geek.

  “Try not to hit anything, baby!”

  Flooring the gas she said, “Don’t fucking call me, baby!” The tiny car slowly accelerated, briefly spinning its skinny tires on the wet asphalt.

  “Whatever, yourself.” Danielle rechecked her belt, folded her arms then turned away. Baby!

  “This way?” Catherine drove off, down the drive toward the main gate, never once touching the shifter paddle. The little engine screamed for mercy. The rev limiter prevented any physical damage. The drawbridge was down. She neared the closed gate, showing no sign she intended to stop. “Hey! What’s your problem?”

  “The brake is that big peddle on the left.” Danielle swung her head around in time to see the massive gate filling her view just before she closed her eyes. Expecting the worst, she tensed her legs together. Hope the airbags work. “The one on the left!” The car didn’t slow. She shouted, “This is your car!” Too late. The accident occurred just as she had dreaded it would.

  “Really?” Catherine stabbed the brake pedal. “This one?” The car squealed, and stopped a foot shy of the closed gate. “Pretty good, huh?”

  “Not quite ready for the real world. The gate stays shut for today, baby.”

  “Not in this stupid outfit!” Catherine sighed, “What are you looking at?”

  “Back it up, baby. All the way, up the drive,” growled Danielle with a frown. Only a little. Thank God for vinyl and pads. The doctors all said it was genetic. That didn’t make her feel any better when it happened. Her face warmed. As the car backed, Danielle applied her favorite lip gloss, hot cherry, just in case.

  The balance of that first driving lesson went by without additional drama. Catherine demonstrated her skills, on par with most new drivers’. She needed to think more, talk less to herself, and look further ahead. Tomorrow, Danielle would teach them how to park. Wednesday’s lesson would include a demonstration on the dangers of texting while driving. Next week's would include spotting a simple tail.

  No!

  Back in the BMW in Paris

  “No!” screamed Petra in horrible disbelief. “Some sick fucking joke of yours?” She was looking directly at KK.

  Jane placed her hand on Petra’s chin, gently redirecting it to hers. “No dear. Tragically, it’s no joke.”

  “It’s true?” asked Petra, turning back to KK.

  She managed only a nod before bursting into tears.

  “Yes, Petra. It happened sometime last night. Your mother’s flight went missing, somewhere over the Atlantic. Very little is known. It just bloody vanished. Search teams are already combing their last known position. We mustn’t give up hope, love. There may be survivors.”

  “I’m sorry, I keep bawling.” KK tried, but was unable to prevent more tears. “Where’s the tissues?”

  “Here!” Jane planted the whole box in KK’s lap—“Keep quiet”—pulling a clump of tissues free while KK held the box with both hands. “Wipe your nose.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Such a sweet girl,” said Petra, taking hold of KK, soothing her back.

  “I will be okay. Petra will be okay.”

  “KK, you promised, Miss Jane. You need to be strong to help your friend.”

  “I know.” KK took the tissue from Jane’s hand, wiping her eyes and nose. “I’m okay now.”

  “Good girl. I see that we are almost at the hotel. Such a shame we must meet your papa now.” Bloody hell. “It’s just not the best time.”

  “Maybe we should wait till tomorrow?” offered KK between sniffles.

  “Yes, I agree. Petra will be our only concern. I’m sure we’ll have received the good word by tomorrow.”

  “Bloody paparazzi,” growled Jane. A group of them were waiting outside the hotel entrance. “Karla, take us to the side.”

  “No!” demanded KK. “I think Petra is okay,” wiping her nose with Jane’s hand full of tissues.

  “Yes. But what of you, girlfriend?” asked Petra, taking over for Jane.

  “Miraculous recovery,” said Jane with an overtly surly tone.

  The BMW pulled up at the front of the Trianon Palace Versailles. The doorman opened the sedan’s rear door, greeted them, “Welcome to the— Ah! It is you, and Miss Krump. I shall have your luggage delivered to your suite at once.”

  KK stepped out first. “No luggage. Just ourselves.” She waved at the gathered throng.

  They spotted the prize. The place went nuts with flashes, pushing, and shoving. The shouting started, “This way! Look! This way! KK! Ja. Flash-flash-flash. Who’s your new friend?” The blinding strobes continued. “Show us some! Oui! More!” They showed no sign that it would end.

  “Very good, Miss Krump. I hope your stay is most enjoyable. Hey you! Leave her!”

  The crowd yelled for KK to show a little more. She slipped back in the car. “Close the door!” As Jane and Petra watched, KK did a quick rework of her costuming. “Trust me.”

  She knew they’d all race back to wherever; each desperate to be first to file their photo and claim their prize. This time out, she paused, giving each a lens full of well-manicured kitten. One by one they stole the money shot and bolted. The value of KK’s close up was already going down as Petra stepped out onto the battlefield.

  “Always works,” managed KK between sniffles. Suddenly she felt faint again, leaning on Petra for support.

  DNA… Jane stuffed KK’s pink panties in her bag, kept her head down, and joined the fray. Hiding behind a pair of pink sun glasses, she held back until the bloody tourist’s flashes subsided. They escorted KK into the lobby and marched straight through, direct to the lifts. KK removed a golden key card from her small purse. Jane stuck it in the slot on the control panel and removed it. Dubai… What did she say?

  “It works in all of Papa’s hotels.” KK pounded the highest button.

  “Is Papa in this evening?” inquired Jane, her tone a little too even.

&n
bsp; “Not sure. I’ll check.” KK removed her mobile from her purse. “Damn him!” her face burst into flames. She turned away. She couldn’t face Jane now. Papa had broken her promise.

  “What is it?” asked Petra. She’d never seen KK so angry.

  “KK! Calm down.” Jane waited a beat then said, “Take a deep breath. Remember, you promised.”

  “Okay! All right!” She swatted them away. “He can’t keep doing this! I told him how very important it is to me.”

  “I’m sure there’s a good reason,” said Petra in Papa’s defense.

  The lift groaned then lurched to a stop. “Papa’s lift needs some mending,” said Jane as they waited for the doors to open.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Jane? Make it go!” KK wasn’t angry. She was terrified.

  “It’s okay, love. Miss Jane will fix it.” Jane pressed the floor button again. Nothing happened.

  “Please make it go.” KK was shaking, fear overtaking her. “Now!” She was as white as her silk dress.

  “It’s okay. Miss Jane is right here.” Jane inspected the control panel. “Everything’s okay, sweetie. I’m sure your papa’s people will have this resolved directly.” Not waiting for the next tragedy, Jane pulled KK into her arms. She hugged the doll tight, like one would a frightened child and began the diversion. “Petra, KK tells me you are to be Miss Wet. You must be excited, yes?”

  Petra understood and joined in. “Why, yes, I’m so pleased that she thought me so deserving. Her other Hushgirls are so much more beautiful.”

  “What?” Big KK was back, “That’s rubbish. Petra, you are the most beautiful of all my Hushgirls.” She looked back to Jane. “But I did meet someone, just the other night, in New York. That one has real potential.

  “Oh?” Petra showed concern. “Who?”

  “Ja, ja. It’s true! And, just like you, not yet sixteen. Miss Christi introduced her to me at our celebration dinner. I was very late.” KK glanced at Jane and smirked. “They already finished dinner. I had some oysters. I almost missed her. You should have seen her outfit. Deliciously Femdom. Ja. She was with Vicki. I only said hello. But still.” She licked her lip. “She had the look. And oh, she had the bod to kill for! Ja. I think Lady Jack got a hard-on. Ja.” She giggled, “Me too.”

  “KK!” said Miss Jane, somewhat miffed. But the tingling and her rapidly stiffening nipples indicated otherwise. The real Jane was in complete agreement with KK’s most accurate assessment. Yum…

  “Oui, ja. Miss Jane knows who I mean. Don’t you?” asked KK, winking at Jane.

  “Yes, dear. That was Miss Christi’s granddaughter, Miss Catherine Black. But I don’t think she’s Hushgirl material.”

  “Oh, really; Miss Jane? I think she has just what we’re looking for at Hush-Hush. And that outfit! Those boots! I wish I could have stolen her away, right then; so magnificent!” She punctuated her argument with a telling smile. “Don’t you think, Jane?”

  “That’s Miss Jane! And no; I think Petra is just what you’re looking for.” She sensed KK’s funny brain was up to something. KK’s queer logic was always concerning. “Your papa; remember?”

  The lift lurched and started moving. They reached the penthouse level. The doors slid.

  KK let out a sigh. “I don’t think I could stand much more.” She hugged Petra and said, “I’m a little bit claustrophobic.” Her favorite color refilled her cheeks.

  “A little!” Miss Jane didn’t believe that for a second. “She still sleeps with the light on.” Miss Jane gave her little one a love smack on her bare bottom, allowing her hand to linger.

  “That’s okay. I’m a little bulimic,” said Petra. “Kidding!”

  Bloody hell… The Cougar wasn’t so sure.

  Tea Time

  Blachmann Castle, Wednesday, 3 June, 17:01 local

  Catherine stepped out on the veranda and into the afternoon sun.

  “Come, sit, my dear.” Miss Christi pointed to the white wicker next to hers. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes, Miss Christi. Please.” The kitten settled into the now familiar love seat.

  The Castle was located on one of the few high points in the otherwise marshy lowlands that dominated the New Hampshire coastline. From their second level perch, they enjoyed a commanding glorious panoramic view to the east. The estate’s original owners had insisted on unobstructed views of the Atlantic. The Castle sat atop a bulging mass of solid granite. The geography provided for both the desired views and the solid foundations to keep safe the Blachmann secrets that lay deep beneath.

  “Is there anything more you wish to tell me my dear?” Miss Christi sipped her tea. “Have a scone?”

  “No… What’s a scone?”

  “Well, then, is there anything else you wish to ask me?”

  “Yes.” She put her mouth on full auto and fired. “Is this place for real? Why are you doing this to me? Was I here once before? When can I go home? When can I stop wearing this stupid baby outfit? When do I get to be an assassin? Can I kill my mom first? What’s with the Miss Danielle and Mommy G act? Is she like a Sybil or something? Is Miss Superbitch—Miss Jane here? Can I call my dad? Do they know what goes on here? Isn’t this fucking illegal or something?”

  “Well, my dear, you have so many questions. If you slow down a bit, I will endeavor to answer all of yours. But first, will you answer just one, for me?”

  “One?” Catherine eyed her bare feet. “What is it?”

  “How did the boots come into your possession?”

  “Why the fuck does it matter? Who cares who gave me my fucking boots?”

  “I told you, just one. Those boots. How did you come to possess them?”

  “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell my mom?”

  “Why does it matter?” Miss Christi sulked.

  “Oh, it matters. She’ll fucking kill me!”

  “Please my dear, have some tea.”

  “Tea? Nah. Do you promise? Do yah, Miss Christi? Huh?”

  “Yes, dear. I can honor that promise. However, I shall only keep it as long as you remain open and truthful with me. Are you in agreement with these terms, my dear?”

  “Yeah. I agree.”

  “Very good my dear. Provide me with your answer. Who gave you the boots?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “It was the day after Christmas, on a Friday, in the morning. My mom and dad had to work. Can you believe that? Anyway, the package was addressed to me, but was sent care of my friend’s mom. The shipping label said it came from Germany. You know, like FedEx.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah, and there was this note.”

  “A note? How exciting!” Miss Christi perked up. “What did it say?”

  “Not really sure; it was written in German. I googled the shipping address. It was one of those package drop-off places. You know? Like a Kinko’s.”

  “Germany, you say?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah, I think. Okay! I lied. It was—day before Christmas. I think. And there wasn’t any fricken address. They’re my boots!”

  “Yes, dear, they are. And the note?”

  Catherine didn’t answer. She looked at the silver tea pot, so polished. She saw MK’s, too revealing, twisted, reflection. She crossed her legs and thought for a minute. How humiliating! She noticed Miss Christi glancing at her way-too-short baby dress. Fuck it! Tell her.

  “I gave it to my friend. We’re like, best friends. Yeah, her mom tutored me in German. I so sucked at it. My mom made me go. It’s so stupid. We were in my bedroom. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying on the boots. They’re a perfect fit, you know.”

  “Yes, dear. The note; who was it addressed to? What did it say?”

  “Her mom came in and saw me in the boots and totally freaked.”

  “Yes, yes, my dear; what happened?”

  “Nothing happened!”

  “Nothing?” asked Miss Christi in disbelief.

 
; “Wait! You think I’m a fucking dyke or something? No. Well, her mom stared at me—them! The boots, I mean. Like, forever. She couldn’t take her eyes off me—the boots!” Shut up.

  “The boots? I see. Can you elaborate on the note?”

  “Well, yeah, but this is where it gets a little weird. Her mom walked over and took the note. She read it to herself. I asked her what it said. At first, she didn’t say anything. She just closed her eyes. We waited and watched, for, what seemed like, fucking forever.”

  “Yes.” Miss Christi stated patiently.

  “Yeah. When she finally opened her eyes, it was like—” Catherine looked out to sea and took a deep breath. “Like, she was in like—in a fucking trance, or something. Then she started crying. I mean like, she was like, bawling her eyes out. I got the note back. But it was too late. Her mom’s tears had like, dissolved most of it. Pretty fuckin’ weird, huh? I could barely read the last line. Just the initials at the bottom. K—”

  “K-G-B.”

  “Hey! How’d you know?”

  “Katrina GoodKnight Blachmann.”

  “Yeah. That’s the name I used on my fake ID too. I thought it sounded way cool.”

  “I agree, dear; way cool.” Miss Christi was gazing at the portrait.

  Catherine didn’t realize and kept going. “You must have seen it in my wallet, right? Anyway, we both laughed. Then, Natasha started bawling again.”

  That brought Miss Christi back. She exclaimed, “Natasha!” Her heart was pounding. She’d just been ripped from her dead lover’s arms. She reached for her tea, spilling some. A minute later, she discreetly dabbed, and calmly asked, “Then what happened, dear?”

  Still unaware, she continued, “After a while her mom finally chilled. She said the note said the boots were a gift. It also said that my parents didn’t want me to have them. Her mom said not to let my parents see me in them. Guess I should have listened?”