Coed Demon Sluts_Beth

by Jennifer Stevenson

  “Um, I was in varsity volleyball in high school,” Beth muttered.

  “Really?” Amanda said with more interest than I’d heard in her voice ever.

  And once again, a new-girl orientation moment got defused. I wondered how long it would be before this soul-bruised soccer-mom-slash-society-wife got her shit together.

  We were pulling in the garage door at the Lair when Jee’s phone rang.

  “Well, well, well, looky who’s calling here. Hey, sport, how does the tattoo feel? Oh, you didn’t? Amanda’s not gonna like that.”

  She held the phone out to us, but all I could hear was a frantic quacking. She put it back to her ear.

  “No shit? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. They did? I see.” She listened for long enough to get us up the metal stairs into our living quarters.

  I took off my fancy shoes and threw them through my bedroom door. Then I padded barefoot to the kitchen and pulled beers out of the fridge. Jee was in there, still listening to her phone, knocking the cap off a brew on the counter edge.

  “Hey!” I said. “Use a church key, dammit.”

  “Shh,” she said. “No, not you. Are you done yet?” Her tone turned steely. “Because here’s what the rules are, li’l buddy.” She paused. “Are you listening? Good. This is a test. You will not squeal. You will not bring anyone here. You will sit tight and demonstrate your trustworthiness. If you meet anyone who tries to boss you around there, you will be a good boy, but you will not tell anyone anything about us, the Regional Office, or your role here. Got that? Excellent. You’ll be out of there by tomorrow.” She thumbed off the phone and tossed it on the kitchen table.

  “Aren’t you gonna tell him you won’t prosecute?” I said.

  She looked at me over her long-neck. “Would you?”

  “Oh, I’m glad he’s all right,” Beth said.

  Jee and I rolled our eyes in unison.

  We sent Beth off to her room with her purchases so she could snip tags off and wallow.

  Then I fired up the Margaritaville machine and made three pitchers, so as not to interrupt the flow, sat the other girls down at the kitchen table, got out my tablet, and took the house calendar—Croyden Roller Derby’s pinup calendar, very tasty—off the wall.

  “Okay, business.”

  A chorus of whines and groans greeted this.

  “I mean it. The general contractor is coming tomorrow. If we plan well, and if we’re extremely lucky, we may be without running water and a toilet for just a couple of weeks.”

  “What?” Jee said, outraged. I knew that would get her attention. “That will not happen.”

  “It will unless we ride them. Now someone needs to draw up plans. We don’t want to mess with permits and architects and shit, so the plans have to be good. First, go over the specs really well.” I handed my tablet across the table.

  Amanda got up abruptly and walked out. Jee sent an outraged glare after her, but before she could say what-the-fuck, Amanda was back, this time with her big-screen Mac laptop.

  Jee looked my tablet over carefully. “Where’s the steam room?”

  “There’s no room for it,” Amanda said, not looking up.

  “We could trim this bedroom five feet,” Jee said, pointing at the screen.

  “Fuck you. That’s my bedroom. Trim your own bedroom,” I suggested.

  Amanda was tapping.

  “No way!” Jee said. “I’m installing so many closets I’ll barely have room for my bed.”

  “Is that part of this reno? Because if so, it goes in the specs,” Amanda said.

  “No, I’ll have the closet company come in,” Jee said.

  “More expensive. Two sets of contractors.”

  “Hot and cold running carpenters,” Jee pointed out. “All for you, Amanda.”

  “You’re leaving them to me?” Amanda said.

  “Forget it. I’ve got my eye on the onsite manager,” Jee said.

  I snorted. “Why are you so damned picky?”

  “I’m not always picky. Just sometimes. Sometimes I want to like the person I’m fucking,” Jee said defensively.

  “Nice way to show you like him, getting him arrested,” Amanda commented without judgment.

  “Well, anyway, no steam room,” I said.

  “I think we can put that downstairs in the old locker room,” Amanda said. “Look.”

  She turned her laptop around and started pointing at it with her margarita straw. Jee and I leaned closer.

  Holy shit, she already had blueprints drawn. Scales for each page, wall thicknesses, studs marked, electrical conduit and outlets marked, water lines, AC ducting, the works. Jee and I looked at each other.

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Make it a big steam room. We may want to party in there sometimes,” Jee said.

  “Want it to double as a sauna?” Amanda said. “Cheaper.”

  “Fuck cheaper,” Jee said, predictably. “Separate sauna.”

  “There’s some kind of skanky sauna down on the factory level. Baz said in his note,” I reminded them.

  Amanda shook her head. “We’ll put in a new one and save that one for whatever. The locker room is huge. Here. New lockers, some nice shelves and storage, and we still have room for some athletic equipment. Just for grins, let’s ask them to get that big round fountain-shower thing working, too.” She pointed at the screen here and there, and Jee objected and complained and fussed and demanded.

  I love it when a team has all the bits you need. And I knew exactly what need Jee would fill.

  “The thing is,” I said, “I really feel for these guys. We want this done yesterday, and they’re only human, and it’s not natural for a contractor’s men to show up on the same site every damn day just because you paid them to and they promised to. They have four other jobs going on all the time. All the time. We’ll have to share them with their other clients.”

  “We will not,” Jee stated.

  “We can’t count on them staying on schedule,” I said patiently. “It’s not possible.”

  “Yes.” Jee’s teeth met with a click. “We can.”

  “Well, that means having someone here all the time, keeping an eye on them, checking the punchlist, checking the quality of the work, making sure they order materials early enough. Stuff like that. We don’t have time for that,” I said.

  Jee said, “I do. This will happen.”

  And I had my volunteer. “Oookay. I’ll pencil you in as bad cop.” One job down, one to go. “Amanda, can they build off these plans you’ve drawn up?”

  “Of course,” Amanda said, sounding offended. “I’ll make up some architect ID, if they insist on seeing it.”

  “Show ’em cash and they won’t ask to see it,” Jee said.

  I blinked. “Well, shit, that’s easy.”

  “Who’s gonna be good cop?” Amanda said. I would have to stop underestimating her.

  “I guess that’ll be me,” I said. “But I can’t do this all by myself.”

  “And what good will it do having Jee here with a cattle prod and a punchlist if they don’t show up?” Amanda added.

  “I know what’ll make them show up,” Jee said evilly.

  I stared at her. Really, I wasn’t going to have to work at this at all. “You’re right. Good thinking.”

  “This way we all get a crack at them, and they’ll be highly motivated to show up, on time, every day,” Jee said triumphantly.

  “It’s gonna take timing,” I said. “We don’t want anybody getting skipped, but we want to keep them eager. Tell you what. I’ll draw up a schedule, who gets which day, and plug in the names when they start showing up.”

  “That’ll look fancy, a fuck-the-help list stuck to our refrigerator door with Spongebob magnets,” Jee said. “Way to kill the suspense.”

  “Okay, I’ll tape it inside the freezer door on the fridge at the end over there,” I said. “With a pencil for marking off the scores. Are we set now? Amanda, can you have drawings printed out by tomorrow?”


  She nodded.

  “Jee, you’re bad cop. You and Amanda work out with the contractor what materials he’ll need, when he’ll start each phase, and throw so much cash at him that he forgets the word ‘no.’ The contractor and Amanda will make the punchlist and you’ll enforce it. I’ll develop the incentives program and post it over there,” I pointed at the fridge in the corner again, “where we can find it but they won’t.”

  We looked at each other across our empty margarita glasses. Jee smiled first. Amanda looked from Jee to me and laughed.

  I gave a happy sigh. Then I brought the Regional Office’s clunky official laptop over from the counter in the corner. “Okay, who has a score to report from today?”

  Beth walked into the kitchen in one of her brand new skin-tight lounge sets. “You scored today?” she said incredulously.

  Universal eyeroll.

  Beth

  When Beth woke up on her third day as a sex demon, no one else in the Lair seemed to be up yet. She had a clear shot at the bathroom—she was beginning to understand just how big an issue that was—and she was scampering in there in her old robe with shampoo clutched in one hand and her blow dryer in the other when she nearly walked smack into Amanda and a man with a clipboard.

  Beth shrank back, but Amanda grabbed her by the elbow and introduced her.

  “Beth, this is Carl, our general contractor. He’ll be doing this bathroom and the steam room and sauna downstairs. We also hope he can get that community shower thingy running.” She seemed totally at ease, standing there in her Jockey For Her underpants and sports bra.

  Carl put out a hand. He wasn’t bad looking, in a forty-and-sun-baked kind of way. Beth shook his hand and got a zing that shook her down to her bare feet. She pulled away, smiling nervously.

  Amanda said to Carl, “So you can get started this afternoon? Because we want this done in four days.”

  “Four days?” Carl squeaked.

  Amanda handed him a fat manila envelope and a roll of blueprints. “Four days. Eighteen hours a day. We’ll have someone here on-site every day to make sure your guys show up, help you keep on top of materials, check off the punchlist. Finish early, and there will be another one of these,” she gave him a peek inside the envelope, “one for you and one for every guy on the job.”

  Carl’s eyes got really big.

  She smiled, and suddenly Beth saw that a jock like Amanda could, too, exude pheromones. She swaggered closer to Carl and leaned into him. She was tall enough to look down into his bloodshot eyes. “Be sure to tell your workmen, we all run around in our underpants here.”

  Carl swallowed. Beth gave him credit for knowing that there was no appropriate response to this remark.

  Amanda continued, “I’ll want names in advance of everybody you send here. This is a secure facility. They can check in with Jee, who will give each foreman keys.”

  Carl looked into the envelope again. He was smiling. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Amanda leaned closer. Beth could swear that she patted Carl on the crotch. “I like your attitude, Carl. Let’s get started.”

  “Um?” Beth said. She held up her shampoo and blow dryer.

  “Oh. Right. And we’re going to need use of the bathroom for two hours a day.”

  “Really? Two?” Beth said. She might be new girl but she knew a few things about the succubi by now. “I mean, I can be fast.”

  “I’ll explain to Jee,” Amanda said. “Take your turn before the others wake up.”

  Beth fled into the grotty shower.

  When she came out of her bedroom half an hour later, Reg was in the kitchen, looking shopworn and miserable, drooping on a kitchen chair amid a huge pile of rather bedraggled-looking shopping bags from expensive stores, and surrounded by the succubi.

  To Beth’s amazement, they were being nice to him.

  Pog was pouring him coffee. Amanda was listening sympathetically to him gobble like a turkey about his horrific experience in the hands of the police. Jee was cooing over his purchases, taking each item out of its bag, holding it up, holding it against her own svelte form, then holding it up to Reg’s disheveled person and saying how well it would look on him.

  “You’re back!” Beth smiled. “I’m glad.”

  Pog shot her a funny look, but she put a paper plate in front of Reg, and a knife and fork.

  Reg looked Beth up and down. “You put clothes on.” He sounded disappointed.

  Pog caught Jee’s expression and said, “Don’t spoil it, Reg. You were doing so well.” She put a pan piled with bacon on the table. “Get yourself a plate, Beth.” Next she pulled a tray of giant, fragrant cinnamon rolls out of the oven and set them next to the bacon. Two pounds of butter were softening in big blocks next to the cinnamon rolls. “It’s a work day, so I had Ann Sather deliver.”

  Beth sat and served herself. “Tell me about the jail,” she said to Reg, feeling that Amanda had worked hard enough already.

  Reg repeated his grievances between bites of cinnamon roll, growing less querulous as he ate.

  “I’m sorry,” Jee said, sounding so deeply sincere that Beth did a double take. “As soon as they called me, I let them know you were okay to use my credit card. You can keep all these goodies.”

  “It was horrible. It was dirty. And the guy in my cell, uh,” he paused and looked down, “disrespected me.”

  “How much disrespect are we talking here?” Amanda said curiously.

  “Oh,” Reg mumbled, “a lot.”

  “It always seems bigger at the time,” Jee said in a wise tone.

  Reg flinched. “I just want to get into a shower and forget about it.”

  “Two problems, Reg,” Jee said. “Number one, they’re working on our bathroom today. Number two, that experience is going to be key to your special training. We’ll probably go over it once or twice from a couple of angles,” she added with a smile that made Beth double-take.

  At the mention of special training, Reg brightened. “I did what you said. I didn’t tell the cops anything about you, or my manager position here, or the Regional Office, or anything.”

  This didn’t mesh with what Beth had overheard him bleating as the cops shoved him into the squad car. The others must have overheard it too.

  But Jee only nodded. “Very good, Reg. Now I want you to go put your stuff in the bedroom at the end of the hall. Hang it all up nicely. Then come back here for an exercise.”

  Reg slurped down the last of his coffee, gathered up his shopping bags, and blundered eagerly out the kitchen door and down the hall.

  Amanda went to the door to watch. “He’s in his room.”

  “Okay,” Pog said, and sat down across from Beth with her coffee mug. “We have a problem. A Blake problem.”

  “What?” A chill rippled over Beth.

  “Saw this in the paper online,” Pog said, “Your ex-husband was questioned by the cops about your disappearance yesterday. And apparently he suggested that you know something about it.”

  “What?” This made no sense to Beth.

  “His ex-wife Beth Saunders is missing. Blake Saunders told the cops that a woman he met at Barclay’s the other night may have had something to do with it. He described you.”

  “He what?” Beth’s voice rose.

  “Fortunately, you didn’t give him a last name,” Pog said.

  “Smart,” Amanda said.

  Jee laid it out. “The problem is, we want to get into his place at the Doral. Now that he’s being watched by the cops, he’ll probably stay away from it for at least a few days. Perfect moment for us to get in there and search it, figure out what kind of monkey business he’s up to with money, maybe where he has it stashed. But. If anyone sees you near his place, they’ll remember you and mention you to the cops.”

  “We’ll have to disguise you,” Pog said.

  “Unless you’ve already learned to alter your appearance at will,” Amanda said.

  “I can do that?” Beth was bewildered.

  “Sure,�
� Pog said.

  Beth remembered Delilah telling her that she might change her new body until she liked it. She’d dismissed that promise at the time. It had seemed too improbable.

  “You look a bit like me,” Pog said. “Superficially anyway. We’ll do a twin thing, some subtle makeup to shift our facial bone structure, identical clothes.”

  “Will that work?” Beth said.

  “Throws witnesses off big time,” Pog assured her, as if she burgled cheating husbands’ secret love shacks every day.

  “I’m stuck here,” Jee said suddenly, looking thwarted. “This bathroom project. Dammit. I wanted to help you search that apartment.”

  “That’s right,” Amanda said. “I can do tech, but you’re the revenge queen.”

  “Switch with me?” Jee begged. “Pretty please, Amanda?”

  “I’m back!” Reg announced from the kitchen door.

  The succubi looked at one another.

  Beth blinked.

  “Reg,” Jee said, rising. “This is your chance to not fuck up.”

  He looked from one flawlessly beautiful young face to another, his utter lack of a clue in his eyes.

  Pog

  I didn’t know exactly what Jee had in mind.

  Reg was delighted. Clearly he felt he was about to start collecting some of the fringe benefits Ish must have led him to believe would be his, as superdupervisor of the coed demon sluts. The poor bastard. If he hadn’t been such a putz, I’d have felt sorry for him.

  We hustled Reg into the empty bedroom at the end of the hall. Beth tried to tag along, but Amanda gently peeled her off and sent her to my room to find something I had two of that would serve as a burglary costume.

  At a gesture from Jee, Amanda and I each took hold of one of Reg’s arms.

  Jee looked him in the eye. Then she started peeling her clothes off. Jee was currently long and lean and a rich bronzey brown, with a slender waist, boyish dimpled hips, delicate hands and feet, and small, high, spherical breasts.

  “You understand,” she said in her sharp, scary voice, “that this is physically a very demanding job.”

  Reg looked her up and down and up again. “Oh, yeah,” he said, almost reverently.