challenge inspiring, even more so than the money. She had become so enamored in fact that she only peripherally entertained the question of why Clarrisa wanted to hire a prostitute instead of a professional sex surrogate. She decided that it really didn't matter, so long as she could do the job herself.
"Yes, I'll do it." She nodded her head, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "In fact, it sounds like it would be grand fun."
Clarrisa seemed to visibly relax, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Excellent. Then let's get started; we haven't much time. Stand up."
Shasta did so. Clarrisa stood herself, then took Shasta's hands and positioned her a short distance away from the table.
"Take off your clothes."
Shasta felt her jaw drop as her eyes popped out. "Here? Now?"
"Yes, yes!" She made an impatient gesture. "I want to see if you are stimulating enough."
Shasta felt her cheeks and neck grow warm as she blushed, feeling uncomfortable. "Ah, no, I think it would be better if I undressed in front of him; more erotic that way."
"But you don't understand, I've shown him pictures of naked women and he has been suitably aroused each time, but any woman he has met personally has been fully clothed. I don't believe he's made the connection between the two images."
"Oh, now, wait a minute. That's ridiculous, unless he's a simpleton or something."
Clarrisa's expression turned cold and she gripped Shasta's left upper arm hard enough to hurt. When she spoke, her voice had an edge to it sharp enough to draw blood. "My son has an IQ of 280, but he is incredibly naive about many basic things." Her tone then turned commanding. "As I've said, we haven't much time, so do as I say." And she released Shasta with a slight push.
There had been times in her life when Shasta had been physically scared, but even when in the clutches of a sadistic client she had always managed to remain calm and in control. Clarrisa's sudden change in manner terrified her in a way no physical threat ever had and it left her delirious. She hastily complied as Clarrisa scrutinized her in a critical manner. It didn't take her long. All she had been wearing was a tube-top and a pair of short-shorts, with no underwear or hose. She even removed her knee-high boots, though she didn't know why. She just instinctively felt that Clarrisa had demanded she denude herself completely. Only after she finally stepped away from her tiny pile of clothes did she remember the nook was enclosed on three sides by glass. The alcove and its contents would be clearly visible to anyone outside, and the fact that the mansion stood alone in the country over twelve miles outside of Denver did not prevent her arms from reflexively covering herself.
With her face a stony mask, Clarrisa circled Shasta as if she examined a priceless statue. When she came back around in front of her, however, she smiled, though still somewhat coldly. She stepped up closer and gently pulled Shasta's arms down to her sides. Then she laid the fingertips of both hands on her shoulders. Slowly she traced a line down around the outsides of her voluminous breasts, across her stomach, and then along the edges of her hips, before dropping off her thighs. Finally she stepped back and grinned.
"Fantastic!" She seemed to gush with excitement. "Absolutely fantastic. My son won't be able to keep his hands off you."
Shasta didn't believe she really wanted to go through with the whole affair anymore. Clarrisa's rage, coming as it did so quickly after her seeming implorations, had thoroughly unnerved her, and her subsequent examination of her body hadn't restored her confidence. But considering her present condition, she felt she had gone too far to back out. Besides, she suddenly realized that the thought of what Clarrisa might do to her if she tried terrorized her.
She shivered, despite the warmth of the room, and Clarrisa turned and walked briskly to a cabinet set into the interior wall. Opening it, she pulled out a floor-length red satin robe and took it back to Shasta, holding it out to her. She accepted it and quickly put it on, grateful for some slight protection at least.
Clarrisa focused on her head. "Oh, let your hair down."
Shasta reached up and pulled out the pins holding her tresses in place, handing them to Clarrisa. The soft, honey-gold mass dropped to the middle of her back and over her shoulders. Clarrisa actually yelped with joy and clasped the sides of her face. "Absolutely fantastic! My son loves blond hair."
Despite her dread, Shasta couldn't help smiling herself. Clarrisa's enthusiasm was infectious. And it had the affect of making her feel more comfortable.
Clarrisa took hold of Shasta's right wrist, gently but firmly. "All right, then, come on. Let's get this show on the road." And she began towing her out of the room.
Taken by surprise, Shasta nearly lost her balance. When she regained it she then began resisting slightly, pulling back and dragging her feet. "Wait, what about my things?"
Clarrisa didn't stop, but turned her head and gave her an irritated look. "Oh, for heaven's sake, leave them. You'll get them back when you're finished, so don't worry, I'll take good care of them. Now come on!" She quickened her pace and pulled all the harder.
Shasta continued to resist at first, but had to quicken her pace into a trot to keep up. The two women made their way to the stair hall, then climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. The hardwood floors on the first story and the marble steps were chilly on the soles of her feet and the rapid staccato of Clarrisa's heels made her worry about getting her toes stepped on, but the carpeting at the second story landing felt comfortably warm, and it muffled the clack of the heels.
From "Survival & Sacrifice"
"Hey! Stop hoggin' the mirror, ya butthead!"
Eile stood beside Sunny in front of the bathroom's small vanity. It really had been designed to be used by just one person, so both of them together made it somewhat crowded, and Sunny's huge mane of gamboge hair didn't help matters any, either. Then again, the rooms in the suites on the third story of Differel's ancestral manor were rather small to begin with, pretty much comfortable only for single persons. She and Sunny normally didn't mind, because they enjoyed the intimacy, but there were times when it became bothersome.
Like when they were in a hurry and trying to put on makeup at the same time.
They were visiting Differel and Henry for a few days, and the aristocrat had decided to throw an impromptu semi-formal dinner party. They had spent the whole afternoon shopping for new clothes in King's Lynn and nearly didn't make it back in time. They rushed through a shower together and threw on their new threads, with just barely enough time to make themselves presentable.
"I just need a few more seconds!" Sunny replied. There were few times when she lost her temper, but interfering with her primping was one.
"Like you need it." She elbowed Sunny over so she could brush on mascara.
"I'm not some kinda supermodel, you know." Sunny leaned back in to paint on lip gloss.
"More like a bimbo centerfold--watch it!" A lock of Sunny's hair flapped into her face.
"I'll be done in two shakes of a lamb's tail; can't you wait?"
"We're late enough as it is. Diff's gonna blow her top if we show up after the horse doovers are served."
"That's hors d'oeuvres, you Philistine."
She flashed Sunny a dirty look. "Put a sock in it."
A loud kerfumple sounded from somewhere close by.
"What was that?!" Sunny looked off in the direction of the sound.
"How the hell should I know, ya ditz?" But it almost sounded like someone running into a door.
"Come on, let's check it out." And Sunny skipped off into the bedroom as Eile jogged after her. She reflected how, even after so many adventures together, her partner still tended to go running off into the face of possible danger without thinking.
Nothing looked amiss in the bedroom, other than their street cloths and underwear scattered across the bed and floor where they dropped them in their haste to change. Nor did they see anything wrong in the drawing room. Eile had just about convinced herself that the sound was nothing important, when S
unny opened the door to their suite and jumped away from the threshold with a squeal.
A Caerleon Order guard lay just outside, face down in a pool of his own blood.
Sunny knelt to feel the pulse on his neck as Eile sprinted forward. She scanned the hallway; to the right lay the corridor that gave access to the gymnasium, game room and chapel, while to the left the passage led to the solar. Both were empty.
"He's dead."
"No shit, Sherlock." Eile didn't look down. "Gimme his rifle."
Sunny passed up the L85A2 assault gun. "He must've hit the door when he was killed."
Eile released the magazine and examined it; it was loaded, and it looked to be a full thirty rounds, but she couldn't be sure. "Does he have any more ammo?" She fitted it back in place and cocked the weapon.
Sunny opened a snap pouch on his belt and pulled out two STANAG magazines. She held them up as she removed his L106A1 service pistol.
"Huh. We're gonna be handicapped hauling these clips around with us."
Sunny retrieved two 15-round pistol magazines and his combat knife. The British Armed Forces didn't have a standard-issue knife, but Differel made sure all her troops had a Gerber Mark II.
"I've got an idea." Sunny slipped the knife into one of her designer boots and stood up. "Keep watch." She slipped past Eile back into the room.
Eile went out into the hall, thumbing the
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