by King Key
“Or as good as oatmeal—if I follow Mom’s example. But I’m not talking about that kind of proposition. Remember? I said I’d forgive your debts if you’ll give me your blessing to bring Kurt Merchant to his knees. You’ve been there. It’s not so bad, is it?”
Judd squinted and frowned. “Gretel, honey, let me take that nap I mentioned.”
“Sure,” she smiled. “Then you can give me your answer. You can sleep in my bed.”
He grinned lecherously. “I couldn’t sleep! I’d keep thinking your body had been in that same bed! I’ll take the couch.” He walked into the living room and lay down.
“You dirty old man!” she laughed. She retrieved the afghan, which had fallen on the floor, and stretched it over him. “Mom made this,” Gretel beamed.
“Good for her,” Judd said. “When women make afghans, they’re usually pretty but impractical. This one’s big enough to cover a man and solid enough to keep him warm, without a fancy pattern that leaves holes in the blanket. Thanks again for the oatmeal. You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve better. Consider my proposition. Wouldn’t you like to be debt-free?”
“I’ll think about it, Gretel. But think about this: What if Kurt doesn’t wanna be completely at your mercy?”
She tucked Judd in and carefully pressed his forehead with the back of her hand. His temperature felt normal. “Judd, what if Kurt does want to be completely at my mercy—just like you are right now?”
“God, you’re as sly as a fox. Bottom line: Let’s see how Kurt feels about your idea.”
“I’ll take his feelings into consideration,” Gretel said, as if conceding a major point. She hoped Kurt would struggle hard against her, and fail miserably—to intensify her gratification. “See you this evening. Call me if you need me. My business card is on the coffee table with the phone.”
Gretel felt disappointed while she drove back to the hotel. She expected Judd to approve anything she intended to do to Kurt, in exchange for writing off all of Judd’s LAIR debts. How could he refuse? If Gretel foreclosed on his loans, she’d own virtually all of Judd’s earthly possessions. Gretel thought, Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe…
She frowned. Maybe she’d better keep an eye on Judd.
When Gretel reached the hotel, she asked at the desk for an additional key to her mother’s room. She’d give Mom a big surprise.
But Honey gave Gretel an even bigger surprise. When Gretel got to Honey’s door, she heard the familiar strains of “Bubbles in the Tar” by the Piltdown Men. Honey played the melody frequently—during her seductions or whenever she felt naughty.
And Honey taught both of her daughters the background of the tune: The Piltdown Men made their mark in the early ’60s with novelty tunes, but “Bubbles in the Tar” was a funky, slightly raunchy sounding instrumental. Listening to the music, Honey would visualize herself dancing in a cheap bar, picking up drunks, and rolling them. Her copy of the tune was a long compilation she made by repeatedly playing a very scratchy 45 rpm recording and committing it to tape about ten times in a row. She preferred the gritty tape recording to the clear version available on CD because it felt more real to her.
Putting her key in the door, Gretel crossed her fingers. Maybe her mother was just “practicing.” Opening the door, she confirmed that the effectiveness of crossing fingers is highly overrated.
Honey, squeezed into tight brown leather pants, bent over her dresser at a forty-five degree angle to her mirror to watch herself coax Rich Leckie’s cock to its stiffest. After he rammed her leather-clad rump a few times, she stood erect, slithered her pants down, and bent over again to let him ecstatically slide his cock back and forth in her ass. Honey waved, “Hi, baby.”
Rich, clearly embarrassed, nevertheless closed his eyes again and kept pumping into Honey. She had lured him past the point of no return, and he showed no inclination to withdraw from his blissful penetration of Honey.
Gretel’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh, gross!” But, as if watching a horror flick, she couldn’t pry her eyes away. Rich and Honey actually humped to the rhythm of the music, building to an intensity that matched the melodic crescendo, and yet holding off their climax until the tune repeated for another two minutes and twenty seconds or so. And then another repetition. Honey knew how to move her ass to regulate the friction she put on Rich’s cock, and Rich eagerly followed her lead in their “dance.” When “Bubbles in the Tar” played again, Honey manipulated Rich to another peak and energetically milked him to the accompaniment of the blaring sax.
“Thank you,” Rich said, pulling out, exhausted. His condom remained in Honey’s ass, and he retrieved it.
“Go shower,” she said. “I’ll take mine after you.”
“Hi, Gretel,” he said, avoiding eye contact and dropping his condom in a waist basket on the way to the bathroom.
“Does the condom usually get stuck like that?” Gretel asked.
Honey shrugged. “Who keeps track? I don’t know what’s usual. Why?” She wiggled out of her pants.
“But it does happen,” Gretel mused.
“I know that look. You’re cooking up a scheme. Tell me about it.”
“Not now. Thanks for buying another Swiss Army knife yesterday.”
“Glad to help, Gretel. Bruiser won’t notice he has a new one.”
“And the knife he used on Kurt’s Corvette? Did you plant it near Kurt’s car? Along with Kurt’s wallet?”
“It took me awhile to figure out why you sent me your purse. When I saw Kurt’s ID in his wallet, I figured it out.”
“I told you at the Vanguard meeting what I planned!”
“Sorry, sugar. I didn’t realize you could pull it off. I dropped the knife and wallet on the ground, like you said, instead of placing them carefully on the ground. But, before that, Bruiser nearly raped me when I tried to switch knifes. I had to give him a roofie.”
Gretel laughed. “He was still woozy this morning. Got any more?”
Honey took two pills from her pocketbook and gave them to Gretel. “Be careful. These things are illegal.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Gretel put the pills in a coin holder in her purse. “These may come in handy in an emergency.”
“When I got back to the hotel, I gave Rich the trophy.”
Gretel smirked. “Now Rich is your trophy. Could you do me a big favor? Sidney will be pissed off because we’re not going to blackmail Rich. Could you appease Sidney?”
“Piece of cake. I brought my own dildo. Do you still plan to bag Kurt?”
“Soon as I figure out what, in his heart of hearts, drives him wild. For some reason, I wish I had Judd’s approval to destroy Kurt. Judd won’t agree.”
“You see him as a father figure. Fair and honest, like Jack was. How is Judd?”
“Not well,” Gretel’s eyes misted.
“After I take care of Sidney, I’ll make Judd feel much better. He’ll approve of anything you want to do!”
Gretel’s fleeting smile yielded to a frown. “I’m not sure he’s up to it.”
“Oh, dear! This is serious. Should I try?
“Yes, go see him. Flirt with him. If you two have sex, you’ll give him the biggest kick in his lifetime. Even if you don’t, the sight of you will lift his spirits.”
“Thank you, Gretel. I’ll run by your house when I leave here.” Honey noticed Rich walk in carrying his dress shirt in his hand and wearing his slacks, loafers, and a T-shirt. “Before I go,” Honey said, “Rich and I have an announcement.”
“You’re getting married?”
“Better than that. I’m taking Rich back to New York to be my love slave.”
“Congratulations!” Gretel hugged Honey.
“Hope you’re not upset, Gretel,” Rich said. He avoided eye contact. “Honey builds my confidence. When she takes me, I feel powerful, like I could go all night.”
“Did you know she got you the cushy job with BizMart? Not Casper and me. Mom’s terrific. Now she’s set you free.�
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“Precisely. How’d you know my feelings?”
“I enslaved you to steal you from Jessica. I doled out nibbles of bliss but denied you your greatest thrill. Your stepmother gave you anal sex. On your eighteenth birthday.”
“I had forgotten that,” Rich confessed.
“You crave anal sex. But your upbringing taught you that backdoor treats are a sin. So you blocked out your greatest sensual memories.”
Honey asked, “How do you know all of this?”
Gretel evaded the question. “I thrive on finding the key to lock a man up. I forgot some women like to free men. In this case, my mom, the Backdoor Queen.”
“All I know is, she’s wonderful.” Rich hugged Honey.
“Thank you, darling.” Honey turned to Gretel. “Have you talked to Jessica?”
Gretel frowned at her mother for connecting with Gretel’s sore point. “We chatted last night—a verbal catfight.”
“What’s she doing today?” Honey asked.
“Probably freeing Kurt,” Gretel smiled wryly. “I’d better find his lock and key before she does.”
“How?” Honey asked.
“The same way I discovered how to manipulate Casper and Rich. By going to see Lila—Dr. Krafft to you, Rich,” Gretel smiled.
Honey looked wide-eyed. “Isn’t that unethical?”
“Mom, you scope out people by putting cookies on their computers all the time.”
“Won’t she lose her license?”
“She already has,” Gretel said. “But Kurt is so trusting, or desperate, he poured out his heart to Lila. She taped most of it. She’s playing the tape now. The voice recognition software on her computer will turn Kurt’s confessions into a printed transcript. My blueprint for making him mine.”
Chapter Nineteen
Turning On, Going Down
Kurt felt comfortable at the wheel of Gretel’s Mercedes. He could learn to enjoy driving her car. At the same time, he felt vaguely aroused—either from the power he felt driving a Mercedes, indirectly drawing from Gretel’s magnetism, or from the contents of his session with Dr. Krafft. When she told him to block the session from his memory, he dutifully obeyed. But he suspected that his long narration to Dr. Krafft accounted for his current erotic restlessness.
If Jessica appeared at her door wearing a tight, shiny dress, she would unleash Kurt’s sexual excitement. Fortunately, she wore dark brown slacks and a tan sweater with subtle floral designs stitched in gold. Her brown shoes were casual flats.
“Sorry I took so long,” he apologized. “Must have talked my head off.”
“About what?”
“Dr. Krafft instructed me to clear my mind after the session.”
“Charlatan!” Jessica snapped. “Lila shouldn’t leave you in the dark.”
“At least I feel relaxed. I’m getting some benefit.”
Jessica smiled. “Help me in the kitchen.” She led the way. “My spaghetti sauce has been simmering for hours.”
“Smells good.”
“It’s an old family recipe. I put the French bread in the oven when you rang the doorbell. I’ll boil the angel hair.” She pointed to a large bowl of lettuce and several vegetables on a chopping block on the island in the kitchen. “Cut up some tomatoes, cucumbers, and green peppers for the salad. Would you like to slice an onion, too?”
“No onions today.” He looked unflinchingly into her eyes.
“That was a tad obvious, Kurt. Hate to burst your bubble, but garlic and onions are in the sauce.” The pot of water boiled. Jessica took half of the pasta from the box and put the box on a shelf. She broke in half the strands she was holding and put them in the pot.
Kurt chopped away at the vegetables, sliced an onion, added them to the lettuce, and mixed all of the ingredients with a large wooden fork and spoon.
Jessica handed him a corkscrew. “There’s a bottle of merlot in the fridge. Would you do the honors?”
Kurt popped the cork, and soon they were seated at Jessica’s kitchen table. “This is delicious,” Kurt said. “When you said ‘old family recipe,’ I thought you meant Uncle Prego or Aunt Ragu.”
“Skeptic.” She gazed out her kitchen window. “Beautiful day.”
“What’s in your sauce?”
“You don’t strike me as a recipe collector.”
Kurt twirled some spaghetti around his fork, against a spoon, and lifted the spicy morsel to his lips. “Mm.” He chewed thoroughly and swallowed. “The ingredients reveal a lot about the cook.”
“If you insist, I used the eye of a newt, the wing of a bat—”
“Oh, Gretel’s recipe.”
“So, today she’s a witch. Last night you lusted for her. Which is it? Are you attracted to her or repelled by her?”
“Both.”
“You’re hooked. I’ll change that.”
“If you two are sisters, why are you so different?”
Jessica sipped her wine, weighing her answer. “Birth order explains a lot. As a first born, I’m more serious.”
“Emphatically!” Kurt poked at his salad but took a gulp of wine instead. “You two are like night and day!”
“I’m six years older than she is.” She looked at him in mock seriousness. “Don’t you dare do any math! I had to take care of her when we were kids. She’s still irresponsible.”
Kurt chewed and swallowed another bite of spaghetti while Jessica was talking. “Your attitudes toward men are different.”
Jessica ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Gretel and I both have low opinions of men. I distrust men. She thinks they’re all toys for her to play with.”
“You don’t even look alike. You’ve got brown eyes and dark brown hair. Gretel’s a green-eyed blonde.”
Jessica pushed her plate away. “So? Two brown-eyed parents could have a brown-eyed daughter and a daughter with light-colored eyes. Against the odds, but it happens. They’re more likely to have two brown-eyed children. Mendel’s Law. Mom has honey-colored eyes, helping the odds, a little, for Gretel to have light-colored eyes. You through with your plate?”
“You kidding?” Kurt pulled his plate closer to him. “I’ve got my eyes on your plate, if you’re not going to eat your spaghetti.”
“Pig,” she smiled. She scraped the contents from her plate onto his and put her plate back on the table. Gulping down the rest of her glass of wine, she refilled the glass. “Know what I really think?”
Kurt twisted the cork off the corkscrew and took a shot at the trashcan in the corner. The cork banked off the wall, into the can. “Tell me.”
“Good shot. My dad was the nicest guy you’d ever meet. Jack Noble. Dignified, friendly, always looking out for others.”
“Like you.”
“Thank you.” Jessica took another large drink of wine, held it in her mouth, and swallowed. “He died shortly after Gretel was born. But I don’t think he was her father.”
“Think your mom cheated on Mr. Noble?” Kurt guzzled a glass of wine and refilled.
“Mom’s been married five times. She’s got a bunch of lovers now. She probably did then.” Jessica repeated the drink, hold, and swallow ritual. “Honey’s second husband was Penrod Teagarden, a charming, shallow flake who taught English at a New York college, which shall go nameless to protect the innocent. How he ever got on the faculty is beyond me. I think he was Gretel’s natural father.”
“You think Gretel is more like him than Mr. Noble?”
“Except for the flake part. Gretel is crafty, like Mom. Mom and Peabrain make you feel like the most important person in the world—while you’re with them. Then, out of sight, out of mind. Gretel got a double dose of the idea that people are expendable.”
Kurt swilled his wine and held the bottle over his glass for several seconds. “What happened to Peagarden?” He giggled like a schoolboy at his mangling of the name.
“’Nother bottle in the fridge. He disappeared when I was nine and Gretel was three. Stayed around long eno
ugh to screw up her formative years. Then took off.”
Kurt retrieved the second bottle from the refrigerator, opened it with some difficulty, and took a shot with the new cork. It bounced off the kitchen window, nowhere near the trashcan. “Asshole.”
“Hey!” Jessica started to stand up but reconsidered. “That’s my beloved first stepfather you’re talking about! And that was a terrible shot. You’re cut off.”
“No! Anything but that!”
She grinned lecherously. “I meant the wine.”
“Pretty please?”
“OK, but slow down.” Jessica ambled over to the coffee maker and put on a pot. “So, let’s get serious, Kurt. What are your plans now that BizMart is out of the picture?”
“Haven’t given it much thought. How about you?”
“You know that deal you negotiated for Mom? The educational DVDs? She’s trying to set me up in business.”
“Great. Glad you’ve got something to fall back on.”
“I could use a partner.”
“Just say when!”
“Business partner.”
“Oh.” He put his glass of wine down. “Not as much fun as being a business broker. At BizMart I feel—felt—like a pimp.”
“Mom will hire you.”
“Jessica.”
“Well, what are you going to do? I heard about the no-compete clause.”
“I could take my severance pay and move on. Or I could stay here in Baltimore and start a new career.”
“Gretel told me she gave you two options at the Vanguard meeting last night: Join her team or become her lackey. She usually gets her way.”
“That’s no choice. That’s an edict to bow down to her. Maybe I should take the money and run.”
Jessica walked to the coffee maker and poured two cups. She put one at her place and the other at Kurt’s. When he reached for it, she put her hand on his. “Stay here in Baltimore. Let me help you. I’m not afraid of my little sister.”
“Me either.” He doctored his coffee and took a large swallow. “Good stuff. Gretel doesn’t frighten me, but my reactions to her scare the daylights out of me.”
Jessica remained standing, took a sip of coffee, and put her cup back down. “I bought a new dress this morning. Want to see it?” She strolled toward her living room.