by Dacy Alex
"Oh my god!" Sofi yelled, "My IG post just got a thousand comments. That's a milestone."
"Ya know what else is a milestone?" Giselle replied, fear heavy in her voice. "Going into cardiac arrest from body glitter!"
Dusty whipped her head around towards her bed. Once her doe eyes saw her possibly comatose victim she barked, "I ain't getting grounded for this."
The ax of confinement to her room with no supper lingering over her head sprung Dusty into action, blonde ringlets splaying around her. The teen babe straddled Tyrone, her leap far more agile than any collegiate athlete should be capable of.
Dusty began pounding herself on Tyrone, determined to grind and ride this affliction out of him.
"It is pretty fitting," Sofi began. "That the cowgirl would cowgirl fuck him back to life."
"That ain't what I'm doing!" Dusty shot back, then, without irony, continued to pump her pelvis against Tyrone.
The sound of cloth on cloth from the relentless totally-not-cowgirl-fucking was pierced by a yelp from Dusty.
"This fella's hard and stiff as a garden hammer!"
"Really?" Giselle exclaimed, with a clap of her hands. "Keep going then!"
I'm totally not saying that because I like to watch.
"Do I look like some kind of floozy?" Dusty snorted. And then, again without irony, smacked her inner thighs against his now fierce erection.
Her ringlets were back on a familiar bounce as their owner was now pounding Tyrone so hard and so fast Giselle thought he could burst through both their bottoms.
"Deep and fast, deep and fast," Dusty murmured, then hit an about-face to say. "Talkin' about hoes! I mean gardening hoes!"
Dusty's carnal lust reached epic proportions as she rolled and rocked her hips atop the man. While pants and moans poured from her lips, her grinding managed to do nothing to pull the man to a state of lucidity.
Not that Dusty cared, as pleasure soared through her. Pleasure enough to make her declare, "You ain't even gotta give me sprinkles, Sofi!"
This forfeit of the sprinkles made Giselle wonder how big Tyrone was as Dusty was grunting in tones far lustier than Giselle had ever heard. And that was taking into account the videos Stuart shared with her!
"Say, Dusty, gimmie an inch estimate," Giselle whispered.
"I dunno. Just try yerself. He ain't goin' nowhere."
I better not. If this ends badly, I won't be flying to LA in disgrace. I'll be flying in a casket because my mom will come to New York and destroy me!
Dusty made a regrettable but correct point: Tyrone wasn't going anywhere. From what Giselle could tell, Tyrone's member was divorced from a still languid body.
"I thought you said you could fix this asshole," came a disinterested Boston accent.
Giselle and Sofi turned their gaze to find Fleur and Tristabelle in the doorway.
"I am fixing it, dummy!"
Fleur leaned against the doorway, looking like she gave less than an iota of the smallest shit. Still she had to point out:
"Dry humping him ain't fixing him, Hillbilly Jim."
Fleur's pale blue eyes noticed Seamus, who Giselle had completely forgotten about.
"I think there's a trash chute we can toss these fucks down. Worked with that dude whose wife I was fucking. And I stole his wallet!" she announced with much pride.
"Maybe they would like to go to a hospital?" Giselle offered in the most dulcet of tones.
Dusty dislodged her mount, cute lips in a pout.
"Maybe Jesus woulda liked a futon instead of a cross," Dusty expressed.
There was something odd in the room. It took a moment for Giselle to process it. When she did, it would not prove to a be pleasant realization. Tristabelle was silent. Giselle looked to see if she was okay and saw that it was Giselle whose safety needed assurance.
The deep-set almond eyes of the princess were appraising Giselle once more. Yet instead of the friendly curiosity, Tristabelle's eyes had beamed toward Giselle when they first met, this was open rancor. Malice that gave Giselle the strange feeling she was stripped bare and left to die in a blizzard.
"Is something wrong, your highness?" Giselle blurted, though her voice was weak.
"Fascinating that this affliction started upon your arrival. Tell me the truth, Giselle, who are you?"
If there was a way out of this blizzard, some shelter of warmth, it was not with the other girls who now took on decidedly guarded stances. Guarded against Giselle. Except for Sofi. She was on her phone and was gleefully oblivious to the malignity that filled the room.
Giselle felt like she was being run through by a sword of ice. Yet she spoke, "I'm just Giselle Nyfall."
Tristabelle's bow-shaped lips smiled a smile that was a seal on a death warrant, "Well then, just Giselle, which would you like to lose first, your honor or your head?"
The princess's arm went up like she was reaching for something.
Then the blizzard stopped. Shelter had come. Krisdane had entered the room and was grabbing his sister's arm.
"Tristabelle, your mother would be very cross with you."
Tristabelle responded through gritted teeth, "Release my arm, Krisdane."
"I have spent more time than anyone with Giselle. She may be more than she says. Or she may not be. But she deserves your friendship, not your inimicality."
There appeared, for a moment, that Krisdane was to lose his head before Giselle lost hers. Yet Tristabelle's seething abated, and she let her brother gently lower her arm.
"I apologize for neglecting my courtesies, Giselle," Tristabelle expressed, her flowery accent returning to the beauteous state Giselle had heard upon their meeting.
"It's no problem, your highness," Giselle reassured the princess though her voice sounded anything but reassuring.
In this choose-my-own-adventure game, maybe I should have chosen to go to USC.
"It is simply..." Tristabelle trailed off, her proud shoulders sagging. "My brother Tryggyr, the king's chancellor, is due a visit. If he should find anyone not to his liking..."
Tristabelle cut her words short again, but Fleur's throat-slashing gesture spoke of the cruel demise Golden Land's chancellor could bring.
This was worse than when Giselle was asked to leave that NBA 2K league on PlayStation because people felt bad about consistently beating her by fifty points. This was perma-death bad!
"Would he kill me?"
Before either royal could answer, Dusty spoke up, "My queen's gonna protect ya, she will. She won't let nobody hurt ya. Even if his nickname is The Stalker."
His name is Trigger and his nickname is The Stalker. I am so fucked.
Dusty changed the subject, "What are we gonna do with these two and the others like 'em?"
Sofi looked up from her phone with her long pink lips in her typical happy smile, "Don't worry, little lady--"
"Who you calling little, stupid Sofi?"
"Big Sis Anika DM'ed me back and said bring 'em to her place."
Wow, Anika direct messages these girls on Instagram?
"DM'ed you?" Tristabelle puzzled. Then her red lips broke into a huge smile before she said, "Ah, double masturbation! Through psychic means! Sofi, you finished so quickly and yet could still communicate the troubles of these lamentable souls. You are the most extraordinary of all. What other splendor are you capable of?"
Do they not have direct messaging in Golden Land? Don't they use Instagram? Maybe they still just use Facebook?
"Call a limo for us, Princess Zelda," Fleur ordered with an eye roll. "Let's just take the one Miranda Lambert over there half-fucked."
"Can he even stand?" Sofi challenged. "Tyrone, sweetie, stand up, please."
And up he stood to be taken by the arm by Sofi. The honey-skinned beauty was a far gentler nurse than Dusty.
"Maybe I should stay with Seamus," Giselle announced. She would have loved to see where Anika lived and how she lived. But she felt she belonged with these girls as much as she belonged at a MENSA board meeting
. Best to stay behind, raid the snacks, and see if she can unlock Seamus' phone and find some dick pics.
As if by cosmic machination Seamus' phone went off in his pocket. Fleur was quick to retrieve it. Far quicker than Giselle who stepped in to get it.
Fleur read, "Seamus, what the fuck? Are you on that shit again? You're supposed to be recording. Call me."
With strength Giselle had only seen in teen vampire movies, Fleur bashed Seamus' phone against Dusty's glitter shelf. Bits of it were like snow flurries falling on Dusty's warm beige carpet. The rest of the phone was chucked into a Hemera Skylights trashcan.
Fleur, not too wowed with her own feat of might, declared, "Seamus'll have to hit you later, chief. Giselle, you're with us. You're coming too, Prince Charming. If you liked Alexa, I have to introduce you to her friend Siri."
Giselle felt like the mouse scurrying directly into the cat's path. But she had to ask Tristabelle, "Princess Tristabelle, isn't it dangerous to be an isolationist country in a globalized world?"
Both royals smirked, but only Tristabelle answered, "Ask the lion is it dangerous to be in a jungle filled with zebra?"
Giselle would never forget how close she came to being the meal on the lion's plate.
Chapter Four: Aarab Tzereq
Leaving the condo complex had been a lesson in conflict resolution, avoiding a royal rumble, and Sofi's swelling social media empire. Two women by the name of Marsha Gatez and Anita Kellerman accosted the group with volcanic energy as the freshmen and Krisdane were leaving the condo.
It seemed Marsha and Anita's husbands had racked up considerable charges subscribing to Sofi's premium social media accounts. Sofi 's manner of diffusing the situation was to announce, "Mister Gatez only gets the Platinum subs, and Mister Kellerman has been instrumental in helping me craft the foxhole challenge. That's a privilege I only give to my long-time subscribers. So it's added value."
The women's volcanic energy was about to erupt when Krisdane cut in. Prince Charming said he had a few conversations with their husbands and said "the love and appreciation they had for you lovely women were all their words were dedicated to." The prince even added that he hoped to find a love so true one day. Giselle was certain this conversation Krisdane spoke of was bullshit being served on a plate of raspberry chocolate chunk pancakes, but the wives swallowed it in one bite.
Giselle thought that when Marsha found her husband wandering the streets as a Resident Evil enemy, Krisdane's dish might not taste so sweet.
Free of angry wives, the group made their way into a vehicle produced by the Golden Land consulate.
Junior year, when she hadn't started any prom float razing fires, had seen Giselle and her friends roll up to the prom in a pink and purple neon interior limo bus. The Golden Land consulate's limo bus may have lacked the flashing lights and pink and yellow zebra print seats of the prom limo, but it made up for it in class and grandeur. And with even more room to stand up. So much room Dusty had to jump to reach the roof.
The girls rode to Anika's Greenwich Village condo atop wooden floors and sat on three leather sofas, one in against the back and two facing each other on the sides. There was a minibar in the back which was raided by Fleur, causing much controversy within the group.
When Sofi told her she shouldn't drink so much Fleur declared she's quitting drinking, which made her a survivor and a hero because she's a two-time quitter. Thus all should respect her struggle and achievements. When Dusty called that plain ridiculous, Fleur asked her if she wanted to bet it was plain ridiculous. Dusty made a cool ten dollars but got mad when they wouldn't stop to let her buy ice cream sandwiches.
When the group got inside Anika's condo on Thompson Street, they found the 30-something beauty with her dyed silver hair in a ponytail and her lean and fit figure in yoga pants and sports bra. She welcomed them with smirking lips forming an even wider smirk.
"The cubs need the den mother's help. And you brought Prince Charming," she waved a hand to Krisdane. "Shall I bow or take you into my arms and bury you in kisses?"
Krisdane took about ten seconds to consider this, then responded, "A bow will be fine."
"And so I shall," she cooed, then fell into a bow of perfect form. The light from the long windows on brown walls made her look like something of an angel lowering from heaven.
"And where's this troubled soul my sweet girls have taken such an interest in?"
Sofi led Tyrone by the arm across Anika's immaculate hardwood floors. The floors shined so perfectly they reminded Giselle of The Lakers' home court.
When Anika saw Tyrone she emitted a deep gasp. Giselle would later note how Anika didn't seem like she was the type of person to be surprised or caught off-guard by much.
But for the moment, Giselle was caught off-guard by a trio of statues scattered in a triangle about the living room the girls stood in. Each statue was of hags whose hair was formed by gnashing, gnarling snakes. Snakes that curled around their eyes, hovered above their gruesome mouths and fell down their thin arms. They were startling additions to a condo that featured a handcrafted harp on the door, a wall planter, and twin blooming bonsai sculptures hanging on the walls in front of the kitchen.
Giselle did recover from her shock just in time hear Anika blurt, "This man is on the board for Hemera. He chairs the finance committee. He's the reason I didn't get my raise."
Fleur yawned, full lips opening wide then mused, "We can steal his wallet to get him back."
"I'm tempted to say yes."
"I told ya I been meaning to fuck with identify theft," Fleur reminded Anika, the Boston native's eyes crinkling, as she broke out a toothsome smile. Giselle had learned Fleur's happy grin wasn't reserved for merry jokes, it extended to the felon realm.
"What did happen to poor Tyrone Elder?" Anika pondered, circling around him.
His loafers were rooted into the wood. If he knew Anika's mountain gray eyes were taking in his zombified state he didn't show it.
"Tyrone," Anika snapped. "What is your wife's name? Where do you work? How did you get like this?"
His lips were closed and behind them came such a low despair laden wail that Krisdane cut in front of Giselle like he needed to protect her from an oncoming evil.
"He was gonna fund my biopic too," Sofi lamented. "Telling the story about how I was a tough inner-city girl who made good with the help of music and my ethnically and sexuality diverse cast of friends."
Dusty challenged, "Didn't cha grow up in a mansion in Miami Beach?"
"Yeah, but inclusion and being progressive are very important things to me," Sofi replied. "And so is making lots of money!"
Exasperated, with her hands clasped together and shaking, Tristbelle hurried out, "Miss Lindgren, you must know my brother Tryggyr intends on doing an inspection of my situation."
Anika unclasped Tristabelle's hands and held them in her own. Somehow that was enough to cause the princess' ragged breath to relax
"I can't imagine why he would come," Anika declared. " Does he not trust Big Sis Anika to take care of Tristabelle The Bright Eyed?"
"Stalked by the Stalker. Spooky," Sofi announced, wrinkling her nose. She reminded Giselle of the main character of an old show her grandmother used to watch.
"Don't worry, Sofi, you can jump right into Big Sis Anika's arms. I'll protect you."
Sofi ran right into Anika for the biggest hug one can offer. Much more voluptuous than Anika, Sofi seemed to engulf Anika in flesh and the latest from Fashion Nova. After a good five seconds, Sofi expelled Anika from her bosom.
"Well then, I suppose we'll want to hurry and cure Tyrone," Anika stated "Hopefully we can do it before he vomits or dies all over this new hardwood floor my ex-husband paid for," Anika cast her gray eyes on Giselle. "Come, come, my extraordinary assistant."
At first Giselle couldn't comprehend what was said. Then she glanced up and down her stacked body coming up with her blue eyes big in surprise.
"I'm sure you have your uses," Anika decided,
her outer brows raising, her lips half parted. The look of lust Giselle had drawn time and time before.
Vibes, I've read you, I've enjoyed you, now let's keep this going.
There were confused stares from the other girls which trailed Giselle before she and Anika disappeared around the corner into the hallway.
On the hallway wall hung a lengthy wire sculpture of a galloping leopard, who's hind legs and backside were made to purposefully seem like they're fading into oblivion. Beneath the big cat was one word, "Ose." Something bad nagged at Giselle's memory, but she couldn't sift through the barriers blocking her remembrance.
Anika led Giselle into her home office with a flourish to the middle.
The office was far more organized than Giselle's dad, Stephen's, home office, which had failed to see any semblance of order even after being tackled by LA county's highest-rated professional organizers.
Anika's walls were covered by floor-length shelves that held all manners of books. Giselle recognized some books such as The Great Gatsby and Frankenstein. However, many books were titled in Latin or Greek, some even in Japanese. Several of these books were bound in velvet. Not every shelf was home to books. There were a few holding herbs and tonics, reminding Giselle of Dusty's glitter shelves.
The showpiece of this office was a desk as splendid as Anika's office desk. There was a beautiful shine dancing across it. Its table legs were actually arms with hands holding the entire thing up. On the wrist of the hands were golden bracelets with runic carvings.
In the corner was an unfinished painting of an erupting volcano. Even though it was unfinished its ferocity and violence left Giselle amazed. It was hideous while being entrancing at the same time.
Anika saw Giselle's wonder as the woman dragged forward a reclaimed wood chair. The handcrafted chair back showed hints of color that stood out in the mostly earth-toned room.
"My ex-husband started that painting," Anika noted in a dry tone. "Sit down, dear." She said, voice husky, eyes penetrating Giselle. Or as Giselle might say...
I'm so being eye fucked right now.
Giselle sat her denim-covered behind on the seat as Anika stepped behind her.