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Kahlua Part III -
The Art of Illusion

It had been a very bad day. The kind of day where if you were going to be hit by a meteor or kidnapped by aliens twenty feet short of your drive way this was the perfect day for it to happen. She was grateful to have just made it home in one piece.

The young woman put her keys and purse on the table. As she hung her coat up she noticed the small pile of mail. The mailman had pushed it through the little slot in her door as he did everyday but in her haste to get inside, she had completely forgotten to pick it up. So there it sat, a forlorn little pile of paper shoved up against the baseboard. As if in response to her thoughts, one envelope silently fell over. It was a small envelope, of no consequence.

The mail presented a problem. People are expected to read their mail. This in fact is the principle reason other people send it to them. But as previously mentioned, it had been a very bad day. As she sat there looking at the little pile she asked herself if the mail might be light at the end of the tunnel. No… she thought to herself. Today the mail would contain a summons for jury duty, nasty notes from bill collectors, a letter from her son's principal… anything but good news.

She stood there a few seconds more and pondered the pile. The sun was shining through a window at just the proper angle to show off the dust motes dancing in the air. Once again, her thoughts drifted but this time she smiled. If she left that mail there how long would it take for the dust to completely cover it? If there was a jury duty notice in there was "dust" a justifiable excuse for not responding to it? "I'm sorry your honor…the dust bunnies ate my jury summons." She doubted it would work but still… She couldn't help but think it was an excuse the judge had probably never heard before. The more she thought about that, the better she felt. In a second or two, she was smiling. After half a minute she was chuckling. By the time a full minute had elapsed she was laughing so hard she was in tears. She hadn't realized how badly she needed to laugh so she kept on laughing with everything she had.

When she regained her composure, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. As she did, she saw the mail again and decided that she should pick it up. After all, how bad could it be?

She bent to retrieve the envelopes and noticed a few pieces of junk mail. The first congratulated her on having qualified for yet another credit card. The second, a circular from a large department store filled with things she could bring home. Assuming of course that she called an eight hundred number to activate her new credit card. One was indeed a bill but it was a small one and she had known it was coming. The last was a circular telling her that yet another political wanna-be was tossing his hat into the ring for the upcoming mayoral elections. She'd never even heard of him but did not doubt for a moment that he was a wonderful human being and God's gift to her little corner of the planet. So much so that by the time she finished reading the circular not only would she vote for him, she would fall madly in love with him and want to have all of his children. Political candidate's circulars all seem to be written that way, didn't they?

She tossed the bill on the table and turned to throw the rest in the trash when a small envelope fell out of the circular. She hadn't noticed it before as it had gotten stuck on the stupid little pieces of cellophane tape they hold the things together with. She flipped the circular towards the trash as she picked up the small envelope.

The first thing she noticed was the quality of the paper. She had worked in a stationer's while in high school and she remembered feeling this kind of paper before. Not that they ever sold any, or even carried it in stock. No, she recalled feeling this grade of paper in one of the sample booklets. At one end of the book you found the 20lb copy paper. At the other end you found the 40lb linen stationary with embossed watermarks and matching lined envelopes. This envelope had come from that end of the book.

Her address was written in a neat copperplate right in the center and she'd have sworn that it had been written with a fountain pen. (Did they even make fountain pens anymore?) The return address, a number, street and city only, no name, were embossed in gold on the back flap. Just below that, a small gold foil seal embossed with the letters VL in what looked like French script. This was all well and good but something was missing… Then it dawned on her. There was no stamp! She ran her fingers over the corner of the envelope. No stamp, no meter mark, no postmark. The envelope had not been mailed! Someone had slipped it through her mail slot but whoever it was, he or she had not been the least bit concerned with "rain, nor sleet nor dark of night". Someone had driven to her home and hand delivered this envelope, but who? There was only one-way to find out so she pulled the flap of the envelope up to open it.

The only thing in the envelope was a note card. Except for the fact that it was a bit heavier, the quality of the card matched the envelope in every respect. The watermark even matched the initials on the seal. The message it contained was brief and written in the same hand as her address.

My Dear Donna;
Your presence is requested at a dinner to be given in your honor.
Cocktails will be served at seven o'clock. Dinner will be served at
Eight o'clock. Formal attire is required.

PS: No RSVP is necessary as your presence is expected…

There was no signature. She looked at the note and read it again. "Your presence is expected…" What the hell was that supposed to mean? She turned the card over but saw nothing more than the same street address as the one on the flap of the envelope. She was tempted to throw it away but she didn't. It had to be some kind of a joke. Didn't it? For reasons she would never have been able to explain she looked at her watch. Cocktails were to be served at seven? It was a little after five now. If she hurried, she could make it.

She put the note and the envelope on the table. What was she thinking? This had to be a joke. Things like this didn't happen to her. Still… Her son was staying with his father, she had nothing to do for the rest of the night and she had been looking for an excuse to wear that black silk dress she'd found on sale.

She sat at the kitchen table and fumbled through her purse for her cigarettes and lighter. It was only her fourth of the day. She was thinking about quitting but probably wouldn't. If you didn't smoke, didn't drink, stayed away from fat, cholesterol and eggs, got plenty of exercise, ate roughage and drank a lot of water… you were going to eventually die anyway. It was frustrating that regardless of what you enjoyed some asshole was out there somewhere doing a study to prove it would kill you. She laughed at the thought. If that wasn't bad enough, the chances were good that the study had just been commission by some other asshole, or group of assholes, who had just quit doing whatever it, was they were now studying!

It dawned on her that she had been forced into a rut by things she had no control over. No matter where she turned all she saw or heard was "Don't do this… Don't do that." If reminded her of a line from an old song. She couldn't quite put her finger on the title, or even the tune but she remembered the message. It was time to break free if only for a few hours. She had to do something to get out of this miasma she'd gotten herself into.

She found herself wondering if she had a clean pair of stockings and it was probably at that very second she had made up her mind to go. Why? Any number of reasons came to mind. She was tired of staying at home, sick of a son who argued with her. Fed up with a job she didn't really like or perhaps she was just tired of seeing exciting and mysterious things happen to the people on television but never to her. But the why didn't really matter did it? What mattered was that she was going to go. She was going to a dinner given by someone she didn't know, at an address she had never been to. As she thought about this fact, she felt a glow of excitement begin to well up inside her. It was a feeling that had been absent from her life for a very long time and she'd have been the first to admit that she had missed it. She would also have been the first to admit that she liked it.


Six twenty-four. She would make it with a few minutes to spare. She'd have left earlier if the first pair of stockings she put on hadn't run but that was one of those things that seemed to happen whenever you were in a hurry. A quick check showed her that the coffee and lights were off, the stove was off and she had remembered to put the chain hasp on the front door. The dishes hadn't been done but they were soaking. They could sit for a few hours if they had to. Satisfied that all was well she put the envelope and invitation in her purse, got her good coat out of the closet walked out of the house and closed the door softly behind her. As she did so, she had an odd thought. She couldn't have put her finger on exactly why it hit her but somehow she knew that regardless of what happened, by the time she walked back through that door her life would be different. Good or bad, better or worse? This she did not know. What she did know was that it would be different.

Traffic was light as she drove back into the city. As a result, she got close to the address sooner than she had anticipated. She had to be cautious however as it was not a neighborhood she had ever spent much time in. For that matter, she doubted anyone had spent much time in it for quite a few years. When she was a girl, the area had been heavily industrialized but the industries that hadn't gone out of business had long since moved to South Carolina or Mexico and there wasn't much left except sprawling warehouses and empty factories.

Some of the better buildings had recently been converted to loft apartments. As people came back into the area, a few new businesses opened. She'd read somewhere that city planners and she supposed, all the other people who made their livings dreaming up politically correct catch phrases and other similar gibberish, called this process gentrification. For her part, she was just happy to see that the broken streetlights were being replaced and there were no rats on the sidewalk.

She looked at the invitation again then looked up at the side of the building on her left. It was the same number all right but she didn't see any lights on inside the enormous old structure. There was no indication that anyone was there nor did it appear that anyone had been there in years! It looked to be the last place in the world that anyone would pick to hold a dinner party.

There was a huge parking lot next to the structure but hers was the only car in it. She looked at her watch. Six fifty-three… That made no sense. She couldn't be the first person here, not if the party started in seven minutes. It was odd but she could think of no explanation for it. She parked the car got out and slammed the door behind her. She took two steps before she went back to make sure the car was locked. Gentrification was all well and good but still… it was dark and it was the only car in an abandoned parking lot…next to an abandoned factory… The sound of her heels echoed off the sprawling walls of the buildings that surrounded her as she walked toward the door. It might have occurred to her how odd it was that this door, with the address painted next to it, was the only door on the entire street to have a working light bulb in the fixture directly above it. It might have occurred to her and perhaps it should have. But it didn't. She walked up to the door. Ignored a brief urge to turn around and go back to her car, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.


She knocked again. This time the door was opened by a very pretty young lady in a maid's uniform. She smiled and said. "Welcome Miss… you are right on time. Please, let me take your coat." She handed it to her. After it was hung up the girl turned to her, smiled and said. "Please, go right in. You are expected." She waved to a door slightly to the right and across the hallway from the heavy oak armoire where she'd hung the coat.

As the woman turned, two thoughts occurred to her. The first was how absolutely out of place such a piece of furniture seemed to be in the main hallway of an industrial building. The second was the fact that hers was the only coat hanging in it.

The reader is no doubt familiar with the phrase "as different as day is from night". This was the thought that struck her as she walked through the door. The hallway was done in early industrial drab. The room she entered was another matter entirely.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn that she had just walked into the main ballroom of an old hotel. Each wall was covered with heavy burgundy velvet tapestries. The ceiling was completely covered with matching silk gauze. Lighting fixtures above the gauze cast a warm reddish glow to the room. The entire room, or at least that part of it she could see, was carpeted with very deep burgundy pile shag.

A raised platform perhaps a foot higher than the rest of the floor, occupied the center of the room and it too was carpeted. In the center of this platform she saw a table. She could see place settings and a heavy brocade tablecloth fell in folds along the sides. Although the table would have easily sat a dozen people, there were only two chairs. One at each end.

Except for the fixtures above the material that hid the ceiling, the only other light in the room came from heavy iron candelabra. There was one at each corner of the platform, two smaller ones on the table itself and three more placed around the room. One candelabrum was a few feet away from her. The other two were ten feet away from one end of the platform. Between them, she noticed two more chairs. Next to each chair was a small table. Between the two she saw a third table. This one held a cut glass decanter and two glasses. As far as she could tell these were the only items in the entire room.

She thought she heard a noise by the door so she turned around to look. She saw nothing but when her gaze returned to the room something had changed and it took her a second or two to realize what it was. She was no longer alone. She took a step towards the chairs then stopped. There was someone standing next to one of them.

Before she could react, the person moved. As the figure stepped out of the shadows, she got a better look. Was it a woman?

The figure smiled and stepped fully out of the shadow. It was indeed a woman. She was above average height with very dark hair and eyes. Although she did not appear to be Chinese, she was wearing a full-length Chinese dress, the kind you used to see a lot in the older movies. Black silk with red embroidery and a high collar buttoned to her throat. The dress was slit to her thigh and as she walked, the slit parted to reveal the top of her stocking. As the woman walked towards her, the thought occurred to the visitor that she could not recall the last time she had met anyone who still wore stockings instead of pantyhose. Her dress was new and quite stylish so why all of a sudden did she feel under dressed? As brief as it was the train of thought was broken by the woman's approach. She was indeed tall but much of that was due to the fact that she wore four-inch black stiletto heels.

When they were about four feet apart, she held out her hand, smiled and spoke. "Welcome Donna. I am so glad you could come." The woman took her guest's hand and squeezed it affectionately.

For her part, the woman known as Donna did not know what to say. She didn't know her hostess. She had no idea how the woman knew her name, nor could she give any logical reason for being there. Except of course for the obvious fact that she had been invited.

"I see that Samantha has taken your coat. Shall we make ourselves comfortable?" She smiled again and waved towards the chairs.

They walked toward the chairs. Before they reached them, Donna saw the maid step out from behind one of the tapestries. She took a position behind the small table between the chairs and did not appear to move a muscle.

Her hostess waved her to a chair and took one herself. Each movement seemed calculated and there was no wasted effort. The woman sat and crossed her legs in one fluid motion. As she did so, she put her arm up and extended the fingers of her left hand. She said nothing as the maid (Samantha?) placed a cigarette in a silver and black onyx holder between the first two fingers. The woman brought the holder to her lips. By the time it arrived, a lighter was ready.

"Oh… How thoughtless of me. You may smoke if you wish. I must tell you I am not as well versed in the art of political correctness, as perhaps I should be. Truth be told, I am old enough to recall a time when adults were free to make their own choices as to what they did or did not wish to do." She smiled and seemed to absent-mindedly tease the center of her upper lip with the cigarette holder. "Within reason of course…"

Donna nodded and took her own pack of cigarettes out of her purse. She put them on the table then tried to find her lighter. Before she could do so, Samantha had taken one out of the cigarette case on the table and offered it to her. The maid also had a lighter ready and waiting.

"Please forgive Samantha's eagerness. She has taken to her training very well but she sometimes fails to realize that her enthusiasm may not be appreciated by others." She reached over and very softly caressed the girl's forearm. "She is a dear though, isn't she?" At this, the maid curtsied but said nothing.

Taken to her training…? Donna thought to herself. What an odd turn of phrase. At a loss for words all she could do was nod and smile. As she did so, she caught the look on each woman's face. Her hostess' eyes were riveted on the girls face. For her part the girl called Samantha had a look on her face that could only be described as…Love? Throughout the whole interlude (which couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds) the woman continued to softly caress the girl's arm with the sharpest and quite possibly the reddest (if that was even a word) nails Donna had ever seen. A draft from out of nowhere caused the candles to flicker. The soft warm light danced on the girl's arm. It occurred to Donna that this, in combination with the sight of those nails and their incredibly delicate touch, was one of the most intensely erotic things she had ever seen. The thought was driven home by the nearly inaudible moan of pleasure that escaped the girl's lips.

Although she had not realized it, her hostess was no longer looking at the maid. For some time now her eyes had been riveted on her guest's face. Watching every subtle movement, registering every nuance and reaction.

The second she moaned, the woman suddenly dropped her hand away and rested it on Donna's forearm. Without missing a beat, she continued the same rhythmic caress.

For her part, Donna was at something of a loss. Had she thought about it, she might have looked at her hostess, her eyes perhaps asking questions for which she could find no words. Instead, she continued to look at the maid whose face registered the oddest combination of pleasure and anguish Donna had ever seen.

A second later however, she turned her attention to her hostess. As she did so, the thought occurred to her (or at least tried to occur to her) that the caress had gone far beyond the casual touching allowed to women but denied to men. This woman was seducing her with her nails. Somewhere inside her, a tiny voice screamed in protest but it was neither as loud, nor as vocal as Donna might have expected it to be.

Without changing the rhythm her hostess looked up at the maid, smiled and said. "Brandy." She turned her gaze back to Donna and asked. "Can Samantha get you anything?"

Donna was not sure she wanted a drink. Then again, she was not entirely sure she didn't. She hesitated for just a moment, smiled then said. "Yes, a brandy please."

Her hostess nodded to the maid who took a second cut glass brandy snifter from the tray and began pouring. "Tell me dear? How do you like your brandy? Most prefer it at room temperature but I prefer it slightly warmed. Do you have a preference?"

Donna did not in fact have a preference. She had never even given the question much thought but for some reason was loath to admit it. Instead she smiled and said. "Yes, I would like it warmed a bit. Thank you."

Her hostess nodded again. Without a word, Samantha began unbuttoning her uniform. The absolute incongruity was not lost on Donna but she could think of nothing to say. The change in direction from warming brandy to a maid taking off her dress was as disconcerting as suddenly seeing an orange growing on an apple tree.

As the last button was undone, the dress fell to the floor around the girl's ankles. Donna watched in dumbfounded fascination as the girl placed the small glass in her cleavage. Her breasts pressing against the glass, she closed her eyes and undulated her hips silently, forcing the brandy to swirl. Without a word, her hostess picked up her own glass and sipped. She held the amber liquid in her mouth for a second as if she were testing it. She swallowed then softly placed the glass between the girl's inner thighs. She released it but the glass did not fall. In no time at all it too was moving and its contents swirling.

"I prefer my brandy at body temperature…or slightly higher. And have no fear, Samantha will not drop either glass." She looked up at the maid's face. "She is quite accomplished at warming my brandy in this manner. That is not to say that she didn't need a great deal of practice and she did actually drop a glass…once."

Two or three minutes had elapsed. "That should do nicely." The woman said as she reached for the glass between the girl's thighs. As her fingertips closed around it, Donna noticed the tip of the woman's cigarette, which seemed dangerously close to the girl's skin. Her hostess noticed the look of alarm on her face but said nothing. Keeping her fingertips on the glass she moved her wrist slightly causing the tip of the cigarette to barely touch the small silver ring and ball nestled in the girl's navel. It was only there for a few seconds before Donna heard the maid moan with pleasure. The woman then removed the glass and handed it to Donna. "I think you will find this to your liking."

Donna sipped. It was indeed quite warm, much warmer than she had expected. The aroma of the brandy filled her nostrils. She didn't know much about brandy yet somehow she sensed that this was the best brandy she had ever tasted. Probably the best she would ever taste. She swirled the glass in her hand enjoyed the delicate nutty aroma. She had smelled brandy before but this seemed different. The fact that it was excellent brandy not withstanding, there was something else. Something… But what was it?

Her hostess reached for the second glass. As she touched it, the tip of her cigarette came an inch or so below the girl's chin and perhaps a half-inch from her throat. The smoke clung to her skin and silently caressed her cheek. Once again the girl softly moaned, her pleasure both evident and obvious.

The woman removed the glass, sipped her brandy, smiled at the maid and said. "Perfect. Well done darling."

The maid curtsied and whispered. "Thank you Mistress."

She took another sip. "Did you notice the delicate scent over laying the aroma of the brandy?" She asked.

Donna nodded. She had noticed it and her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her.

Her hostess smiled and sipped again. "You are aware that the taste of a dish can depend a great deal on how it is cooked. Frying and barbequing, for example, both lend distinctive flavors to a meal. And you would no more expect fried fish to taste like grilled fish than you would barbequed ribs to taste like broiled ribs. The same is true in this case; warming brandy in a candle flame imparts a certain scent to the brandy. That is to say the scent of the candle. Warming brandy with a woman's body imparts a different scent. In this case, the scent of the woman herself." She took another sip, savored the liquid and swallowed before continuing. "I do not know about you but I prefer Samantha to a candle."

Donna said nothing. What was there to say? She smiled back and sipped her brandy. The woman's nails were still caressing her arm…the brandy was delicious and intoxicating on levels and to degrees that no surgeon general's warning could ever begin to cover. Ever since she had received the invitation she had somehow known that the evening would be unlike any other she had ever experienced and the feeling had only gained in intensity from the moment she had walked into this room. As she sipped she realized that her nipples were aching. As she caught her hostess' gaze, she felt a familiar and most welcome sensation between her thighs. She needed to be touched and she needed to be touch very soon.

The other woman finished the last of her brandy and placed the glass on the table. "Where are my manners?" She exclaimed with a smile. "I invited you to dinner and here it is after eight o'clock. You must be famished." She picked up a small silver bell and rang it gently. "Come. Dinner is served, as they say in the movies." As she stood, her nails left Donna's forearm but her hand did not stray far. She took Donna's hand and raised her gently out of the chair. The woman continued to hold her hand as they walked toward the table. By the time they reached it, the maid who, Donna noticed, had not put her dress back on had pulled out her chair. When Donna was properly seated and comfortable the girl turned to escort her Mistress to the other end of the table.

"That will not be necessary Samantha. See to our guest." The woman said as she walked to her own chair and sat down.

Samantha smiled at Donna and reached for a silver pitcher of ice water. As she did so, Donna could not help but notice the girl's body, which was flawless. Each curve perfectly formed. Even her lingerie looked as if it had been custom made for her. A black leather demi-bra supported the girl's firm breasts while allowing her nipples to remain exposed. In spite of herself, Donna could not help but notice how swollen they were. The girl's panties and garter belt matched the bra in every detail. Black seamed stockings and five-inch T-strap heels completed the ensemble. Much to her surprise, Donna found herself checking to see if the girl's seams were straight. They were. More surprising was the fact that she found herself wanting to draw her own nail up the seam. The question was why? She had never had such an urge before…

Since she was distracted while pondering the thought, she didn't notice the fact that the maid was looking away from her towards her Mistress. She also did not notice the almost imperceptible nod she received. With barely a movement her finger brushed the side of the pitcher causing some of the condensation to run down the side. A drop formed, fell and landed silently on Donna's inner thigh.

Under any other circumstance, the ice water would have been a painful shock but for some odd reason it wasn't. Donna's entire body had been sensitized and each additional feeling added to it. As a result, although she felt the ice water between her thighs, she did not register the shock where the water had touched her. The feeling was so intense that she nearly orgasmed but for the life of her she would not have been able to tell you how or why.


Dinner was excellent. Each course had been served to perfection and Donna found herself wondering how her hostess had known what foods she would enjoy eating. Not that she was a picky eater but everyone had they're likes and dislikes. Somehow this woman had made perfect choices time after time. The dishes were not heavy. Nor was there too much of any particularly item. As a result, by the time dessert was served she found herself comfortable but not full.

Dessert turned out to be a chocolate fondue. Samantha brought two chaffing dishes to the table and placed one at either end. The delicate aroma of warm chocolate filled the room the moment she uncovered them. Along with the chaffing dish, each tray held a silver bowl filled with dried fruit. Next to the chaffing dish Donna saw a pair of silver tongs and matching silver ladle.

"I trust you like chocolate?" Her hostess asked as she dipped a piece of fruit into the fondue. Once it was coated to her satisfaction she removed it but instead of putting it in her mouth, she delicately removed the chocolate from the fruit with the tip of her tongue. All the while keeping her eyes riveted on Donna.

"Yes, very much thank you." Donna smiled back at her and selected a dried apple slice. She dipped it in her own fondue and put the morsel in her mouth. The chocolate was perfect, the finest she had ever tasted. Slightly more bitterness than the milk chocolate she was used to but this was perfectly balanced by the inherent sweetness of the apple. In a word it was delicious.

Her hostess put the piece of fruit between her teeth and bit it in half. "Is the selection satisfactory?" She asked as she dipped the other half into the chocolate. Before Donna could answer, she continued. "If not, feel free to use the ladle to put the fondue anywhere you feel it might be needed." As she spoke, she dipped her ladle into the chocolate but only just to the point where the bottom was coated. While Donna watched speechless, the woman removed the ladle from the chaffing dish and pressed it to Samantha's right nipple.

The girl moaned and closed her eyes. Donna had not found the chocolate too hot to eat but she imagined it was certainly too hot for such a sensitive area of the skin.

The woman placed the ladle back on the tray, turned toward her maid and deftly licked the chocolate off her nipple with the tip of her tongue. As she did so, the girl's nipples darkened and became engorged with blood. She whimpered softly as her Mistress' tongue continued to tease her.

"I am sure you are wondering how I came to invite you here tonight. You are here because our paths have crossed on a number of occasions and I wanted to meet you in a more comfortable setting." She sensed Donna's confusion and waved her question away. "You and I seem to enjoy similar taste with regard to theater and the opera. I have season tickets to both and I've seen you at several shows this year." To Donna this seemed hardly enough of a reason to go to this extent or expense but before she could point the out, the woman continued. "In any event you are here because I wished to meet you. I also very much wanted to ask you a question" She stopped speaking and turned her gaze directly towards her guest. "Tell me something Donna. Have you ever had a woman make love to you?"

The question took her by surprise. It was not the sort of thing she had ever expected to be asked out of the blue. "No." was all she could manage to say.

"Why not?" The other woman countered.

"Because I am not a lesbian."

"An odd answer my dear. If you have never experienced something, then how do you know you will not enjoy it?" Before Donna could respond, she continued. "What I suspect is that you have answered my question not necessarily with the truth but with the answer you have been told all of your life should be the truth." She put her hand up as Donna made a gesture to respond. "Please darling… Do not think I am accusing you of lying. You are not. What you are doing is giving me the answer you assume society requires you to give. You have no idea if you would enjoy a woman's touch or not. What you do know on the other hand is that society expects you not to. This by the way is not precisely the same thing.

Donna could think of no answer to this. Sensing her confusion, the other woman continued. "What would you do if I could prove to you that the difference is little more than an illusion? What would you say if your own body showed you that reality, like beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Could you answer my question then?"

Conflicting thoughts began slamming into Donna's brain even before the other woman had finished speaking. No, she was not a lesbian. She had never so much as looked at another woman's body. Except of course for the sake of comparison but that was something every woman did. Wasn't it? Still… she had to admit that she was more aroused at this moment than she could ever remember being. The woman's nails on her forearm… The manner in which the brandy had been warmed… The attention she had paid to her maid… The chocolate on the girl's nipple… Even the single drop of ice water on her own thigh had all conspired to excite her in ways she had never thought possible. Each of these thoughts struck her but none struck her as being helpful. If anything, they only seemed to add weight to her hostess' argument and make the situation worse. The net result was that she found herself nodding in agreement. She hadn't intended to. She hadn't even wanted to. But she did.

"I thought as much." The woman said. She reached for a small silver bell and rang it gently. The moment it sounded, two figures entered the room from either side of her chair. Each was dressed in identical robes of the sort one might imagine a druid would wear. Heavy black velvet covered every inch of each figure. From the hood hiding each person's face, to the hem of the robe that dragged on the floor. Not an inch of skin showed anywhere.

Her hostess smiled and held up her hand. Her holder and cigarette were instantly placed between her fingers. " I offered you proof and you shall have it. But first one more question. You see these two figures. Can you tell me their gender? Do we have a set, one male the other female? Are both of them men? Or perhaps I have stacked the deck and both are women?" She hesitated for a moment then continued. "Can you tell me anything at all about them Donna?"

Donna had to admit that she couldn't. The robes were formless and gave no hint as to the shape of the figures beneath them. She slowly shook her head.

"Would it surprise you to learn that I do not know either?" The woman asked. "At this point I know nothing more about them than you do." She smiled then added. "Well… I must confess that is not entirely true. I know one thing you do not know." She sat, teasing her upper lip with the holder. "I can tell you that one of them is going to make love to you."

The woman at the other end of the table said nothing. The evening had become so surreal that she could no longer even trust her instincts. Even they seemed bound to betray or at least confuse her. She could do nothing but watch as the two robed figures slid silently beneath the folds of the tablecloth. She waited for one to touch her but nothing happened. It was as if they had ceased to exist.

"While we are waiting, may I suggest you enjoy the rest of your dessert?" Her hostess smiled and touched the ladle (which had been warming in the chaffing dish) to Samantha's left nipple.

As the girl let out a soft gasp, Donna heard a noise under the table. My God, why was she doing this? There was nothing keeping her here, why not just get up and leave? No easy answers to either question popped into her head. She also knew that she was staying put, although she was not entirely sure why.

Donna looked toward the end of the table where she could see her hostess delicately licking chocolate from Samantha's nipple. She sat for a moment and observed, almost with clinical detachment the look on the girl's face. There was no question that Samantha was in heaven. Her hostess noticed it too. She looked up at her face as she reached toward her with her other hand. The girl's reactions increased in intensity as the woman began drawing her nail very slowly across Samantha's panty line.

Suddenly another noise under the table caught her attention. Before she could even focus on it however, she let out her own soft gasp as she felt what could only have been a person's tongue caress her left ankle. She tried to refocus… To guess the gender… To do almost anything but succumb to the feeling but it was to no avail. When she felt the same sensation on her other ankle, she moaned again in spite of herself. Her hostess said nothing but there was no question that she had heard the noise. The slight hint of a smile on her face made this quite evident. She said nothing however but continued paying attention to Samantha. In addition to her panty line, she was now drawing her nails along the edge of the panties near the girl's inner thighs. Every so often, Samantha would moan as the nail was drawn directly across her panties.

Donna had nearly forgotten (or perhaps grown accustomed to) the attention being paid to her ankles when suddenly the sensation changed and she felt a set of sharp nails glide delicately up the back of her left calf. She wanted to believe that she had out guessed her hostess. Only a female would have nails that sharp. But she knew better. She knew that wasn't necessarily the case. Had she been hoping her mystery lover was a female? Hoping perhaps that it wasn't? She didn't know. In the meantime, the sensations continued.

She knew that she would soon feel it on her right calf and she did. It was an astonishing feeling. She had always enjoyed the sensation of a person touching her legs through stockings but she had never felt anything like this before in her life. She was used to the heavy hand of a male not the delicate, patient but determined touch she was feeling now. This touch was designed to make her ache for those fingers to move quickly to their inevitable destination and she knew it. She also knew that they would not hurry. Although she was beginning to wish that they would, she also secretly prayed that they would not.

But move they did. Or rather a new sensation was added to them. She continued to feel the delicate touch of the nails but now she could also feel the velvety touch of someone's tongue in the curve behind her right knee. The feelings, so similar yet so indescribably different were maddening in their intensity. How could something so delicate be so intense? For that matter, how could she feel them in so many places other than her left calf and right knee…?

Although she fought against the urge she slowly began to melt into the feelings. She stopped analyzing them and began to enjoy them. She experienced a twinge of resentment at her hostess for somehow knowing that she would do so but the twinge only lasted a second or two. As it faded away, she felt the tongue move to the back of her left knee. She no longer cared who the tongue belonged to, she slide forward in the chair, spread her knees a little farther apart, turned her leg and extended it to give whomever this delightful tongue belonged to more room. A tiny voice in the back of her head warned her of where this was going to inevitably end but she wasn't listening to it. She no longer cared to hear its opinion.

A single nail began caressing each inner thigh and her legs spread of their own volition, without any thought or effort on her part. At the same time, she felt warmth on her skin and realized it was her secret lover's breath. She expected the now familiar sensation of a tongue to follow but it didn't. A new sensation came to her and it took a few seconds before she realized that she was being softly and delicately bitten. As her lover's teeth bit softly into her flesh and stockings she felt a flush come to her skin as she convulsed softly in the chair. She had orgasmed.

Her lover had noticed to. Donna felt the delicate brush of a tongue quickly across her panties but before it could even effect her, she felt teeth on her other thigh. She looked down but could see nothing. Instinctively she moved towards the edge of the chair and spread her thighs even farther, beckoning and welcoming her lover to continue.

Her thoughts no longer centered on getting out of the room. Now her only concern was that she was wearing a pair of pantyhose? What should she do? How could she get out of them? The question was answered even as she pondered it. Although she could neither feel nor even hear it, she sensed that her pantyhose were being cut!

The material slowly parted. She finally felt it give way as her legs moved even farther apart. At the same time, she felt an ice-cold sensation. Her eyes were closed and she formed a mental picture of a cold steel blade sliding along her panties. She did not move. There was no fear. No emotion at all except perhaps anticipation. She felt the material part and realized she was now totally vulnerable to whatever happened next. She was not tied to the chair, nor were her legs tied apart. They didn't need to be. No force on earth could have closed them.

That was the last lucid thought Donna had for what seemed like an eternity. Everything was forgotten as she felt a tongue expertly lift her mons and caress her clitoris. Every cell in her body exploded at the sensation. Nerve fought against nerve. Muscle strained against muscle Her breasts heaved. She felt her heart pounding in her ears. Two hands held her in place as she writhed in the chair desperate to force herself closer to the source of her pleasure. She thrust her hips forward, as she did so a finger entered her. She felt a second enter her behind and then the two fingers began curling and teasing deep inside her. The tongue never missed a beat as it continued to probe and tease. She had never felt so full in her life. She had lost count of the orgasms. Indeed, she had lost all sense of reality as she found herself falling into sensations she could never have imagined, let alone described. As the final and most violent spasm struck her eyes shot open. The last thing she remembered was the smile on her hostess's face as she silently watched what was happening. As the reactions in her body took over one last time, she felt like she was dying. Was it a man making love to her or a woman? She did not know and she no longer cared. She pushed herself closer to the heavenly mouth between her thighs then she passed out.


She woke up lying on a chaise lounge that not been in the room earlier. Her eyes opened and focused. For a moment she was not sure where she was. Then it all began flooding back to her.

"Did you enjoy yourself my dear?" Her hostess was seated in one of the chairs away from the table. Another sat empty beside it and then she understood that the lounge had indeed not been in the room beforehand. She sat up and noticed a young girl kneeling next to her with a washcloth and a bowl of steaming soapy water. She had not seen her before. Had she been under the table? Had she been the one who…? The question fell away unanswered as she realized she was no longer wearing her dress, pantyhose or panties.

"They were removed. Your dress is being cleaned" Her hostess said. Then she chuckled and added. "As for the rest, they have been disposed of. They no longer seemed necessary as they were no longer capable of performing the tasks expected of them." The maid Samantha sat at her Mistress' side with her head on the woman's thigh. Donna's hostess absentmindedly petted the girl's cheek and hair. "As you can see…" She nodded in the direction of the girl next to the lounge. " Your hygiene has been attended to. I know how uncomfortable that can be. So… Once again, did you enjoy yourself Donna?"

There was no point in not telling her. She knew this woman would see through it. "Yes… I did." She sat up but for some reason was not embarrassed at her own nakedness. Somehow it felt natural. If not natural at least it was comfortable.

Her hostess nodded to the girl with the bowl. "Get our guest a robe. The room is warm but we wouldn't want her to catch cold…" She smiled and reached for a cup on the table. "The coffee is delicious Donna, would you care for some?"

Donna nodded and Samantha began to get up but the woman put her hand gently on the girl's head. "Stay where you are precious. I will be delighted to pour for our guest." At this, she poured coffee from a silver carafe and handed the cup to Donna. "Cream…Sugar?" Donna nodded and the woman handed her a tray with a sugar bowl small silver creamer and a spoon. "Help yourself darling. I must confess I am a bit obsessive about my own coffee. It must be served to perfection. As a result, I rarely prepare coffee for others. They know precisely how they like it so they are the best judges of how it should be prepared."

Donna took a sip. It was delicious and quite hot. "Thank you." She said before taking a second sip.

Her hostess smiled and chuckled softly. "For what darling, the coffee or the orgasms? In either case, you are most welcome I assure you." She took a sip of her own coffee then added. "I must compliment you Donna. You have lovely breasts."

Donna blushed. As she did so however, she felt her nipples swell again. "I see that they too appreciate the compliment." Her hostess said.

Donna smiled. "Yes… It would appear that they do."

"Relax and enjoy your coffee darling. You have had quite an experience and one that will take some getting use to. There will be ample opportunity to appreciate your delightful breasts at another time."

Donna wasn't sure how to respond to that but before she could think of anything to say, she heard a single chime sound somewhere in the building. She had no idea what it meant but whatever it was the effect on her hostess was nothing short of indescribable.

A chill seemed to come over the room. Donna actually felt gooseflesh on her skin but it was not caused by a draft. It was the look than came over her hostess' face the moment she heard to the chime. Whatever it was, it was important. Not only did Donna look at her, so did Samantha as well as the girl who sat motionless on the floor, the washcloth still in her hand.

Her face, previously so pleasant, had lost every aspect of emotion. Her eyes, delightfully animated and a delicate shade of brown only a moment before had changed completely. The irises were now jet-black. Her gaze, the coldest thing Donna had ever seen… all emotion gone. They reminded Donna of eyes of the sharks and barracuda she had seen on television and she shivered. Death would have eyes such as these.

If the look in her hostess' eyes was devoid of emotion, the looks on Samantha's and he other girl's faces were anything but. Donna had never seen such looks of abject terror on any human being before in her life. Both were white as sheets and neither took their eyes off the other woman. Indeed, neither of them even seemed to breath.

When the woman spoke, it was in a hushed and controlled voice. "It seems we have company. I had anticipated this but I must confess I had not expected it so soon." She said nothing further for a few seconds. She just stared at the entryway as if waiting for the door to open. "It appears that someone has not learned her lesson."

The chill seemed to pass as quickly as it had come. He woman smiled, stood up and nodded to Samantha. "Prepare to leave for home." Then she turned to Donna. "You will accompany me." It was not an invitation. It was not even a question. It was a statement of the sort that did not invite contradiction.

"What about my car?" Donna asked, primarily because she could think of nothing else to say.

"It is safer here than in your own driveway. In any case, it is a moot point. You car will arrive home before you do." The chime suddenly rang again. "Come, we must leave." As she spoke, she walked toward the tapestry behind the chairs. As she passed through it, Samantha draped a mink coat over her shoulders.

The woman never lost a step but continued towards an enormous black car parked a few yards away. Samantha ran ahead to open the door.

Donna did not know what to do. The girl who had been kneeling at her feet draped a second mink of Donna's shoulders and gestured toward the car. The look on her face suggesting that it would not be in anyone's best interest to keep the other woman waiting. Donna shrugged her shoulders and followed the girl through the tapestry. If nothing else, she thought to herself, she was naked inside a full-length mink. The sensations that caused made everything else worth it. She was confused but at least she was comfortable… God was she comfortable!


The parking lot had been quite as a tomb ever since her Mistress' guest had arrived. A police car had passed by an hour or so later, its searchlight silently inspecting the walls of the abandoned buildings on either side of the street. It had slowed to a crawl as it passed the parking lot. The searchlight had flashed across the vast expanse of broken asphalt but it had studiously avoided the single car parked in the center. It was as if the officers in the cruiser had known that the car belonged there and that it would be safe.

And it was. When the property had been purchased several months before the parking lot had been the scene of any number of break-ins and other petty gang related crimes. But these had fallen off to nothing sine the new owner had taken over. The police could offer no explanation for this, nor did they try very hard to come up with one. They were just grateful that a small pocket of crime had dried up in this otherwise God forsaken part of the city.

Had they been curious though, an explanation would have been easy to find. A quick check of local emergency rooms would have revealed an unusual pattern. Less than a week after the new owner took possession of the property a large number of neighborhood gang members began arriving at the hospital with what could only be described as a unique set of injuries. In each case, both shoulders had been dislocated and at least four ribs had been broken. In one instance a sixteen-year-old hoodlum had suffered three-cracked vertebra. In another an eighteen year old with a criminal record dating back to his tenth birthday arrived at the hospital with all of the injuries noted above as well as one more which went unnoticed by the paramedics who had found him.

This was not the result of any negligence on their part. As was the fashion, the pants he was wearing were roughly five sizes too big and had been pushed down to his hips. Upon his arrival at the hospital, the emergency room staff began removing his clothes as a matter of standard procedure. In the process they looked for additional injuries. While they did so, a police officer watched from a distance. Waiting to officially note any drugs, needles or weapons found. They did indeed find a weapon but not where any of them expected a weapon to be.

His pants were black denim so no one noticed the dried blood until they removed his belt. Once they did, it didn't take long to find the source. His pants were cut off revealing a large bulge between his legs. When the nurse had finished cutting his underwear away with bandage shears, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared in astonishment at what had been hidden beneath them.

Somewhere a camera flashed to record the fact that the young man had come into the hospital with what would later be identified as a forty-four caliber Ruger Black Hawk revolver stuck deep inside his rectum. The massive revolver's front barrel sight had torn his anus as it had been forced in. This accounted for the blood. A quick inspection of his pants revealed a jagged hole in the back. This accounted for the "means of entry" as they would later refer to it in the police report. What no one could account for was the amount of force it would have taken to do such a thing. Outside of sitting on it and forcing himself down, no one could imagine the level of strength required for another person to force the pistol into the position where it had been found.

In all fairness though, no one really worried about it too much. The story made the rounds in all of the city's precinct houses and everyone who heard it got a good laugh. The young man had several outstanding warrants and the pistol itself turned out to be stolen property. The police department counted its blessings and asked no further questions.

Sasha smiled at the memory. She had a deep dislike of having anyone point a weapon at her. She had hoped that the first few would have scared the rest off but this wasn't the case. When the young man had showed up that night trying to break in she had grabbed him from behind. Somehow he had managed to wiggle free and pull the pistol out of his belt. Sasha was normally not the kind of person inclined to lose her temper but the sight of the pistol enraged her. So much so that she had been half tempted to see if the gun was loaded after she had pushed it inside him but the only real practical way to do that would have been to pull the trigger and if there was one thing she disliked more than having pistols pointed at her, it was cleaning up after one after it had gone off.

A muffled noise down the street brought her back to he present. A car door closed softly then she heard footsteps. The car had to have come down the street with its lights off. Otherwise she'd have seen them. This fact alone told Sasha that the driver was up to no good. She leaned against the tree and waited.

The footsteps got louder and a moment or two later she saw a figure enter the parking lot. She could not tell who it was but it did not seem like another neighborhood troublemaker. Besides, those incidents had fallen off to nothing shortly after word about the hoodlum and his pistol had gotten around. No. This was not a local hoodlum looking for trouble. This person, whoever he was, had a purpose in mind.

Without making a sound, Sasha reached behind her for the Emerson-Lang air rifle she'd left leaning against the rusted chain-link fence. The rifle was the type used by conservationists and others to drug big game animals in the field. It was silent and unless the animal had a rare allergy, the dart was never fatal. She raised the rifle to her shoulder and looked through the night vision scope. Then she smiled.

As she adjusted her eye to the ghostly green of the viewfinder, she realized who the intruder was. She did not know her name but she recognized her features. A pretty woman but she seemed rather short. Shorter than she had been last time. Given her own height, the height of others was something Sasha had difficulty judging, especially through a scope in the dark. She followed the woman's movements for a moment then she understood. The last time she had seen this woman, she'd been wearing heels. These were gone now. Replaced by black running shoes but everything else was the same. She wore her tight jeans and a familiar short leather coat.

The woman moved toward the door. The increase in light caused Sasha to move her eye away from the night scope. When she moved back into the shadows, Sasha refocused the scope on the back of her neck. A laser would have made it easier but she disliked them. Other people could see the red dot. More to the point however, before she had entered her Mistress' service, she had been a member of an Olympic level shooting team. Growing up in a small Eastern European country she had found this skill to be the surest ticket out of the grime of the city in which she'd been raised. She also found sharp shooting very relaxing and she appreciated the fact that she had developed a high degree of skill in a field where her enormous size and ungodly strength were neither help, nor hindrance.

The woman heard a sound in the distance. As she craned her neck to see what had caused it, Sasha gently squeezed the trigger. She instantly saw the dart appear in the scope's viewfinder. It had imbedded itself deep in the woman's neck, just below and behind her left ear. She dropped unconscious to the asphalt before it even dawned on her that something was wrong.

Sasha placed the rifle against the fence and walked towards the silent figure. She checked her pulse. As she did so, she moved the collar of the coat away to reveal the woman's face. So pretty, Sasha thought to herself. Whether or not she remained that way was another matter entirely. She looked at her a few seconds longer then reached into her coat pocket. She withdrew a small black box and pushed a button on its face. A single green light next to the button blinked once. At the same instant, the first chime sounded inside the building.

She lifted the limp figure and carried her effortlessly under one arm as she walked back to the fence. She retrieved the rifle then put both the rifle and the woman into the back of a large SUV parked in the shadows. After she started the vehicle, she put it in gear and drove towards the car the woman had arrived in.

When she reached it, she placed a call on the cell phone attached to the SUV's dash. It was brief. It did not take long to give the model and license plate number to the towing service and ask that they remove it. They would already know where to take it. Of this she was certain. When she was done, she hung up. She reached into her pocket one more time and pressed the button on the little box. The second chime sounded in the building. She looked over her shoulder at the motionless figure in the seat behind her. Satisfied that all was well, Sasha drove away.

Author: Victoria Lynn

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