Secretly Seduced: The Interview Series Book One (7 page)

     “I want to do the same things with
you I did with the red head but this time I intend to remember everything,”
said Stacy unsnapping Portia’s low riders. 

     “God, what’s going to come of
me?  I’d describe my state of mind as confused. I’m usually so in control
and disciplined.  I got so turned on watching a video of myself having
pornographic sex I had sex with my college roommate.  I’m a head case,”
said Stacy handing the joint back to Portia.  The two girls were lying in
Stacy’s bed.  They had just made love for the first time.  
Their lovemaking had ended in a torrid dual climax that left both girls
breathless.

     “Was it that awful,” asked Portia
inhaling the drug?  “Don’t you think you’re overacting?  We’re not
the only dorm mates eating each other’s pussy this afternoon.”

     Stacy immediately took Portia in
her arms and hugged her. “You’re right.  It was wonderful.  You have
the softest, sweetest lips.  My toes curled when I came.  But I’m not
a lesbian.  At least, I don’t think I’m one,” said Stacy.

     “I’m not a lesbian either. 
I’m bisexual and so are you.  You saw me with Monk and Les taking it all
three orifices.  Did that look like something a committed lesbian would
do?  The dykes I know don’t do near cock and some don’t allow anything
that even looks like a dick in their pussy.  And for that matter, your
video demonstrated you possess a strong desire for large cocks in all three
orifices.  Drugs or not, you loved having that actor’s big black cock in
you.”

     “I suppose you’re right. We must be
bi-sexual,” said Stacy.

     “Technically yes, the clinical
definition of a bisexual is anyone who has sex with both genders in the last
six months.”

     “Bingo, three days is my time
frame.”

     “But labels like that are silly and
misleading,” said Portia.  “Modern psychiatry teaches that all males and
females are potentially bi-sexual.  I believe homosexuality is a cultural
concept that is inherently misleading.”

     “When I look at the person in that
DVD, I tell myself it can’t be me.  It’s not just that I was doing things
that went against my core values; it’s that I was doing them willingly. 
And I kept on having orgasms until I was exhausted.”

     “You’ve never been with a girl
before the video,” asked Portia?

     “Once in high school, I made out
with a girl friend. We were a little drunk on her Mom’s chardonnay.”

     “Did you enjoy it,” asked Portia?

     “I suppose. I had an orgasm when
she rubbed my pussy.”

     “She went down on you?”

     “No, she massaged my vagina on the
outside of my jeans.”

     Portia was slightly incredulous at
Stacy’s naiveté.  She had been gang raped as a pre-teen by her older
sister’s girl gang.  “And that was it, she jacked you off?”

     “Yes, we kissed and touched each
other’s nipples.  She wanted us to take out clothes off and get in bed but
I was afraid,” said Stacy.

     “What were you afraid of?”

     “Being thought of as a lesbian
which is not something we have in the Todd family.  Her family and mine
were good friends.  Her dad is an administrator at a hospital where my dad
has privileges.  I was afraid somehow they would find out.”

     “How about boys?  Don’t tell
me you’ve never been fucked.”

     “Before last Friday night, only two
and they were disasters.”

     “How so?”

     “Prom night, I lost my
virginity.  It was my idea.  I kept thinking I was the only girl in
my high school who had never been screwed.  I told my date to get a hotel
room.  I had this fantasy of incredible romantic sex,” said Stacy.

     “But you chose the wrong guy,” said
Portia.

     “Exactly, Cuba Libre was my
downfall.   My effort to get properly laid was frustrated by rum and
coca-cola.  Four drinks and he didn’t know his own name.  I
practically had to carry him to the room where he passed out on the bed after
puking his guts out.”

      “Men are only good for one
thing and most men aren’t even good for that,” said Portia.

      “With Herculean effort I
undressed him then applied my limited oral skills to make him hard.  Next,
I straddled him and managed to get the pole in the hole.  The first few
strokes hurt a little but I persisted and just as I was getting everything
working, his eyes popped open.  He threw me off and ran for the john where
he proceeded to puke up another quart of rum and a gallon of coke.  He
spent the rest of the night lying on the bathroom floor groaning.  I
jerked off and fell asleep.”

     “The course of true love never runs
smooth,” said Portia.  “And the other?”

     “Justin Cook, his family and mine
are also good friends so I felt he would be a safe choice.  As it turned
out, Justin had less experience with sex than I did.  The Cooks own a
beautiful yacht they keep at a marina in Boston Harbor.  I’d been on it
dozens of times for family cruises.  It had this incredible master
stateroom with two Chagall’s and a Manet.  I got this idea in my head it
would be an incredible romantic experience to have sex there,” said Stacy.

     “And the lesson learned was that
great art does not make for great sex,” said Portia.

     “Not when your partner suffers from
premature ejaculation.  Justin was a nerd in school.  He and I had an
email friendship in which he was always bragging about the great sex he was
having.  He’s studying software engineering at MIT.  I brought a
black nightgown and a bottle of champagne.  I should have noticed right
off he was a nervous wreck.  I put his cock in my mouth and he came
instantly.”

     “Stacy, that’s not as rare as you
think,” said Portia recalling a recent time she had acquired a face full of
jism from an inexperienced Indian friend who had been showing her his sitar.

     “My tongue touched his penis and
one second later I had a liquid lunch I washed down with champagne. 
Justin apologized then tearfully informed me that his prior tales of sexual
escapades were all lies.  I reassured him all would be well and the second
time would rock my world.  My mouth got him hard but as he went to enter
me, I felt something warm land on my belly,” said Stacy.

     “You are not the first female to
encounter a quick shooter.  I’ve met more than a few,” said Portia.

     “This time he was really
upset.  It took me half an hour to calm him down and convince him the
third time was a charm,” said Stacy.

     “But it wasn’t,” said Portia.

      “He managed to get just the
tip in my vagina before he lost control,” said Stacy.

      “I spent the rest of the
night on suicide watch.  We played computer games until the sun came up,”
said Stacy.

     “Not exactly a favorable introduction
to the pleasures of the flesh,” said Portia.

     “No, that day I made a decision to
delay further experimentation until I was older or got married.  I bought
into the idea that the problem was I didn’t give a shit about either of my
partners.  But when I met someone I really cared about, everything would
change and the sex would be great.”

     “How was it with the Italian
stallion, the cop?  Let me guess, great.”

     “Terrific, I remember telling
myself I was going to ask him to call me so we could do it again.  I had
this crazy idea he really liked me and we’d start dating.”

     “Even though it was blackmail and
he was married?”

     “Even though he blackmailed me and
he was married with two children.  He showed me their pictures after we
made love.  I had that good a time.  Frankly, if what he wants is for
me to go out with him again, the DVD wasn’t necessary.  I would have
anyway.”

     “He’s very good looking,” said
Portia.

     “And a smooth talker, I was quite
taken with Mike Cabreeze,” said Stacy.

     “You may not be the first college
girl he’s blackmailed and seduced.  He sounds experienced.  He did
his homework and knew exactly which of your buttons to push,” said Portia as he
placed the roach in a nearby ashtray.  “You’re sort of a diamond in the
rough, Stacia Todd.”

     “Me, what do you mean?”

     “Most girls your age and social
class are more experienced about sex.  You’re learning things your peers
learned years ago.  Roll over on your stomach.”

     “True, I blame my parents for
that.  They kept me so busy that I didn’t have time to
explore.   SAT drills, dance classes, and skeet practice took up all
my spare time when I wasn’t in class or doing homework and studying. 
Everybody in my school was worked to death.  It was very competitive too. 
I remember when we were freshman, we had this discussion about how we were
going to get into an Ivy League college,” said Stacy after she had rolled over.

     “And if you didn’t go to an Ivy
League college you were a failure,” said Portia.  “Raise your hips.”

     “Yes, only total losers went to
other schools unless it was Stanford,” said Stacy feeling Portia’s hands
separate her buttocks.  “What are you going to do?”

     “Something I have wanted to do
since we the semester started, rim your beautiful asshole,” said Portia sliding
a pillow in place before taking hold of Stacy’s ankles and spreading her leg
apart.

     “I used to think anything anal was
disgusting,” said Stacy.  “But I licked Mike’s ass when he asked me.”

     “Was it squeaky clean, a little
funky, or are you a shit licker,” asked Portia burying her nose in Stacy’s
crack to inhale the aroma.

     “Christ, I think I’m a shit
licker,” said Stacy relaxing into the sensation of having Portia’s nose
pressing against her sphincter as she recalled not being put off by the smell
and taste of Mike’s stained anus.

     “Nothing wrong with that, a swallow
of fresh pee and the taste of shit is one of my favorite sexual
appetizers.  Bu we can get into that later.  My grandfather had an
old saying.  Life was like the old lady who kissed a cow, it’s all a
matter of taste,” said Portia placing her tongue on Stacy’s sphincter.

     “I licked Mike’s butthole and he
didn’t even ask me to.  Oh that feels good,” said Stacy feeling the tip of
Portia’s tongue tease her anus.

     “Lust and desire propel us to take
actions we would otherwise avoid.  You asshole tastes delicious,” said
Portia reaching under Stacy to massage her clit.

     “If you keep sucking my butt and
playing with my clit, I’ll come,” said Stacy.

     “That’s the idea,” said Portia
forking her fingers around Stacy’s clit and squeezing it.

     “And once I get off, it’s my turn
to eat your butt.”

     “I have to warn you.  I’m not
too clean down there,” said Portia.

     “Good,” said Stacy. 

     “I didn’t know you were a dyke,”
said Lt. Mike Cabreeze as soon as Stacy answered her cell phone.  Stacy
had been sound asleep, spooned around Portia when it rang.

     “What do you want?” asked Stacy
recognizing his voice and wondering how Mike had found out about her and Portia
so quickly.  Somehow, he must be spying on them.

     “We need to talk,” said Mike. 
“I’m parked outside, dark green Crown Vic.”

     “What the fuck is a Crow Vic?”

     “Ford Crown Victoria, dummy, it’s
the Cadillac of unmarked police cars.  You’re not out in five I’m coming
in and drag your naked ass out,” said Mike abruptly ending the call.

     She’s one fine looking piece of
tail thought Mike watching his laptop’s screen.  The small video surveillance
camera he hidden in a ceiling vent gave a grainy but usable view of her dorm
room.  At the moment, it showed a naked Stacy climbing out of bed while
exchanging words with Portia.  Mike listened as the microphone picked up
their conversation.

     “It’s him, Mike.  He’s outside
and wants to talk,” said Stacy rushing to get dressed.

     “He didn’t waste any time,” said
Portia sitting up.

     “What do you think he wants?”

     “My guess, pussy, yours to be
exact,” said Portia.  “He’s making a booty call except you’re supposed to
go to him.”

     “Jesus, he’s married.  You
think he could screw his wife any time he wanted.  I’m going to tell him
to fuck off.”

     “Married guys are the worst when it
comes to wanting to fuck all the time.  Maybe you should just play it cool
until we figure out what to do,” said Portia.  “He might get violent.”

     “And if he wants to fuck me again,”
asked Stacy?

     “Do it.  You said he was a
good lay and getting screwed is better than a beating.”

     “That was before I learned he was a
creep,” said Stacy.

     “At least, he’s not a troll. 
Suppose he was a three hundred pound slob who sweated all the time and it was
impossible to find his cock under all those layers of fat.  My advice is
to play along.  See what he wants.  Perhaps you can get on his good
side.”

     Mike whispered to himself. 
“Portia’s the smart one, Stacy, and you ought to listen to her.  But
somehow I bet you still think you’re smarter than me.”

     “All right, I’ll try it your way,”
said Stacy giving Portia a kiss before leaving.

***

     “There’s a piece of paper for you
in the glove box,” said Mike as soon as Stacy climbed in his car.  He’d
snapped the laptop shut and slipped it under his seat when he saw Stacy leave
her dorm room.

     “You’re parked in a handicap
space,” said Stacy.

     “Yeah, like I give a fuck.”

      “What is it?’ asked Stacy
opening the compartment.  There were only two things inside other than the
owner’s manual. One was a non-descript rectangular object the size of a brick
wrapped in plastic.  There was a single sheet of white paper under it.

     Stacy reached for the plastic brick
picking it up so she could remove the paper underneath.  She placed the
brick back in the glove box as she unfolded the paper.  She was surprised
when Mike unexpectedly reached over, key in hand, to lock the glove box.

      “What was all that about,”
asked Stacy?

      “Proving to you what a stupid
cunt you are.  I now have your fingerprints on a kilogram of China White
heroin.  Anything over an ounce qualifies you as a dealer in
Massachusetts.  Dealers get a mandatory fifteen to twenty five years,”
said Mike.

     “You motherfucker, give me that
key,” screamed Stacy throwing herself at Mike with arms flailing.

     Stacy landed several glancing blows
before Mike grabbed her by the throat, pushed her back against the door and
slammed his fist into her mid section.  She felt her diaphragm snap in the
wrong direction as every molecule of air exited her lungs.  Stacy was
desperately trying to breathe when Mike’s hand embedded itself in her hair
forcing her head upright.  He landed an open palm slap to the side of
Stacy’s face snapping her head around, spraying bloody spit across the
windshield.  Another slap quickly followed on the opposite side of her
face.  Stacy tasted blood.  The blows left Stacy stunned with a
bleeding lip.  Her face was on fire and her ears were ringing.

     But Mike wasn’t finished. 
Stacy realized she should have followed Portia’s advice.

     Helpless, she was unable to stop
Mike form lifting up her tee shirt exposing her braless breasts. There’d been
no time to put on underwear.  Almost instantly, she felt a pain so
horrible in her left breast she screamed in agony.  When she looked down,
a pair of pliers was crushing her nipple.  Stacy had never felt such pain
as the grooved metal surface compacted her tender flesh the width of a
nickel.  Stacy lost control at that point grabbing Mike’s wrist and
screaming hysterically.

     Mike moved the pliers back and
forth pulling a pleading Stacy across the bench seat.  Both her hands were
wrapped around Mike’s attempting to remove the instrument causing her agonizing
pain.

     “Please take it off,” begged Stacy
her eyes full of tears.

     “Next time, you take a swing at me;
I’m going to take you to a crack house on Mass Avenue and handcuff you to a bed
and leave you there for the druggies and creeps.  I guarantee you if you
survive, you’ll have every STD known to medical science including AIDS,” said
Mike twisting the pliers causing Stacy to shriek in pain.

     “I’m sorry.  I’ll do whatever
you want.  Just take it off,” pleaded a totally desperate Stacy.

     “Say please and apologize.”

     “Please, Mike, I’m sorry I hit
you.  I’ll do anything you want.  I can’t stand the pain,” said Stacy
her brain numbed by the agony she was experiencing.

     Stacy’s hand went immediately to
her injured breast the moment Mike released the pliers.

     “That was stupid.  You better
smarten up,” said Mike.  “Now, look at the paper.”

      Stacy picked the single sheet
of paper off the car floor and unfolded it.  It was a list of names and
addresses of her parents, aunts, uncles, and even her grandfather.  She also
recognized the names of doctors who worked in her mother’s clinic or were
associates of her father.

     “Do I have to draw you a picture,”
asked Mike?

     “No, I get it. You’ll send that
horrible DVD to these addresses,” said Stacy.  “How much money do you
want?”

     “Rich cunt thinks she can buy her
way out of anything.   Well, I got news for you, sweetie.  All
your family’s money and even grandmother’s antique jewelry ain’t going to make
a dime’s worth of difference.  This isn’t about money.”

     “Well what is it then?  Tell
me.”

     Mike relaxed back into the car seat
before speaking.  “You know I saw you at the Court House at your
trial.  Your Mom looked so pissed.”

      “She was pissed.  She
had to take the day off from her precious allergy clinic,” said Stacy realizing
where she had seen Mike before.  During the few minutes that it took her
to plead guilty she had glanced around the room.  Mike Cabreeze had been
standing at the back watching her.

       “Dad didn’t look too
happy either,” said Mike.

       “Disappointed in me was
how he described it,” said Stacy recalling what she once considered the worst
day of her life.

       “I liked the way you
looked,” said Mike reaching for Stacy and drawing her into his arms.  “So
I chose you.”

       Stacy was too terrified
not to let Mike hold her.  “Am I supposed to say thank you?”

       “Sure, why not?  I
decided to wipe that smug Harvard rich girl look off your face.  You
needed to be taught humility.  I did some research.  I tailed you a
couple of times.  Setting you up was easy.”

       “This is sick. 
You’re sick,” said Stacy quietly.  Her hand was still clutching her
throbbing breast as she rested her head on Mike’s shoulder.  The pain was
slowly subsiding but the area surrounding the areola was turning purple.

       “I got a clean bill of
health from the psyche board,” said Mike smiling.

       “So what is it you
want?”

       “From now on, you do as
I say.  I say jump and you ask how high on the way up.  Else I make a
trip to the post office.”

     “Don’t do that.  I’ll do what
you want,” said Stacy imaging how her family would react to the DVD.  It
was her paternal grandfather she was most concerned with.  Stacy was his
obvious favorite among his grandchildren.  He had a bad heart. 
Seeing Stacy in that DVD would crush the elderly gentleman and hurt the person
in the world she most cared about.

     “Or I could get a warrant to search
your dorm room and find that key of China White with your fingerprints.  I
might include your rug munching girl friend Portia in the bust.  You could
be cell mates,” said Mike.

     “Portia has nothing to do with any
of this. She’s not rich.  Her parents are schoolteachers in New
Jersey.  Leave her alone,” said Stacy.

     “I know all about Portia even that
she likes to put her fingers in your ass while she licks your pussy.  It’s
up to you to keep her from going to prison,” said Mike.

     “All right, whatever you say,”
asked Stacy resigned to the idea she had no choice other than to follow Mike’s
directions?

     “For starters, this Friday I’m
having a poker party for a few of my buddies.  It’s a regular thing. 
We call ourselves the Posse.  It starts at 7:00.  Be there. Wear
something sexy,” said Mike.

     “Where?”

     “Building 2, Apartment 311, same
place we first made love,” said Mike.

     “Before you drugged and raped me,”
said Stacy angered by the realization she was no longer in control of her fate.

     “That attitude will get your other
nipple in my pliers and this time I’ll twist it off and make you eat it.”

     “Sorry, Building 2, Apartment 311,
what do you mean by sexy?”

     “Heels, stay up hose, skirt, dress
up, no jeans, do your best to please me and my pliers will stay in the tool
box,” said Mike.  “Learn to look good all the time, not like some grungy
college coed who doesn’t give a shit about her appearance.”

     “I don’t have those kinds of
clothes,” said Stacy.

     “Buy them.  You can afford
it.  Upgrade your wardrobe.  You’ll thank me later.”

     “I’ll do my best.  Fashion isn’t
exactly my thing.”

     “It is now.  I suggest you get
a subscription to Elle or Vogue and learn how to dress like a lady.  Lose
five, no ten pounds and tighten up your abs,” said Mike.

     “I weigh exactly what I did in high
school,” said Stacy wondering how much of her life Mike intended to
control.  Would there be anything left for her to manage?

     “I know.  You looked too fat
in your yearbook picture.”

     “All right, I will,” said Stacy
conscious that Mike was the one with the pliers and the will to use them.

     “There’s something else,” said
Mike.

     “Yes,” said Stacy.

     “Remember Mark and Faye?”

     “No.”

     “Over thirteen hundred on your SATs
and you’re dumb as shit.  There’s a lot I can teach you about being aware
of what the fuck is going on around you.  They arrested you three days
ago, stupid.”

     “Now I remember,” said Stacy.

     “But you didn’t pay attention
because you’re rich and they’re not.    You should know their
full name and everything else you can learn about them from the Internet,” said
Mike.

     “I was too upset to pay attention
to them,” said Stacy in her defense.

     “That’s because you didn’t keep
your cool.  You let them rattle you.  Google the name of people you
come in contact with.  Half of them will be phonies and the other half
will want to fuck you.  Wise up and quit being a patsy.  If you’re
going to survive in my world, you need to be conscious of what’s going on
around you.”

     “All right,” said Stacy aware that
Mike’s criticism was valid.  She’d behaved like an idiot.

     “I owe them a favor.  You get
to pay it.”

     “What’s that got to do with me?”

     “They helped me with you. 
Mark wants a day of your time, the Saturday after next,” said Mike.

     “For what,” asked Stacy?

     “Something to do with his dad, just
take care of it.  He’ll email you the details.”

     Stacy shuddered when she recalled
the muscular female security guard who helped arrest her.  She was sure
she was a lesbian.  “And Faye?”

     “She wants you as her date for some
lesbo party.  Since Portia’s taught you to eat pussy, that shouldn’t be a
problem.  It’s sometime after the first of the month,” said Mike.

     “Christ,” said Stacy.

     “You should be flattered. 
They could have asked for a lot of other things but they chose you,” said
Mike.  “Besides, it’s only a one time thing.  They’ll take good care
of you.  Nothing bad will happen.  I promise.”

     “Other than I have to fuck them,”
said Stacy.

     “That’s the best part.  You’ll
get used to it.  As my old man used to say, you’re going to become a slut
whose legs spread like mayonnaise.”

     “Is that all,” asked Stacy?

     “No, I need proof of your
commitment.  Blow me,” said Mike.

     “Right here, now?”

     “Proves to me you understand our arrangement,”
said Mike.

     “By sucking your cock,” asked
Stacy?

     “You need to be taken down a notch
so for a start you can drain my tank.  Then if you do a good job, you can
suck me off,” said Mike.

     Stunned, Stacy had an inkling of
what Mike meant but she needed to confirm her suspicion.  “Drain your
tank, what’s that?”