by Jamie Knight
Clem had hidden who she was as long for as she could, but as soon as the hormones kicked in that was it. She had to be careful, but she started dating girls. Sadly, the girl she loved most was the daughter of a fire and brimstone minister who honestly believe that his god had put a ban on apples because of the genesis story and that holding hands was fornication because it was a form of physical affection.
He found out about Clementine and his daughter and thought the Devil had gotten into both of them in the most literal sense. He had a ‘cleansing ‘ceremony for his daughter. One that nearly killed her by drowning, and some of his followers, most of them almost as mad as he was, hanged Clem from a tree behind the church.
Except they didn’t do the rope right, being complete bloody idiots, and just left her hanging in the most literal sense. Something else they didn’t know was that Clementine carried no less than three knives on her person at any one time. The found two but left the one in her boot.
She was a mess when we met. She had hitchhiked all the way to New York from Virginia, not having a lot of chances for showers. I had been advertising for a driver at the time. The last one quit on account of my ‘crazy-ass schedule.’ Clem just seem to be happy to have something to do. The fact that the job came with an apartment and a hefty salary didn’t hurt either.
I wasn’t a hero or even really a ‘good guy’ in the moral crusader sense. I always leaned more toward the chaos view of the universe. The one that has the bollocks to outright contradict Big Daddy Einstein and point out that much of the time God does, in fact, play dice with the universe. It’s a knowledge that different people take in different ways. My particular take was that humanity already had enough going against us, so why be terrible to each other? As such, I really couldn’t stand to see people getting kicked for no good reason.
The solace of great literature, sweet as it was, lasted only so long and much too soon I was back to pondering more moral concerns. Like the money the studio would lose if the show tanked, either because it can’t be made interesting enough under the new constrains or Addie and I both lost interest in the very premise, giving in to our obvious, if allegedly ‘forbidden,’ attraction to each other.
I honestly couldn’t give a damn about the money. I wasn’t some wealth addict under the delusion that millionaires are next door to destitution. I did alright and would continue to do so, still making more money than the majority of people saw in years.
The main downside would be the headache the executives, particularly the board of directors and their silly little threats of firing me or whatever it was that they did to make most people so afraid of them.
I just really didn’t have time for their nonsense. Better to try and avoid it and keep the babies happy. At least for the time being. If there was one thing I could do, it was wait.
The buzzing was gentle and quiet. The phone barely making any sound at all from deep in my pocket. Addie.
“Hello?”
“Tobias, it’s Addie. Addie Harris. I-I’m really sorry to this but I need your help.”
“What’s happening?”
“It’s my ex. He’s had visitation with our son but now, because I’ve been gone, he says he’s going to report me for abandonment. Even though Duncan was with him the entire time, so I hardly abandoned him. I left him with his dad who claimed he wanted him. He’s the one who abandoned him, but after all this time he came back, saying he wanted to make things right and be a dad again, and that it was good for Duncan to spend time in his custody. I stupidly believed him, and I never should have.”
“What’s the name of your ex?” I asked, cold flame burning bright.
“David. David Harris.”
“I’m on it.”
Phones really could be powerful tools. If one had a tool of communication and the will to use it, there was almost nothing they couldn’t do. Like the hacker who started on a cellphone while in court as a witness in a federal hacking case. The line between brave and crazy were thin at points.
“Hi, Candace?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Tobias.”
“Oh, hi! How have you been keeping?”
“Oh, can’t complain.”
“Very droll, my dear. What can I do for you?”
“In this case, it is more what I can do for you. I’ve been warned of a possible false alarm call. If you get a call from a David Harris regarding an Adelaide or Addie Harris abandoning their son, you might want to ignore it. I can vouch for the fact that Ms. Harris is taking part in a show being produced by my studio and left her son in the care of the child’s father, who is David Harris.”
“Got it. I’ll spread the word.”
“Thanks, Candace.”
“No, no, thank you I bloody hate these petty calls. We have better things to do than chase false leads because an ex gets pissed off.”
“Indeed,” I agreed.
It also helped if, in addition to a communications device and the will to use it, one also had some friends in powerful positions. Ending the call to Candace, I dialled Addie to tell her the good news. She picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Taken care of,” I said.
“It is?”
“Indeed. If he even tries to call them, he will be completely ignored if not told of for being a prick. Depending who he gets.”
“Wow, how did you manage that?”
“I’m friends with the deputy director. Went to college together.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck good?” I asked.
“Fuck very good,” she said.
“Really?” I asked, intrigued.
“Never had any complaints.”
“What do you like to do?”
“Suck cock,” she said, with surprising candour.
“What about you?”
“What about me what?”
“What do you like to have done to you?” I inquired.
“Serious?”
“As a firing squad.”
“I like having my feet rubbed. Nothing turns me on faster or better. Give me a good foot massage and I’m putty in your hands. The best way to get me to cum is to lick me.”
“Lick you were?”
“You know,” she said, suddenly turning bashful.
“You’re pussy?”
“Yeah.”
“Say it,” I prompted.
“I like getting my pussy licked,” she confessed.
“Are you blushing?”
“A little,” she said.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Yes. Anything.”
“A dangerous thing,” I warned.
“I know.”
“Where is your hand right now,” I asked.
“In my panties. On my pussy.”
“Stroking or just cupping?” I asked.
“Stroking,” she said, breath slightly heavier.
“Feel good?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. I suspected the attraction might be mutual, but I didn’t know it was to pussy-stroking levels. Particularly not telling me so with such forthrightness. I couldn’t help but feel flattered.
“What am I doing?” I asked.
“Eating me out. I’m sitting down and you’re on your knees, face between my thighs, going to town.”
“I’m doing spirals now, mixing it in with figure 8s, flicking your clit as I pass,” I said, trying my best to paint the picture.
“Yes!” she screamed, stroking herself so hard I could hear her clothes rustling over the phone.
“Slow down,” I ordered, not wanting her to hurt herself.
“Okay,” she said.
She started again, but not nearly as intensely. I could still hear it but not to the same degree.
“Feel good?”
“Yes,” she gasped, edging on desperation.
“K
eep going,” I urged.
“Yes, Tobias,” she said, continuing as she was.
I stayed with her until she finished, encouraging and getting her to ease off when needed, until she had come to completion.
“Good night, Addie,” I said, before hanging up.
Chapter Eight
Addie
I thought it had been a dream. There was no way Tobias managed to defuse Dave’s threat with a single phone call. Did producers really have that kind of power? Then again, maybe he wasn’t always a producer. He had lived long enough to pack in a lot of living, especially if he was an early developer like I was.
I more or less considered the seven or so years I was with Dave to be a write off. I also didn’t remember a whole lot before the age of six. But really, that still gave me a good twenty-seven years that weren’t awful. I actually found it a bit odd that the show was supposed to feature a woman in mid-life, yet the minimum age they were looking for was forty. Were there really that many people, particularly women, still dying at 80? From what I heard was the average life expectancy, at least in the west, had gone up to between 95 and 100. Maybe someone was at the studio was just really bad at math. If that were the case, I doubted it was Tobias.
It came flooding back into my mind. After the first call, he had called back. He was just so powerful but also sweet. He did a major thing for me but acted like it was no big deal at all. I had already been turned by him but having behave like some sort of sexy protector pushed me of the edge. It wasn't really phone sex, what we had done, but pretty close and the closest we had gotten to that point. At least I knew for sure that he shared my interest in the physical side.
Try as I might, I really couldn't get it out of my mind. Not just what we had done on the phone the night before, but what I wanted so much for him to do to me in real life. Still laying on my stomach, my hand found its way under me, around my hip and over my belly, and then my pelvis, finding its way all the way down to my wet pussy. I went easier than I had the night before. Tobias had taught me a whole new method of touching myself that felt unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I caressed and coaxed my pussy lips I until ripples of pleasure ran through me, from my pussy all the way up to my brain where they exploded in the loveliest way.
I kept at it like that. The sensation was building, the explosions were getting more numerous as well as more intense, without me needing to increase my speed or intensity much at all. The pressure and pleasure built until I was moaning with orgasm. The sounds that came out of me muffled by the pillow.
I wasn't sure how long I slept, or if I did. The blank period was just a dreamless void. I supposed it was possible I had just wanked myself into unconsciousness. What a lovely thought!
The knock sounded like an agitated woodpecker. Rousing myself from my beautiful stupor, I zombie-walked from the warmth of my comfy, comfy bed, across the cold floor to the door, to see what horrors awaited me on the other side. It was never good news that came before ten in the morning.
He looked like a cross between an undertaker and an old-world footman. Tall and lean, he seemed like something from a Charles Addams drawing. His exquisite black suit actually had tails that reached down to the backs of his angular knees.
“Ms. Harris?” he asked I a low, rumbling tone.
“Yes,” I said, half-hoping I was still dreaming.
“I am the manager madam and it is my sad duty to inform you that the hotel will be closing due to an upcoming quarantine, and you will not be able to remain after noon today.”
“O-okay,” I said, the new data still computing.
He gave a cordial bow, actually clicking his heels before dipping into it, turned on his heel and strode away. I wanted to be mad, but I wasn’t sure at whom. Not the manager who was only doing what he was told, or the hotel owners who had likely gotten an order of some kind from the government, or indeed the forces of state governance who were reacting to a situation beyond their, or anyone else’s control. No one was particularly happy about the situation.
Keeping my potential rage in check, I got my phone and dialled the person I always did in such situations.
“I’m getting kicked out.”
“Well, hello to you to,” Mercy said, “why are you getting kicked out?”
“The hotel I’m at is being shut down for the quarantine.”
“Ouch.”
“You said it. I either have to find another place to stay or I’m faced with the exciting choice of either coming home or sleeping at the bus station for the rest of the shoot. I’m not sure which one is more appealing.”
“Hey, it’s not that bad here,” Mercy objected.
“No, not really. The main drawback is Dave knows my address there. Here I’m just another one of millions. Like looking for a needle in a whole pile of other needles.”
“Interesting turn of phrase.”
“I do my best.”
“Is there any one at the show who might be able to help? I mean, you are the star. I’m guessing they’re pretty rich if they put you up at the Sixty for that many nights and they’re hardly going to want you to be living on the street, right?”
“Mercy, you’re a genius!”
“I know, but it’s still nice to be recognized from time to time.”
The number for Tobias was still in my phone from our call the night before. Pushing down the heat I could feel rising inside me, I tapped the screen and crossed my fingers.
“Hello?” came his manly but gentle voice over the line. I could just feel my pussy melt.
“Hi. I um, I have some trouble here,” I managed.
“Your ex again?” he asked, not unreasonably.
“No, nothing like that. The hotel is shutting down because of the lockdown. I have until lunch too find a new place to stay or I’m going to end up on the street or something.”
“No, you’re not,” Tobias said, as if he could control how things went through sheer force of will.
I was actually starting to wonder, after how he had dealt with Dave so effortlessly. At least it had seemed effortless to me. I had spent so many years being afraid of him. Hating him for what he had done to Duncan and me, and Tobias had deflected him with a wave of his hand, like swatting away a troublesome mosquito and how he had managed the raging asshole on the first date. Now, he was saving me from this. He truly was amazing.
“Mornin’, sugar,” Clementine said, leaning against the gleaming side of the car.
“Hey,” I said, Clementine was always able to cheer me up with her irrepressible good humor.
I kind of wanted to sit in the front with her, but social distancing would not allow it. Getting into the spacious back, Clementine closed the door and sprinted around to the driver’s side. I didn’t know exactly what Tobias had planned for me, but I was confident that he had something, and it would more likely than not turned out to be good.
“Here we are, darlin’,” Clementine said as car came to a complete halt.
“Really?” I asked dumbly.
“Yeah, pretty sure. Not to brag or nothin’, but I’ve been here an awful lot.”
“This is -”
“It is,” Clementine said.
“Wow.”
The house wasn’t quite a mansion. Not technically. It would need a few more rooms to meet that designation, but it was still fuck-off huge and massively impressive. The gates hummed as they slowly parted like the Red Sea.
Without a word, Clementine got back in the car and backed up down the driveway until she was on the street. Looking back at the house, I steeled my nerves and started moving forward, remembering what the Buddha said about a journey of a thousand miles beginning with a single step. The distance from the gate two the beautiful French doors was not a thousand miles. Not even close. It was both the shortest and the longest distance in the world.
The doorbell song was the famous section of the 1812 Overture because of course it was. I had already learned, even by that relatively early point, that
when it was to Tobias Ford it was really best to expect the unexpected. That way you were never disappointed.
“Clem still here?” Tobias asked. He was framed by the door like a Flemish painting.
“No, she left, almost as soon as she dropped me off. It was kind of weird.”
“No argument there. Especially considering today was supposed to be payday. Oh well, I guess you’d better come in.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I got the feeling that he wasn’t super happy to have me there. I could actually see his point. It wasn’t in the plan and could affect the show. But, honestly, if there was anyone who should be able to work around the unexpected, it should have been him.
“Is this okay? Me being here I mean.”
“It is not ideal, but the best of all scenarios given the current circumstances. The board of the studio won’t like it at all. At least they wouldn’t if they knew about it. I don’t see any reason why they should, and Clementine is perfectly discreet.”
“Me too! I mean, I’m discreet too. They won’t hear it for me, no sir. Not a peep, a pop or a chirp.”
“That’s very reassuring,” Tobias said, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Hungry?” he asked, transitioning back into the sexy protector role he had taken on.
“Yeah, actually. I didn’t really have time for breakfast.”
I also hadn’t eaten a heck of a lot the day before either. I didn’t know exactly what the root cause might be. Physical or neurological or whatever but I did know that it was getting to be a problem. How Tobias knew this was anyone’s guess. Maybe he had just heard my tummy gurgling.
“Come,” he said, heading down an ornate hall, hands casually in his pockets.
It was like something from one of those British costume dramas. The high walls of the dining room even had romance with oil paintings that looked like the real deal. Either that, or they were really good copies. If I were forced to guess which, I would guess the latter, not because buying originals for bragging rights. It was just the sort of thing people would expect him to do.
