On the way, Cyndie explained that Robert inherited the mansion and his fortune from his now deceased father. Hume Grayson had been a chemist and invented a cutting-edge plastic for the DuPont Company. Andi told Cyn that Robert was worth over $25 million.
Nearing our destination, I slowed and paid closer attention to Cyn’s directions. She directed me to ride right by Robert's estate and park in the lot of the Grange Hall, which borders the western edge of Robert's property. We got out of the car and quietly walked on the public trail that goes right behind Robert's house.
We needed to look closely as the mansion blends well into the countryside. Cyn told me that the house’s designer was a disciple of Frank Lloyd Wright. It was a modern, flat-roofed home built into a hillside. From the front, the house appeared to be a one-story sprawling ranch home made of local grey and brown stones. From our view in the rear, the lower level was visible as the house swept down the hill. Magnificent landscaping with native plants, including azaleas and rhododendrons and fruit trees, surrounded the mansion. A creek lay at the bottom of the small valley between our vantage and the mansion fifty yards away. I counted three flower gardens on the hillside to the creek filled with purple, yellow and white annual and perennial flowers. A path to the left led to a guest cottage with matching architecture. A hot tub sat outside the cottage, partially screened by a tall, wooden fence.
Directly across the small valley, we were treated to a young babe sun bathing topless on the back deck. She was tall and young and thin and gorgeous with long brown hair. A minute later she got up and showed off her big bouncy boobs. They must be real, but they sure needed a bra. When she turned, Cyn and I saw her naked behind, since she was wearing a white thong. While we were spying, I stepped on a small branch and cracked it in half. I was scared for a second as she turned to look in my direction, but, she was brassy, as she didn't even cover her chest or her behind. She just stared my way with her hands on her hips.
We couldn’t help watching as we continued our ascent of the hill. The topless young lady slowly strutted inside on great big high heels. She returned in a minute with what looked like white wine in a goblet.
I asked Cyn, “Wow, who was that?”
“Stevie, don’t be stupid, it’s Robert’s latest squeeze.”
“Are you sure, couldn’t it be his daughter?”
“That’s not Jill. Jill is petite and has a flat chest. Plus, she wouldn’t sunbathe topless when her father’s around.”
“Did you see Robert?”
“No, but he wouldn’t have his girlfriend here if he wasn’t. Plus, his car was out front.”
“Really?”
“Sure, I spotted his silver Jaguar in the circular driveway out front.”
“You know, you’re better at spying than I thought you’d be.”
“Shut up. I want to go in there and confront that bastard and that bitch.”
“No way, Myst. That would only screw things up, big-time. Plus, you’d get fired and you’d mess up things for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m on speaking terms with Robert. I’ve met him lots of times when I was dating Eve.”
“So what?”
“Cyn, look, I want to talk to him, but wanted to get a better idea of what's going on, okay? And, now I know.”
“Still, that son of a bitch is screwing Andi.”
“I know that and you know that and he knows that, too, but confronting him at his home is the wrong move. Now, calm down.”
“Okay. So, what are you going to do?”
“Like I said, I’ll try to talk to him. Now, wait a minute, if Robert's fooling around and his divorce isn't final, we might be able to get him in trouble at the trial. It would be great if we could get some photos of Robert with her, if she really is his girlfriend.”
“Shit, I wish I had my camera with me,” Cyndie stated.
“Hey, Cyn, that’s a good idea. I don’t want you to do it as there is too much risk if you or I are seen. But, I'll call Jimmie, and have him trail Robert and his babe.”
My partner, Jimmie Spiare, has staked out suspects hundreds of times. He’d be perfect for this job.
“Stevie, what are we going to do now?”
“Let’s finish our walk and then head home. I’ll call Jimmie then. It doesn’t look like Little Miss Topless is going anywhere soon.”
***
I treated Cyndie to dinner at an Italian restaurant. Cyn ordered shrimp scampi and I chose eggplant parmesan. We sipped our drinks and talked about my trip to Colorado.
We got home after seven o'clock. I made three phone calls. I called my boss, John Samuel, and Lauren, our admin assistant, and left messages on their work phones. I gave both an overview of my upcoming trip and told them I hoped to be back in Philly by midweek.
I hung up and called Jimmie Spiare at his home. There was no answer. I left a message and then tried his cellphone. Jimmie answered on the second ring and told me he was in his car on the way to the supermarket.
“Jimmie, pull over and park. I have a job for you and need to pass on the information.”
“OK, just a minute.”
I heard his Subaru downshift. I heard The Police playing “Every Breath You Take” on his stereo. Jimmie turned down the music and said, “Right, Stevie, what's up?”
“Let me fill you in on my current case. I need your help.”
Jimmie answered, “Wow, this sounds heavy, should I take notes.”
“Yes, do it.”
Over the next fifteen minutes I filled Jimmie in on Colorado, Delaware, Cyndie, Andi and Robert Grayson. He was ready to help. I had two tasks for him. First, I asked him to run a trace on Andi's car. I passed on the make, model and year. Finally, I explained the stake-out of Robert and his girlfriend.
“Jimmie, can you hook up with Cyn sometime tomorrow morning?”
“Sure, where?”
Cyn was eavesdropping on this call and I turned to her and asked, “Where can you meet Jimmie?”
Cyn answered, “Ten o’clock, second floor at the coffee shop in the bookstore next to the agency.”
I passed the location on to Jimmie. “Cyn will answer your questions and give you the directions to Grayson’s home in Delaware.”
“Cool, okay, anything else, Stevie?”
“No, that’s all for tonight, Jimmie. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow evening, from Colorado, but not too late, okay?”
“Sure, SG, enjoy Denver, but be careful.”
I hung up and Cyn helped pack my bag. Afterwards, at 10 p.m., we went to bed. I read some of my latest mystery novel, Past Tense, by William G. Tapply. I turned out the light and fell into a deep sleep that ended when my alarm went off at 6 a.m.. My flight was at 10:30 but, we needed to get up early because Cyn had the rush hour drive to cope with.
***
Just before Cyn left my home she came up to me in the kitchen.
“Stevie, please be safe. I’m trying not to be nervous.”
“I will be careful, don’t worry.”
“I’ll be thinking of you all the time, please call me whenever you can.”
“Cyn, I will.”
As Cyn opened the door to go out, I pulled her back for one, long kiss goodbye.
a model crime
On Monday morning, the plane from Philadelphia to Denver was filled, mostly with young athletes. Listening to the conversations swirling around me, I quickly learned that they were X-gamers and the X games were starting that day in Denver.
I had seen the in-flight movie, so I decided to read some of Andi's journals. I pulled out the pink one, the first stories written. I skimmed through the pages, reading some, here and there, until I saw my name. Then, I slowed down and read; I read slowly. A flood of memories came back…
***
The first time Cyndie and I met him we were still modeling. At age 25, and after seven years, my career had peaked and was about to begin its equally long downslide. At age 25, Cyndie's career was on th
e rise, but would soon level off, and end within five years. But, neither of us knew the true status of our working futures that day.
I was called a supermodel and I acted like it sometimes. Okay, I acted like it most of the time, but I wasn't the biggest diva at the shows.
Cyndie was eating humble pie. She struggled at first; learning to walk, to turn and to develop her attitude. But, there was something about her that I loved from the instant we met. We soon became friends and, briefly, lovers.
My first impressions, when I met young Miss Myst a month earlier, were that she was unpredictable and exciting. Cyndie had a good body for modeling. She was five feet seven inches tall, thin, with a pretty face and a big, infectious smile. Her long brown hair was gorgeous, with a fullness to envy.
This story shows both a slice of our modeling lives and the moment when we met the man of our dreams.
It was April 1992. I was living in my upper east-side apartment and dating a New York Yankee pitcher. Greg was rich, egotistical and engaged. I knew the first two things about him, but learned the latter fact a few weeks later. Our relationship ended that spring when, lying naked under Greg on his big waterbed, his fiancée walked in on us. His hot-blooded, Latin lady slapped my face, pulled me out of bed by the hair, and kicked my behind as she threw me out of the apartment. The next thing I knew I was standing naked in the hallway outside his apartment with a bruised behind, a very sore scalp and a red mark on my left cheek. But, I was so mad and determined that I knocked on the door until they gave me my clothes. Sheepishly, after five minutes, the pitcher opened the door, just wide enough to pass out my clothes and purse.
As I stood outside getting dressed, inside the apartment I heard the lady screaming non-stop, Greg apologizing, and things breaking. I almost felt sorry for him; almost. I never saw her or him again. Thank God!
On that spring day, Cyndie thought this was her big break. This was her first fashion show. She felt it could make up for the poverty and insults she endured for months as she tried to break into the business. She was living in a ninety square foot efficiency apartment in a border-line hip, border-line seedy section of the Village. Unfortunately, her five-year modeling career was ten weeks of incredible fun and 250 weeks of boredom.
But, on this day, we had a life-changing event. We met Stevie Garrett.
It all started with the “crime.” Two days earlier, a purple bikini bottom was stolen right off my body in the dressing room. Our show director claimed a rival swimsuit designer hired thugs to steal the first Brazilian-styled bikini bottoms - those with only slightly larger than thong backs - that Cyndie, me and the other models would wear in the fashion show.
Stevie was hired to “investigate.” He was working for the designer's property insurance company and arrived at the crime scene on the day of the show.
Ten minutes earlier I arrived by taxi from my apartment. I was about to change into my pink bikini, when a tall, dark, handsome man in his mid-twenties walked by. He looked sharp; with a black, three-buttoned suit, short wavy dark brown hair, a strong face and bright blue eyes. The sight of barely dressed girls caused him to smile. It was a warm, white-teethed smile that made you feel good, deep down inside.
He was escorted into our dressing room by our show's director, Spencer Randolph. Spencer was dressed in his usual loud clothes, a lavender suit and a peach-colored shirt. They walked directly towards me, the “crime victim.”
Cyndie Myst's booth was two down from mine so she easily eavesdropped on the entire scene.
I was introduced to Stevie Garrett and I felt the electricity radiate between us. It continued to flow for the next ten minutes. We were both enchanted with each other from the moment we met. Stevie could barely get out his words of introduction and his purpose for standing in my dressing area.
Even still, his demeanor was a happy one and he was enjoying this moment. It was just the reaction we models love from a heterosexual man; he didn't leer but he did love everything he saw, and complimented us verbally and non-verbally. Stevie made us feel comfortable. I continued to hold Stevie's hand for a very long time after our handshake greeting. I also stood very close to Stevie, which was okay with him; we both enjoyed being in each other's personal space. Looking back now, I realize I completely lost it for the next fifteen minutes. I revealed so much of myself to Stevie, more than I expected.
Mr. Randolph sighed and said, “My little actress, Andi, wants to demonstrate how she was attacked. Please be seated Mr. Garrett and be her captivated audience. Perhaps you can solve this crime against civilization.” With that over-the-top comment, Spencer huffed and walked away.
I told Stevie to sit on the comfy sofa across from my shower stall-sized dressing booth. I went behind a curtain and started changing out of my short, baby-doll dress. The bottom of the curtain ended nearly three feet from the floor providing Stevie with a clear view of my long legs. Over the next minute, I provided him with a covered-up strip tease. First, I kicked off my white, thong sandals. I let my little pink dress fall to the floor, and, then, stepped out of the small garment covering my feet. Seconds later, pink strings and a triangle of satin fell on top of my dress - revealing that my tiny panty was off.
I twisted slightly over the next minute and stepped into four inch heels. Then, I stopped dressing.
All the while, I kept up a happy dialogue describing my attack. “Mr. Garrett?”
He answered, “Yes, I'm here, but please call me, Stevie.”
“Oh, I like that name. Stevie, it all happened so fast. I changed that day, just like now. I kicked off my sandals, unzipped my dress and dropped it on the floor. Then, I pulled down my g-string and wiggled out of it. Thank God, he didn't open the curtain then, because I was completely naked.”
I was quiet for a moment and he asked, “Miss Anderson?”
“Yes, Stevie, but please call me Andi. I'm sorry, I was putting on the bikini, like that day.”
Stevie concluded, “Andi, if the perpetrator wanted the swimsuit, they had to watch you from this side, like I am, or they wouldn't know you were dressed.”
“You know, that's true. I hadn't thought of that.”
Stevie asked, “Do you recall anyone unusual around here while you changed?”
I answered, “No, only models.”
“Did you know all of them?”
“Yes.”
That was the moment, Cyndie told me later, when Stevie turned his head, made eye contact with her, and winked his left eye.
“Okay. Andi, how did the person attack you?”
With that question, I unopened the curtain. I was facing the back wall. My long hair reached down past my behind, covering the view of my swimsuit.
“Okay, Stevie, I was standing like this. Before I put on my top, I began to twist my hair into a ponytail.”
As I lifted my hair, the Brazilian bikini bottom left mostly bare my behind for Stevie’s viewing pleasure.
I continued, “Then, all of sudden, someone reached in, and untied the side strings of my bottom. Stevie, come over here.”
Stevie did as ordered.
“Here, grab the ends of the strings.”
He put his hands on my hips. I partially turned around and said, “No, up here. Grab an end and pull, but don't let go.”
Stevie did and the sides untied as simply as shoestrings.
“Stevie, see, how easy it was? When a woman plans to wear a string bikini for a long time, she will double-knot it, but, we models don't do that because we need to change quickly.”
He answered, “I see. It makes sense.”
“Okay, now rip off the bottom and pull it through my legs.”
Stevie did and completely revealed my firm tanned behind.
I said, “That's it. He did it hard like that. Okay, now put your other hand against my back and push me against the back wall.”
Stevie pushed me a little harder than he intended, causing my legs to buckle. He said, “I'm sorry, Miss Anderson.”
I answered, �
��Don't be, that's perfect, that's what they did, but he did it even harder as I slipped down onto my left knee. Now leave the stall and go sit on the couch again.”
He walked back to the couch and sat down.
I stood straight up, turned fully around and came out of my stall. To this day, I believe it was the best sight of Stevie's short life. I stood in front of him displaying all of my naked, trim body. This was before my boob job and I remembered that the nipples on my small chest revealed my excitement. Stevie was mesmerized. I felt myself getting turned on and the feeling had to be mutual with the young Mr. Garrett.
I was completely unconscious about my nudity, being so spellbound in retelling my story, “I regained my balance and ran out of my dressing stall. But, I didn't see or hear anyone. Only Samantha Ayers was here, sitting on the sofa.”
At that moment, a tall redhead model walked up to us and began laughing at me. I was stunned. I turned towards her and said, “Samantha, what's so funny?”
“I can't believe I got you twice. This is priceless.”
Suddenly, more and more models came into view. Photo flashes went off. They were all laughing.
I cried out, “Why are you laughing at me?”
Spencer Randolph walked up and was laughing so uncontrollably that he couldn't speak.
Finally, Cyndie ended this charade. Cyndie came out of her booth, walked up to me, and covered me with a robe.
She said, “Andi, they've had a little joke and you fell for it.” Turning to Stevie, my friend introduced herself, “I'm Cyndie Myst, and I'm sorry that you were caught up in this sting. But, I'm sure it will be unforgettable.”
Spencer Randolph handed Stevie an envelope. “Mr. Garrett, your fee for a day's work is inside. You deserve it for playing along.”
I know Stevie wouldn't call his part in this game working. After Spencer broke up the crowd of girls and sent them back to rehearsal, Cyndie gave Stevie tickets for the show for being a good sport. Thinking about what happened to me, I smiled, then, started laughing, and soon all three of us laughed until our sides hurt.
Sexy Girls Page 6
