Sexy Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  I feel the tears running down my cheeks, bouncing on my breasts, wetting my dress, exposing the shape and size of my nipples.

  We walk and walk and I cry and dream. Mistress leads me to a quiet park bench. We sit down and she lets me get it all out.

  “When will I be able to start dating Master Garrett?”

  “I think you'll be with him by next spring.”

  Suddenly, I am so happy. “Oh my God, do you really think that's possible?”

  “Yes, trust me. You made quite an impression on Master Garrett.”

  “Are you sure, Mistress?”

  “Believe me, I know him. I've never seen anything like it. You two totally connected. You have a special place in his heart.”

  “You do too, Mistress.”

  “Yes, but it's different with you.”

  “I wish Stevie to be free.”

  Mistress adds, “Remember, he is free and you are not and he knows it. He is a gentleman. He won't date you while you are married, or, until you file for divorce.”

  I say, “I understand, Mistress. Where do we begin?”

  Mistress thinks for a moment, and says, “I have a delicious idea. When would you like to start?”

  “Tonight.”

  Mistress holds my hand. “I love you, Andi!”

  I gently grab her other hand. “I love you, Cyndie. How will I ever thank you?”

  “You are now.” Then, I gave Cyndie a long, loving kiss.

  Within a week, I get ecstatic again. Master Garrett calls Mistress and asks for my apartment's address. During that same call Mistress Myst gives me even better news; Master Garrett's relationship with Dee Dee is ending. I wonder what his address request means.

  Two days later I receive a greeting card from him. Inside he writes, “It was so good seeing you the other night. I still see you walking towards me and away from me when I close my eyes. You've never looked better. It was an enchanting moment. I loved it. I've asked Cyndie to make a lunch date for we, three, sometime soon. Will you attend?”

  Master wrote his home address on the outside of the envelope and I take two hours selecting a card and writing my reply. After I mail the card I call Mistress and read to her Master's card. I beg Mistress to make our lunch date as soon as possible. She tells me she will and that we will plan to look fabulous.

  Over the next week, we work very hard. We try many clothes and hair styles. We talk for hours and decide on my outfit and what Mistress will wear. I have my hair dyed and lightly permed. I love the long loose ringlets at the front of my part. I eat so little that I lose two pounds. I feel so good about my looks. Mistress assures me that I look terrific; sweet, young and pretty.

  Our lunch is so much fun. We eat at the Rittenhouse Hotel's restaurant and we enjoy their delicious buffet. I wear white; hip-hugging Lycra pants, a fitted silk blouse, a small panty and ankle-high boots. I don't wear a bra, or my wedding and engagement rings. My jewelry is silver; hoop earrings, a thin necklace and a dangling navel charm. My hair is flowing free and easy down my back. My make-up is understated, pastel and perfect.

  Cyndie is in her little black dress. We are so feminine and cute and look so wonderful on the arms of the nicest, most-handsome man in Philadelphia.

  Master Stephen fills our ears with sweet nothings. I love every one of his comments. He loves my hair, my tight, cropped blouse, my earrings, and my business plan. He loves his lunch, and has me share his dessert. He wants to feel my pants as the material fascinates him (when he does, I place my hand on top of his hand and hold it there for five minutes). He dreams of a happy future; and wants me to tell him more of my dreams (I resist telling him my major fantasy - to be with him).

  We speak about my beach home and I invite him to come with me for a getaway in Rehoboth. Master and Cyndie accept my offer for a threesome weekend there next summer. Master winks at me about this. Mistress does not see it or my reply blink.

  When Mistress leaves the table I quickly reveal to Master Stephen that I am planning my divorce and have an attorney. I will file in the next few months.

  Master smiles and kisses my lips. He desires for me to call him as much as I like as he wants to know my progress. He pulls out his business card from his wallet and writes his home and cellphone numbers on the back of the card.

  I slip the card inside my purse.

  He asks, “Will you promise me this? Call me the day you file for divorce and I will take you to dinner. When do you plan to do it?”

  I am so excited that I can't speak out loud. In a whisper I answer, “I swear I will. I want to do it on Feb. 21, Robert's birthday.”

  I love Master Stephen's smile. “Great, where do you want to go that night?”

  I go for it, answering boldly, “I want to eat and sleep with you at The Inn of the Dove in New Jersey.”

  He winks and kisses my lips. Our tongues touch. Then, he whispers, “I'll arrange it. But, it will be hard to wait that long.”

  Then, Cyndie walks back to the table.

  It is a fabulous prelude, a peek at what life can be with Master Garrett. He ends lunch by giving Cyndie and me a huge hug and a kiss. We three make a promise to do lunch again before Christmas. I want so much more, but Mistress Myst pinches my behind when she correctly guesses that I am greedy and about to ask for more time with Master. I stop myself. Master must not get the wrong feelings.

  Mistress Myst is right. I must be patient. But, I also must have Master Garrett. No one else will do, ever. I know we will make each other happy and healthy. I understand now, fully and completely. I need to act and not give up hope.

  ***

  I was crying and didn’t know it until the stewardess asked me what was wrong.

  What did I just read? I felt shocked and stupid. I didn't really know Andi, did I? Not as well as I thought I did. I saw her in a clearer light. That light revealed better the bond between Cyndie and Andi, and my place in their circle, or, was it a triangle?

  regrouping

  I left the plane sober and sad, four hours after getting on board in Denver. While still in the terminal, I called Detective Morelli on his cell phone. We agreed to meet at the morgue so I could make the identification. We would also talk there. Morelli gave me directions to the medical examiners office on University Avenue at the University of Pennsylvania Campus.

  I then called Cyndie and she was resting comfortably in my home. I promised to call again as soon as I finished with Morelli. I took the bus to the long-term parking lot, found and started my Miata, and drove to the city.

  I met John Morelli at the medical examiners office. He’s a short, curly-haired man in a tan raincoat and tan suit. Morelli briefed me on his findings.

  Clearly robbery wasn't the motive as Andi's little pink purse was still over her left arm when she was found. Money, credit cards and identification were inside the purse and it looked to me as nothing was touched. I made the identification at the morgue.

  Andi Grayson’s body had been in the trunk of her car for some time. The forensic doctors would run tests to gauge how long.

  After Morelli finished speaking, I reviewed with him the recent events in Andi’s life and my trip to Colorado. I admitted I didn’t have much and didn’t fully understand why Andi went to Fort Collins, other than to meet with a male acquaintance for dinner a week ago Saturday. I gave the detective all my identification and phone numbers.

  Then, Morelli had me make the positive identification. I never want to do that again. I'll never forget the condition of her body and the stare from Andi’s open, sightless eyes.

  They showed me her possessions. Andi had been provocatively dressed, wearing only a white mini-dress, big heels and panties. She had on her best silver jewelry; bracelet, necklace, anklet, and ear, nose and belly button rings. This could be what she wore to dinner in Fort Collins. If so, she sure left in a hurry that Saturday night. She didn’t change nor did she check out of her hotel room. Why? What happened at that dinner?

  The forensic team told me a plas
tic cord ended her life quickly. The killer garroted Andi from behind. The medical examiner assured me it was a swift, painless way to die. I took no solace in that.

  I walked out of the morgue at 9 p.m., hours after getting the worst phone call of my life. I was wiped out from talking with the detective and the whole death experience.

  I walked to the hotel across from the University of Pennsylvania Hospital to get my car. From the hotel’s lobby I auto-dialed Cyndie's cell phone. “Hello, Cyn.”

  “Oh, Stevie, how did it go?”

  “It’s over. I just left the morgue and finished talking to the detective, John Morelli.”

  Cyn asked, “How? Why did this happen? Did they have any clues?”

  “No. Not that they told me. I don't think they have much to go on. It looks like the killer did it quickly. She was strangled; there's a thin, red mark around her throat. There wasn’t any other violence, and her purse was in the trunk with her. Nothing appears to have been stolen.”

  “Oh my God, did you see Andi?”

  “Yes, it, oh, Cyn, I’ll talk about it some other time. I just want to get home. I’m wiped. I should be there in a little over a half hour. I’ll knock twice on the front door when I arrive.”

  I said goodbye and walked out front and made my way back to the Penn Tower parking garage. In two minutes, I was riding on the Schuylkill Expressway, south.

  ***

  I gave my front wooden door two raps with my knuckles. Through the door I heard Cyn ask, “Who is it?”

  “Cyn, it's me, Stevie.”

  I heard the deadbolt unlock and then the door opened. Cyndie Myst rushed into my arms and hugged me tight as tears poured out of her eyes. I’ve never hugged her so long or so tightly. I cried too. It was the emotional release I had been holding off since this morning’s call in my Fort Collins hotel room. It took me several minutes before I could move us inside far enough to shut and re-lock the door.

  Cyn gasped and began to cry again. “Oh, Stevie this is all my fault. These last few months were a nightmare. Now, it's a living hell. I hate this whole thing.” I held her and patted her back.

  Cyn sobbed, “Now, she’s gone! Oh, Stevie, who would do this to a sweetheart like Andi?”

  “I don't know. The police seem clueless.”

  Cyn said, “I'm so scared. Thank God, you’re here, Stephen Garrett. I, I would be going crazy. We need to get away for a while. Can we?”

  “Cyn, we’ll be safe here.”

  “I know that, I just want to relax. I need it big time, and you do too.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Well, actually, we were scheduled to go to Andi’s beach house. This was my big chance. Now it’s all screwed up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We had a photo shoot scheduled this weekend in Rehoboth with Andi and our friend, Aprella.”

  I asked, “Aprella?”

  “Sure, you remember her. She’s the gorgeous, slim model that we met at lunch one time last summer.”

  “Uhm… Does she have those green streaks in her black hair?”

  “Yes, that’s Aprella.”

  “God, she is beautiful. She was wearing the sexiest little dress I’ve ever seen any woman wear in public.”

  “Yes, Stevie, Aprella is so thin she can wear anything, and usually does. She doesn’t mind showing off that incredible size 2 body.”

  “So, your photo shoot’s at Rehoboth? I didn’t think Goth models got into the beach scene.”

  “No, she’s not a Goth; she’s a fetish who’s about to break it big into mainstream, she’s that good.”

  “She is very different, very beautiful, Cyn.”

  “We’d do a shoot with colorful, sexy dresses, funny hats, parasols and capes and stuff like that. I wanted the photos to be romantic and sensual. We were planning our shots on the sand dunes in a remote are of Cape Henlopen State Park. Plus, we’d do some interior shots at the beach house of Aprella and Andi in corsets and slips and ribbons and garter belts and long, thick stockings. They were perfect for the shoot. Exactly what the designer needs to make the layout sparkle.”

  “Isn't an outdoor shoot hard to do?”

  “Once I dress them and arrange the sets it works out fine. I really want to do it, because Aprella’s so hot now that she could get ten times as much from another photo shoot. She was doing it for me because she’s my friend and wants to help me.”

  “I see.”

  “Can you imagine the contrast between Aprella and Andi? It would have been incredible.”

  I needed to break this tangent. Cyndie must be in shock to talk like this.

  “Yes, I would have liked to seen it. But, it’s gone now. You need to call Aprella and tell her not to come.”

  “Yes, you’re right, but I just thought of something, Stevie. We own the beach house, now! We do, if that will is genuine.”

  “Edie McCall owns a third of the beach house, too. I spoke to Edie from the Denver airport. She is really broken up about Andi’s death. She offered to fly to Philly and help us.”

  Cyndie asked, “What did you say?”

  “I said yes. She really helped me when I saved Andi’s life in L.A. She’s arriving tomorrow.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  I could see Cyndie was surprised and thinking about Edie. I thought of something else.

  “Cyn, did you call Andi’s attorney? What was his name, Hines?”

  “No, I got tied up with work and Jimmie yesterday.”

  “OK, well, let’s do that in the morning.”

  “Yes, we need to, Stevie.”

  I made a decision. “If the will is genuine and the beach house is ours, let's go to Rehoboth.”

  Cyndie was still distracted. She asked, “When did you say Edie was arriving?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “How’s she getting here?”

  “I agreed to pick her up at the airport at two-thirty.”

  I thought about Andi for a minute and asked Cyn, “What will happen with Andi’s body. Do you know?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask her attorney.”

  “Okay, well, let’s see, tomorrow is Wednesday. We’ll ask Hines what we can do for Andi.”

  It was the stream of tears running down Cyn’s face that caused me to hug her again. She hugged me back, tightly.

  “Cyn, don't worry, we'll get through this.”

  “Oh Stevie, thank you.”

  Cyn turned to face me and whispered, “I love you, but I trust you even more, Stevie. I know you will find out who killed Andi.”

  I said, “We’ll do it together, with Edie’s help.”

  Cyndie asked if she could sleep in my bed, instead of the guest room where she had slept since she arrived. I agreed. She said, “Thank you. I’m so scared; I don’t think I’d ever get to sleep.”

  ***

  Sleep we did, falling asleep as soon as we got into bed. Then, I had my recurring dream.

  I am back in that mountain cabin, high above Tucson, Arizona, and it is nine years earlier. I wake in the middle of the night needing the bathroom; I drank too much wine. When I finish flushing and washing, I walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of chilled water from the refrigerator. I drink deeply. The very different women, in the rooms to my right and to my left, play on my mind.

  What does it all mean? What should I do? I struggle to understand.

  I walk to the entrance of the second bedroom. The door is closed. I pause to think again. I should turn left and head back, but I usually go right, as the attraction is too strong.

  I slowly turn the handle and push the door open. The faint, blue glow of starlight provides ethereal light in this room and on the gorgeous angel-come-to-earth that appears before me. This young, little beauty sleeps soundly on the right side of the full-sized bed. As if she knows I'd come here, the covers on the left side are turned down, inviting me to join her. She is lying flat on her back, and her beautiful very dark hair is
spread out all around her pillow. Her arms are on top of the covers on either side of her body with both palms facing down. Her breathing is the sweetest and only sound I hear. She is so tranquil and at ease.

  I walk to the bed, kneel down and give Edith a soft kiss on her forehead. For a brief moment, her mouth forms in to a slight, adorable smile and her eyelids move. It looks like she whispers my name, like she senses me there.

  Somehow, I resist my heart's desire. I almost accept her silent offer. I imagine sliding into bed next to her. But, every time something, perhaps my intuition, tells me not to do it. Our time has not yet arrived.

  Instead, I stand up and take in this angelic creature for a long time and then leave her to heavenly dreams.

  I quietly close the door behind me and walk back across the hall, returning to the opened door from where I started.

  The atmosphere is different in this bedroom. The amber outdoor lights provide much more illumination. The highway facing windows bring in the occasional sounds of passing vehicles. A violated, fair-haired angel is in the large bed, deeply sleeping too, on her side. Like the petite beauty in the other room, this woman's very long blonde hair is tossed all over her pillow and face and shoulders. In contrast, slumbers of the lady in this master bedroom are tormented. The covers are off her body and her small white nightshirt is raised above her hips, showing her badly wounded behind with its red marks of abuse. Her face expresses the pain and trauma, and her arms are tight and close to her body. I walk to the bed and cover her with the sheet. I kiss Andrea on her forehead and the hint of a smile crosses the innocent face of that naughty, reckless gift from God.

  Then, for the next to last time, I see myself getting into bed with Andi. I lift her left arm and place it on my chest so we can have the physical contact we both crave. I pray and let my thoughts go where they may.

  And, then, I always remember Edie's haunting words; “I know you need to go, but stay in touch with us.”