"No I'm not."
"Pete says you spiked the drinks."
"He's full of shit."
"Why would he lie?"
"Probably to protect Kate. He's infatuated with her."
Mr. Shriver sighed and rubbed his wrinkly face. Then he looked at Judy. "What's the matter with you?"
"She was friends with Murphy."
"Let her answer," he snapped, turning to Judy. "Just friends?"
Judy nodded.
"Are you fucking any of those lab geeks?"
She shook her head.
Mr. Shriver sat up straight and sniffed at the air like a pig. "I smell a virgin, Sean. Do you smell that?"
"It's potent," Sean said.
The other guards snickered.
"Leave her alone," I said.
Mr. Shriver looked at me with his cold, black eyes. He smiled. "Put the virgin on the table."
Sean motioned to two of the guards, and suddenly they were upon Judy, grabbing her by the arms and jerking her to the marble table, where they placed her on her back. One guard pinned her arms down while the other stretched her legs out.
She was too afraid to resist. Too afraid to even open her eyes. Her body trembled, legs pockmarked with goose bumps, white panties still wet and transparent and clinging to her skin, showing a slight indention.
"Let's get those clothes off."
"No!" I shouted, standing, but Mr. Shriver just laughed and ignored me.
The two guards reached out at the same time, one grasping the bottom of the shirt I'd just given her, the other clutching her panties. In a seemingly choreographed move, they stripped her naked the way you skin a rabbit and pinned her down once again.
Judy looked at me with glazed, horrified eyes.
"I'm sorry, Judy," I said aloud, choking up. They all laughed at me, and Judy closed her eyes.
Mr. Shriver cleared his throat, then leaned over her. "You know how to . . . wait, what's your name, girl?"
"Her name is Judy."
"Judy." He sounded her name out slowly, as though he were tasting it. "How versed are you in dick sucking, Judy?"
The guard standing over Judy's head let out an excited half-laugh, half-groan. He unzipped his pants, reached in, and fished out an enormous partially erect penis.
"Don't do this, Mr. Shriver. Judy didn't do anything. She's innocent."
"Oh, I know she's innocent," Mr. Shriver said. "We're taking care of that right now. Open up, darling."
The guard knelt slightly and poked the head of his dick at Judy's tightly closed lips. "She won't open," he said. The first words I'd heard from any of the three guards.
"Spread her legs then."
The other guard hooked his meaty hands under Judy's knees and spread her legs apart effortlessly. Her vagina was small, narrow, and cleanly shaven.
Mr. Shriver leaned forward and addressed Judy with a chilling whisper. "What's it gonna be, girl? You want it in your mouth or in your pussy? You decide."
Judy opened her mouth, intending, I believe, to say something, and the guard above her shoved his dick in her mouth and then held the back of her head so she couldn't pull away.
"There you go," Mr. Shriver said. "That's the only way to learn: practice." He stood and removed his robe, exposing his round belly and leathery, splotchy skin. He wore nothing but a blue Speedo. Disgusting. "You know, it's been so long I believe I've forgotten what it feels like to break a hymen."
"Please," I said.
Judy was sucking the guard's dick voluntarily now. She was no longer crying but moaning instead. To my surprise, she actually reached up and began to massage his balls. Did they drug her somehow when I wasn't looking?
The other guard stepped out of the way as Mr. Shriver took his place.
"Where's Patton?" I asked again.
"He's busy."
"Doing what?"
"Tending to Kate. Hopefully for your sake she'll live to corroborate your story. If she dies, I'm holding you responsible."
Quite a catch-22. If Kate woke up, she definitely wouldn't take the blame. I'd be next on this table. Or dead.
Mr. Shriver went to his knees so he could closely inspect Judy's vagina. He parted the lips just enough to see if her virginity really was intact.
"Wonderful," he said.
The door opened again and Brian stormed into the room, his eyes widening. He looked pissed. "Is that Judy?" he demanded. "Let her go, goddamn it!"
Mr. Shriver peeked up from between Judy's legs. "Brian! Glad you could join us. Your little employees have caused quite a ruckus this evening."
Brian came up beside the guard receiving the blowjob, surprised to see Judy willingly working her tongue around the head of his penis.
"I need her," he said. "She's integral to the research."
"Which research?" Mr. Shriver asked.
Brian raised his arms dramatically. "The research. If you traumatize her and she can't work anymore, it's all fucked. She's the only one who knows Murphy's work! Shit, she knows more of it than I do! What the fuck are you doing?"
Brian and Mr. Shriver stared at one another, both of them boiling mad. In their silence, they seemed to be communicating something. A mutual understanding. Judy was important for some reason, and Mr. Shriver couldn't have the revenge he sought.
Slowly the old prick climbed to his feet, knees and back popping loudly. "Take her," he said.
Suddenly the guard being blown screamed at the top of his lungs, and it only took a moment to see why.
Judy had bitten off the head of his penis.
"Holy shit!" Brian said.
The guard backed away, clutching his dick at the base and screeching. Sean was laughing heartily. The other two guards also looked amused.
"Jesus Christ," Mr. Shriver said. "Somebody get him the fuck out of here. He's getting dick blood all over the floor."
"You goddamn cunt!" the guard shouted as Sean pushed him toward the door.
Judy sat up, legs still spread, and looked up at Mr. Shriver. Blood oozed down her chin, forming beads that dripped to her chest.
"Awful brave, girl," he said. Then he turned to me. "I think you're rubbing off on her."
Judy opened her mouth and let the bloody chunk of meat roll from her tongue. It bounced off her stomach and landed on the marble tabletop, right between her legs, and in a moment of pure bliss for me, Mr. Shriver shrieked a little and backed away like a child cowering from a spider.
"Come on, Judy," Brian said, taking her by the arm. She reached down reluctantly and grabbed my shirt, pulling it over her head as Brian led her to the door.
When it slammed shut, the room filled with an eerie silence. I could hear Mr. Shriver's rattling breath, feel the violent sexual urges basking from him like radiation.
The two guards, despite having laughed at their partner for his partial castration, seemed shaken up about it now. They stood with their arms crossed at the wrists, covering their genitals. They stared straight ahead, faces flushed, trembling slightly.
I looked at Mr. Shriver. "What now?"
He laughed, shook his head, and rubbed his face. He yawned once again as he spoke. "Patton invited you to my party, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"Well aren't you a lucky little cunt."
"Lucky? Me? Are you serious?"
"You're still alive, no?"
"Only so you can drain my husband's bank accounts."
He giggled half-heartedly. He was sleepy and so arrogant that nothing else mattered to him right now.
"Your husband's money. Another drop in the bucket. Tell me, how much do you think this company nets in a quarter?"
I shrugged. "How the fuck should I know?"
"Enough that it's taking more than your husband's little bank accounts to keep you alive."
"Then why haven't you killed me?" I asked nervously, thinking, Maybe he's about to.
"Patton," Mr. Shriver said. "He said we really need to keep you around. He said to trust him. Should I trust him?" I wat
ched him closely as he took a sip of his coffee, staring at me over the rim. He set the mug down with a lauded exhale. "Well?"
He was testing me. Or Patton. He wanted to know how close we'd become. The fact that he asked if he should trust Patton meant he didn't.
"I don't know why you people can't just leave me alone."
"Because you keep fucking with my goddamn company!"
The two guards each took a step forward, as though accustomed to responding to Mr. Shriver's anger with assignments of violence and murder.
"I keep fucking things up?" I asked. "You're the dumb shit who lets your clients take the Favorite Girls home."
"Eh?" he said. The grunt of an old man who isn't paying attention. His heated outburst had exhausted him, apparently. He yawned again, this one long and intense.
"I said you shouldn't let the Favorite Girls out the door. It's too risky. Why can't clients have their first fuck here, where you can control the environment?"
Suddenly he perked up, like he'd taken a shot of espresso. "Control the environment," he ruminated.
Oh shit. I'm giving him ideas.
"Or whatever," I said, trying to recover. "Can I just go?"
"Yes," he breathed in a revelatory manner. I stood, thinking he was excusing me. He quickly said, "No, I mean don't go. Sit back down. Finish what you were saying."
I sat reluctantly but didn't embellish. The last thing that I wanted was to impart better business strategies to this creep. Mr. Shriver gazed at the marble tabletop, contemplating, nodding.
"I have to pee." A lie. I just wanted out of this room.
He ignored me. "A small requisite to the contract. Of course. For safety's sake, each client must have his . . . or her--" He glanced at me, smirking. "--first experience with a Favorite Girl on the premises, in a private room. Goddamn." He stood, and when he spoke next, his voice quivered. He was close to tears. "Goddamn! Why didn't I think of it before? Melissa . . ."
He was looking at me in a brand new way. Like a disappointing son who's made him so proud with a single action that it washes away the entirety of the past.
"Melissa," he repeated, grinning and holding his arms out, as if inviting me for a hug. The sight of his loose-skinned belly made me cringe, but luckily he let his arms flop to his sides. Sighing with joy and relief, he said, "We'll talk more at the party. It's early yet and we should both get some sleep."
With that, he stood, put his robe back on, ushered the guards out of the room, and headed for the door.
"That's it?" I asked, standing.
He stopped at the door and turned, drumming his fingers flirtatiously on the wall. "For now, my darling. See you at the party."
─Looking─
I COULDN'T sleep. Returning to the room alone, sitting on the messy bed in the silence, I started to catalogue in my mind all the different ways things could go terribly wrong.
What if Kate woke from her coma? What would that mean for me? The way Mr. Shriver left things, I got the impression he was no longer so inclined to see me dead, but if Kate came around and confirmed my lie? That was a different story.
I was getting nervous about the party, too. Patton in particular. He's the one who had to deal with Murphy's body and Kate's coma. He no doubt got wind of Pete's version of the story--the truth--and might hate my guts by now.
By five a.m., I accepted that I was up for the day, and the only thing I could think to do was search for Clifton's entry point. They'd probably woken him in the night and made him take Murphy's body to the incinerator. In the process, he would have learned what transpired, which would lead him to the conclusion that I would be alone in this room from now on.
How long before he decided to pay me a visit?
I knew he was coming in somewhere in the shower room, so I started in the corridor, inspecting the ceramic tile walls closely. Then I searched the showers, the bathroom, the closets, the spa room. Nothing. No suspicious seams in the walls where a hidden door might show itself. No places where someone Clifton's size could come down from the ceiling without breaking both legs. Wherever he was entering, he had to be using as his exit as well.
Finally I came back around to the Jacuzzi pool. This was the only option left. I stripped naked, stepped in, and sat neck-deep until my body grew accustomed to the heat. Then I swam along the bottom, back and forth in a zigzag pattern, looking for a secret passage.
I didn't remember him being wet when he came lumbering down the corridor that night, but he had been naked. He could have stripped his clothes off, emerged from the pool somehow, and then toweled himself dry before coming after us.
If he was smart enough to think that far ahead.
Then again, he was doing a damn good job of keeping his entry point a secret.
I couldn't stand it. The dumbest brother of five, the fattest, smelliest ninja in history, and I couldn't outsmart him.
It would take someone keeping watch in the night. I needed help. But Brian probably had Judy on lockdown now, and, coma or no, Kate would never cooperate with me again.
It would have to wait until Flora's graduation.
Sitting in the hot water made me sleepy, but I'd committed to staying up, so when I was certain six o'clock had rolled around, I returned to the room, changed clothes, and checked the door. It was unlocked.
I had breakfast in the cafeteria for the first time. Normally Kate and I ordered from the room, a luxury none of the other employees enjoyed. Luckily I was alone. None of them knew what I'd done. They might love me for removing Kate from the picture--at least temporarily--but they might hate me for killing Murphy.
The cafeteria food was subpar. I choked down a dry biscuit, played with a solid mass of cold gravy, and finally settled for a bowl of cereal.
I wandered aimlessly through Level C, bored and anxious, wishing I'd fallen asleep when I tried. My mind was racing. Escaping was now a distant prospect, surviving this company even more so.
I needed to see Judy. Patton aside, she was the only one left with whom I had any connection.
What research was Brian talking about? It was obviously important enough to inspire restraint in Mr. Shriver. Maybe she could tell me something.
The problem was I didn't know where she lived. I couldn't just go knocking on doors all across Level C.
Brian could tell me, but would he? Doubtful. He was probably more pissed at me than anyone for jeopardizing his work. Besides, I couldn't get to Level B without Kate.
Or her security code.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I bolted for the room, recalling when Patton spoke of her poor memory retention, her propensity for lying when she forgot things.
You can't lie your way through a secured door. The code she'd punched in to grand us access to Level B had been at least ten digits. She had it memorized, but that might not have always been the case. At some point, Sean or someone else had given her a piece of paper with the code written on it, and she might not have thrown it away.
It took me an hour to find it, and in the process I tore the room apart, but in the back of a kitchen drawer, buried in old blunt wrap packages, dead batteries, pens, notes labeled To Kate, From Brian--I put these aside to read later--and empty cigarette lighters, I found a small sheet of yellow paper. On the paper, a twelve-digit number.
In the lobby, I lounged by the pool, trying to muster the courage to get in the elevator. A few people were busy at the computers, and occasionally someone passed through from the rooms to the cafeteria, but it was still pretty dead.
The longer I waited, though . . .
Just do it. No one's paying attention. They don't know shit anyway.
I went for it slowly, trying to be natural and failing miserably. I didn't breathe until the elevator doors closed.
The short ride to Level B almost gave me a heart attack. I wanted to make it stop and take me back up. Relief washed over me when I found the waiting room empty. This was where I'd met Judy and Murphy, sitting among their coworkers waiting to be
let in the door.
Thank God for the weekend.
I rushed past the benches to the panel by the doors and keyed in the security code. The red light on the panel turned green.
I cracked the door open and listened for voices or movement on the other side.
How suspicious do you look right now, stupid? Storming in was better. If I burst through the doors looking pissed off, most of the employees down here would probably be too afraid to cause me any trouble. How in the dark and out of the loop they kept their staff around here was really working to my advantage so far. Remember not to tell them that.
I swung the door open and stepped in with purpose, putting on a scowl that I hoped didn't look ridiculous.
The hallway was empty, but I could hear voices now coming from the last door on the left before the intersection. Two men arguing.
I recognized Patton's voice immediately.
Brian's took me a moment. His were the first words I could make out. "I don't care what Mr. Shriver says. She either stays on D, or she's coming down here. He's just mad because I back-talked him in front of people."
"Probably, but now's not the time to defy him. We don't need any hitches. Tonight's what we've been building toward, Brian. You need to get focused."
"Easy for you to say."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
When Brian spoke again, it sounded like he was crying. "All the work I do for this company, and the one thing I wanted in return got stolen from me. First by Sean. Then by you. And now by that bitch."
"Now wait just a minute," Patton said impatiently. "Let's get two things straight: first, I never stole her from you."
"She's in love with you, man!"
"That's not my fault. Secondly, don't talk that way about Melissa. You don't even know if she's responsible."
Cynical laughter. Then, "Bullshit, Patton. Kate knows how to handle LD dosage. She was trained. She knows better."
"Why would Melissa do it?"
"How the fuck should I know? Because she wanted a good laugh?"
Patton sighed so loud I could hear it. "Well, look, I'll try to help you with Mr. Shriver, but for now, Kate's going down to Level A, and there's nothing we can do about it. I'm sorry, Brian."
Your Favorite Girl (YFG Series) Page 14
