Stiletto Dolls

by C. L. Black

  Dame Jane would never admit to that, not to the real Jane. Not to Katrina. No KAT could ever be permitted to—not that. Love was forbidden. Simon said, “She’s only a doll, a cheap vinyl doll. A toy. Toys are for kids. You’re not a kid anymore. You are a Stiletto now.” He pulled. My Natasha doll! Her arm… “Papa! Stop him!” The monster broke her arm. Yes, Katrina, and the monster will cut your rubber doll’s real arm off too, if you don’t do as Simon says. Simon says, “Katrina’s tiger must kill—Papa!”

  “Wake up!” KK was shaking, “Jane! You’re talking in your sleep again.”

  “What’s that? Oh; must have—” Jane Sterling the Cougar was back, in Papa’s recliner. Good thing she still had her baby dragon strapped against her thigh. She felt secure knowing that at least one of her weapons wouldn’t discharge accidently. She reached for the remote.

  “Don’t!” KK had straddled her Papa’s plush leather recliner. “Please tell me you’re not getting old on me already?” She tried to steal the TV remote from Jane’s hand. “Don’t tell me you want to stay in and watch the telly! What is it you like? That American football?”

  “NFL? Bloody right! I might have me a pint or two.” Right, the flat. “Not to worry, love. The season doesn’t start until September. That’s when Miss Jane will be sitting on her old fat arse, front of the telly; but only on Sunday evenings. The Knotty Girl receives the DirecTV Sunday Ticket?”

  “It will now!” KK leaned forward pulling the release lever. “That’s better.” For once, she did the topping. She took full advantage, sliding her pelvis over the lumpy dragon. “There’s no reason to stay in tonight; is there?” KK lowered herself, kissing waiting lips. Something didn’t feel right. She made a retreat to a more familiar position. “My treat!”

  Dame Jane wasn’t that hungry either. She pulled KK back up and into her arms. “A remarkable logic you possess, my dear.” Kissed the two watery cheeks, and said, “Let Miss Jane go. The loo. I need a change too.” She pointed to the parked roll-away. “Will leather do?”

  “Nein. Something water-repellent. It’s raining in Paris. Sexy too! Please. I want to show you off to Petra.”

  “Right.” She suspected KK was up to no good. “Petra?”

  “Yes I told you. My newest Hushgirl; remember? Papa insists that I entertain her this weekend. Her mama is coming to visit. She lives in Brazil. Her grandfather was a real Nazi general. Ja. Petra ran away at fifteen. She hasn’t seen her mama in three years. Tell you about it over dinner. Where shall we go?”

  “Think I’ll surprise you. Mind if I pop in Papa’s room and freshen up?”

  “Ja, me too. I know just the outfit! Papa won’t mind. It’s at the end.” KK pointed down the short hallway. “Watch out for used condoms and don’t forget to leave the seat up.” She giggled. “Men are so lazy.”

  “Dress appropriate,” warned Jane as she wiggled her left index finger at KK’s crotch. “Remember love, we’ll be in public. I want that fanny covered. Understand? Don’t need us all over the bloody Internet tomorrow.” Bad for business.

  Paris: always crawling with paparazzi. KK loved teasing them with fanny shots. Jane couldn’t afford any more publicity. Paris, why did it have to be Paris? Boris… I promised her I’d never—

  “Oh, Miss Jane,” KK huffed. “You’re such a prude. Besides, it’s Paris. No one bloody cares.” She took hold of Jane’s bossy finger, pulling it to her waiting lips but stopped. “Oh ja, I almost forgot. No latex. Petra is allergic.” KK shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “I trust PVC and leather are acceptable?”

  “Yes, yes, very. Actually, all PVC is best. Petra told me she recently joined PETA.” KK leaned in and whispered, “Besides, she has our fetish for shiny things.”

  “Smashing. It’s no wonder you want her. It’s raining, you say?”

  “Ja. But, when I texted Papa, he said it was supposed to clear.

  “Very good then. Where shall we dine, my love?”

  “That’s for me to know.” KK sprang and raced off to her bedroom.

  “And no before dinner sex this time. We have a train to catch.” Jane followed closely. Papa’s bedroom was at the end of the short hallway.

  “Train?” KK stopped, turned, and frowned. “I don’t like the Chunnel.”

  “Yes, dear, but you really can’t expect your Elsa to work again this soon. I will protect you.”

  “Ja, I guess. Okay. I’ll have her meet us tomorrow morning, in Paris. Oh, ja. Papa says he’s going to be there, on Monday.” She handed over the oracle. “See, I’m not making it up. He’s to meet Petra and her mama for dinner, at—”

  “Le Train Bleu. Monday evening?”

  “Ja. They’re scheduled to meet the lawyers, Tuesday. If she wants to sign; that is, unless…?”

  “I’m sure we can persuade her. We’ll see them, together?”

  “You really don’t mind helping?” KK took back her mobile.

  “Mind? Not in the least, my love. I’m sure Petra is a sweetie.”

  “Oui, oui. Actually, very sweet, Miss Jane. We shall spend a holiday together? Ja. Can you stay until Tuesday?”

  “Till Tuesday? Yes, love. A holiday would be marvelous.” She closed the door to Papa’s bedroom. It quickly opened. “No peeking!” It closed. Click.

  While KK got more plastic, Dame Jane got busy, searching Krump’s bedroom and bath. There, in the trash bin, she found just the thing she was looking for. With the intel secured, she checked in with Mum’s London contact, arranging an immediate handoff. Since Dubai, Mum’s old KAT wasn’t taking any chances.

  Papa was close. The intel was still warm—ja, and wet…

  Quickly Miss Jane

  St Pancras Railway Station, London, 16:54 local

  “Quickly, Miss Jane; we’ll miss our train!”

  “You go on. I need—a paper.”

  The Cougar picked up the nearest paper and handed the young woman behind the counter her bank card and a small sealed envelope. KK didn’t notice and continued toward their train. The clerk swiped her card. The screen flashed twice.

  “Please confirm.”

  Jane entered six digits into the keypad.

  “Right. It’s a rush then?”

  “Bloody right. Priority Ultra.”

  “Ultra? I’ll take it myself. You have a message. The clerk read from the display, “No joy Air France.”

  “Thanks, mate.” Katrina took back Jane’s Smith’s card and turned. That little bitch. She’s already on the platform and drawing a crowd.

  The clerk yelled over to a young Pakistani-looking man restocking the shelves, “Hey Mick, got to go. Mum’s sick.” She left in a hurry, taking the small red envelope.

  It contained the bugger’s condom. Katrina found it while searching the lavatory in Krump’s flat. It was wet with still warm semen when she removed it from the trash bin. With any luck, they’d get two sets of DNA. She expected the test results would confirm her suspicions. We’ll soon know who’s fucking who.

  “KK!” She quickened her pace. “Wait!”

  “You said not to miss the train. Why’d you buy that bloody paper? Bored of me already?”

  She looked at KK in her clear PVC trench coat, then at the paper. Katrina smiled. “Not yet love.” She tossed the paper in the bin—“Shall we, my love?”—and offered Jane’s arm. She’s all yours, Jane darling. “By the way, you’re a sight in that micro thing you’re barely wearing. Was the rain gear really necessary? I should think that vinyl dress would satisfy you.”

  KK took a firm hold on. “You told me to cover my fanny! Remember? So you do like the dress? Elaine’s latest. It comes with matching panties.”

  “Yes dear, very much.” They noticed their audience. “Please do keep those legs together on the train.” They were already attracting a crowd. “So you are wearing the knickers?”

  “Oh, Jane, you sound just like Miss Christi.” KK proved it. “See!”

  “Right!” Katrina turned away, shielding Jane’s face as the cell p
hones and cameras flashed. Bloody hell, I do. Her head shook. If Pete could see me now. She looked at KK, smiled, and held out her hand. “Let’s go, dear. Train’s leaving.” Another camera flashed, this time in her face. He probably will. Ja. We should have stayed cloaked in that bloody silk.

  The Eiffel Reunion

  The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France, 22:47 local

  “Dinner was splendid,” said an overly visibly joyful KK as the lift came to a halt at the top.

  “Yes, love, but how would you know?”

  Since their chance meeting last December, KK had dropped ten pounds. Jane had picked up every one and five more.

  “You owe me a steak.”

  “But Petra will like your fishy breath.”

  “Smashing… Where is she?” Katrina didn’t like either’s fishy breath. She reached in Jane’s bag for, my Trident White. She’d packed it and her special lipstick, just in case Papa showed. She popped a piece into Jane’s fishy mouth. “That’s better.”

  The rain tapered to a sprinkle as they stepped out on the observation platform. KK clutched the railing. She wasn’t afraid but excited as she peered out at the lights of Paris. “It’s so beautiful, look, Miss Jane. Look!” KK couldn’t hold herself still. She bounced and tugged on the end of Jane’s arm. “Don’t you just love it up here?”

  “Yes, love, so beautiful.” Katrina looked around, but didn’t see. “Your Petra; she is coming?” asked the preoccupied KAT. Feeling a chill, she fought through her fog. Boris with my doll… They were gone. “Natasha, wait!” She held the girl by the arm. “No, I can’t.”

  KK tugged free. “Jane, darling? What is it?”

  Paris was back in view. Paris. I hate bloody Paris. “How long do you plan to keep me hostage up here?”

  “Until you promise to never leave me, ever again.”

  “Can’t. You know that I—” She vaguely recalled once having a similar argument with Boris in this very same spot, ten years ago.

  “But Jane, you promised?”

  “What? No whining. You need to accept it.” I had; why can’t Boris?

  “But I thought that once we are married, we—”

  “Married! Bloody hell!” Katrina’s gum shot out, straight into KK’s open mouth. “She didn’t promise you that?” Did I?

  KK turned away. “But I told Papa.” She turned back. “May I keep it?” She displayed the gum.

  “What? Nein. I hate bloody fish.” She paused, guiding KK’s hand back to her mouth. “Bloody well! Here. There, there.” She gently wiped away the tears as KK chewed. “Can you be a big girl for Miss Jane?” She kissed her burning cheeks. “Stop that crying, young lady.”

  Jane shrugged her shoulders. “I too wish it were different. I do.”

  “You do?”

  Jane turned and grabbed the railing. She looked out across, the city of light. “Yes. Damn it. But it’s not.” It was the city of love lost. After all, ten years was—Boris… How? They’re dead. I saw it. Pete said… He’s a bloody liar. Ja, don’t trust him baby. Not until—

  “Please. I’ll do anything, anything for you.” KK turned away and looked over the railing, straight down. “I’d jump if you told me to.” She pulled herself up and climbed onto the rain-slickened railing. “Really, I shall.” Her designer heels dangled from her little feet as she struggled to climb.

  Miss Jane was amused. “It looks to me like they planned ahead. Too many sad little love birds like you.” She chuckled as she eyed the anti-suicide fencing that enclosed the platform. “This cage looks bloody strong enough.”

  Mistress Sterling also checked their security. “Yes, plenty strong enough to keep love birds like you, my sweet lovesick little princess, from flying off.” She took hold of the Stiletto’s doll.

  “Don’t!” KK slipped off the railing and pushed her lover away. She stomped her feet then kicked off her heels. She stood there, head down, arms crossed, at war with her true self. Her tone sharpened. “You know I don’t like being called that.” KK sulked for a few more moments, then thought better and stooped to refit her fallen stiletto.

  Maybe it was the altitude? Maybe? Jane dropped her guard and denial long enough to allow their minds to meet. The doll’s foot.

  “Let me.” Jane took the five-inch stiletto from the vinyl doll’s fragile hand. “Why, my darling, was not your great, great grandfather the Grand Duke from the House of Krump and Old Saxony’s last true Sovereign? It is I, Dame Jane Sterling, the GoodKnight of Katrina Blachmann that must bow before you, my most beautiful lady and precious little princess.”

  “Well, I suppose.” The Countess wrapped two trembling hands behind Jane’s neck to steady herself. “But I don’t want to be your little princess anymore. I want to be your wife and have your babies!” KK’s heart fluttered as her GoodKnight slipped the shoe back on. The Stiletto’s doll was living out her own fairytale. “Or, at the very least, keep trying, every night and day to make me pregnant.”

  “I’m sure your papa wouldn’t like hearing you say such things. How will he let you take over the family empire?” The GoodKnight slipped on the other stiletto. “Not married to this old British rogue, he won’t.”

  British? KK stomped her heels. “Fuck Papa! Fuck them all!”

  “KK!” Her kill hand barely escaped impalement. Jane looked up, revealing a most unpleasant scowl.

  “I’m sorry, but—” On went the Krump waterworks. “I never see him anymore. Always too busy building his stupid empire! Krump this! Krump that! Fuck him! I hate him! Let him be the fucking princess! The whole flight over to New York, I never saw him! Not once! On the same plane, never saw him. Not once! Can you believe that? Ja. They stayed locked in their stateroom the whole flight, him and her. Ever since Papa met her, I never see him. Told me he had the swine flu. Bullshit! Said he didn’t want to risk me getting it from him. Bullshit! He even had a separate car take me to the hotel. Can you believe that?”

  “No.”

  “I wanted to introduce you last night, at the Waldorf. Papa’s been acting so strange ever since—since that night in Dubai. Too busy, he says. Always too fucking busy! Always texting stupid orders. This time—it’s Petra. Doesn’t even call anymore to say hi or ask how I’m doing. Just sends me fucking texts. Ja. Fuck him!” KK hauled her arm back, preparing to throw her only link to Papa off the Eiffel.

  Katrina sprang to her feet. “That’s quite enough, young lady!” Her powerful right hand clamped KK’s throwing wrist securely. “I think it’s past somebody’s bedtime.” She squeezed.

  “Really? Ouch! It hurts! It hurts!” KK felt the KAT’s grip soften. “Sorry, Miss Jane. It’s just that I want to tell him about us. I’m sure that once he meets you, he’ll understand.”

  “Tell your papa…Mistress Sterling’s intentions are nothing but honorable. And, exactly how do you intend I should make you pregnant?” Katrina felt another buzz. “Papa?” She released her grip, freeing KK and Jane.

  “No, not Papa. Want to go to the Chez Moune?” asked KK, reading the text.

  “What? No!” said Jane, producing a tissue, wanting only to find a warm bed, not Paris’s oldest lesbian nightclub.

  “But Petra is waiting below with Karla. She wants to hook up for the weekend. Please, Miss Jane? You promised.”

  “KK!” Jane took hold of the mobile; almost eleven. “Don’t you ever get tired?” Katrina already knew the answer.

  “Not when I’m with you, my love.” KK was her sweet-little-girl self again. “Besides, I slept on the plane. How come you hit so many bumps?”

  “Right. Well then, what are we still doing up here?” She pointed to the lift. “Brilliant, love. Shall we go down and meet your Petra?”

  “Smashing, Miss Jane, I’ll text her.” KK left her tears by the railing. They stepped into the lift. “Should I see if she can bring a friend?”

  “No!” She whacked KK’s shiny bottom.

  KK giggled. She loved public displays of her Jane’s affection. So didn’t some random guy that recorde
d the whole scene on his new NSA-issued iPhone.

  Bloody hell! Sorry, Pete.

  “Hey, girlfriend.” All five-ten of Petra stretched out on the BMW’s front fender. Upon seeing “Miss Jane,” she came to full attention in her edgy red leather mini dress with matching purse, and knee high boots with four-inch stilettos. All appeared to be made of crocodile hide.

  Miss Jane took hold and growled, “Joined bloody PETA, did she?” Out bloody smarted again. I hate bloody fish. “KK!”

  They all piled into the white BMW stretch.

  Something Stinks

  The nursery, Sunday, 31 May, 22:50 local

  It was late evening when Baby Catherine found out what Or else meant.

  Click…click…click.

  Something stinks. As soon as Giselle entered she knew. “Someone has poopies?”

  “No shit.” Someone needed more than a changing. Catherine had experienced a major blow-out. Intel oozed out from her vinyl panties. She truly was in a world of shit.

  “Let’s go, sweetie.” Down went the side rail. “In the shower. Mommy will take it off.”

  “Shower?” That was the best news she’d heard since stepping out of the Rolls. So embarrassed by her mess, she hadn’t noticed, Mommy G, pulling on the purple examination gloves.

  “Yes, sweetie. I’ll take care of your—”

  “Don’t say it! Please.”

  Once inside the spacious glass and pink marble shower, she waited as Mommy undid the mini padlock, then pulled the zipper and helped her big baby out of the soiled dress. Catherine began sobbing uncontrollably as she pulled her brown cotton underwear down.

  “Drop those in here too.” Giselle held the red plastic bag out. The international Biohazard symbol and below it, Medical Waste was printed in bold black ink. With the hazard safely contained, she turned on the shower. “Here, sweetie; use this on your pee-pee.” She handed Catherine the shower wand, then a small mirror. Giselle stepped back with the bag full. “It’s okay. See? It washes off.” As much as she wanted to stay and play, Mommy G couldn’t let herself get wet. Not yet anyway. “How about if Mommy runs us a warm bath, for afterward?”