by C. L. Black
Their weekend was consumed aboard the Knotty Girl. Jane Sterling rested her weary bones while the girls splashed in the spa and played in the sun. All aboard found the watery views relaxing. Thoughts of, Papa, Boris, Natasha, and MK’s pretender bubbled through Jane’s troubled brain. That kid… Catherine? A KAT? Impossible.
It was later that Sunday when KK and Petra invited Miss Jane and Elsa below. Way below—for some R and R. About bloody time.
Meow…
Monday dawned bright. The R & R had proved most therapeutic. KK, Jane, Petra, and Elsa held each other steady on the upper deck as the helicopter settled onto the landing pad. Petra had borrowed a cotton summer dress with matching lifts from KK’s room-sized closet. Jane was surprised that KK owned such a practical garment, and in canary yellow at that. It would prove a comfortable choice, considering the five-hour train journey awaiting her.
“Good-bye, KK.” Petra kissed her hostess on the lips. “It was the best I’ve ever—” They embraced. “Bye-bye, girlfriend.”
“What?” shouted KK, straining to understand Petra in the mini windstorm.
Petra let go and stepped over to waiting arms. “Cheers, Miss Jane.”
The KAT took hold and planted her lips in Petra’s ear. “So nice meeting you, again.” She kissed the stick-thin barely legal fashion model on each cheek—“Ciao, sweetie”—adding a cheerful smack to the girl’s familiar bottom to rouse the Cougar. That’s queer…
“Too bad she has to be in Paris tonight,” shouted KK as Elsa climbed into the helicopter beside Petra.
Their voices couldn’t overpower the ear-piercing roar as the helicopter’s jet engine throttled up. They stood back as the rotor blades picked up speed. Jane held her hat with one hand and kept KK from blowing overboard with the other. KK’s just-brushed blond hair was a jumbled mop as they waved good-bye to Petra and Elsa. The helicopter lifted off and faded under the blazing sun as it headed west. The quiet serenity of the Mediterranean returned, leaving Jane and KK to each other.
“Don’t be sad, love. It will do Petra good, seeing her mama.”
“Ja, Papa wants her to meet the business people in Berlin tomorrow. Papa insists she sign an exclusive. We don’t want to lose her to the competition. That face, tits, and ass will sell a shitload of perfume and panties. Petra is to be the essence of Wet by Hush-Hush!”
Jane smiled. “No doubt. But she needs to eat more. You too!”
“I told Papa we would land her. Ja. You just had to whip her into shape. And, I promised her the cover of next month’s Hushgirl catalog.” KK could feel Katrina’s eyes scolding her backside.
“Yes, dear, I’m sure that helped a little too. It’s time to eat, love.”
“A little!” KK dropped to her knees.
“No, love. Something from the galley this time.”
“Oh.” She giggled. “Well, I knew she liked that gross stuff.” KK made a yucky face.
“And how did you know?” Jane helped KK to her feet.
“Well, last week, you left me alone with her. And you took my Elsa too. Remember? I had no one else to play with.”
She shook her head clear. “It was one bloody day! What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me!”
“Right!” Katrina took hold of her life-size German Barbie doll, desperately in need of a good brushing.
KK was beaming in her five-inch lifts and a neon pink bikini bottom.
“When do we meet with Papa?”
“It depends,” KK snickered, “on you.” She led her dangerous catch back to her expansive stateroom.
“Can’t we eat something first?”
“Oh, Miss Jane, I think you—”
“Silence!” Clever girl. “Someone needs another attitude adjustment.”
Whack!
“See! You do love me! Besides, I think it’s better if I eat afterward. I’ll ask the captain to have a big juicy wet piece of red hot bloody cow waiting at the table for afterward. Okay?”
Bloody hell, I do. “Ropes and rubber again, or whips and leather?”
“Ja, ja, ja, and ja. Und einige Vinyl auch? Bitte.”
“Perhaps.” You do too.
School Was In Session
The nursery, 06:30 local
“Rise and shine, kitten!” Giselle lowered the side rail. “Wakie-wakie, my pretty baby.”
“Huh? Oh, it’s you.” She rolled over and moaned, “What time is it?”
“O-six-thirty.” Giselle was acting way too happy for 06:30. “Time to rise and shine, sweetie.” She lifted the baby blanket and tossed it in the crib’s corner.
“Hey! Six-thirty?” Catherine groaned, “That’s still nighttime.” She rolled onto her stomach, a position which left her rear flank exposed. “Go away!” She grabbed the little blanket and tugged it over her head.
“Noooo, silly.” Giselle couldn’t resist the bait. The hand found the pretender’s bare calf. It tensed. The hand ventured north at a leisurely pace. “Today’s a big day, babe.”
“Really? I get to go home?” Dani’s hand, glided over her thigh. One eye opened to see a puffy white satin tea dress leaning over. Yeah; she wants to play Mommy D again.
“You are home, silly,” giggled Giselle, sliding her hand up and patting Catherine’s blue vinyl panties. “Today you start preschool.” Her hand found its way in. She was getting closer. “Wet!”
“No shit, I’m wet. What else is there to do in here?”
“Mommy will change her naughty baby in a minute.”
Catherine’s other lid snapped open. “What?” Giselle came into focus. She was holding a sheet of paper. “Oh, it’s that you.”
“First Mommy must read baby kitten’s schedule.” She read it aloud in her grown-up voice. “O-six-thirty: Wake up. O-seven-hundred: Breakfast in the kitchen. O-seven-thirty: Get ready for school and put on a one-piece swimsuit and workout shorts. First lesson starts at eight sharp! Dance class with Miss Danielle. Second class starts at ten. Swimming and diving with Miss Danielle. It goes to O-ten-forty-five. Then it’s morning break. It’s just enough time to shower and dress. Afterward, it’s sharing with Miss Christi from eleven till noon in the Panty Parlor. Then it’s lunch with me in the kitchen. Hope you like PB and J.”
“No crust!” She pouted out a, “Pweezzzzzz.”
“Can do.” Giselle continued, “Thirteen-hundred until fourteen-fifty—”
“Thirteen-hundred? What time is that?”
“It’s one p.m., silly. Nap time is until two-fifty. Then, driving lessons begin with Miss Danielle from fifteen-hundred to sixteen-fifty. That’s three till four-fifty.”
“Driving?”
“Yes sweetie. And, after that; afternoon tea from five till six with Miss Christi on the veranda, weather permitting; her private salon, if not. From six to seven, we wash, get pretty, and put on a clean dress for dinner. Dinner is served promptly at seven-ten in the formal dining room. Make sure you’re in the dining room by seven-o-five at the latest. Otherwise, you get sloppy seconds. Eight p.m. is bedtime for babies and naughty girls. For good girls, it’s reading or writing until ten, then it’s lights out, except on Fridays.”
“What’s on Fridays?”
“Oh, Friday evening? Fun and Games and Blachmann story time. Any questions?”
“Whatever.” Catherine climbed from the crib. Did she say driving lessons with Danielle?
“Did you sleep well?”
“Oh yeah.” She gave Mommy a look. “Like a baby. You?”
“Not so good,” pouted Giselle.
“I know.” She lifted her blue hem and said, “You can change me now. I know you want to Dani.” Cold black eyes. Fuck! The door, it’s open. Run!
Giselle grabbed Catherine’s arms and held her face down on the crib. “My name is Giselle!” She lifted her hand and brought it down with speed.
Whack!
“Say it baby!”
“Fuck you!”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“Okay! I’m sor
ry Mommy G.”
“Say it! Say my real name!”
Whack!
“Giselle! Your name is Giselle!”
“That’s Mommy’s good little baby. Now, hold still while Mommy G changes her baby out of this yucky blue dress.”
“Yes, Mommy Giselle.” I mean Mommy Fuckin’ Dearest. “Hey! That fricken tickles.” Mommy…
Dance Lessons
The Ballroom, 07:55 local
Giselle escorted the more compliant Blachmann baby downstairs. Located on the main level, the Ballroom was enormous, spanning forty feet wide by sixty-two feet in length. Catherine had passed through twice the day she arrived. That day, she hadn’t taken time to notice any of its eye-catching details. That day seemed like ages ago. She kept her head down, eyeing only the polished stone. The flooring was made of granite squares, more than two feet to a side: red, white, and black. No pink. Its center looked more like an oversized chessboard of red and black squares. A dance… What? Catherine looked up, way up, for the ceiling hovered high above her wide eyes.
“I said, wait here, sweetie. Mommy G has to go below and get your dance shoes. Be a good girl now, or else.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Good girl. Or else.
“Promise Mommy.”
“I promise, Mommy.”
Giselle darted out into the hallway and vanished down the stairs leading to the basement.
As Catherine waited, she busied herself exploring the Ballroom. It was massive: a rectangular space with three arched openings to the main hallway. Opposite the north wall, three sets of enormous French doors opened out to a matching granite patio. The room looked even bigger when she again looked up at, that ceiling. “Wow.” It was painted, and hung twenty-eight feet above her bare feet. She wondered if the painter was Italian. She agreed with the builder’s taste in art. The women were all naked. Some had wings, Angels. Some had horns and tails, Devils. And, some had whips and boots. Interesting. He sure liked um booby. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the ladies of the ceiling. What a fricken gigantic fireplace. Of all the ones she’d seen, this fireplace was by far the largest. Catherine moved closer.
She thought about her dad. He loved his roaring fires up at their ski place in Maine. He’d really love this one. She could stand in it. She looked up at the huge picture above the mantel. It was covered by a painter’s tarp. She gave it a little tug. “Oops.” She studied the faces. Meet the Blachmann’s. “Hey!” She pointed to an old face in the picture, “Miss Christi” she said as if she were talking to the picture. Catherine looked back over her shoulder. Giselle hadn’t yet returned. Let’s see. She gave another tug. Next to Miss Christi, she spotted Daddy? Mom? What the— The mother was holding a baby in her arms. “Me?” They did look younger. Their clothes are too old. What gives? There were many others. She didn’t recognize them. Much of the picture was still obscured by the painter’s tarp. She didn’t dare tug again. She swung around to see if Giselle was back. Nope.
Cool… Catherine headed west, twirling across the dance floor. At the far end was a massive bar. Its counter, like the spotless floor and fireplace, was finished in fine granite. Like all the granite used to construct the estate, it also had been quarried in Vermont. Mr. Blachmann had personally inspected each piece after being delivered by special train over the five-mile rail spur, which later allowed their wealthy guest’s private railcars to be parked in view of the Atlantic.
Only two minutes had passed. Giselle reappeared holding a pair of pink five-inch stiletto pumps, size nine and a half. “What’s with the cowboy boots?” asked Catherine.
“They were a gift. Ready for your first lesson, baby?”
No stupid, she’s the other one. In the two minutes it took to retrieve the dance shoes, Mommy G had changed: brunette with a ponytail? Oh yeah, it’s that hot bitch, Drill Sergeant Danielle. She was wearing a cute little workout outfit. A cut-off tank top. The slogan Just do me was printed across her shapely chest. She also wore fitted shorts and New Balance cross-trainers. Know what I’d like to do with you?
“Listen up, baby.” Danielle kicked off her trainers, then dropped and pulled on her boots.
“Hey! Nice top, Mommy, whoever you are.” Catherine had a new appreciation for…she wasn’t sure who.
“Hey baby. Enjoy our bath?”
Danielle. “Hey, what gives?” Catherine noticed the heels. “I can’t dance in those.”
“That’s affirmative, baby. The name is Miss Danielle and babies don’t get a choice!” She tossed the shoes at Catherine’s bare feet—“Shut your hole!”—and pointed to the shoes and growled, “Put them on, baby…now!”
“Fuck you, bitch!” Catherine stood her ground folding her arms. “I’m not your fucking baby.”
“Ever had your mouth washed out with soap?”
“What?” Catherine’s voice was sharper than a new razor.
“You heard me right, princess. We’re old-school at Blachmann.” Danielle’s tone spoke volumes. “Here, let me.” She crawled over and fitted the first shoe to Catherine’s left foot. “A perfect fit.” Danielle set the other shoe before Catherine’s right foot and looked up. “In you go, precious.” She tapped the empty stiletto.
“Hey, you wouldn’t hurt a baby?” She stepped into the other stiletto. “Would you, Mommy D?” This bitch would.
“I’m not your Mommy.” She popped to her feet. “It’s Miss Danielle! Understand, baby?”
“Yes, Miss Danielle. Baby understands, perfectly.” You wacko psycho, cute bitch.
“Do you really like to dance?”
“What?”
“Dance?” Danielle started shaking her hips. “Like this?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Like to watch you, anyway.
“Yes, or no, when you answer me, baby. No more of, yeah, I guess, I think, like, or whatever. Do you understand?”
“Yeah; whatever. I get it.” Her voice held its sharp edge well.
“Great!” Danielle put her hands on her hips and said, “Look. baby, you have four weeks to learn two waltzes and only two weeks to learn how to drive. Do you think you can manage that?”
“A car? You’re going to teach me to drive? Two weeks? You are? What kind is it? How fast can it go? When? Is it that cool old white one? Huh?”
“A simple yes or no will suffice.”
“Yes,” Catherine batted those big bright blue eyes. “Miss Danielle.” She purred for her new master. It didn’t go unnoticed.
Truth was: Catherine couldn’t dance a step. No sense of rhythm. She couldn’t keep a beat if her life depended on it. For the next forty-five minutes, Danielle tried to instruct her in the basics of a Viennese waltz. She led, with Catherine’s paw in hers, and held tight. Had there been any water under their feet, it would have frozen. They stayed close, but not too close; no eye contact. None. She had never danced with anyone like this before. Suddenly, Danielle pulled Catherine in tight. MK didn’t resist. It felt too good. Her eyes closed.
Memories of last night’s trauma faded into the darkness. She was really starting to like dance class. If only she could actually dance. She drew in closer, allowing her free hand to go exploring. Her mind drifted as they floated around the room; their long slender bodies clenched in graceful unison. Well, almost. Shit!
“Ouch!” Danielle stopped, dropped, and yanked off her boot and began rubbing her nearly pierced foot. “That fricken hurt.”
“What?” asked Catherine sitting on the floor beside, Danielle? The dent left by her spiked heel came into focus. “Sorry. I—”
“Thanks, doll.” Danielle was caught in those soft blue eyes. “You’ve never danced close before, have you, babe?” The softness faded.
“What gave it away?” Bitch. She smirked.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you kept stabbing my feet?”
“Said I was fucking sorry!”
“Forget it.” She tried to hide her pain while refitting her boot.
Catherine shrugged and said, “Looks so eas
y on TV.” She looked at the impression her stiletto had left. “Does it hurt?” She started rubbing it.
“That’s affirmative.” Danielle picked herself up, and collected her cross-trainers and iPhone from the bar. “Right!” She tapped the display, killing the music. “I have a better idea. Come with me, baby.” She took Catherine by the hand. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” She tugged. In no time, she had her baby out in the foyer, and clicking her heels up the stairs to the second floor. “What’s the matter?”
“No!” Catherine froze. She wasn’t going back to that crib.
“The other end baby.” Danielle pointed down the long hallway. “Miss Danielle promises.” She smiled.
She released the brakes. “Wow! This place is fucking huge.” She hadn’t yet seen any other rooms on the second level. As they walked, their dueling heels echoed off the stone floor. She noticed the pictures arranged all along the wall to her left. “Who are they?” She stopped. “Hey; why are their faces blacked out?”
“Former students. Come on.”
She looked right. There were three arched openings that looked out over the ballroom, its painted ceiling, and the pool. She stepped to the railing. “Nice view.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
Further down she saw some pictures that weren’t blacked out. “What’s with these ones?”
“Retired.”
“Huh… Hey is your iPhone tied in? The music? Can yours control stuff like Superbitch did?”
“Affirmative.”
They passed a large sitting room on the left. “What’s in there?”
“Kitten’s common room.”
“What? There’s more? Like me?”
“Not until Kickoff.”
“Huh?”
“Forget about it.”
They reached the end of the hallway. Catherine stood before a door. The copper placard read: Miss Danielle, Kitten first class. “Hey Dani, what gives? Is this place some kind of whacky Hogwarts rip-off?”
