by Avery Aster
“That feels…good. Don’t stop. Please, Officer. I’m begging just as you wanted. Go on. Keep licking my sugar.”
“Very good birthday, girl.”
“I can follow directions well.”
“I’m going to make you come over and over.” He suckled my right breast while caressing the left with one hand and tugging at my panties with another. Pulling on the elastic trim, he let it snap. “I’m gonna tear those panties off you in a few seconds.”
A part of me was on the edge almost wanting to drive Vamp off into the far distance. I’d say that was my good-girl side struggling not to give in to temptation.
“Yes. Yes. Tear my panties off!”
Yet another part of me, maybe the real person who I’d always wanted to become, gave in to him with reckless abandon. I, Lex Easton, soon to be an adult, felt as if I was water in his hands. He controlled my temperature. I was hot about to boil over.
“Get ready.” Humming to himself, his attention returned to my breasts. He swirled his tongue over one, then flicked, tugged, and sucked the other.
“Ford, you’re…amazing.” Exhilaration ran from my scalp to my toes. Slow and deliberate, his touch on my breasts created a synergistic energy. A dense heat surrounded us. My peripheral vision blurred. I was getting drunk on this erotic exchange.
Insides blazing, the Victoria Secret’s I’d put on earlier that day were soaked, more than I’d ever thought possible. If Ford kept this up, I’d come buckets right on the bench of my scooter.
He gazed at me. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch. Don’t close them. Understand?” His mouth returned to my nipples.
“Ah-hmm.” I purred and did as instructed. I stared at Ford. “I don’t know how much more nipple play I can take.” Let’s get real here, a lick and a tug and I nearly flew to planet Mars. A ten-minute breast feast and I had skyrocketed to another universe.
In my clique, Vive was the only one of us to have gone all the way. She loved sex. And Vive went out of her way to get it. For her graduation present, earlier this summer, her parents had sent her to India with the assignment of touring a new Farnworth Firewater distributor. Little did her folks know Vive had signed up for an intensive tantric workshop taught by a young prince claiming to be the long-lost son to the Kingdom of Mysore.
When she’d returned, Vive had told Taddy and me, “Honey, Tantra is not the act of gymnastic sex but the devotion of selflessly giving yourself to pleasure another person. Prince Baji Rao spent nearly a whole day nibbling on my titties. My hormones reacted in ways I didn’t know existed. I was reborn and transformed.”
She didn’t exactly tell us where or what she’d been transformed into. Regardless, it sure felt as though this, right here, whatever Officer Gotti was doing, came close to being what Vive had described with Prince Baji Rao. His attention to my breasts was insane. If I didn’t know any better, I would say Ford had the tantric touch.
“Lex, I must have you.” He unzipped my skirt from the side and tore my panties off with one swift yank. They flew back onto the highway, landing on a car’s windshield as it passed by.
The car cheered us on with a honk of their horn as they shouted, “We love you, Lex Easton.”
Oh yes, in my daydream fantasy, I was going to give up Lady V out in the open, for all the public to watch. The tabloids which had torn me down my entire life could suck it! I was a beautiful creature who was being adored by the hottest man I’d ever flippin’ met.
“I’ve never…”
“Had a guy go down on you?” he asked.
“No. But I want you to.”
“Beg for it, birthday girl.”
“Officer, make my wishes come true and bury your face between my legs. Please. Right now. You must. It’s what I want.”
“Are you sure?” He asked as licking his lips, appearing ready.
“Yes…please Officer, eat me as if I’m the only thing you’ll have today.”
He did.
I squealed with how easily he got me wet.
“Birthday girl, the creamy center of your pussy is winkin’ at me. It’s pink and—” He licked then said, “—hot. You’re burning up. Allow me to blow on this.”
“Put my fire out!” I begged.
Ford kissed an inner-tender spot on my thigh. Unexpectedly one long stroke of his tongue ran straight to my core then back to my mid-thigh. He bit playfully at my flesh. His gorgeous face and those black eyes looked up at me intently as he then blew a steady stream of pressured breath from his tight lips onto my Lady V.
“Ohhh.” Stifling a scream I held my breath.
“Damn woman, you taste good.” He fingered my wetness. Pulling some of my juice out, he sucked it off dramatically.
“Yes. That’s it.” I moaned watching him get off on getting me off.
“Beg, baby. Beg for it.”
“Eat my pussy. Get every last drop till I’m dry.”
Hulk on a Harley scared the crapola out of me. I’d never seen anyone love the taste of women like he did. Come to think of, it this was my first time I’d ever had a guy go down on me. Like ever. So there was nothing to compare it to…but seriously, he was off the charts.
His hands were smothered in my essence as he nestled his face between my legs and bit gently on my clit.
My entire body trembled.
“That feel good, birthday girl?” Ford lapped his tongue deep into the well of my cunt. His fingers followed his tongue, taking turns, jetting in and out of my heat, firing me up.
“Ahhh-huh.” If my hands were free, I’d tug at his scalp.
“This pussy—” he grunted, fingers going in deeper “—is going to surrender itself to me. It has the right to remain silent.” And like that his mouth hunkered down on the hardness of my clit. “Love sucking this cream outta you, birthday girl.”
Seat shaking, toes curling, Vamp and I were so close to shooting off across the Hudson River. We’d for sure land somewhere in Astoria, Queens.
“Come on my tongue.” He snarled from the side of his mouth.
“Now?”I quivered.
“Damn Lex, now, yes. Come for me!”
In total ecstasy, my moans turned to screams. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was the biggest, hottest dude I’d ever seen, and he had strapped me to my bike and ate me out.
“Miss Easton!” I heard him say from somewhere other than between my legs.
“Errr…”
“Miss Easton.” He tapped my shoulder.
“Huh?” I blinked, snapping out of my fantasy. “What?”
“You okay?”
“Oh.” It wasn’t real. My daydreams were always just that—a dream.
“I was talking to you.” Officer Gotti glanced back at his bike, then asked, “Did you hear me?”
“No. Sorry the heat’s getting to me on this bike.”
“Turn your engine off.”
I did as he suggested. “Why did you pull us over?”
“On my radio, there was an APB issued for a purple scooter and limo leaving the scene of a crime.”
“Say what?”
“I patrol this highway. I’ve spoken to the detective who’s looking for you. His team should be here shortly. I was asked to detain you for a bit.”
“For what?”
“Can’t say. This it out of my jurisdiction. Won’t be long.”
His radio made a noise.
“Stay on the bike. I’ll be right back”
Just as he got to his Harley, two black and white sedans pulled up. Their lights flashed.
Up above, a helicopter came out of nowhere. Dang, it was The Manhattanite Times TV station.
One, two, three, four policeman huddled around Officer Gotti. They talked about something which had happened in Soho. I couldn’t hear much else with the chopper swarming over us.
Officer Gotti waved them away but they didn’t budge.
I looked up at the reporters with their cameras. WTF!
Taddy and Vive’s eyes widened as they mouthe
d to me through the window, “What’s going on?” Ignoring the cop’s demand to stay in the car, they got out.
Vive had her purse in one arm and her dog in the other. Thank heavens her hands were occupied because she’d probably give the chopper the finger.
A second cop approached. Officer Gotti stood behind him and crossed his arms. “Miss Easton?”
I nodded.
“What’s your relation to a Birdie Easton residing at 245 Spring Street?”
My stomach dropped. “She’s my mom. Why?” I didn’t like the sound of this.
“Over here.” Another cop stood at the limo, the trunk opened. One by one, he pulled out my luggage onto the side of the road.
Officer Gotti stayed with me as the others went over. He lowered his opaque shades and covered his eyes. I couldn’t get any read off him. But he was staring at me suspiciously. Unable to tell what he was thinking from his body language, the way he’d rubbed the back of his neck had told me he couldn’t figure out what was going on either.
Vive marched up and asked loudly, “Excuse me, police person. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“My job lady. Now step back,” the cop shouted.
She didn’t. “Do you have any clue who I am? I have a right to know why you’re searching my car!” When they ignored her, she pulled out her cell phone from her purse. “I’m calling my father’s attorney.”
Hedda Hopper, who never barked started, to yap and yap.
“Turn around. Place your hands above your head.” One cop said to Vive and another to Taddy.
I gasped and covered my mouth in shock. That threat to call her lawyer didn’t go over well. Officer Gotti stalked over and took Hedda from Vive’s hands. She started screaming.
“What for?” Taddy asked. She was much calmer than Vive. “Why are you arresting us?”
My heart sank. Was this over the drinking?
A policeman cuffed Taddy, then Vive, and lastly their limo driver. He filed them up against the white line on the road.
Another cop approached me, pointed at my bags, and asked, “Miss Easton, are those your things?”
“Yes. Someone please tell me what this is about.”
The cop’s face wrinkled, perhaps out of confusion about my question. Ford walked up and stood beside him as he asked, “Why don’t you tell us where you were coming from and where you’re headed to?”
So I did. Well sorta. I told them Birdie and I had a disagreement and I’d packed up my stuff and left.
“Did you start a fire on your way out?”
“A fire?” Oh no-no-no. “In the bathtub, I burned a dress with some photos. It was nothing.”
“Hands up. We’re arresting you for arson. You have the right to remain silent.” His Miranda warning continued.
“You can’t be serious. Nothing happened.” I figured Kelle had probably called the police making this a bigger deal than it really was.
“Your little fire caused a rather large explosion.”
“What in the heck are you talking about?” Taddy shouted.
“Nothing has blown up except for your career. Just wait till my daddy’s lawyer hears about this.” Vive screamed.
“Miss Easton, we have you and your friends on video at the parking garage loading up that limo and leaving the building.”
“When did transporting good fashion become a crime? She’s moving in with me. And we’re going to Paris tonight. Now, give me my fucking dog back,” Vive spewed, as she wrestled with the handcuffs.
The cop ignored Vive and spoke directly to my face. “Shortly after you drove away, most of your mother’s penthouse exploded.”
“No.” My legs felt weak and my head heavy. I dropped to the ground and sobbed. “Where’s my mom? Is she okay?”
“She’s being treated at Manhattan General,” a policeman replied, as another one lifted me to my feet. Before I knew it, I was in the back of their sedan being taken to the police station and charged with what exactly, I didn’t know. Vive, Taddy, and their limo driver were arrested as accomplices and taken in another car.
Like the daydream, hot-cop fantasy I’d had moments ago, my hands were tied behind my back and I was restrained by the law. But unlike my wet imagination, Officer Gotti Alessandro-Vollero-Gotti stood on the side of the road, next to Vamp, and held Hedda Hopper in his arms as I left him behind.
All I could think about, all I had promised myself I’d never think about again not after what had happened earlier was Mom.
Was Birdie alive? What about Kelle? Had I killed them both?
Orange isn’t the new black.
“By the seventh grade, the lack of parental guidance in our lives had become obvious. So Lex, Vive, and I had made a best friend pact. No matter where our lives led, we’d have each other’s back. Even in jail, charged with a felony and facing more years than ever imagined, we’d stick together, right? Tell that to Vive!” —Taddy Brill, emancipated minor from the Austrian Royal House of Brillford, future glamizon, and overall diva.
Worse Than Reality TV
Manhattan Detention Complex (The Tombs)
Mom and Kelle didn’t die. No bones broken. Not really.
However, I did add a number #11 to the list of worst moments of my life. Totally. It’s being arrested with my BFF and VBF on FDR Drive under the suspicion of arson and quite possibly—wait for it—attempted murder. I know!
“I should have never set fire to that dress and those pics.” I muttered to Taddy who stood next to me in the cell against the far wall.
The second they’d locked us in here we’d retreated to the corner to prevent the other inmates from gawking at us. I won’t even go into detail on the howling they’d done. Naturally those had been for skinny Vive and toned Taddy. “Sooie,” was all I got followed by several oink noises.
Curled up in a snit sat Vive being all dramatic. Her driver had been sent to another holding area down the hall and was charged along with us.
“Did you know Birdie’s oxygen facial tanks were under the bathroom sink and in the towel closet?” Taddy asked, crossing her arms in disbelief.
“No. I thought she’d kept all her anti-aging stuff in her own bathroom.”
Apparently, the nitrous oxide canisters were also stored in her bedroom, kitchen, and out by the bar.
“How come the place didn’t explode when Birdie caught that cashmere sofa on fire with her crack pipe a few weeks ago?”
Scratching my shoulder, I remembered Taddy had helped me clean up the mess. “The Fire Marshall thinks it was the shower curtain which transferred the fire from the tub to the wallpaper. He said once the bathroom caught fire the rest of the place was toast.”
“I refuse to believe anything that Fire Marshall says, especially since he thinks you did this on purpose. What was the word he used again?”
“Strategic. Yup, he’s convinced I strategically placed the tanks around the apartment then lit a match. Honestly, I’m not that smart.” I rested the back of my head against the cement wall. It was cold.
The jail’s air-conditioning made the place feel like a meat locker one minute, then it would cut off for a while and we’d overheat. Just when you couldn’t breathe, it would come back on again.
“Major geniusness when you think about it. But nah…you’d never intentionally kill Birdie, would cha?” Taddy asked in a throaty voice.
“Trust me. If I wanted to, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Mom and Kelle are both lucky to be alive.”
The State Prosecutor had to get a grand jury to agree on the attempted murder charge which could take several days. The district attorney accused Taddy and Vive of being my accomplices since they’d helped me get away. He’d called this a high profile case and wanted to expedite our arrest.
A few hours ago, we’d all three been booked on an A-1 charge—Arson in the First Degree, a major felony, and if found guilty, we’d face up to twenty-five years in prison.
Vive’s father, Mr. Farnworth, had shown up with his lawy
er, Richard Shapiro. Taddy and I called him Dick, because he was one. At Dick’s suggestion, we’d pled not guilty during the arraignment.
Judge Calabrese had set our bail at forty thousand dollars each.
Like everything in this town, the entire process happened quicker than a New York minute.
Right now, we were waiting for the bail to post, which could take a few more hours. Then I assumed we’d all go back to Vive’s place and hide out till school started. The reporters were gonna feed on this story for weeks.
Knowing Mom, she’d probably use this window of opportunity to release a new music single and sell the story rights to be turned into a film. A Lifetime Movie popped in my head, one where I’d be played by Jessica Simpson or Mandy Moore. Ughhh.
“Taddy, if Mr. Farnworth doesn’t post our bail tonight, where are they sending us?” Reaching up, I put my arms over my head to stretch. The longer I stood in this cell, the more the space seemed to shrink.
“I heard a guard say we’d be transferred to Riker’s.”
“Where’s that?”
“In Queens. Darling, in less than one day, we’ve gone from the penthouse to the big house, let alone from Manhattan to Queens. I’ve never been to the boroughs before, have you?”
“Never…” Sure, I’d heard of this jail Riker’s. Wasn’t it right up there with Alcatraz? The walls were certainly closing in on me. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic.
“Well get ready, we’re going. Mr. Farnworth ain’t here, yet.” Taddy hugged herself. “I’m starving. All of this stress is making me hungry.”
It had to be sometime in the early evening, maybe five or six o’clock. Aside from a serving of an American cheese sandwich on white bread, which was thinner than a slice of toilet paper with a chunky layer of what the guard swore was mayonnaise, we’d not eaten.
“Me too. I could sure use a fuck-it bucket right about now.”
Every time anything horrific had happened in my life, I’d gone to Dylan’s Candy Bar and loaded up a bin with the best gummy candy and chocolate money could buy. Then I’d stuff my misery and wash the goodness down with a can of Yoo-Hoo. These prison bars prevented me from such necessities.
