Iron Soldier

by Katie Ford

  Plus, she was just so damned beautiful, her head thrown back, eyes closed, boobies bouncing as she savored our touch, the penetration in both secret spaces.

  “More,” she moaned gutterally, her head falling back with ecstasy, “more, more, more.”

  And we gave her more, burrowing further into those wet depths, exploring her channels, stretching them out with our big fingers. In fact, we set up a rhythm, in and out, in and out, the little girl heaving, panting, and shrieking occasionally as we massaged, building up a crescendo.

  Because there was something we wanted to see, and weren’t leaving until it happened. It was the original reason the Donkey drew us, a show that couldn’t be missed.

  “Oh god,” she huffed, “Pax, Peyton, ohhh….!”

  And it happened. The finger-fucking in both holes got her good, and the blonde began squirting uncontrollably, her pussy throwing out jets of juice, the clear liquid splashing on my chest, landing on the floor, the couch, her thighs, everywhere.

  She trembled and shook between our bodies as we continued to finger her, driving deep into those dark recesses, enjoying the warm rain as we were hit by her fluids, pelted by female juice.

  And finally, the blonde collapsed against us, her pussy nectar fizzling, that tiny cunny worn out and spent from the fireworks. I could still feel her pulse against my hand, a big one and then a small one, and from the look on Pax’s face, I could tell he’d felt it too, deep in her ass.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her temple.

  “Absolutely amazing,” I added, breathing hot warm gusts against her neck.

  And she just sighed languorously, stretching a bit between us, her body flushed and sated, satisfied from its work-out, our hands still embedded deep in that satin flesh.

  “Brothers,” she said with a sly smile. “I got off but what about you? Those dongs look … um, hard,” she giggled, nodding in our direction.

  Because that was an understatement. Our donkeys were at full mast, thirty inches of pure punching power, and you know what? The night was still young.

  “You like, baby?” I growled, my cockpole rising even more, growing even larger if possible.

  Her eyes widened at the sight, breathing fast, those boobs heaving with excitement.

  “Oh yeah,” she gasped, her little puss starting to dampen again, a spot forming on the couch beneath her.

  And just like that it was on. Round Two was never so good … and Round Three would be even better.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Stacey

  “Mom, I don’t know,” I said quietly. “I’m not sure who made that video of me, the police are still looking.”

  Virginia was silent for a moment.

  “Are you sure there isn’t someone who hates you?” she asked. “Have you made enemies somewhere, maybe on the job? I’ve been working in banking for years baby, sometimes you have to trample other people to get to the top.”

  That gave me moment for pause. There were a couple girls at work who were jealous, who’d love to cover my beat, but would they go to these lengths? After all, hiring someone to videotape me at my hotel room was pretty hardcore, there was a lot of gum-shoe involved.

  “I don’t think so, Ma,” I said tiredly. “I’m not like you. I’m ambitious at work, but I’m not crazy. I’ve tried to keep good relationships with my co-workers, I don’t think someone would do that.”

  “You never know,” Virginia warned, “it’s always the people you never expect.”

  I nodded my head in agreement. We were sitting at home, the two-story house in White Plains. I’d come here for some relief, just to get away from the stress of the City, the unending public eye that dogged me everywhere now. It was nice being in the living room with its hopelessly outdated chintz furniture, the overstuffed sofas and worn coffee table oddly comforting.

  Just then Gordon came in. He was the same, an older, smaller version of his sons, but still handsome, commanding even with his diminished stature.

  “How are you Ana?” he boomed. “Peyton and Pax tell me you’re on speaking terms again.”

  “Oh I’m good, they’re good,” I said mildly. Speaking terms was an understatement of course, but no need to get into it. The lines we’d crossed again and again were too much for any parent to know, too X-rated, too dangerous.

  Besides, my steps and I had reached a good place. Pax and Peyton were helping with the investigation, hiring their own team of PIs, former cops, security, even PR spinmasters to manage the situation. We’d get to the bottom of this video somehow.

  “Have the police reviewed the hotel tape?” asked Gordon casually. “I know it must be painful to watch, but the perp must have cased your room.”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, “but that’s the weird part. There were definitely cameras in the hallway but that footage is missing.”

  That made my mom sit up.

  “What do you mean ‘missing’?” she said with a frown. “Tape like that shouldn’t just disappear.

  “That’s the thing, Mom,” I said slowly. “It shouldn’t because the cameras are going twenty-four hours a day, but the footage is gone,” I said simply. “There’s a missing reel in the archives and the hotel has no idea what happened to it.”

  Virginia frowned.

  “Odd,” she said slowly, “maybe if I put my people on it, we’ll get some answers.”

  “No Mom,” I answered tiredly. “No need. The Atlanta PD are already on it, plus Pax and Peyton are helping out too.”

  “Oh really?” asked Gordon with his eyebrows raised. “Helping, how so?”

  For some reason I decided to be vague.

  “Pax and Peyton just wanted to make sure everything is double-checked, all I’s dotted and T’s crossed,” I said. “So they’re sending their own team of folks to investigate.”

  “And who would these people be?” asked Gordon curiously. “How do your brothers even know who to contact?”

  How did they indeed? But football players with a ton of money had resources beyond the reach of the average man.

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “But your sons are on it.”

  “Hmph,” grunted Gordon. “I’m going to have to talk with them.”

  “Stop it,” interrupted my mom, “Why are you fixating on your sons when it’s Stacey who’s hurting? And don’t call her Ana, she’s Stacey now.”

  Both Gordon and I looked at her with surprise. Ever since their wedding, Virginia had fawned over her husband, it was always “Yes Gordy this, yes Gordy that,” so it was strange that she was suddenly angry. My stepdad looked surprised too. He was so used to having her at his beck and call that this was new.

  But his face remained calm and he gave no indication that he’d heard my mom’s outburst.

  “We care about you Ana, I mean Stacey,” he corrected himself. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Thanks Gordon,” cut in my mom coldly. “Your care is noted. I can take care of my daughter from here on out.”

  And I turned to her again with wide eyes. This was so out of character I didn’t know what to think. After all, Virginia had moved us from Manhattan to White Plains five years ago, forcing me to transfer in the middle of senior year all so she could get hitched to this guy. Her sudden turnabout was surprising.

  But their marriage troubles weren’t my business.

  “Thanks Mom, thanks Gordon,” I said politely. “Trust me, Pax and Peyton are on it, they’re working with the police, with hotel security, with everyone to figure out this missing video thing. We’ll figure out who it is,” I said with a tired smile.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me,” I said slowly, “I’d like to take a nap. Mom, can I stay in my old room?”

  “Of course baby, of course,” she said. “I’ll be downstairs reading.”

  I shook my head.

  “Mom, you guys should go out and do things, go to work, keep going with your regular lives,” I protested. “No reason
for life to grind to a halt.”

  “No honey, as long as you’re here I’m going to stick by you,” she said firmly. “If you’re in this house then I’m going to be too.”

  And I gave her a puzzled look but shrugged my shoulders. It wasn’t like Virginia not to go into work, but she was a professional and could make her own decisions.

  “Okay,” I said, already headed up the stairs, trudging with slow steps. “Don’t wait for me for dinner.”

  “We will, honey,” called my mom, her voice wafting up after me. “We will.”

  Did she mean they’d wait or wouldn’t wait? I didn’t know because my mind was so fuzzy, so tired, that I fell into bed, asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  PART III

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stacey

  “Get out,” growled Pax into the phone. “Get out of the house now.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Why?” The ring of my phone had woken me from my nap and it was dark outside now, the twinkling of evening stars just visible from my window.

  “Where are you?” he rasped. “Where are you exactly?”

  “I’m in my old room,” I said puzzled. “You know, down the hall from your old room.”

  “Stacey,” growled Peyton into the phone. “Don’t bother to pack up. Just get your purse and make your way out like nothing’s wrong. Say goodbye to your mom, our dad, and then get yourself to the airport. Come home,” he commanded.

  I was speechless. I’d come to White Plains to relax, to escape from the strain of the big city, there were no paparazzi here, no one to treat me like a leper. But now my steps were on the phone telling me to get on a flight asap. Why?

  “Brothers,” I said slowly. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s happening. I’m not a little girl anymore,” I said firmly.

  There was silence from the other end.

  But finally Pax answered.

  “Stacey, we found your perp,” he said in a low voice.

  “You did?” I asked, suddenly limp, dropping to sit on my bedspread. The strength rushed out of my body and I felt suddenly drained.

  Taking a deep breath I asked, “Who is it? Just some random guy?” I choked out. “An obsessed fan?”

  Silence. And then Peyton’s voice came on the line again.

  “An obsessed fan of sorts,” he said. “It’s our dad, Gordon.”

  This time the phone dropped out of my hand. Gordon Jones, my stepdad? The guy who was married to my mom? The guy who was probably downstairs right now, eating dinner at the kitchen counter?

  I could hardly believe it and slowly, I picked up my cell again with trembling hands.

  “How do you know?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “Sister,” said Peyton woodenly. “We wish it weren’t true, but it is. We found the missing tape and it’s Gordon in the room next to yours. He filmed you in the shower at your hotel.”

  “But how?” I gasped. “How did this happen?”

  “That’s the thing,” said my brother. “We got a hold of the hotel logs and a maintenance guy went to your room to fix the A/C around that time. That guy was Gordon,” he choked. “He filmed you.”

  I came to life suddenly.

  “Brothers,” I choked into the phone. “I have to go. I have to get out of here.”

  “Go,” they agreed. “But be careful, sister. Don’t let him know we’re onto him.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, my hand trembling as I hung up. Frantically, I began to pack an overnight bag, throwing things in haphazardly and then stopped, breathing hard. I couldn’t believe it. My own stepdad had filmed me nude? How could that happen? Was he filming me now? The realization made my skin crawl and feeling suddenly dirty, I grabbed my purse and ran down the stairs, coming to a halt in the kitchen.

  “Honey what’s wrong?” asked my mom, taking in my flushed face and messy hair, still tangled from the nap. “What’s wrong?” she asked again.

  “Nothing,” I said, craning my head, looking around furtively for my stepdad. Where was he?

  Noting my distraction, my mom answered.

  “Gordon went out to run some errands,” she said. “Why what’s wrong?”

  And despite my promise to my steps to act normal, it all came pouring out.

  “Mom, it was Gordon who made that video of me in the hotel!” I cried. “He posed as a maintenance man and came in and filmed me when I was in the shower. Your husband!” I almost screamed. “He did this, your filthy, disgusting husband, I hate him, I hate you. How could you?”

  I expected my mom to be shocked, maybe even to fall into a faint. But she was silent, her eyes pleading with me.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said slowly, her voice small. “I suspected.”

  Instead, it was me who almost fell down.

  “You suspected?” I gasped, my breath coming in short, sharp pants. “How? Why? What?” I could hardly believe my ears.

  “Please baby, just sit for a minute, just listen,” pleaded my mom. “Please just listen.”

  I couldn’t even reply, remaining stock still at the kitchen table, too stunned for words.

  “Honey,” she said slowly, “when I married Gordon I was desperate. I was getting older, but older just means less opportunity for a woman of my age,” she said, her eyes begging me to understand. “When I met Gordon it seemed too good to be true. A handsome, intelligent widower with a good job, who was okay with my busy schedule. I was desperate to get married again, to feel loved and wanted.”

  “And he made me feel that way, honey, he made me feel desirable, like I was eighteen again. So I married him as quickly as I could, rushed him to the altar, made him take his wedding vows without really knowing him.”

  “But the joke was on me,” she said bitterly. “Gordon,” and here she choked, “hadn’t gotten dating out of his system. He was used to being the man about town and still wanted to live that lifestyle.”

  I was completely thunderstruck. Gordon had always seemed nice, but really boring. I knew he’d dated around before settling down, but I hadn’t realized he was a heartbreaker. My stepdad had to be at least fifty, for crying out loud. Wasn’t that too old to be a player?

  But my mom continued.

  “It’s my fault,” she said bitterly. “I was so desperate for male attention, so lonely working all the time, that I pulled out all the stops to get that marriage certificate signed asap.”

  Here, I nodded my head. I remembered how she’d sprung the wedding on me. We’d had a week to plan, a week to put together the elaborate affair at the country club.

  But my mom wasn’t done unburdening herself yet.

  “And after the marriage, things were fine at first. He seemed like a loving, doting husband, happy to have me as a breadwinner, it relieved the financial stress with two sons going to college soon.”

  “But things started getting weird. He was looking at other women, staring at them too long, and,” here she choked again, “looking at you too long,” she said, shame suffusing her face. “I confronted him about it and he said that nothing was the matter, made me feel bad about even asking. So I backed off,” she said in a small voice. “Or rather, I paid him. I paid him to stay away from you, offering Pax and Peyton full rides to school if he stayed away from you.”

  Now this time, I was taken aback. My mom had paid for my brothers’ college educations to get my stepdad to stay away from me?

  As if reading my mind, my mom nodded slowly.

  “It worked, at least I thought it did,” she said. “You were fine here, right?” she asked anxiously. “Senior year worked out for you, you only had a few months before graduating. I figured if I watched you like a hawk, everything would be okay.”

  “But it wasn’t,” she continued sadly. “After you left and started getting famous, the fixation just got worse. Gordon would videotape your games, watching them again and again,” her voice dropped off.

  “When did you know?” I asked woodenly. “When did you know?” I ask
ed again, my voice sharp.

  “Honey, I didn’t know know,” she said looking down, her voice ashamed. “I just suspected because Gordon was gone around the time the scandal happened. He told me he was on a boys’ fishing trip in Florida, but I think he followed you to Atlanta and made the video then.”

  This was more than I could process, my mind spinning. My stepdad was a stalker who’d filmed a naked video of his own stepdaughter, and my mom suspected the entire time? The enormity of the situation made me nauseated and the floor zoomed at me suddenly. Reaching out blindly, I clutched the kitchen table to stop my fall, swallowing hard as my stomach heaved. I had to get out of here. Blindly, I picked up my purse and spun on my heel, turning towards the door.

  “Please Stacey,” cried my mom, clutching my arm. “Please understand,” she pleaded, “he’s all I have. I was so lonely, I’m still lonely, please honey, please,” she begged.

  But I just shook my head wordlessly. My mom had betrayed me, working for her own interests instead of protecting her daughter. With a silent shake, I threw off her arm and let myself out the front door, closing the door quietly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Stacey

  “How did you find out?” I asked stiffly, sitting in the living room of Pax and Peyton’s condo. It was luxurious, a triplex overlooking Central Park. But the obvious luxury seemed miles away, I was locked in a dark place, a hell without feeling.

  “Stacey,” said Pax slowly. “We put it together piece by piece.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Well, what was the first piece?” I asked as calmly as I could manage.

  “The missing footage,” said Peyton reasonably. “There was no reason for that footage to be missing, but our IT guys located a back-up stored on a different server.”

  “And what was on the back-up?” I asked, my voice slightly unsteady.

  “That’s the thing,” said Pax, “it wasn’t what was on it as what wasn’t on it. The footage should have shown a maintenance man walking down the hallway to your room to fix the A/C. But instead, a maintenance worker showed up only seconds after you called, seemingly popping up out of thin air.”