Chapter Fourteen: Meet the Parents
Rachel felt like throwing up. The feeling clung to her all the way to the outer office of David Lansing, Executive Director of Paradigm Media Productions. By the time she was buzzed in by the plastic fantastic aspiring actress working the reception desk, her hands were clammy, her throat dry and her head pounded.
David Lansing stood from behind his desk, in front of a row of monitors, and crossed the room to greet her. He was a good looking man, maybe a hair under fifty. He had brown hair, specked with gray, with a broad, clean shaven face. He had Sara's eyes.
Rachel had indeed met David Lansing before, only it was no wonder she never made the connection; she she never thought of him that way. He was Stingray, a longtime member of Bastille. The whole deal between Tri-Gar and Paradigm came about because of their acquaintance from the club. It should be no surprise that a sex club for L.A.'s wealthy and powerful would also be a prime networking opportunity for it's ambitious membership.
Stingray was a straight up pervert. He didn't much favor one kind of kink to another, and Rachel had known him to participate in virtually every possible sexual permutation permitted in the club. He was usually in the company of an attractive thirtyish blonde who called herself Citrine, a craven submissive if there ever was one. Rachel had never touched or dominated the man, but Stingray loved to watch the blonde get abused, and that had been Rachel's stock in trade at the club. They had partied together on multiple occasions, thankfully, never at her apartment.
Dave "Stingray" Lansing looked at Rachel and smiled, "Great to see you Rachel? How've you been? I haven't seen you in ages."
In point of fact, she had partied with Stingray and Citrine at Bastille barely more than month ago.
"Fine Dave," she said quietly.
"So you were pretty cagey on the phone, but I figured if it couldn't wait it had to be work business, not club business right?" he said lightly.
Rachel swallowed hard. "Actually, Dave, it isn't either."
Stingray Dave grinned, "Now I am intrigued. What can I do for you?"
"It's about Sara." Rachel said simply. For an instant she prayed that he would say "Sara who?" and she could apologize for wasting his time, rush out the office door and head back to her perfect life.
"What? How do you know Sara?" He said. Damn, no dice.
"Dave, maybe we should sit down for a minute." Rachel tried, but he cut her off.
"What the hell is going on Rachel, what about Sara?" He said more urgently.
Rachel sighed and asked "Did you have an awkward conversation with Sara recently?"
Dave looked at her quizzically. "What?" he said, "What are you talking...". His mouth dropped open and he stared at Rachel, dumbfounded.
"Yeah." Rachel said, her face in her hand. "Sure you don't want to sit down?"
Dave walked slowly to his desk and sat down. "Oh shit," he said, "oh shit.".
"Yeah" Rachel said again, sitting down in the chair across from him.
"How did you...oh God, not at the club, oh my God, she's not...". He said, proving that babbling may be hereditary.
"No, Dave, no, it's not like that OK." Rachel said quickly, "We live in the same apartment building. She was...having trouble with her boyfriend, and I was there for her, and, you know, one thing led to another. It's not a club thing, we...she's not like that, OK.".
"Trouble with her boyfriend? She told me he hit her, but that her new girlfriend took care of him. That was you?" he said, disbelieving.
"Yeah" she sighed again, "Don't worry, I wouldn't ever hurt Sara, but when she told me what that asshole had done to her,I just, sort of...lost it. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of psycho." Rachel said desperately although this man had seen her, even directed her, into some especially rough acts in the past.
"No, no, I know," he said absently, "thanks for that at least. I thought I was going to have to kill that fucking punk.".
"Don't worry, he won't be back." she assured him.
"Did you know...who she was?" he asked, still looking at his desk.
"No, of course not. I didn't even make the connection until just this afternoon." she answered. Then Rachel said, "And the blonde you're always with down at the club?".
"Candice," he groaned, "her step-mother."
He looked up suddenly at her, his eyes narrowing. "So what is this, why are you telling me this? Is this some kind of shakedown? Or, what?, If I try to stand between you two, you'll tell Sara all about me and the club?" he said, starting to sound angry.
Even in Rachel's frazzled state, Dave's implication pissed her off. "No, you stupid asshole!" she said loudly, before regaining some of her composure. She sat back down and looked him in the eye. "I don't want to tell her a damn thing Dave. What the fuck would I tell her? Hey Kitten, by the way, turns out I know your Dad. Last year I saw him give a handjob to one of the LA Clippers bench warmers while I pissed in your stepmother's face? Do you know what the would do to her? I couldn't hurt her like that."
Rachel's' outburst surprised her girlfriend's already understandably anxious father. "Then...what?"
"I don't know." Rachel said, getting close to tears. "Dammit Dave, I love her, I really do. She's not some toy, or some passing thing. Since we've been together, it's like I'm a whole different person. I...I don't want to lose that.".
Stingray Dave was stunned. He knew Rachel, or Ms. Valentine, at any rate. He had seen first hand how she took her heartless pleasure. How could that be the same woman who now sat in his office, tears in hear eyes, claiming to be in love with his daughter.
"You're serious?" Dave said.
"Yes" Rachel said in a tiny voice.
Dave Lansing looked down again, considering for a long while. Finally he looked back up at Rachel and said, "I don't know you.".
"What?" Rachel said, blinking away tears.
"I don't know you. You don't know me. Our companies have done some business but that doesn't mean we even remember one another." He said calmly.
"Are you...serious?" Rachel said, disbelieving.
"Yes. We've never met. When we do meet, you'll be my daughter's new girlfriend. I'll be the one trying, probably with some difficulty, to seem like the hip, supportive twenty first century Dad. We'll both, likely, be uncomfortable at first, it may seem like I have some minor issues with your age difference, which I do by the way, but as long as you treat my Sara well, I'll keep my nose out of it. I'll keep paying her tuition, and she'll always be welcome at home. I mean, it's not like I want her to find out about this any more than you do, right? Agreed?" he finished.
Rachel couldn't believe it. Could it really be that simple? Would that even work? Could she keep her new life, one that was better than she ever thought possible? She looked at Dave gratefully, "You mean, you'll let us be together?".
"Come on Rachel, I'm not stupid. If I forbid her from seeing you, the stubborn little twerp will probably propose within the week." He answered, smiling wanly, "When I told her she was going through a phase, she got pretty pissed.".
Rachel couldn't help a little laugh. "Yeah, same thing happened to me.".
"We do have another problem though." Dave said, cautiously.
"Candice." Rachel said.
"Candice." Dave agreed.
"Actually Dave," Rachel said, regaining her composure, "Candice was never really going to be a problem. You were the one I needed to make understand.".
"If you don't think Candice is going to be a problem, you don't know Candice. As soon as she sees you and Sara together, she's going to hit the roof.".
Rachel thought she understood Candice even better than Dave did. When you got right down to it, with Candice, there just wasn't that much to know. She told Dave her idea. Dave agreed readily enough, protesting only when told he couldn't be there. She told him that he would just have to set up a few hidden cameras and make do.
On the way out, she thanked Dave Lansing again for his understanding, even, to their mutual surprise, giving him a quick, awkward hug. "I can't tell you how grateful I am Dave" she said again, "Sara means the world to me."
"I believe you Rachel. It took, well, it took balls, to come down here and talk to me like this. Don't forget, it could have been really bad for both of us if you hadn't figured it out before she brought you around for supper.".
"No kidding," she replied, smiling at last, "I'll call you next week and let you know how it goes with Candice.".
Rachel left Paradigm feeling hopeful, for the first time that afternoon. She went straight home, wanting to beat Sara back to the apartment. When she arrived, she immediately called Renee to ask another favor. This one wasn't likely to be any imposition though.
By the time Sara arrived home after Art class, Rachel had calmed down. She was making dinner, when the art student, oblivious to the events of Rachel's afternoon, came through the front door, dancing as usual. She waltzed into the kitchen and up to Rachel for a quick kiss, that turned into a longer one. "Mmmmmm. Hi." She said finally, after their kiss broke.
"Hi." Rachel responded.
"Be right back." She said, once again dancing out of the room and down the hall towards their bedroom. She returned a few minutes later; she had changed out of her sweater and jeans into a pair of Lycra shorts, a white cotton tank top and, of course, her Kitten collar. She sidled up to Rachel, as the older woman diced an onion for their dinner, looking for a snuggle. "Aww, did you miss me already?" she teased, wiping away Rachel's onion tears. Rachel dropped the chef's knife and put her arms around the girl.
"What was it you said? I always miss you when you're not here." Rachel smiled.
Sara laid her head against Rachel's chest, enjoying the hug when she said "Are you busy next Monday night?"
"That depends," Rachel said, eyes closed, taking as much joy from her embrace as Sara, "What are we doing?"
Sara giggled and said, "My Art class is supposed to display their term projects, remember that thing on dualism I told you about?".
"Uh-huh," Rachel said, recalling the conversation before their first "lunch date.".
"Well, the display is on Monday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come and see my painting?" Sara asked, a little shyly.
"Of course I do, Kitten." Rachel said genuinely.
"Great!" Sara said, "It's a date."
That evening, as well as the rest of the week progressed as blissfully as the preceding one had. Every morning, they would shower, have breakfast and go off to work or school. They had lunch on occasion and dinner together every night. They even went to a movie together, standing in line for tickets, holding hands like all the other couples. And, like all the other couples, they bickered about what movie to see; when neither side could convince the other, they compromised and saw a 3-D kids movie about a platypus with the unlikely name of Newton. Rachel discovered that she liked showing Sara off, the envious glances she would get from men of all ages as they walked, arm in arm made her feel powerful.
They slept close together, and made love often until biology intruded for a few days. It made little difference to Rachel, she found so much joy in just being with the vivacious young girl. She started teaching Sara how to cook, and how to safely use the kitchen. At the end of the week, Sara managed to convince Rachel to pick up a paintbrush for the first time since her undergrad days and they painted together until Sara accidentally got some paint on her boobs, Rachel tried to help clean her off, and things deteriorated quickly until they were both nude, on the living room floor, legs scissored together, grinding into one another frantically. Good times.
On Saturday they slept in and lazed about the place for a while, but around eleven, Rachel said that she had to leave for a couple of hours. When Sara asked her casually where she was going, Rachel couldn't help but get a little nervous.
"I have to go meet Renee for a little while Kitten." She said.
"Ooh! Can I come?" Sara asked hopefully.
"Not this time, sorry." Rachel said smiling sadly.
"Why?" Sara began, "What are you...sorry. Never mind." she stopped quickly. "Will you be home for dinner?".
Rachel hated this. She hated what she was going to have to go do, and she hated lying to Sara about it. She decided to tell her as much as she could get away with.
"It's OK, Kitten," she said soothingly, "you can ask."
"No, it's alright," Sara insisted, "I'm not the jealous type. Or at least I'm trying not to be. I know you and Renee are friends, it's OK.".
"I'm taking Renee to meet someone" Rachel said. "Another friend who I now from the club. Well, this friend was one of those that liked, well, let's just say that she like to be treated like Francis, do you understand?" Sara nodded. "Well, ever since I fell in love" she said melodramatically, causing Sara to giggle, "I really haven't had any interest in mistreating anyone but you, so I am introducing her to Renee. Hopefully, they'll hit it off; my friend will get what she needs and Renee will get what she needs, because I..." She encircled Sara's narrow shoulders with her arms, "already have everything I need right here." as she kissed the girl softly on her forehead.
"Ok Rach'" Sara said, sounding mollified.
"Don't worry Kitten, I love you OK? I'm not participating, just making an introduction OK?" Rachel insisted anyway.
"I'm not worried Rach', I love you too. It's OK, I'll see you when you get back.". Sara said sincerely.
Rachel left the apartment still feeling guilty. She headed over to Renee and Milo's townhouse to pick up her Sister. She had dressed up before leaving, wearing an expensive, black and white print tea dress, a broad rimmed sun hat and large, dark, sunglasses. She looked like she was off to go drink mimosas at a horse derby. When she pulled up, Renee came out the front door similarly dressed. She was pulling behind her a black, medium sized travel suitcase, rolling noisily along on little plastic wheels. Rachel popped the Audi's trunk and Renee stowed her bag before slipping into the passenger seat. "Think you brought enough shit?" Rachel laughed. Renee's presence made her feel more confident and at ease immediately.
Renee held up the wrong two fingers in a bad imitation of a scout and said "Always be prepared Sister", before cackling boisterously.
"So what is the worm up to today?" Rachel asked casually as she pulled out into traffic.
"Oh, he has to pull a double at the hospital today, he's disappointed he can't tag along. He said if there's a video, he wants a copy." Renee said, chuckling again. When not spending his evenings as a dog, Milo was an MD, a trauma specialist at the Keck Hospital.
"So what's new with your little kitty?" Renee asked suggestively.
"She's...she's just perfect." Rachel sighed.
"Uh-uh-uh, look at you"Renee clucked her tongue, "You got it bad don't ya'."
Rachel's face flushed a little. "Shit, Renee, I hope this works." she said.
"Don't worry Sister, we'll break that bitch." Renee said confidently.
They arrived at the Lansing home at 12:30. It was a sprawling, palatial home just outside the city; a single story, six thousand square feet at least, near the Crystalaire Country Club. There were two Mercedes parked in the wide curved driveway already.
The well dressed ladies exited the Audi and walked up to the front door, travel bag in tow. A few moments after they rang the bell, the door was answered by the woman of the house. "The staff must have the day off," Rachel thought testily.
Candice Lansing could have been considered extremely attractive, had she not lived in Los Angeles, home to a hundred-thousand women that looked just like her; too much expensive jewelry, too much expensive make-up, too many highlights in her overpriced hairstyle. Candice was the archetype of the Southern California trophy wife. She was dressed similarly to Rachel and Renee, minus the hat.
Candice smiled at her visitor's perfunctorily for a few moments before saying "Yes?" expectantly.
Rachel took off her glasses and looked Mrs. Lansing squarely in the eye and said simply "Citrine."
Recognition dawned on her face. Her eyes opened wide as her head darted quickly to the left and then to the right. "Ms. Valentine? What are you doing here?" She said finally, in a taut, nervous whisper.
"Bastille business." Rachel answered coldly.
"In the middle of the day? But...but, David isn't even here. I've got people here." She stammered, shocked at this grievous irregularity. Rachel gave her a stinging slap across the face, not enough to leave a mark, but certainly enough to get her attention. Candice Lansing closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and shuddered. Rachel had almost forgotten just how twisted this bitch really was.
Candice was a severely repressed submissive behind closed doors. Some of the shit she was into wasn't even allowed at Bastille. Rachel could dimly recall an occasion at this very house in which she had caned Candace, or Citrine as she knew her, so hard, the last two strokes actually broke the skin on the woman's tanning-booth orange ass. After Rachel had drawn blood, the twat just reached back, parted her cheeks and begged for another stroke, right across her asshole. That had been a bit uncomfortable, even for Rachel.
Rachel understood that there was another aspect to Citrine's submissiveness that would be just as important if things were to work out properly today. It was one of the reasons for the unorthodox, uninvited mid day house call. Candice was as obsessed with appearances as she was with submission. Much of the thrill in club life, for her, came from the forbidden, secretive nature of it. She reveled in what she liked to think of as a dangerous double life. She got the greatest rush from pretending to be a respected country club wife, a member of countless inane committees and charity boards, a former this, a retired that, a woman who supposedly was on her way to great things before making the "honorable" choice of marriage and family while, all along, she gloried in doing things so filthy, all of her elegant friends would simply die from shock if they but knew.
Of course, the hard truth, as Rachel saw it, was that Candice was just a fucked up, bored, horny housewife that knew, deep down, she was really an inconsiderate, selfish cunt who craved a just punishment, a karmic re-alignment, so to speak. Probably not as different from at least some of her uptight friends as she imagined. Today's plan called for her to be pushed, right up against the threat of exposure and coupling that with brutal sexual oppression, until she broke completely. Until she would agree to whatever was demanded of her.
After being slapped, Candice Lansing stood in the doorway, mute. She didn't know what to do. There were two women in the sun room, friends from the Botanical Society, waiting for her to return and continue discussing the upcoming fundraiser. There were also two women standing in her foyer, one of them a black Amazon that was making the sub's pussy twitch, threatening her with unspeakable degradation. Although it seemed like a difficult decision, Candice's pathology left her with only one choice. She took her eyes from the two imposing women and glanced toward the double doors. "I have guests..." she whispered desperately.
At this point, Renee stepped forward and reached her hand out to Mrs. Lansing. Candice reached out reflexively, to shake, but Renee's hand evaded the offer and instead, slipped down and grabbed Candice firmly by her crotch. Renee's middle finger pressed inward through the fine fabric of Candice's dress. "I'm your Goddess, you loathsome cow." Renee sneered in a low, dangerous voice, "Miss Valentine is giving you to me. You belong to me this afternoon, cunt.". Renee's voice hung for a second on the "T" sound as she released the trophy wife's honey pot.
Candice didn't have to be told twice. "I'll just go make my excuses." she said nervously. She started to walk to the double doors, Renee followed. Candice stopped, and said, "If you wouldn't mind waiting in the..." Renee grabbed her cunt again and squeezed much harder. The frosted blonde, doubled over, grunting softly, and tried, unsuccessfully to back out of Renee's steel grip.
"Did you just tell me what to do you dirty, white cow?" Renee hissed.
"No,no,no, Goddess, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, what do you want me to do?" Candice stammered.
"Where are your friends, right through these doors?" Renee asked coldly.
"Yes" Candice whimpered.
Rachel trusted Renee to play the game carefully here, but it was a tricky moment. They needed to push Candice right up to the edge of exposure, but if they pushed to hard, if they marched her in front of her friends like a well-used fuck toy, they would loses their chance, and quite possibly create a whole new pack of troubles. Renee was walking a razor's edge.
Renee hiked up the back of Candice's knee length dress and slipped her long, caramel brown fingers inside the back of her panties. Rachel heard Candice gasp, mostly in pain, and winced as tears came to her eyes. "Tell them." she commanded.
Candice walked forward awkwardly, the rest of the way to the double doors, Renee following closely, her thumb rammed deep into the housewife's asshole. Candice opened one of the doors just enough to stick her head and shoulder through and Rachel heard her say "I'm terribly sorry ladies, I just received and urgent call, there's a family emergency. I have to go right away!" and she closed the door abruptly. To her credit, she did definitely sound like she was having some kind of emergency.
"Where's your bedroom, cunt" Renee hissed in her ear. Candice pointed down the hallway, and Renee started marching her in that direction.
"Keep her quiet for a while, I'll make sure the bridge club finds their way out." Rachel said.
Only seconds after Candice and Renee disappeared, the double doors opened and two other, very concerned looking, Real Housewives rejects came out looking alarmed. Rachel stepped up to them confidently with an outstretched hand and said "Rachel Valentine, Lansing family attorney. Please excuse Mrs. Lansing, there's been a death in the family, she's in with my associate now, very distraught I'm afraid."
"Oh my God, not David?" one of them gasped.
"Oh, no" Rachel soothed her, "Mr. Lansing is fine and so is Sara. It's a relative on Mrs. Lansing's side, I'm afraid. I'm sure she'll appreciate your call in a day or two.".
Thus mollified, the two women retreated to the emotionally sterile confines of their Mercedes and drove off to where, Rachel cared not. She headed down the hall past the an archway leading to an elaborately furnished billiard room, and a few more closed doors. Rachel wondered which one had been Sara's room. With Candice occupied, she had the run of the house, and could have easily wandered until she found it, but she already felt guilty enough about what was going on, it would feel like such an invasion of the girl's privacy, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Someday, when she was with Sara pretending she had never been in that house before, the girl would show her herself.
Instead, she headed to the bedroom where Renee had already gotten Candice mostly stripped, clad now only in her expensive panty and garter set. Her stockings had come loose and were puddling around her knees. Renee was busy wrapping a length of thin, nylon cord tightly around Candice's right breast. Her left breast had already been similarly tied and was already turning a nice shade of plum. Renee had been getting into Kinbaku, Japanese knot bondage, recently. Renee was always looking to expand her horizons, whereas Rachel tended to stick to her favorites.
"Are you sure you don't want a piece of this bitch, Sister?" She asked Rachel. Candice's eyes opened and she looked at Rachel with a mix of hope and terror.
"No, I promised my girlfriend I wouldn't cheat." she said, looking at Candice.
"Your girlfriend?" Renee asked slyly.
"Why yes, you know her don't you Candice, your step daughter, Sara?"
Candice's eyes blinked all the way open, "What? Sara?" she managed, before Renee smacked her bound, swollen tit, hard. "Aghhh!" the blonde screamed.
"That's right Candice, Sara is my girlfriend. She lives with me." Rachel said in an oily, snake like voice.
"No,no" Candice said, and began shaking her head when Renee slapped the other breast.
"Yes, Candice. She is." Rachel said coldly, "And that is why I am giving you to Goddess. Do you understand? I won't do this to you anymore, I won't do it to anyone anymore because I am with Sara."
Before Candice could say anything else, Renee stuffed a sponge in her mouth and started to wrap electrical tape around the bottom of her head. "Mmmph" she said.
"Hush Candice," Rachel said, leaning close to her, "We'll talk later.". She turned and exited, leaving the Goddess with her supplicant.
Rachel sat in a chair in the hallway, right outside the door, in case she was needed. There was a time not long ago that she would have relished being in that bedroom with Renee and Candice, and not just to watch, but today, the idea seemed unappealing, almost hollow. It was as if, once she experienced the feeling of sex with someone she loved, going back to having just sex seemed deeply unsatisfying. It was as though she had lived every day of her life eating vanilla ice cream, when someone came along and introduced her to chocolate syrup. Pretty damn hard to go back to plain vanilla after that.
Over the next couple of hours, she heard the most outlandish array of noises coming from behind the closed door; the crack of leather on skin, the creak of ropes, the jingle of chains, flowing water, and a litany of different humming tones from an assortment of vibrating motors. She also heard a cacophony of muffled shrieks and sobs that alternated with various lengthy streams of abusive profanity from Renee. What she didn't hear was anything that sounded like the orgasmic scream of release.
After about an hour and a half, Renee came out briefly and said to Rachel, "Didn't I see a pool table around here somewhere?".
Rachel pointed toward the billiard room. Renee strode down the hall and returned a few seconds later tossing an "8" ball gently in her palm. She winked at Renee and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later she heard Candice wail in agony and the Renee, laughing evilly, yell out "Aww, Damn! SCRATCH!".
After nearly three hours, she did finally hear the unmistakable sounds of a mind-numbing climax, but it was Renee's voice as she screamed out "Yes! Get that tongue all the way in my black ass you stupid fuckin' bitch!".
Ten minutes after that, Renee opened the door, looking like she had just survived birthing a minotaur. She was almost nude herself, only her violet, lace bra remaining. Her hair was a mess, and she glistened all over with sweat, and God only knew what else. "Candice would like a word, if you have a minute Sister," she said, breathing hard.
"Of course," Rachel said.
She walked in and looked around. It looked like a sex shop had exploded inside. Vibrators, straps, whips, lube, electrical toys and chains were everywhere. She did not, however, see Candice.
"In the john." Renee said simply.
Rachel opened the door to the bathroom to observe the pathetic site that was once Mrs. Candice Lansing. She was on her knees, with her face hanging just over the toilet bowl. The seat was around her neck like a yoke, holding her head in place. Rachel could see the remnants of a plastic bag taped around her neck and it looked like someone had played tic-tac-toe all over her ass and back. She was soaked, and reeked of urine. Rachel couldn't see her face, but she imagined it was a mess.
"Yes Candice," Rachel said sweetly, "You wanted to speak to me?"
"Y-Y-Yes, I...I did"she stammered, snorting snot up her nose, her voice trembling and muffled as it echoed off the bowl. "I'm so pleased to hear you're dating Sara. She...she's a wonderful girl. I...I...I hope you two will be very happy together."
"Well, that certainly is wonderful to hear Candice. Why the change of heart?" Rachel asked mockingly.
"My Goddess promised me I could cum!" Candice wailed, as she broke down and bawled like an infant.
"And?" Renee asked coldly, from over Rachel's shoulder.
"And that she would come over and make me her bitch anytime she wanted, right in front of all my stuck up white bitch friends." Candice finished, panting and crying.
"Well?" Renee asked over the sounds of Candice's nearly hysterical sobs.
"Oh, alright," Rachel said lightly, "I guess she's earned it.".
"Here it comes, cunt" Renee said, walking past Rachel into the bathroom and taking up the nearby toilet plunger by it's rounded plastic handle. Rachel walked out of the bathroom as she heard Candice sob "Oh God", and then it was all over but the screaming.
A half hour later, after Renee dashed off a quick shower, she stood over the battered, still shaking body of Candice Lansing, drying herself off and slipping her dress back over her powerful frame. The blonde housewife looked up at her, barely able to prop herself up with an arm.
"That's a good cunt." She smirked condescendingly at Candice, bent down once and kissed her lightly on her swollen, stinking, lips.
As she walked toward the bathroom door Candice asked, "You'll come back?"
"You bet your ass." Renee said, and she meant it. Favor or not, she had had a blast.
"I...I think I love you." Mrs. Lansing stammered.
"Of course you do bitch," Renee laughed as she exited the bathroom, "I'm your Goddess."
Back out in the driveway in front of the house, Rachel felt like she had just left a successful root canal. She gave Renee a fierce hug, thanking her again for her efforts. "My pleasure, Sister," Renee said, "That was one sick, fucked-up bitch. I think I'm gonna have to head back here for seconds sometime soon."
"Still," Rachel said, "I owe you big time for this."
"You can make me your maid of honor." Renee said playfully.
Rachel blushed bright red, "Whoa, OK Sister, let's not go nuts."
End Chapter Fourteen:________________________________________________________________