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The Commander Ch. 02

By: deltablonde



This is my first erotic story – I welcome all feedback.

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I stood facing my bathroom mirror. A spindly boy wearing a beige sales clerk's shirt stared back. That was not my shirt. That was not my body. That was not my face. That was Jake. Jake stocks shelves at the Food King grocery store a few miles away. I jumped his body (that is, I took over his body) in the Food King parking lot and brought him home. Jake is my mule. I need him to jump someone else's body – my real target for today. 

I use mules for a couple of reasons. First, when I jump into someone else's body, my own body instantly falls unconscious, and stays asleep while I am "away". So I let my own body rest safely at home while I doppelgang. Second, even though my host has no recollection of the period while I jump him, he might remember everything right up to the instant before the jump, including the moment I touched him. I can only jump through physical contact, so there is always a chance the host will remember someone touching them the instant before their memory loss. Similarly, when I leave a host, their own conciseness returns, as if they just woke up from a very long sleep walk. Again, there is a chance they will see me as they come to. 

I am not too worried about Jake – nothing bad is going to happen to him today, and he won't try to track me down. He will miss an hour of work and won't know why. Or maybe he'll take the rest of the day off – it's up to him.

Walking in Jake's shoes, I returned to my bedroom and checked on my real body sleeping in my bed – everything looked normal. I locked up the house and armed the alarms. After I pulled out of the garage, I verified the main garage door had closed, and then drove to a twenty four hour parking lot on Millison Road where my car would not look suspicious parked there all day, or even overnight. I locked my keys in a secret compartment inside the car, then retrieved a ticket from the automated parking attendant machine, and placed the ticket under the windshield wiper. I walked a few blocks down Millison and one block over to the Mermaid Princess Beauty Salon and Spa. I scanned the small parking lot – the car I was looking for wasn't there because I was early, which is to say, I was right on time. I leaned up against a Ford Expedition SUV, as if it was my car and I was waiting for someone. Hiding in plain sight.

After ten minutes of waiting I saw the white Mercedes E350 convertible approach from the north. The top was down – perfect. An open parking spot near the front door of the spa awaited, so I repositioned Jake behind the empty parking spot. Predictably, the Mercedes turned into the parking lot, and headed straight for the best spot. I felt my excitement grow when I confirmed it was her behind the wheel. Fiona. 

Two weeks earlier, I had jumped Fiona's boyfriend, Jet, and discovered he abused her. I sent Jet an unmistakable warning that the abuse must stop. Today was his first check-up. 

Timing is everything. I started walking toward the just parked Mercedes – approaching it from behind, walking up the driver's side. Even from behind she was gorgeous. Fiona wore a short sleeve pale yellow cotton dress with small roses printed in a burnt wine colored pattern. Her long honey blonde wavy hair caressed her delicate shoulders.

I watched her intently, never taking my eyes off the back of her head. I leaned Jake's right hip into the driver's car door, and braced myself with his right hand. In a single fluid motion I pivoted Jake toward Fiona and touched the bare skin of her arm with Jake's left hand.  She never turned to face me. She never saw Jake's face. She never had a chance.

Instantly my vision collapsed into a straw sized tunnel with dull black walls. When I regained my sight, I turned to my left and looked up and saw Jake wobbling against Fiona's car.

"Can I help you, mister," I said to him, knowing he was just now regaining his own conciseness, and had no idea where he was or how he got there. I had jumped completely out of Jake – he was on his own now. 

"I ... I, ah ...," he stammered, pulling away from the car, turning slowly to survey his surroundings, but he did not walk away. 

"Are you lost?" I asked in Fiona's voice. For the first time Jake looked at my (Fiona's) face, and realized just how beautiful she is.

"I ... ah ... don't."

"Do you work at Food King?" Confusion and skepticism washed over his face. "You're wearing a Food King shirt."

"Oh ... right."

I looked around to see if anyone had noticed Jake standing beside Fiona's car. I didn't think so. "Do you want a ride there? Its five blocks over. I'm early for my appointment anyway."

"Uh, yeah ... ah ... sure." He looked in various directions, wondering which way to Food King. 

"Okay, hop in," I patted the empty passenger seat. Still dazed, Jake walked around the car, opened the passenger door, and climbed in. I started the car, backed out of the parking spot, and pulled onto the street. I looked over at Jake. "You don't look so good. Do you want me to drive you home instead?" 

"Uh ..." Jake was too disoriented to mount a coherent reply.

"Where do you live?" When Jake told me his address, I asked if he lived alone – yes was the reply. "I'm taking you home."

Jake lived in a low-rent high rise. Not much else is affordable to a minimum wage stock boy living alone. I parked on the street, and chirped the doors locked on the open top convertible as I walked Jake to his apartment building. Thankfully I have had enough experience in other women's bodies to know how to navigate high heel shoes. 

"I'll go up with you." I told him. He offered no resistance. I am willing to bet Jake has never spoken more than three words to a girl as beautiful as Fiona (technically he still hasn't). Fiona going up to his apartment vaulted Jake into a whole new sphere of bragging rights. 

The elevator smelled dank and dirty. It clunked and groaned as we rose uncertainly to the eleventh floor. After the doors opened, Fiona's high heels clicked down the concrete hallway – any semblance of carpeting that might have donned these floors was long gone. The mosaic of stains on the concrete floor reminded tenants of better days.  Jake pulled his keys out as we approached the doorway marked 1107. I followed him through the opened door, closing and locking the door behind me.

It was a tiny studio apartment – no separate bedroom. A single living/dining/bed room with an open kitchen, and a separate bathroom. No balcony. Most motel rooms were larger. To Jake's credit, it was tidy. A sofa (sofa bed?), one table, two chairs, a TV stand, and a small book case was everything Jake owned. It all looked like third generation hand-me-downs – I'm guessing not a stick of furniture was built after the Beatles broke up. 

"Listen, thanks" Jake offered. "I'm okay."

"You look awful," I told Jake. "You need help," I cautioned. 

"No, really – I was just a little confused back there. I don't know ... well, I ..." he was still trying to fathom how he got from the Food King parking lot to the Mermaid Princess parking lot in what would seem to him to be in the blink of an eye. Later he might realize he lost nearly an hour of consciousness, but I was hoping that detail would evade him, as it invites all sorts of questions. 

"No," I insisted, "you need help." And with that, I reached behind my neck with both hands, and started unzipping Fiona's yellow cotton dress with burnt wine colored roses. It took much longer than I meant to – I am not well practiced in this maneuver. The accidentally slow-motion effect paralyzed Jake while a gorgeous five foot ten inch, stacked, blue eyed, blond girl undressed in the middle of his low-rent studio apartment. I finally got the zipper all the way down, so I pulled the dress off Fiona's shoulders, letting it fall forward to her knees. Fiona was not wearing a bra. Her perfectly sculpted 36D tits hypnotized the already speechless Jake. 

I stepped out of the dress. Wearing only high heeled shoes and thong bikini underpants, I closed the distance to the gaping jawed boy and went down to Fiona's knees. Still speechless, Jake allowed me to undo his belt and unzip his fly before pulling his pants down. Next I withdrew his underpants, and like the Fiona I know, I neither teased nor waited – I took all of Jake's five inches into Fiona's loving mouth. 

I've jumped enough girls (and okay, two guys) to have practiced fellatio. Like Fiona, I know how to deep throat, but I doubt I can go as long as she can with a ten inch cock deep down her pipe. I reached behind Jake with both hands and grabbed his ass, pulling him toward me, and I started bobbing his cock in and out of Fiona's mouth. Jake began singing a wordless song, going "doooooo wooooo ooooooooo dooooooo". What the Fuck?!

I pulled out and looked up at him. "Jake, are you singing?" He nodded, still ringing out a tune I didn't recognize. "Do you want me to keep going?" He nodded vigorously without missing a note, so I swallowed him down again while Jake sang.  I alternated sucking and jerking Jake off while his singing grew louder, faster, and higher. Before too long I could taste his pre-cum, and I knew Jake was ready to pop. His singing gave way to shrieking as the notes collapsed into a warbling wail. I thought of a nice visual for Jake to remember Fiona by, and so as he started to cum, I pulled out and jerked him off all over Fiona's perfect face. Through it all Jake mutilated the final bars of his bizarre tune. 

As his climax quickly ebbed, Jake at last grew quiet. I looked up at Jake with Fiona's cum streaked face and her big blue eyes and asked "All better now?" He nodded slowly, still thunderstruck. 

I went to the bathroom and washed up. Without another word, I returned to the main room, put on Fiona's dress, and left the catatonic Jake standing in the middle of the room, his pants and underpants still crumpled around his ankles. I closed the apartment door behind me without looking back. Payment for mule services rendered. 

Jake will remember this erotic coupling to his last day, and the unwitting Fiona won't recall a moment of it. Descending the clunking and groaning elevator, I smiled at the possible outcomes of the "real" Fiona shopping at the Food King at some future moment, encountering the forevermore bewitched Jake. I couldn't supress laughing out loud at my mental image of Jake serenading Fiona in the middle of the grocery store with his blow job song.

Back in the Mercedes, I navigated Fiona's car to her condo building by the water. As I approached the door to the indoor garage, I realized I didn't know which parking spot was Fiona's, so I parked in the outdoor visitor's parking, put the roof and windows up, and locked the car.

I knew my way to Fiona's condo apartment, having been there once before in Jet's body. As I hoped, Jet was not there when I stepped in. I had some research to do, and I had to be alone with Fiona. 

I went into the bedroom and stripped off Fiona's shoes, dress, and underpants. I walked the naked Fiona to a full height mirror and admired her tall hourglass figure, all-over tan, magnificently firm 36D tits, long blonde wavy hair, high cheek bones, deep blue eyes, and perfect skin. Her shaved pussy crowned a pair of long, shapely legs. A professionally applied coat of pink champagne nail polish flawlessly adorned her fingers and toes. I couldn't imagine why Fiona needed a spa appointment. 

I brought Fiona's hands up to her breasts, and started teasing her nipples, pinching and rolling them until they stood firm. Then I caressed Fiona's whole breasts tenderly with her own soft hands. I smiled at the thought of an old movie with Steve Martin in it – he had a line in which he said he could never be a woman, because he would stay at home and play with his breasts all day. I imagined back home a boner rising in my real body – something I knew was impossible, but the thought made me laugh. 

Right. Research! I needed to find out how Jet was treating Fiona, and that meant sifting through Fiona's memories. Going through a host's memories is like looking at snowflakes in a blizzard – you can never find the exact one you're looking for. Even when you find a memory, you seldom understand its meaning. What I would do for a Google search engine for hosts' memories! 

The one thing I had going for me was linkages – I can follow links from one memory to another, so if I can find one meaningful memory (I call this the root memory), I can usually link to other useful ones. I already had a plan on how to find the root memory. I lay Fiona face down in a downward dog position on the bed, and spread her knees open. Then I reached behind her ass, and ever so lightly I feathered her middle finger in circles around her asshole. The sensation tickled Fiona, but it instantly elicited the memory I was looking for – the time I rimmed Fiona two weeks ago with Jet's tongue. And that rimming memory linked to other memories – to Jet cumming four times, to the sweet things he said to her, to how he made her cum twice, to his going out afterwards, to him coming home with all bloodied and bandaged. There it was. I stopped on that memory, and examined it a little further.

People's memories are not like video files – it is not a frame-by-frame account of what the person saw and heard. It is more like a single fuzzy image that notionally represents a collection of events. Attached to each fuzzy image are emotions. Fiona's memory of Jet's bandaged and bloodied hand included emotions of fear and concern. 

I realized I still had Fiona in the downward dog position with her bare ass pointing toward the ceiling. I held on to her memory of Jet's bandaged hand, rolled her onto her back, and slid her under the bed covers to make her more comfortable. The more relaxed I can make the host, the better quality the memories I can retrieve. 

Concentrating on the bloodied hand, I sensed Fiona's memory turned from fear and concern to anger and suspicion when Jet refused to tell her what happened. This memory linked to the next vivid memory – Fiona helping Jet by undoing the bandage and inspecting his hand. Fear gave way to horror and revulsion as Fiona saw Jet's pulverized baby finger, but the anger and frustration returned when Jet kept on saying "I don't know ... I don't know" when Fiona asked what happened. 

The next memory is Fiona getting dressed to take Jet to the hospital, and observing Jet's laptop carrying case, and a big argument Fiona didn't understand about how she was supposed to remind Jet he was to read his email as soon as he got home. Suspicion overtook Jet, and he checked his email before they went to the hospital. Fiona was looking for her car keys in the bedroom, finally found them, and when she came back into the living room, Jet was sitting there with the laptop closed. He was 10 shades whiter than before, and Jet shook uncontrollably. Fiona naturally assumed Jet was going into shock from the injury, and drove him to the hospital. 

Next memory is in Fiona's car driving to the hospital. Jet didn't speak a word. Not one. He just shook like a frightened child. At the hospital, Jet told the doctor he slammed his finger in the car door. Fiona was scared and angry, because she knew Jet was lying, but she didn't know why, and he wouldn't tell her the truth.

Next memory is back home – Jet couldn't sleep for three days. He stayed home sick. He was depressed. Fiona was scared for him – something happened to him. 

I started jumping through the memories a little faster. I tried different pathways, different connections, but nothing about sex or any intimacy between Jet and Fiona showed up in her recent memories. Better, I found no recent memories of abuse. 

As painful as it might be, I had to find out exactly what Jet did to Fiona. I went backward through Fiona's memory linkages until I got to the night two weeks earlier when I (as Jet) had sex with Fiona. I worked my way through the fuzzy images until I found the one I was looking for – when Fiona was desperately apologizing to me for not swallowing all of Jet's cum. I touched on the panicked fear she had, and followed that memory link.

I didn't notice Fiona's breathing turning rapid and shallow, nor did I realize my own anxiety growing in sympathy to her memories. I did see Fiona's image of herself, lying naked on the very bed she was in now, her arms and legs tied spread eagle, and something else. There was something else, but I couldn't place it in her memory.

And then, Jet.  He was saying something. What was it? I concentrated harder, but I couldn't hear his words, and then an image from Fiona's imagination emerged from her memory, like a ship slowly escaping the secret cover of a fog bank. It was an image of her own vagina with clamps attached to the labia, and wires on the clamps pulled tight somehow. It wasn't a memory of her actual vision, but rather a picture of how she imagined of how her vagina must look like. Her pussy lips were painfully splayed wide open in torture style, exposing her bare clit, urethra, and fuck hole.  

In the next linked memory, Jet had a slick white pole – like a pool cue, but shorter – and he lowered the pole between Fiona's legs and then touched one end of the pole to Fiona's unfolded pussy. The memory of the pain was so vivid that I actually felt Fiona's agony as if it were happening again to her right then, in real time. I surmised Jet had used a cattle prod on Fiona's bare clit. 

Only now did I become aware that Fiona's body was hyperventilating. Digging up past horrid memories was having a physiological effect in the present I couldn't control. The hyperventilation started to make me dizzy, but I pressed on – I needed to know more – was this the worst part of it?

I tried linking from this memory to another one. A few links later I found Fiona tied up again, but this time her ankles were tied over her head, and she had something shoved up her ass that delivered a severe electrical shock. I heard Jet saying "so how do like that ass play?" through Fiona's memory. 

I was in fear of passing out from Fiona's hyperventilation, so I stopped searching for more memories. I discovered Fiona was sweating badly from recalling her experiences. I lay there in Fiona's body, secured the covers over her body to keep her warm. I searched for calm, neutral memories to sooth Fiona's body. 

Based on the linkages of her memory, I guessed the cattle prod on her clit was punishment for not swallowing all of Jet's cum. The asshole punishment was clear. So it seems Jet punished Fiona for bad behavior, but he wasn't stupid enough to hit her or leave bruises. He liked using electricity. The fact that I couldn't find linkages to recent punishment let me believe The Commander's message had the effect I desired. 

I lay there for fifteen minutes while Fiona's body recovered her composure. When I got up, it was 4:30 – Fiona would be expecting Jet home soon. Based on my last encounter, Fiona had supper ready for him, so dressed Fiona and went to the kitchen. I found some frozen chicken, cheese, some leftover bottled spaghetti sauce, and a store-bought salad – enough to scrape together a simple meal. 

Jet arrived home at 5:15 – just in time for dinner. I did my best Fiona impression – big hug and kiss. It took him five minutes to settle in, and then we had dinner. He asked about my day – I told him Fiona went to the spa, but got a huge headache, so I came home to get some rest. Jet asked me if I went to the bank. That might be important – last time they were talking about Paris. I was about to lie my way out of it when I sensed Fiona's memory of talking to the bank teller. It must have become possible because I was going through so many of Fiona's memories, it was now easier to find the ones I needed. So I dodged that bullet by telling Jet Fiona's recollection of the bank – he seemed satisfied. 


The Commander Ch. 02



I cleared the dishes after supper, and found Jet on the couch watching the television. I sat beside him, and started stroking his thigh. "How about dessert, big boy," I cooed, realizing I may have overdone it. 

"Not now," he gruffed, eyes fixed on the TV. 

"Come on," I teased, slipping my hand up his thigh until I felt the impression of his cock through the fabric of his pants. 

"No!" He pushed my hand away. 

I stood up beside the couch, and with this afternoon's practice, I unzipped Fiona's dress, dropped it to the floor, and then stood topless between Jet and the TV. "You sure?" I pouted, and started caressing Fiona's amazing tits with her own hands.

"Out of the way, bit ...!" He bit down before finishing the last word, and suddenly looked around the room, as if searching for someone hiding there. The law of unintended consequences struck again. The Commander's intervention, while successful, may have killed their sex life. I picked up Fiona's dress and went to the bedroom to dress.  I picked up Fiona's purse and returned to the living room.

"I'm doing some shopping – I didn't have a chance this afternoon with my headache and all," I announced on behalf of Fiona. Jet didn't reply. 

I drove Fiona's Mercedes to the 24 hour parking lot where my car remained. I parked her car beside mine and locked up. At my car, Fiona's fingers pressed the door unlock combination code on the entry panel. Fiona stepped in my car, retrieved the keys from the hidden compartment, and paid for the parking using cash I kept in the car. It took just over half an hour to drive to my house, revive my body with Fiona's touch, shower, get dressed, and then return to the parking lot with Fiona in the passenger seat of my car. She was now in skip mode – meaning I had general control over her actions, as if she was in a hypnotic trance, but she controlled her own motor functions. By now I was in full control of my own body. 

Fiona stepped out of my car in skip mode, unlocked her own car beside mine, stepped in, and closed and locked the door. She needed to turn the key to "on" without starting the engine to lower the automatic window. Then I stepped out of my car, went to her, and said "Sleep for a short while." She did as commanded, and when I was certain her eyes were closed, I reached in through the open window and touched her arm – the same arm Jake had touched earlier that day. I was now completely out of Fiona. 

I hurried back to my car before she startled awake. I maneuvered my car behind hers, and honked my horn to awaken her. When I saw her head move, I drove away, leaving Fiona to manage her way home. 

My body was famished. I drove to a diner on Bell Street. They have great burgers – just what I needed. I had an ulterior motive in my restaurant selection, because after supper, I walked down Bell Street to the Sling Boat, a bar where people half my age go to hook up.  My body had more desires than just food. The way I see it, girls go there to find someone to take home and fuck – it might as well be me. 

It was nine o'clock on a Thursday night – the bar would start filling up with hormone laden boys and girls, each looking for the right one. Well, in most boys' case, if she was breathing, she was the right one. Girls tend to be a little more discriminating. 

Most girls go out in pairs or groups. I am looking forward to a skip mode where I control two girls at once, but I am a long way from realizing that fantasy. In the meantime, the trick is to separate one girl from the group, or better yet, intercept her before she becomes part of the group. 

Once inside, I hung around near the end of the bar. Being 50 years old, I am invisible to this crowd. No one bothers me. The end of the bar is near the front door, and that's why I am there. At this hour, some girls pair up with their friends after they arrive, so they come through the front door alone. Those are the ones I am looking for. 

The exchange looks innocuous enough. I girl walks through the door. Just as she passes the bar, an older man reaches out and gently touches her arm in a non-threatening gesture to get her attention. He has waited for her to walk past him by before touching her, so that by the time she turns around to look at him, she is already in skip mode, and she won't remember his face. Anyone watching would then see her smile at him, like he's an old friend. The music is loud enough that you could not hear the conversation between them.  He seems to ask her some questions, she smiles and laughs as she replies to each question, and at the end of the exchange, either he touches her again in a friendly goodbye gesture, and she continues into the bar to meet her friends, or they turn around and they walk out of the bar together. 

The first question I command her to answer, after putting her into skip mode, is "smile and tell me if you are hoping to have sex with a guy tonight." If she answers no, I release her right away and let her continue into the bar. Like I said, I am looking for someone who is looking for sex – it might as well be me. 

The next command is "laugh in a friendly way and tell me if you live alone in your own place?" If yes to that, my last command is "smile and tell me if you have any sexually transmitted diseases." If no to that, we turn around and walk out. Otherwise I release her, and she continues into the bar with no memory of the encounter ever happening. 

"Tell me your name," I commanded the girl sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

"Megan," replied a petite, short haired brunette. She wore a black leather mini skirt over black leggings and a thin black vest over a white cotton short sleeve blouse. I guessed she didn't break five foot four while we walked to the car, and that was with her high heels. Her compact and trim body looked fit and lean. 

"Tell me your address, Megan." I didn't recognize her reply, so I punched it into my GPS and started driving in silence.

Megan lived in a high rise – considerably nicer than Jake's. I told her to take me to her apartment. The elevator was clean and silent. All the hallways were tastefully carpeted.

Once inside her apartment, I asked Megan to show me around, in part to get my bearings, but also to confirm we were alone. It was a one bedroom – about twice the size of Jake's. The newer furniture was sparse, but well appointed. 

I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom – Megan said yes. I told her to go, and come back out naked. Two minutes later her naked compact body stood before me. Her 32B breasts were perky and bouncy. A well trimmed bushed capped her groin. 

She waited, staring at me with those dark brown eyes. Her small face with a button nose screamed cuteness. 

I made her take my clothes off one by one, until my middle aged nakeness stood next to her nubile hard body. "Get down on your knees and suck me," I ordered. Megan silently obeyed. Unlike Jet, I am only six inches on my best day, and even that takes time. And unlike Fiona, Megan was not deep throater, but she applied a tenderness to her fellatio consistent with her cute features. I watched her lips rub up and down my slowly hardening shaft. After five minutes I reached down to the floor, picked up my pants, and pulled out a condom out of my pocket I had packed for just this occasion. I unwrapped it and commanded her to put it on me. She stopped sucking me and obeyed. 

There wasn't enough useful furniture here, so I led her to the bedroom. Once on the bed, I lay her on her back and penetrated her missionary style while sucking on her hardened nipples. She responded quickly by rocking her hips in rhythm to my thrusts. 

I told her to keep her hands over her head, then I reached down behind her knees and pulled them upward. I slipped each of my arms underneath her legs so that the underside of her knees were resting on the inside of my elbows. That way I spread her legs wide and upward while fucking her. She started grunting in harmony to my full length strokes.  This new position gave me much more pleasure, and I could sense I would cum before too long, which at my age is about five more minutes. After a long, steady rhythm, I sensed a climax approaching. I pushed her knees back into her shoulders. I burst at last, pumping harder into her pussy while my seed shot harmlessly into the condom.  

When it was over, I released her legs and withdrew. I pulled the condom off starting at the base, making it turn inside out as I pulled. I suspended the inside-out condom over my still firm cock, allowing the cum to drip into my dick. When I had drained most of it, I ordered her to suck me clean. She obliged without hesitation, taking my jism coated cock into her mouth before swallowing my semen. 

Multiple orgasms doesn't work on my body, so I was done. We dressed and I drove her back to the bar.  I stood directly behind her on the sidewalk, facing the Sling Boat's front door. I ordered her to walk in the bar without looking back, and as she started walking away, I touched the back of her neck, removing my skip from her. She did as I commanded, and the real Megan walked into the bar without ever seeing my face. She entered the bar slightly disoriented, but she quickly recovered, and started looking for the right boy to have sex with tonight. 

As I drove home, the pain in my gut returned. 

End of Part 2.



The Commander Ch. 03



(Edited and Reposted on 29/01/2014)

This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback. 

---

I am pretty sure he was saying something, but all I could hear was a dull rush. The last words I remember clearly were "pancreatic cancer". I sat in the doctor's examination room while he continued doing whatever he was doing, which I now presume was explaining my options to me. 

I had a friend with pancreatic cancer -- he lasted six months after the diagnosis. That was three years ago. It's a death sentence every time. I didn't need to hear from him what my options were. I was fucked. 

Something changed. He was now silently staring at me, waiting for something. I returned to earth. I think he was waiting for me to speak. 

"I'm sorry. I ... ah ... didn't hear what you said." A graceful bedside manner replaced his clinician's demeanor. He was obviously skilled at breaking this kind of news. 

"I was explaining that we should do an explorative procedure as quickly as possible. I don't want to offer false hope, but there is a chance this type of cancer is treatable, or at least we can slow it down." He checked for my understanding before continuing. "We need to do a biopsy. I prefer to schedule one right away -- tomorrow if possible." He added for emphasis, "this cancer can be very aggressive -- we need to know exactly what we are dealing with as quickly as possible. But if there is a compelling reason to wait a day or two, we can hold off."

"Okay," I said, realizing even I wasn't sure what I was agreeing to. 

"Okay to tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah ... no," I contradicted. "I need ..." I cut myself off from vocalizing that thought. "Can we do it on Wednesday?"

"As long as the O.R. has a slot," he agreed.

"O.R? Isn't this just a biopsy? Like just a needle, or something?"

"Most pancreatic biopsies are," he confirmed, "but in your case the location and nature of the cancerous tissue contraindicates a simple biopsy. We can't know what we're dealing with without going in and taking a look." He paused, gauging how much of the medi-babble I was taking in. I was mostly alert now, listening, so he continued. "We will do a laparoscopy. It is a relatively simple procedure in which the doctor inserts a camera and a surgical instrument through tiny holes in your abdomen.

"When I say relatively simple," he continued, "I mean compared to many surgeries, this is an uncomplicated procedure. But it is still surgery, which always has small, but definite risks. Risks come from a potential reaction to the anesthetics, a surgical site infection, and in any cancer surgery, there is always risk of metastasis." Dr. English (why do doctors always have such weird names?) spent another fifteen minutes explaining the risks, the reasons, the alternatives. 

At last I asked him "What is the cost of doing nothing -- just wait it out?"

He didn't seem put off by the question. He took a moment before answering. "Our real problem right now is we don't have a detailed understanding of what you're dealing with. Your test results don't tell us if your cancer started in the pancreas or somewhere else, so we don't know how to treat it. If we don't know how to treat it, then it runs its own course. 

"Don, I'm not going to sugar coat this. You have an uphill battle ahead of you, but right now, we don't even know which way is up, so there can be no battle until we go in there and take a look around." Dr. English was aptly named. He had a way of explaining complicated matters clearly. 

My focus drifted back to my present hospital room. A pulled curtain across the middle of the room created the illusion of privacy between me and my fellow oncology roommate. Outside the window, a grey Friday afternoon beheld the infinite loop of a million faceless commuters plodding their way back home again, like streams of countless ants tracing along their insect highways. 

My recollected conversation with Dr. English was on Monday. The biopsy procedure was scheduled for Wednesday morning, but an apartment fire with a roof collapse in the wee hours filled up the operating rooms with emergency surgeries, bumping me to Thursday morning. The procedure was uneventful. The doctors wouldn't tell me any results though, which I was taking to mean bad news. I figured they're waiting for the biopsy lab results to confirm what they already knew. 

While the laparoscopic surgery was fine, the nurses started to worry at the fever I developed overnight -- possible signs of a postoperative infection, so the resident doctor ordered antibiotics and decided to keep me in for observation until I stabilized. Looks like I had the weekend with my thoughts. And with Billy.

Billy was my semi-private room fellow oncology patient. We spoke a few times. I'm guessing Billy is in his early thirties. Divorced, no kids. Billy had testicular cancer -- one of them had to go. I had heard Billy ask his doctor about having sex after the operation. I get the impression Billy considers himself a player, and the thought of losing half his manhood terrified him. I overheard his doctors tell him that everything will return to normal after a few months, but I could tell he didn't believe it. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the nurse who came in to check my vitals. She's 50 pounds overweight and I could smell traces of cigarette smoke on her breath. I am always intrigued by such ironies. She checked my IV drip, blood pressure, and temperature -- 102.3. She asked if I needed anything for pain -- I vaguely ached all over from the fever, but I was fine otherwise, so I declined the offer. There wasn't much for her to do for Billy -- he arrived that morning as a pre-op patient -- his nut-ectomy was scheduled for Saturday morning. They took him away earlier on Friday for a manscape shave, but health wise he was an ordinary guy waiting for someone to cut his left ball off -- not much for the nurse to fuss over. 

"I'll be finishing my shift in a few minutes," announced the nurse on her way out. "Claire will be your night nurse."

"Okay," I replied.

"Do you know Claire?" Billy asked after the nurse left.

"She was on last night."

"Nice?" I knew what he was asking. The guy was still fixating on his sun setting manhood. 

"Cute face. Hot little hard body." 

"Ah man," he moaned. "On the night before. If only ..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the impossible thought. 

"You never know," I mused. Billy didn't dignify my optimism platitude with an answer, but he had no way of knowing I was in the early stages of planning a going away party for Billy's left nut. 

Claire checked in on me at just after 6:30. Late twenties and five foot five, I'd guess. Green eyes, clear complexion. Her sharp bangs and shoulder length straight black hair framed her long face attractively. Think of Demi Moore in Ghost, but with green eyes and longer hair, and you get the picture. Even with the typical loose nurse attire, you could tell Claire was slim, firm, and fit. She had very slim hips. I imagined supple, strong legs beneath those baggy scrubs with a perfect round ass. Small breasts -- I am more of a mid to large size breast man, but I imagined Claire's were perky and shapely. 

Claire was pleasant and talkative, but all business. No flirting, no innuendos. She frowned at my temperature -- 102.1. 

She visited on the bottom of every hour to take my vitals. Every time Claire came in I made idle conversation, and asked innocent details about her. In five visits I found out Claire was born and raised locally. Single, no kids, one cat. She had never travelled abroad, but wants to see Europe. She got her nursing degree two years ago at Heymount College. Still paying off her school loans. Speaks only English. Works out at the gym regularly. Has a sister school. Doesn't smoke. I mentioned I could smell it on my earlier nurse, and that got Claire going -- to her it isn't irony, it's personally irresponsible. Her parents are still alive and have a cottage on a lake I have never heard of about 3 hours away. She alternates between three and four 12-hour shifts week to week, which she enjoys because of the built-in long weekends.

I noticed Billy took a keen interest in my fireside chats with Claire. He was too nervous to sleep anyway, so he was wide awake when Claire came in at 2:30 in the morning. The deep night time is slow. Many patients don't get checked when they sleep, but they checked my fever every hour like clockwork. I hadn't done the usual background checks on Claire, but my pleasant banter didn't raise any flags, so I took a chance. 

Every nurse has a routine. With Claire, the pulse was the last thing she checked. So when she held my wrist to feel my heartbeat, I lay back on my bed let my vision collapse into a long, dark tunnel. I was expecting the disorientation as I jumped Claire, so I steadied myself against the bed, looking down upon my own peaceful body.

I pretended to finish up the pulse check, and then in Claire's voice said "all good", a common phrase she used. I looked around, checking if I might have missed anything, but everything looked in order. I walked to the door like Claire does every time, but instead of leaving, I closed the door. There is no lock on patient doors. I then went into the attached bathroom and closed that door. I wanted to give Billy a little show. I pulled Claire's stethoscope from around her neck and stuffed it into her shirt pocket. Then I took off her shirt and bra. I was wrong about her breasts -- they weren't small and shapely, they were nearly flat with long, hard nipples -- they looked like pencil erasers. If it weren't for her dazzling facial features, Claire could easily pass for a man wearing just Jeans and a T-Shirt. Oh, well, they would have to do.

I left Claire's bra in the sink and pulled her top back on. I opened the bathroom door and went to the door to the hallway and checked through the small window -- all clear. I walked with Claire's professional gait to Billy's side of the room, and pulled the curtain around his bed so prying eyes couldn't see from the hallway. Billy was following Claire's every move with wide eyes. At last, I slipped inside the curtain enclosure.

"I hear you're going into surgery tomorrow," I said.

"Yeah," sulked Billy. 

"You know, people who go through this procedure find that their full sexual performance returns to normal within a few months." I didn't know shit about what I was talking about, except I was parroting what I had overheard the doctors say earlier that day. 

"Yeah," he offered politely, "that's what they tell me."

"No, seriously," I offered earnestly, "you're mojo will come back."

"I don't know," he huffed politely. 

"Well, let's take a look," I offered in that condescending "we" nurse tone. I pulled his bed covers down to his knees. He was wearing one of those hospital gowns that ties up in the back -- the kind that comes down to your mid-thigh. I delicately lifted his gown away from his lower body, and folded it upwards, exposing his flaccid junk. I was trying to act professionally, like I knew Claire would. Billy was on his best behavior, trying desperately not to grow a boner. "Do you mind," I said, touching my finger to his shaved ball sack.

"No," he breathed hoarsely. I clinically inspected his scrotum, felt his balls and -- OH MY GOD! -- I could feel the lump. I nearly stopped everything, but then remembered my mission. I let go with my hand and erased the lump from my mind. I randomly poked and prodded a bit more around Billy's hairless groin, as if I knew what I was doing. Finally I encircled Claire's thumb and forefinger around the base of Billy's penis and squeezed gently but firmly.

"Does that hurt?" I asked.

Billy lay his head back and closed his eyes. "No," he croaked, and I could feel his member swell ever so slightly, but was still soft. Still with Claire's thumb and finger in a cock ring configuration, I pulled a gentle tug upwards and held it there. 

"How about that?" I asked in Claire's voice.

Billy just shook his head no this time. "So this," I confirmed, starting to lightly jerk Claire's encircled thumb and forefinger up and down Billy's still soft shaft, "doesn't hurt a bit?"

"Oh God!" cried Billy, his eyes still closed. 

Now I wrapped all Claire's fingers around his cock, and started jerking Billy for real. "Tell me if any part of this hurts," I instructed Billy, still in Claire's professional nurse tone.

Billy opened his eyes wide, looking directly into Claire's face to see if there was anything there beyond a clinician's professional curiosity. I held my gaze as neutral as I could, jerking Billy a little faster now. That did it -- the increase in Claire's tempo slammed Billy's cock into rock hard mode in a matter of seconds.

"Well," I said in a typical nurse's matter-of-fact and I-don't-care tone, "everything seems to be working," and I stopped jerking Billy. I released Claire's hand and pulled his smock back down over his rock hard junk. The fabric tented, and I wanted to laugh at the sight, but I had to remain professional. 

"Oh my fucking God," Billy cried. "You have to be shitting me!"

"What's wrong?" I asked, still in Claire's diagnostic tone. "Do you feel any pain?"

"Fuck, no!" yelled Billie.

"Shhhhhhhhh!" I scolded him. "You don't want to wake your neighbor, do you?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that ..." he couldn't say it.

"It's just what?" I asked, still in her best nursing tone. I was driving the poor fucker crazy.

"I thought ... you know ... you were going to ..."

"To what?"

"You know ... you know."

"Tell me what you mean, otherwise I can't help you."

Billy went silent for nearly a whole minute, and I could finally see the 'Oh what the hell' light go on. "I thought you were going to jerk me off."

"Oh, Billy," I said apologetically, "you know I am not allowed to do that. What made you think ..."

"Because!" he yelled a whisper at me, "you were jerking me off!" 

"I am so sorry, Billy," I apologized in the 'I am not really sorry at all' nurse's tone. "You must know I can never jerk you off. I was just checking to see if you had your mojo."

"Fuck!" Billy was pissed and hopelessly embarrassed. He turned his red face away from Claire. He couldn't face her any more. I had to bring this around now.

I stood for a moment, looking at Billy, and then I said. "No, jerking a patient off is totally against the rules." Then I reached down to the bottom hem of Claire's top, and hoisted it up over her head in a single fluid motion, showing Billy her A- titties. "But the last time I looked," in what I guessed might be Claire's 'fuck me now' tone of voice, "the rules don't mention anything about a blowjob."

"Oh you sweet wet dream, you!" cried Billy. I hopped up on his bed and straddled his legs in kneeling position. I pulled his tented smock away, bent forward, and took his rock hard cock into Claire's mouth. He was average size -- about five or six inches. I have done enough of those, I am probably getting good at it.

I decided Billy had endured enough teasing. And Claire has been away for a while -- someone might start looking for her, so I went straight to work. I bobbed Claire's lips firmly up and down Billy's shaft, being careful not to let her teeth drag along that sensitive skin. Billy started moaning. I once had to stop and ask him to quiet down -- I was worried someone in the hallway would hear. Within five minutes of alternating sucking and jerking I could sense Billy was ready to blow. At last he ruptured, and I stayed on him, swallowing Billy's protein shake into Claire's stomach. 

Worried about Claire's absence being noticed, I dismounted Billy's bed as soon as he was done, picked up Claire's top, went to the bathroom, and donned her bra and top. I gargled a little water to rid Claire's mouth of the semen after-flavor. I even remember to take her stethoscope out of her pocket and drape it around her neck again. Then I went back to Billy, and said "I have to check on the guy in the next bed. When he wakes, you can not say a word!"

"Okay," conspired Billy.

"In fact, Billy, we will never talk about this again. Not ever. Do not even try. Agreed?"

"You got it," he promised. "And Claire?"

"Yes," I turned to him.

"Thank you."

"Just remember," I chided in Claire's nursing tone again, "that mojo is coming back, okay?"

"Fuckin' okay!" he laughed. 

Claire walked over to the patient in the next bed, picked up his wrist in the exact position she had before, and then I leaped back.

I looked over to see Claire stumble backward. 

"Whoa!" I called out. "You okay?"

"I ... I guess ..."

"You were just taking my pulse, and then you nearly fell over," I commentated. "Do you want me to call for help?"

"Oh, no!" she chided. She had regained her composure. "I'm fine. You just stay there." And without another word, Claire walked out of the room smacking her lips oddly. 

Having done my good deed, I was ready for bed. "Good night, Billy," I gently called out, but there was no reply. Billy was already fast asleep, building his energy for tomorrow's surgery.

As I tried to drift off to sleep, a dark thought clouded my mind. I began to realize what I did to Claire wasn't fair. It's not what you think. It's not about the blowjob -- if Billy kept his promise, she'll never know it happened, and it will never haunt her. It's about the loss of time. From Claire's perspective, she lost 20 minutes taking someone's pulse. That's not something that will go unnoticed. Nurses record the exact hour and minute in official medical records every time they do something. Claire had an inexplicable 20 minute gap in her memory and in her patients' charts.

With most people, like Jake from the grocery store, exact time is not such an important component of their everyday lives. Even Fiona can shake off a one-time lapse of consciousness. In Jet's case, I brought the time gap to his attention, and used it as proof The Commander exists. That time lapse will haunt Jet for all his days, which is what I wanted.

I do not want that for Claire. As a health care practitioner, Claire will know there is a short list of psychiatric disorders that can account for such a consciousness gap, and none of them is good. Oddly enough, mind-to-mind transfer will not be on that list. My going away present to Billy may have cost Claire her peace of mind. I should have done more homework before doing that jump. 

I lay in my bed for hours without any hope of sleep. When Claire returned at 3:30, I asked if she was okay. She scoffed at the notion anything was wrong, but I knew she could never admit she harbored suspicions about her own sanity to a patient under her care. I couldn't face her after that, so I stared out the window into the black night for the whole time she checked in on me during her 4:30 and 5:30 visits. I never saw Claire after that.

The Commander had earned a penance he could not pay.

At 8:30 on Saturday morning the surgeon and the oncologist paid me a visit. The fever was not getting any better. They started me on an antibiotic Thursday morning, but the fever was not responding. Also the blood tests were back, showing a high white blood cell count, providing further evidence of an infection. If it didn't break soon, or if it got worse, they had to consider operating again to see if they nicked something while they were in there. 

I figured that was the good news, and braced for the bad, but the biopsy results weren't back yet -- they were expected by the end of the day. 

The chest pains started around 11 that morning. At first I just thought they were the aches and pains I was already feeling from the fever, but by noon the pain was becoming unbearable. By the time a nurse responded to my call button I was panting. I didn't realize I was sweating until she mentioned it. At one point I thought I might faint, and that is when they started taking things more seriously. 




The Commander Ch. 03



By the end of the day I had a diagnosis of a rapid onset of viral myocarditis -- an infection of the heart muscle. That explains the fever and white blood cell count. The doctors were certain this had nothing to do with the cancer or the operation -- it was something completely different, but it impacted the cancer treatment options. Speaking of which, the biopsy results were back. More bad news. The pancreatic cancer had already metastasized to the liver. I remember my friend who died of pancreatic cancer actually died of liver failure after the cancer spread. 

Between the cancer and the heart infection, I had anywhere from minutes to months. I needed an escape plan, and I needed it soon. 

By Sunday morning I was getting very weak. I had trouble staying awake. Nurses wanted to give me something for the pain, but I refused. I wanted to stay alert. I tried getting out of bed, but that was becoming impossible. If I didn't jump soon, I never would. 

I knew my next jump would be a blind one -- I would have done no homework at all. It was a risk I had to take, considering the alternatives. The opportunity presented itself on Sunday afternoon. I haven't mentioned that Billy went for his operation on Saturday morning, and he was discharged Sunday morning. His bed lay empty until an orderly wheeled a new patient in on Sunday afternoon on a rolling gurney. 

I had already decided I can't jump a nurse or a doctor -- they have too many people interacting with them every moment. Not to mention what would happen if an emergency came up while I was jumping a doctor -- there was no good outcome from that scenario. No, it had to be a person lower down the chain. The woman who brings the meals around is a last resort, but I'd prefer someone who does not have rounds or a fixed schedule to keep. Someone who can disappear for an hour without seriously disrupting a lot of other people. An orderly pushing a patient in a bed. That was my opportunity.

When he finished transferring his patient from the wheeled gurney into the bed, I asked him to hand me my book that was on the window ledge, and that was that. As Bruce (I had to check his name tag) I left the ward without anyone stopping me. I took the elevator down to the ground floor. I am certain Bruce has a locker in the hospital with his stuff, but I have no idea where it is, let alone a million other details I would need to know. 

Anyone watching (and I am guessing someone was) would think it odd Bruce walked outside in his hospital uniform and hailed a standing taxi. I took the cab to my house. When I got there, I told the cab driver my money was inside, and asked him to wait a moment. I went to the front door, and pressed the correct combination sequence on the door mounted electronic keypad. I had that security feature installed on my front door for exactly this eventuality. 

Inside, I disarmed the alarm, and then retrieved my wallet from the bedroom. I paid the cabbie outside, and returned to the house. Bruce was on the clock -- I didn't want to waste too much of his time, so I got my car keys, locked up, and drove to Jet and Fiona's condo building. 

Leaps from one person to another person take longer than jumping to and from my own body. This was going to be dicey. I was counting on one or both of them to be home on a Sunday afternoon. As part of my earlier homework for Jet, I remembered the security passcode to get in the front door. I took the elevator to the top floor, and stood outside Jet's and Fiona's door for a few minutes, thinking about how to do this. My biggest concern was to avoid a commotion. I decided to just stand there and knock. The leap would be tricky, but I had a plan.

I literally had raised Bruce's hand to knock on the door when I heard the ding of the elevator -- someone was arriving on the floor. The hallway was a square U shape with the elevator at the bottom of the U. Jet's apartment was at the end of the hallway on the upper left arm of the U, so I could not see the elevator from here. I had no way of knowing who was stepping onto the floor. 

I couldn't be seen lurking in the hallway, so waited until I heard footsteps come out of the elevator, and then I started walking down the hallway toward bottom of the U. A man I didn't recognize in his fifties turned the corner and walked toward me. I let him pass by, and then shoulder checked behind me -- he stopped at the door before Jet's with keys in his hand.

I stopped and turned around. "Excuse me," I called to him. He turned and faced me. "Are you Mr. Terrance's neighbor?"

"Yes," he replied cautiously. 

I approached "Hi, I'm Bruce from the hospital," I offered, extending my hand. My orderly's uniform left no doubt in the man's mind I was from the hospital.

"Oh hi," he warmed, and offered his hand to meet mine. I gripped his hand firmly, and the long dark tunnel began. I am guessing we stood there for three to five seconds until I regained my senses in Jet's neighbor's body. I steadied myself before taking hold of Bruce with my other hand, making sure he didn't fall over. I dropped Jet's neighbor's keys in the process. 

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"What the hell?" Bruce looked around in total confusion.

"Can I help you?" I released him, and picked up the keys. Great -- seven keys, and I don't know which one is for the door. 

"Where am I" Bruce asked. "And how ..." he drifted off. I looked at the keyhole pattern on the door, and guessed at the keys that would fit -- it seemed two were close. The first one didn't work, but the second one did. I realized I had to be ready for anything -- I had no idea who was inside this condo.

"Do you need some help?" I asked. "Can I call someone for you?" That question triggered Bruce to feel into his pocket and pull out a cell phone. He flipped it open, and noticed the time. Bruce swore in disbelief. I waited at the open door until Bruce looked around, took in his surroundings, and started walking down the corridor toward the bottom of the U and turned the corner. I waited until I heard the elevator doors open and close. 

I came back out into the hallway and closed the door. I walked to Jet's door and knocked. I heard footsteps approach, and the door opened. It was Jet -- that was good. "Hi Carl," he said. My name was Carl. 

The bandage on Jet's left hand was replaced by a medical splint on his baby finger. "Hi Jet," I smiled. "I'm wondering if you can do me a favor -- just look at something really strange in out here in the hallway." Jet felt for his keys in his pocket before stepping into the hallway. The door pulled closed automatically behind him.

"What is it?" Jet asked. I looked down the hallway -- no one around. I led Jet to Carl's door. 

"Here," I pointed with one hand, still with the keys in it, and I took Jet's arm with the other. 

"Carl, are you okay?" I asked after coming out of the long dark tunnel.

"That's strange," Carl ventured. "I could have sworn ... Jet!" He just realized Bruce from the Hospital had transmogrified into Jet from next door.

"Yeah," I said cautiously, as if I had no idea. "What's going on, Carl?"

"I'm not ... well I was just ... Fucking Hell!" he blurted in an agitated growl. 

"Carl, can I help you with something?"

"Where are my keys!?"

"There in your hand," I offered gently, pointing. I realized then Carl's keys were in the opposite hand he held them in before I leaped from Bruce to Carl.

"Fucking Hell," he repeated quietly. 

I waited until Carl unlocked his door and went inside. After his door closed, I went back to Jet's door, pulled out his keys, and entered.

"Who was that?" called out a familiar voice. I walked into the living room, and there was Fiona wearing a frumpy purple cable knit sweater and jeans. I guess the dress code has fallen to the wayside. She sat on the sofa with her legs folded underneath her. She was leafing through a magazine. Fiona had no makeup on and her hair wasn't fixed up. Which is to say she was gorgeous. 

"It was Carl, next door."

"What did he want?"

"I honestly have no clue," I ventured. I waited for a moment. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Nope," she snapped without taking her eyes off the magazine. It was a curt, harsh answer. There was a lot of baggage wrapped around that one syllable. Clearly I have missed a lot between Jet and Fiona.

"Well get dressed, because you do now, honey." 

She looked up from her magazine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I walked to the sofa and sat beside her. I reached out and stroked her wavy blond hair with my right hand. "It means," I promised, "as of today, we start over. You and me. Starting with," as I stood up, "dinner out tonight."

"Where?" she asked.

"Your choice"

"Really?" she smiled.

"Really. Your choice."

"Even Boissy's"

I'd never heard of it, but then again I probably don't mingle in their circles. "I'll make the reservation for tonight."

"Uh, hullo," she scorned, "Boissy's is in Paris."

Think fast. "Okay. How about Friday, then?"

She dropped the magazine on the floor and stood up half smiling. "Are you serious?" she asked with guarded optimism.

"Did I promise you Paris?"

"Yes," she mumbled, looking at the floor. That brought some memories she'd rather forget.

"Boissy's in Paris -- Friday night. It's a date."

"Yessssssssss!" She leapt into my arms and hugged me hard. 

"So what about tonight," I asked.

"You let me take care of tonight, Big Boy!"

"No." I paused for effect. "It's time I take care of you for a change. Go get dressed in something nice -- something elegant -- something ..." I was searching for the words.

"Glamorous?"

"Exactly!" She literally jumped up and down clapping her hands. All that joy and beauty. She leaped forward and hugged me again with enough force I had to step backward with my left foot to maintain my balance. I whispered in her ear "What's something that I never do after dinner that you always wanted to do?"

She pulled back with a stunned expression. "You don't mean ..."

"You have to tell me."

She winced while she just barely squeaked out the word for fear of a brutal reprisal. "Dancing?"

"DANCING!" I shouted. "WE'RE GOING DANCING AFTER DINNER!"

Fiona was out of control. She was hopping and spinning and barking giddy "yippies" and clapping her hands like a seven year old. And then she suddenly stopped. 

"Wait!" She paused. "I can't wear glamorous to dancing, can I?"

I walked up to her, put my hands the sides of her face, careful not to scratch her with my splint. I kissed her on the mouth for a few seconds, then pulled back and looked her straight in the eyes. "You could wear a mud soaked burlap bag and a dead chicken on your head and you'd still be the best looking girl on the dance floor," I told her solemnly. "Wear whatever you want."

She kissed me hard on the lips while she slipped her hand down the front of my jeans and fondled my cock through the fabric. She pulled back, got down on her knees and lightly kissed the bulge. "I'll deal with you later, Big Boy," she promised. She stood up, spun a half twirl on her toes, and skipped away to the bedroom gleefully singing "dancing ... Paris ... dancing ... Paris ... dancing ... Paris ..."

Bath, hair, makeup, fingernails, dressing, and whatever else took Fiona hours. That gave me the opportunity to check up on a few things. First, I checked Jet's wallet -- two gold cards and two platinum cards -- I hoped Jet kept his accounts in good order. 

Next I called the hospital and inquired on the status of Don Malloy -- my real persona. He was listed as critical and stable. So I wasn't dead. This was completely new territory to me. I had never just abandoned my body before. I had no idea what happens to "me" when my body dies. Does some ethereal link snap me out of Jet's body when my body dies and I just disappear into nothingness? Or was I always able to permanently leave my own body? If I do decide to stay in this body, does Jet disappear forever? I had no answers, and no clue how to find the answers except to wait and see. If I die when my body dies, I figure I haven't lost anything -- it was my time to go. If nothing else, I will have lived the last days/weeks/months of my life with an otherwise unattainable quality of life. So I decided not to dwell, since there was nothing I could do.

I then went through Jet's papers. I found a file folder full of financial statements and other documents. I spent an hour sifting through the documents while I heard Fiona humming happily in the bathtub. I checked and rechecked my figures because what I discovered astounded me. Jet was actually living an austere lifestyle compared to his wealth. A trust fund left by his deceased parents gave him twenty thousand a month -- nearly a quarter million a year. That much I already knew. But in addition to that, these documents showed liquid assets that, according to my calculations, accrue to over seven million dollars. He also owns a $1.5M condo free and clear and some investment property worth another three million. According to my calculations, Jet's life value net worth was about $18M. 

Next I spent an hour on his computer. Jet had bookmarks for online banking sites, but I didn't know his login passwords. I tried accessing Jet's own memories, but it wasn't working. So I clicked on the 'forgot password' link on the online banking website, and it said it sent me an email. Sure enough, there was an email in Jet's inbox, and I opened it and clicked on the embedded link, and bingo bango bongo I was in Jet's online banking account. He had a little over $100,000 in his chequing account -- more than enough for a trip to Paris. 

While in his computer, I went through his email. Jet had deleted all traces of the video The Commander sent to him. That was probably a smart move.

Last thing I did on his computer was to buy two business class tickets to Paris leaving on Thursday night. I printed out the confirmation notice and itinerary and kept them. 

I started rifling through his desk drawers for any interesting documents, but also specifically for his passport. I had no luck there -- maybe I could ask Fiona later. 

I decided I had to get ready for dinner, so I went into the bedroom to change. I perused through each dresser drawer until I had oriented myself to Jet's clothing organization. I put on a pair of black pants and a powder blue short-sleeve shirt. I found a cream colored linen jacket. Some socks and leather shoes. I combed my hair and I was done. 

It was about then Fiona stepped out of the walk-in closet. My heart nearly stopped. She wore a Thai silk, high cut, crimson red dress with a deep open back that had four loosely hanging strings of pearls across the back opening that connected the two sides. The mid-thigh hem showed off her lovely legs. She was looking for some shoes when she caught me staring at her. "Do you remember this?" she beamed as she spun around.

"How could I forget," I faked it.

"You bought this for me last year in Paris. I haven't worn it since, but I thought tonight would be a good time to take it out for a spin."

I looked at her in silent awe. My stare unnerved her. "What?!" She was looking around her dress for the defect she sensed I was looking at. 

I drew close to her. "It's just that you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on."

"Phhhhht," she waived her right hand dismissively. "You just want to get into my pants." 

I put my left arm around her and pulled her close and fondled her breast through the silk fabric of her dress with my good hand. "You got that right," I confirmed before kissing her. 

As I let her go, I said "Speaking of Paris, do you remember where I put my passport?" 

"You told me you put both ours in the wall safe," she replied without concern. Great. Now I had to figure out the combination to a safe. 

Within half an hour we were driving to Georgio's -- a high end Italian café on St. James Street. Fiona brought a fur shawl to keep warm in the car. In the end she chose black high heel shoes with red rubies encrusted on the top that accented her dress nicely. At Gerogio's we talked chit chat, nothing really important, until Fiona finally broke the ice.

"So what's going on, Jet?" Fiona asked after a pause in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't looked at me, let alone touched me, for the past few weeks, and now it's all Paris and dancing and I'm beautiful."

While I was rifling through Jet's documents earlier that afternoon, I had some time to think about this, as I thought it might come up in the evening's conversation. "Do you remember a few weeks ago when we did it, like four times."

"Remember?!" she called out, "that's the most amazing sex I ever had." Just as she finished saying it, she realized she had spoken too loud in this crowded restaurant, and Fiona covered her mouth with her hand and squeaked out an embarrassing giggle, but her eyes twinkled with delight.

"It was pretty awesome,"

"Awesome?" she was whispering now. "You came four times. That's not awesome, that's a freak of nature!" Our waiter was nearly at our table with a water pitcher when he heard that, gave me a smile, and retreated. 

I paused for a moment. "Is that good or bad?"

"It was fantastic!" she roared. Now other patrons were staring at her, and she didn't care. I smiled warmly at her and she glowed back. 

"What do you say we break my record tonight," I asked playfully. 

"Honey," she said more in a mocking tone that meant 'hey you', not a term of endearment, "you wore me out last time -- I couldn't walk for two days. If you want to break the record tonight, we'd better bring another girl home from the dance club." 

I sat a moment, replaying what she said over and over in my head until I convinced myself I heard it correctly. "Is that an invitation?" I asked. 

"Tell me what's been going on in the last few weeks, and convince me this Paris thing is for real" she replied in a rehearsed manner, "and we'll see." Smart girl. 

"Okay," I said. While I was mulling this over earlier that afternoon, I decided honesty is always the best policy, just not too much of it. You always sound more sincere when you tell the truth. The whole truth would be a disaster, so I cherry picked my truths. 

"You remember after that amazing sex we had," I started, "I went out for an hour and then came back with my finger all banged up."

"You really scared me," she lashed out. "You've never told me the truth about that."

"I will now," I lied. "First, you need to understand I needed to sort some shit out, and that is what the last few weeks has been about. But I need to start with that night.

"When I left the condo, I went to a place -- a hardware store -- and I hit my finger with a hammer."

"WHAT?!" She brought her hand to cover her open mouth. I couldn't tell if it was fear or revulsion -- probably some of both. 

"I know it sounds weird," I continued as she nodded wide-eyed, "but it had a purpose. It had a really, really good purpose." I paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath for show. I wanted her to think Jet was struggling to press forward. "Fiona," I started, "I have done some bad things to you. You know what they are." Her eyes went dark and teary. 

"I had to stop hurting you, but I didn't know how. We can't go on this way, so I had to do something. So I punished myself in a way that I could never forget, and make sure I never hurt you, ever again." 

Fiona sobbed out loud, both eyes streaming tears. She started to speak.

"No," I cut her off. "Let me do this. Let me finish." I paused again for effect. "Fiona, that night I made a promise to myself that, if I ever hurt you again, I would punish myself again, but harder next time." Even I was starting to get emotional. I waited to regain my composure. "You are too good, too beautiful, and too special to ever have to put up with what I did. I am sorry for what I did to you. I can't ever change what I did, but I can control what I will do, starting today.




The Commander Ch. 03



"In the past few weeks, I have been struggling to figure out how to make sure I don't hurt you again. I am sorry I shut you out, but this has been a journey I could only do alone." At that she took my good hand in hers, tears still flowing. She used her linen napkin to soak the tears off her cheeks, but she just ended up smearing her mascara all over. It was a hopeless mess. 

"This is what I figured out." I waited for effect. "I do one thing. Just one. And that one thing is, I keep all my promises to you. That's it. It's that simple. If I say we're going to Paris, then I am taking to you Paris, or at least I will die trying." She barked out a laugh at the last comment. "It's stupid, really" I pressed on, "that it took me over two weeks to come up with something so simple, but that's it. I keep my promises to you, or I will punish myself again."

She had no words, so I pressed on. "Then I realized it's not as simple as it sounds. Keeping all my promises means I can only make promises I can keep. So I will have to be a lot more careful in what promises I make."

She remained silent. "Speaking of Paris," as I reached into my inside jacket pocket, I pulled out the flight reservation print-outs, unfolded the papers, and showed them to her. "Our flight is Thursday night." I went silent and waited for her to say something. It took a long time.

"I don't know what to say," she finally said. "I wish you hadn't hurt yourself. That's wrong. Please don't do it again."

"I won't, as long as I keep my promises," I promised her. We both fell silent. 

"I must look like a mess," she finally broke the silence. She excused herself and went to the ladies room. Not surprisingly she took a while to restore her makeup. Thankfully our waiter had the good sense to keep away during our intense conversation, but now he returned to our table while Fiona was in the powder room. I asked for a couple of glasses of champagne off the menu. Sensing a monster tip might be within reach, he brought the whole bottle over and told me I'd be charged for just one glass. He poured two glasses out. 

When Fiona returned to the table, you never would have known she had smeared mascara half way around her ears. She looked stunning. Maybe even a radiant glow that wasn't there before. We took the champagne glasses and I hoisted mine in a toast. "To unbroken promises." She smiled and drank the whole glass down.

"So," she said after a moment's pause, "I choose the girl." I was lost for a moment when it came back to me. 

"I'll make you a bet," I proposed. "You pick any unattached girl you want, and I'll convince her to come home with us."

"You're on." She reflected for a moment. "Wait! If you lose, are you going to hurt yourself?"

"No, no," I clarified. "This is just a friendly bet, not a promise."

That answer begged her next question. "So what do you get if you win?" 

I thought that over for a moment. "If I can convince the first girl you choose to come home with us, then I get to decide everything we do together. I am in control. Otherwise, you decide -- you're in control."

"Sounds good," Fiona ventured. I refilled the champagne glasses and we had another toast. She sipped this one more slowly. I asked for our cheque. Sure enough, he only charged me for one glass of champagne. I am pretty sure the bottle of champagne cost a hundred dollars on the menu, so I added fifty to an already generous tip. 

"Where do you want to go," I asked, signing the credit card receipt. 

"How about The Arc?" I had seen it from the outside, but had never been in. It was on Murray Street, a couple of blocks from the Sling Boat on Bell Street. 

As we stood up and left, I saw every woman look at Fiona with scorn, and every man look at me with envy. 

Fiona asked me about the email from three weeks ago while we were driving to The Arc. Sticking to my partially true story, I explained I had sent an email to myself saying I was not allowed to hurt Fiona. I needed to read that to make sure I didn't lash out at her after I had hit my finger. 

Then she asked me a question I wasn't ready for. "So how long is this new Jet going to last?"

"As long as I can," I answered completely truthfully for the first time.

There was no line-up at The Arc on a Sunday night, but it was still surprisingly crowded inside. I bought us a couple of drinks at the bar while Fiona roved nearby. The Arc was an impressive place. It had a large circular dance floor in the middle of the building -- over fifty feet across -- that slowly rotated. Later, when we danced, I found the rotating floor quite disorienting, because it rotates slowly enough that you don't feel the movement, but it spins quickly enough that every time you look up, all your landmarks have changed positions. 

A mezzanine balcony overlooked the rotating dance floor along all four walls, allowing wannabe dancers and spectators to watch the action on the rotating floor below. There was a large bar at the back, behind the circular dance floor. I am guessing another bar was upstairs, but I never went up. High above everything else, a troop of nude dancers performed a non-stop, semi-erotic, choreographed dance show on a large, suspended see-through glass platform. Several dance cages peppered the walls, occupied by single male and female nude dancers. 

The high volume dance music overpowered any chance of normal conversation. A non-stop light show scintillated in rhythm to the beat of the chest thumping bass. I paid thirty dollars for two glasses of wine and left a five dollar tip, and worked my way through the crowd toward Fiona. Her crimson red dress made her easy to spot. I handed Fiona her wine.

"Whatta think?" she yelled into my ear.

"I like the dance show," I gestured to the nude dancers in the cages and on the overhead see-through dance floor.

"Don't get too excited," she teased. "They're not actually naked. They all wear G-strings with pictures of pussies and cocks printed on them so they look naked."

Looking at the gyrating dancing girl in the hotbox next to us, I added "the boobs are real."

"That's a matter of opinion," she smiled, knowing her own were natural 36Ds. She took a long pull on her white wine, and then kissed me. "Let's dance."

We moved onto the circulating dance floor, still holding our wine glasses. Within thirty seconds a server came by "You can't take drinks on the dance floor," she yelled over the music. She held out an empty tray, and we put our drinks on the tray. She turned and took our nearly full drinks away. I knew better than to protest -- my choice was to get off the floor, or give up the drink. There was no middle ground. My other body used to be in security years ago, and I automatically inventoried all the assets on my way in. Two spotters in the upper mezzanines watched over the dance floor. They had discrete ear pieces and wrist mikes. Refrigerator sized bouncers, also wearing ear pieces, stood off to the side, ready to intervene under direction from the overhead captains. They all wore holstered tasers. Pan-and-zoom infrared illuminated security cameras were everywhere, allowing the back office security crew to watch anyone and everything in all lighting conditions. I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of the onlookers upstairs were actually security guards with registered concealed firearms. So I surrendered our drinks, because I promised Fiona we would go dancing, and she wanted to dance.

Relieved of her nearly full drink, Fiona moved with a grace that befits her natural beauty, and she began dancing more sensually. I've never been a Fred Astaire, but unlike my host, I was never afraid of the dance floor. We danced for maybe twenty minutes, and then took a break. I got us more drinks, and this time we stood off to the side while we watched the dancing crowd slowly revolve on the dance floor. 

"What about her?" Fiona asked, pointing to a group of three girls dancing together. 

"Which one?"

"Blue skirt." A tall girl -- maybe six feet -- was wearing a side-open white top with a V-neck that dove down to her belly button, covering her mid-sized breasts with two vertical swaths of fabric that pulled away when she turned just so, affording sneak peeks to onlookers. She wore a blue sequence miniskirt that showed off her long, slender legs to within an inch or two of her crotch. 

She and her two friends danced, if you can call it that, a monotonous, slow, repetitive step, seemingly deaf to the overpowering beat of the music. "Now or later?" I asked Fiona.

"It's all I can think about," Fiona admitted. "Time to put your money where your mouth is." I put my drink down. As I started to leave, she called after me "But I want to dance with her first." Fine with me. I wanted to approach her from behind, so she didn't see me coming. The dance floor was rotating too slowly to let it take its own course, so I circled around behind. Aware of the security spotters and cameras overhead, I had to make this look natural, so I touched her on the back of her elbow, and put her into skip mode before she could turn around. 

A security camera would have recorded the tall girl in the blue miniskirt turn and smile cordially when she recognized the man who had walked up behind her. They exchanged a brief conversation, and she nodded her head yes a few times, and then said something to her two companions, and walked off the dance floor hand-in-hand with the gentleman, smiling. He introduced her to another girl, they chatted briefly, and then the two girls walked onto the dance floor and started dancing together while the man stayed off to the side and sipped his drink while he watched the two girls dance together. 

The girls danced, but this time the girl in the blue miniskirt moved fluidly in rhythm to the music, not in the monotonous robotic movement of before. After a full revolution on the dance floor (maybe five minutes) the blonde girl raised her hands over her head, and the blue miniskirt girl caressed her finger tips up and down the blonde girl's side rib cages, deliberately fondling the sides of her breasts on each pass. Next the blonde girl lowered her hands behind the other girl's neck, pulled her in close, and they connected with an open mouth kiss while each girl groped the other. 

Fiona broke the embrace, and moved directly behind miniskirt. Then she grabbed miniskirt by the front hips and pulled her tight into Fiona's crotch, and started slowly dry-humping miniskirt from behind. Miniskirt obliged, and rhythmically pressed her ass back into Fiona's crotch. Miniskirt turned her head back to meet Fiona, and they started kissing during their dry hump dance. 

Just when things couldn't get hotter, Fiona slid her hands up the miniskirt's front, and then inside the two vertical fabric stripes that covered miniskirt's breasts. Fiona continued raising her hands until she was fondling miniskirt's bare breasts underneath her top. Still standing behind miniskirt, Fiona broke her long kiss, looked over to me, continued feeling miniskirt up beneath her top, and Fiona blew me a kiss across the dance floor. 

I was so fixated on Fiona and her new best friend I hadn't noticed miniskirt's two former dance partners standing with mouths agape at miniskirt's abrupt switch hitting. Perhaps sensing them, Fiona whispered something into miniskirt's ear, and they broke up their erotic dance, and walked to me holding hands. Fiona walked right up to my face and planted a tender kiss on my cheek before saying "You win, Big Boy. Take us home."

On the way to the car I learned miniskirt's name was Nicole. She was twenty four years old, and between boyfriends. She had modelled since she was sixteen -- mostly catalogs. When we got to the BMW, I told Nicole and Fiona to get in the back seat. While I drove home to the condo the girls got more intimately acquainted. I did my best to concentrate on my driving, but I couldn't help but notice lots of kissing and up-skirt fondling. As we pulled into the underground parking lot, I told both girls to take off their underpants and leave them in the car. 

We rode the elevator to the top floor, walked the U shaped corridor to the end, and I unlocked the door to our condo. By this time the girls had worn out some of their friskiness, and were more civilly behaved, which I found both disappointing and titillating. The girls used the bathroom while I poured a Chardonnay for Fiona, a Heineken for Nicole, and I had a Borolo. 

We stood in the middle of the living room and hoisted our glasses to a cheer. After our first sip, I stepped to Nicole, and kissed her on the mouth. She had a beer in one hand and a small purse in the other. She kissed me back with a savage hunger. I felt Nicole's third hand unzip my fly, and when I looked down in surprise I realized it was Fiona, who had gone to her knees while I was distracted with Nicole. That's when I was certain I was going to have a good night.

While Fiona was undoing my pants, I bent over to put my glass down on the table, breaking my kiss in the process. Fiona was pulling my pants and undershorts down, so I pressed my shoes off and stepped out of my pants, and admired my ten inch cock. As Fiona took me into her mouth, I kissed Nicole again and reached down with my right hand between her legs. She indulged me by widening her stance, and I slipped my hand up her inner left thigh until I landed on her pussy. Nicole kissed me harder as I fondled her pussy lips, and then let out a little moan as I gently pressed the tip of my middle finger into her hole.

Meanwhile, Fiona had gone deep on me, and was flicking my balls with the end of her tongue with my ten inches buried down her throat. I brought my left hand into action, and started squeezing Nicole's left tit underneath her white top while she stood there, her hands still occupied with a beer and a purse. I started finger fucking Nicole, and I felt the vibration of the moan she let out through the contact of our enduring kiss. 

"Okay ladies," I said after pulling back from kissing Nicole and withdrawing from Fiona's mouth. I pulled my middle finger out of Nicole's pussy and touched it to Fiona's lips. Fiona took it in and sucked Nicole's pussy juices off it. "Time to get naked." 

Fiona stood up and carefully pulled her dress over her head. The strings of pearls across the back made it difficult to ditch the dress in a hurry. Meanwhile, Nicole at last put her beer and purse down, pulled her top over her head, and then unzipped the back of her skirt and dropped it to the ground. Nicole lay down on the couch obediently when I told her. I brought Fiona to the couch facing Nicole, told her to open her legs wide, and bend over and kiss Nicole. As she did, I slipped my ten inch cock up Fiona's pussy. I watched Fiona's right hand slip down to Nicole's pussy and pick up where I had left off while her left hand played with Nicole's tits. I gently pushed my cock as far as I could, gauging where the end point was without hurting Fiona. 

With my dip stick calibrated to just over half way in, I started fucking Fiona, who began softly bucking her hips in unison with my thrusts. Her pussy was still amazingly tight, and within three minutes I realized this would be over soon, so I sped up. I focussed on not banging Fiona too hard with my oversized piston, but it was hard to concentrate as my own climax was growing certain. At last I erupted, and dug my fingers into Fiona's hips. She squealed as I dumped countless spurts of cum into her pussy. True to last time, I came for maybe half a minute, all the time dumping more spunk into Fiona's vagina. When I finally stopped, I fucked Fiona's pussy in and out a few more times. 

I withdrew and observed my cock was completely slathered with a mixture of my spunk and Fiona's juices. I nudged Fiona to move to the right, and I brought my dripping cock to Nicole's mouth and told her to suck it dry. Nicole obliged and took as much of it as she could, but she was not a deep throater like Fiona. There was still quite a lot of juices on the upper shaft of my cock she couldn't reach, so she withdrew and licked the rest of the jism/pussy cocktail off with her tongue. When I was clean, I brought the tip of my cock back to her lips, and without a word she took me back into her mouth, and started sucking for real.

Meanwhile Fiona repositioned herself to the far end of the seven foot couch on her hands and knees facing Nicole. Fiona gently grabbed Nicole's knees and spread Nicole's legs wide open, leaned forward, and started eating Nicole's pussy while Nicole continued to suck me. True to my last form, I felt a stirring in my balls, and I thought it might be possible to break my record from a few weeks ago. 

Nicole started fondling my ball sack as she sucked, but she lost focus as Fiona found Nicole's sweet spot and started heightening Nicole's arousal. I started fucking Nicole's mouth when her own coordination deteriorated as Fiona expertly flicked her tongue around Nicole's clit. Finally Nicole just opened her mouth and let me go, which had the unpleasant side effect of letting her teeth scrape along my cock. I reached down and squeezed her nipple -- hard. Nicole yelped, and I told her no teeth. That got the message through, and Nicole reformed an O-ring with her lips while I continued fucking her mouth. 

To my surprise, Fiona was able to bring Nicole to climax before I unloaded in her mouth. Nicole lost contact with my cock as she moaned loudly for a moment, but remembering the nipple squeeze, she re-engaged my cock as best as she could while I watched her abs and hips flexing sympathetically to waves of orgasm coursing through her body. 

After her orgasm subsided, Nicole returned all her attention to her cock sucking duties, but all the distractions had set me back from reaching my own Valhalla. I pulled out, and suggested we retreat to the bedroom, where a king sized bed awaited us. 

Fiona lay down first on her back. Then I knelt down on my hands and knees perpendicular to her with by head over head. Then I told Nicole to slide underneath me and suck me from below. In this fashion, I was able to massage Fiona's pussy and play with her breasts while Nicole had only one job. 

I kissed Fiona while I slipped my right hand down to her pussy and started my expert massage technique. Fiona instantly recognized my intent, and she started rocking her hips in anticipation. Without her multitasking distraction, Nicole was quite skilled in her oral ministrations, even if she couldn't deep throat. I felt the excitement grow in my balls, and I increased the intensity of my massage on Fiona's pussy. I was hoping for another simultaneous orgasm, but it took longer for Fiona to warm up than I expected. When I knew I couldn't hold out any longer, I focused as hard as I could on maintaining a steady rhythm on Fiona's pussy. I exploded wave after wave into Nicole's mouth, and I heard her gag and cough at the unexpected volume of spunk she was trying to swallow. Still the trooper kept sucking me as I came in her mouth for at least thirty seconds.

With my second orgasm behind me, I now focused entirely on pleasing Fiona. I told Nicole to come over and play with Fiona's nipples while I brought Fiona closer to heaven. Nicole kneeled across from me and started biting Fiona's nipples with her front teeth -- quite hard. The blurred line between pain and pleasure worked in Fiona's favor, and with Nicole's sadistic help, I brought Fiona to an explosive orgasm that stole her whole body away in convulsive ecstasy. 

Nicole and I lay down with our heads resting on Fiona. The three of us remained in a satisfied trance. After a while, I got up and refreshed our drinks. We sipped in silence until I asked Fiona if we had any condoms. She gently pushed Nicole's head off her belly and retreated to the bathroom, returning with condoms and K-Y. I asked Nicole if she likes anal, and she said no. She was still under my skip -- I could have ordered her to do it -- but I didn't see much point.




The Commander Ch. 03



We sipped our drinks a little more until Fiona started playing with the hair above my ear with her finger. It wasn't sexual, but it was very intimate. I kissed her softly, and we embraced clumsily for a minute with our drinks still in our hands.

When I finished my last sip, I gathered our glasses to the side table and returned to the bed. I rolled Nicole over onto her tummy, and started fondling her ass. Fiona guessed where I was going with this, and she came over, spread open Nicole's legs, and gently massaged Nicole's pussy while kneaded Nicole's ass cheeks. After enough foreplay, I kneeled behind Nicole, reached under her hips, and lifted her pelvis straight upward, putting Nicole into a doggie position. I rested my still flaccid cock on top of Nicole's ass. Fiona took the hint. She rested her head sideways on top of Nicole's ass and took me into her mouth. 

As Fiona restored the vigour to my manhood, I reached over and picked up the packages of condoms -- Fiona had brought six of them -- bless her soul! I tore one pouch open, and pulled out the prophylactic. Fiona's expert oral attention had done its magic -- I was at full attention. I pulled out of her mouth, rolled on the condom, which did not reach the base of my ten inch pleasure machine. I positioned the tip of my sheathed fuck rod to Nicole's pussy. Fiona started sitting up, but I gently pressed her head back down on top of Nicole's ass, indicating I wanted her to stay there.

I gently pushed the tip into Nicole. The condom was lubricated, so it went in easily. I started fucking her softly, being careful not to bruise her with my ten inch rod. I was surprised how deep I could go. I nearly buried the whole ten inches before I grounded out. What Nicole made for depth, she lacked in tightness, as I noticed her pussy was not nearly as tight as Fiona's.

I pumped in and out carefully a few times, and then started fucking Nicole for real. Nicole groaned appreciatively while Fiona remained with her head resting sideways on Nicole's ass, facing me. After a minute or two of fucking Nicole, I pulled out and repositioned my cock to Fiona's lips. She anticipated this maneuver, and sucked in the whole ten inches without hesitation. I let Fiona suck me for a minute, then I returned to fucking Nicole. For the next ten minutes I alternated between fucking Nicole and getting sucked by Fiona. Every time I pulled out of Nicole and watched Fiona take me in, I was thrilled with erotic delight of Fiona sucking in Nicole's pussy juices. 

Throughout all of this, Nicole's groans grew louder, until she started flexing her back muscles in the beginning of an orgasmic burst. I saw Fiona reach underneath Nicole and return the favor by squeezing her nipples while I continued thrusting deep into Nicole's quivering pussy.

A few minutes after Fiona exploded I felt my climax approaching. I pumped Nicole harder, probably slamming into her cervix once or twice, but she didn't complain. Nicole started grunting on each thrust as I increased my power. Nicole's grunting added one more input to my brain's pleasure center, and in seconds I felt myself erupt. I pushed long and hard into Nicole's pussy -- I was certain now I was pressing hard against the base of her vagina, but she still didn't object. I felt wave after wave drain into the confines of the condom until I was sure my ejaculatory contractions were over.

I pulled out of Nicole. I unrolled the condom, leaving the reservoir tip intact, and rested my bare cock on top of Nicole's ass crack. I pushed the condom inside out, draining my jism onto my cock, spilling some onto Nicole's ass. Without being asked, Fiona took me into her mouth and swallowed down all my semen, slowly pulling out with a tight seal with her lips, making sure my cock was clean. When she was done, she licked the tiny pools of spilled spunk off Nicole's ass.

I was going for a record tonight, and I decided to press onward. I told Nicole to roll over onto her back, and then I told Fiona to position herself on top of Nicole in 69 fashion. Then I told them the first one who makes the other one cum wins.

As I watched the two girls start to tickle and probe each other with their fingers and tongues, I retrieved Fiona's tube of K-Y. I slathered a good dollop on my finger, and then brought it to Fiona's asshole. Fiona gasped momentarily at the sensation, but then returned to her duties. I slid my finger in easily. I pumped it in and out a few times, and rotated it inside her hole to make sure everything was well lubricated. I had lost some of my erection, so I jerked myself off a bit until I returned to full size. Then I applied a thin layer of K-Y on my shaft, and positioned over Fiona's waiting rosebud. 

Fiona moaned loudly as I pushed in. "No fair," she then cried. "it's two against one," implying of course that my welcomed anal stimulation unfairly assist Nicole in bringing Fiona to climax sooner. I replied by pushing all the way in, pulling mostly out, and then thrusting hard in and out. Fiona let out an "oh" on each thrust, intensifying my own trajectory toward semen launch. I hovered over Fiona's ass, pumping in and out while the two girls worked on each other. 

Surprisingly, I heard vocalizations from Nicole as if she were close to her third climax. I tried pumping harder into Fiona, but I was already at capacity. Nicole began wailing as I watched her body cramp up into orgasmic abandon. The sight and sound of her climax brought me closer to my own, and I knew it couldn't be long. In the throws of her own ecstasy, Nicole had lost focus on her duties. Fiona wasn't close.

I unloaded into Fiona's ass not a moment too soon, as my legs were getting tired from this semi-squat position. I drove hard into Fiona, and let my waves of love fill Fiona's bowels. After I was finished, I retreated to the bathroom and cleaned off while I let Nicole finish off Fiona.

In the end, it seems some people are just better at giving girls head than others. Nicole was in the shallow end of that talent pool, as she didn't seem able to bring Fiona to climax in the 69 position. When I returned from the bathroom with a fresh, clean cock, I rolled Fiona over onto her side, and started massaging her pussy in the style I know always works. She smiled knowingly, remembering the last time we did this. I brought my cock to her mouth, and she rewarded me with a long, deep throat suck. I told Nicole to come over and kneel upright beside me. While I massaged Fiona with my right hand, who was sucking my cock, I sucked on Nicole's tits and fingered her pussy with my left hand. Talk about multitasking.

I focused on massaging Fiona, but I also allowed myself the pleasures of being sucked while fingering another girl. I could sense Fiona's excitement building fast -- while Nicole hadn't brought her to orgasm, she had carried Fiona more than half way. I slowed down my strokes against Fiona, letting my own arousal build before she exploded. Fiona let out a sigh of complaint as she sensed my throttling of her excitement, perhaps feeling frustrated after Nicole's fruitless teasing. I didn't care -- I wanted to time my orgasm with Fiona's. 

Perhaps sensing my mission, Nicole reached around me and starting lightly scratching my back. I drew my finger out of her pussy and put it to her mouth, and I watched her take it in and suck her own juices off of it. Now I felt my own loins warming, so increased my massaging intensity against Fiona's pussy. She in turn redoubled her sucking action on me, and the runaway feedback loop began again. 

I returned my left hand to Nicole's pussy. My right hand was getting tired -- usually I can reposition myself to relieve my hand, but my current multitasking posture didn't allow it. I soldiered on, determined to orchestrate another simultaneous orgasm. Fiona was doing her part, and my balls were roiling. I gritted down and increased my right hand tempo to high speed, pressing harder into Fiona's pussy. I was immediately rewarded by Fiona's hard breathing, which I now know is the precursor to her orgasm. I had forgotten entirely about my left hand on Nicole's pussy, so I digitally penetrated her again for good measure. 

Fiona and I exploded together. This time Fiona went deep on me, channelling all my cum down her throat. Fiona's body was undulating with orgasmic energy while I let out a low, ecstatic growl. Our collective excitement caused Nicole to sympathetically dig her fingernails deep into my back. Only after my orgasm subsided did I realize I had savagely driven my middle finger deep into Nicole's pussy, and that may have explained why she dug her fingernails into my back.

After our waves of pleasure subsided, we all disentangled and collapsed on the bed. 

I needed one more to break my record, but Fiona asked that we stop. She was spent and tired. I asked her if it was OK if I did one more with just Nicole. "Go for it, Big Boy," she offered.

I lay down on my back and asked Nicole to get on top 69 style. She wrapped her thighs around my head and started sucking me until I regained my full girth. I then told her to turn around and fuck me. As she was turning around, I reached over for Fiona's condoms. I slipped on the second condom of the night. Nicole rode me while I played with her breasts. After a few minutes, I told her to 69 suck me again, and I had her alternate between sucking and fucking me. 

One time, just as Nicole finished fucking me, she reposition herself to take up the 69 role, but this time Fiona jumped in and sucked me, taking Nicole's place on my cock. Actually, what Fiona did was first remove the condom, and then she sucked me. Nicole sat on my face while I tongued and fingered her pussy. Fiona stayed on my cock until she brought me home. But this time, after I came in her mouth, Fiona pulled Nicole off my face, lay her down on her back, and kissed Nicole long and hard. As I saw the spunk ooze out of their mouths, I realized Fiona was snowballing my jism with Nicole. 

We were all tired. I kissed both girls tenderly, and then we pulled the covers over us, and the three of us, with me in the middle, fell blissfully asleep. 

End of Part 3. 



The Commander Ch. 04



This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback. 

---

The Boeing 777 lifted of runway 25R on Thursday at 10:15 on a moonlit night. Fiona and I held hands as the twin engine wide-body climbed and then turned east toward Paris. Although she loved travelling, it became immediately clear that Fiona was not fond of flying, and I watched her swallow back a lump of apprehension as we left terra firma.

Business class seats made the flight more bearable. Wide seats, nice food, and pleasant flight attendants smoothed the edges of Fiona's uneasiness. The complimentary glass of champagne before takeoff, not to mention the bottle of white wine we shared before we boarded, didn't hurt either. A sudden air pocket jostled the airplane lightly -- nothing to get concerned over -- but Fiona reflexively gripped my hand tightly at the unwelcome turbulence, and then smiled embarrassedly when she realized her overreaction. 

"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly, relaxing her constrictive grip on my hand. I thought back over the events of the past weeks. So far, Fiona's fear of flying was her worst fault. This drop dead gorgeous, tall, blue eyed, blonde, buxom beauty sitting next to me had done everything I wanted, without using my mind control over her. 

"Maybe you'd like to wrap your hand around something else," I teased, trying to modulate my voice so she could hear me over the drone of the engines without alerting our neighboring passengers to my impure thoughts. 

"If only I could," she surprised me with her genuine tone. "It would take my mind of this damned plane." Business class passengers receive a travel kit, including a blanket, a tiny toiletries kit, some chocolates, and a blindfold to help you sleep. I took both our blankets out and draped them over us so they overlapped between us. Underneath my blanket I unbuckled by belt and unzipped by pants, and then I guided Fiona's hand beneath the blanket to my awaiting cock. 

Just then the fasten seatbelt sign went out. I reclined both our seats to near flat. Fiona and I unbuckled our seatbelts and rolled onto our sides in our seats to face each other, and then fixed our blankets again. With the blankets providing cover, Fiona wrapped her fingers around my cock, and ever so gently and slowly, Fiona slow-motion jerked me up and down. She was very careful not to let any of the motion show through the blankets that might attract unwanted attention among our fellow passengers or the crew. Fiona sighed at the welcome distraction. 

There was no chance of reaching climax at this rate -- that wasn't the point. Besides, I had just cum twice in the airport. I wasn't aching for any more action on the plane.

Eventually, Fiona's hand grew tired, and she withdrew and fell asleep under the influence of wine and champagne. I zipped back up, lay on my back, and I pulled out the onboard entertainment system from my seat's armrest and tuned in the real-time GPS map showing our flight's progress. I pulled my MP3 player out of my pocket, attached the ear buds, and listened to music while I replayed the last few weeks in my mind while Fiona unconsciously nuzzled her head into my shoulder.

I thought back to the three-way we had with Nicole. Starting at The Arc, I remembered Fiona's smoking hot lesbian dance with Nicole. And then back at our condo, we fucked and sucked for hours until we all collapsed in our king sized bed. I came five times that night -- a new record. 

The next morning I woke up at 7:30 to the sight of two beautiful girls in bed with me. I badly needed to go to the bathroom. I had a girl on either side of me -- there was no way of getting up without waking one of them. Nicole was still under my skip control, so, even though she was sleeping, I ordered her to stay asleep and not wake up. Then I rolled over top of her, and as I hoped, she didn't flinch even as I shifted my entire body weight on top of her. That gave me an idea. Standing up beside Nicole, I played with her tits and her pussy, and she didn't wake up. Next I pinched her left nipple hard enough to make her scream -- no reaction. More possibilities awaited me, but by then I really had to go, so I went to the bathroom and relieved myself.

Fiona was sound asleep, so I left her in peace. I used my skip control to silently wake up Nicole. I let her use the bathroom, and then told her to take a shower with me. 

My shower is an oversized stall with two shower heads -- one on either side. It is perfect for two people, because we can both stay under the warmth of our own water streams. I put some soap on my hands, and started lathering up Nicole's body, paying special attention to her C cup breasts. We started kissing, and Nicole slipped her hand down to my growing cock. 

"Suck it," I ordered her, and without protest, Nicole squatted down and took me into her mouth. I maneuvered our bodies so that one of the streams of shower water fell on Nicole's face as she sucked my now full sized cock. She didn't complain or slow down. After a minute or so, she brought one hand up to jerk the bottom five inches of my cock while she sucked the top five. 

"No," I admonished. "No hands." Nicole obediently put her hand back down to her knee, and continued sucking. Without hands, this was going to take a long time, and Nicole was in a deep crouch position. I was curious how long she could hold out. As if reading my mind, Nicole went down to one knee, but the trooper didn't break her sucking rhythm. 

It must have taken twenty minutes before I felt my balls burning. I was guessing Nicole's cheek and jaw muscles were aching badly, but she continued her fellatio duties uninterrupted. Finally, when I knew I was ready to blow, I put my hands behind her head, and pulled Nicole in gently. "Swallow every drop," I ordered just before I exploded into her mouth. True to Jet's form, I came wave after wave after wave, all the time Nicole was gulping my jism down while the shower water splashed on her face. I must have come for over half a minute. 

When at least my orgasmic pulsations quelled, I let go of Nicole's head, and told her to stand. She was wobbly, given her leg muscles were exhausted. We each shampooed and rinsed. When we finished the shower, I found fresh towels, and I handed Nicole one of Fiona's bath robes. 

I showed Nicole the TV and remote in the living room, and I returned to the bedroom to get dressed. Then I went to the kitchen and made coffee and breakfast for the three of us. The smell of coffee must have woken Fiona around 9:30. She walked into the kitchen buck naked, kissed me, and only then noticed Nicole in a gasp. 

"I completely forgot you were here," Fiona exclaimed, recovering from her own surprise. 

"You're husband certainly knew I was here," replied Nicole in a flat tone. Fiona and I both ignored her mistake about her calling me being Fiona's husband.

Fiona looked at me quizzically. "You fucked her this morning already?"

"No," I replied nonchalantly. "Blow job."

"Couldn't wait?"

"You looked so peaceful sleeping," I offered. Fiona seemed unperturbed, and dropped it. She went back into the bedroom and dressed into jeans and a T-shirt. When she came back, Fiona brought out a T-shirt and sweat pants for Nicole to wear. Nicole and Fiona were about the same height. Nicole was slimmer, more of a model's build, so Fiona's sweats and a T would definitely fit her. Nicole didn't worry about her modesty -- she stood, stripped Fiona's bathrobe to the floor, and covered her naked model body with Fiona's offered clothing. 

We ate breakfast together, Nicole collected her clothing from last night, and then I drove Nicole home while she was still wearing Fiona's sweatpants and T-shirt. She shared a two bedroom townhouse with a roommate. It was 11 in on Monday morning when we arrived at Nicole's house -- her roommate was out, which was a stroke of luck. Still under my skip control, I took Nicole to her bedroom, and told her to get into bed.

"Do you remember what I told you when I first saw you on the dance floor at The Arc?" I asked Nicole.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Tell me," I ordered.

"You told me that I would remember everything we do, and I will remember that I enjoyed all of it, and that I wanted to do everything I did, and when I look back on it, I will think it was a good time, and I would like to do it again." I had no idea if that would work, and I may never find out. But I thought it was worth a try. 

In skip mode I ordered Nicole to sleep, and to awake up when she is ready. Once she was asleep, I touched the back of her neck, and removed my skip from her. 

I closed the self-locking door behind me as I left Nicole's house. In my BMW, I saved her address to my GPS, thinking a return visit might be in order sometime. 

When I returned to the condo, I found Fiona's note -- she had gone to the Spa for the afternoon. Perfect. I searched the condo for the wall safe, and found it in the walk-in closet off the bedroom. It had an electronic keypad for a combination. I stared at it, hoping it would link to one of Jet's memories. No luck there.

I played with the keypad, again trying to link to a memory, but it didn't help. I went to Jet's MacBook and brought up an image of a US passport, and stared at it. I thought of the Eiffel Tower in Paris while I continued staring at the passport. That triggered something. I had a memory of Jet putting two passports into the safe. Okay, start there. I linked to another memory of the front of the safe -- I could see the electronic keypad in Jet's memory. Then when I tried to link to a memory of the combination, I saw a memory of a woman smiling fondly. Wrong turn.

I backed up to the front of the safe. I linked to a memory of Jet's fingers pushing the buttons on the keypad, but I could not see the sequence of keys he pressed. Even so, there had to be a link to his memory of the combination. I tried to concentrate, and arrived at the same memory of the woman smiling fondly at him. Then it hit me. The combination is linked to this woman. But was it her birthday, phone number, measurements? 

I concentrated on the woman. She was a very attractive, tall black woman. She had lovely dark eyes, high cheek bones. I followed links of her and realized Jet had a relationship with her -- many of his intense memories were sexual. I tried going backward in time through Jet's memories, and I landed on one at an outdoor café. I was pretty sure this was their first date. And that memory linked to an office desk with a blotter calendar on it, and there on the calendar was one day with a red circle around it: July 26 2013. 07 26 13.

Inside the safe, I found Jet's and Fiona's passports. There was about fifty thousand in cash, some bearer bonds (I know nothing of those), and several documents, including his will and an Advanced Care Health Directive, commonly known as a living will, something I do know about. I also found a notarized relationship agreement between Jet and Fiona. I am not a lawyer, but as far as I can tell, Fiona gets nothing if she leaves Jet. She leaves behind the Mercedes and all the jewelry and clothing Jet bought her. She gets no money, ever. She walks out with the clothes she had on her back the day she met Jet. It was savagely in Jet's favor.

I quickly scanned the will. Fiona was not a beneficiary. Something was missing. Something was going on in this relationship I wasn't getting.

I was just closing the safe when a small, flat box caught my eye. I took it out of the safe and opened it. Inside was a flash memory card with a USB adapter. I thought it might be Jet's message from The Commander, but it seemed unlikely. I took the box to Jet's computer, and connected the memory and adapter to the USB socket.

The card had two video files on it. I watched the first one. It was clearly a dash cam video that looks both forward out the front window with a second camera looking inside to observe the driver. The video shows a picture-in-picture arrangement with the larger frame showing the outside, and a smaller frame in the lower right corner showing the driver. There is an audio track, presumably from the inside camera. The video showed Fiona driving on a two lane highway. There was nothing remarkable about it. About three minutes into the video, I heard a cell phone ring, and Fiona answered the call, holding her cell phone to her ear with her right hand and steering with her left hand. A friend was calling about when they were going to go shopping together. 

Out the front window a left curve loomed in the distance. As I watched Fiona navigate the curve, I saw it coming. Fiona took the curve wide, straying onto the paved shoulder, where a lone cyclist was peddling along the road. As I played the video again and again, frame by frame, it became clear that Fiona did not hit the cyclist with the front of the car, but as the cyclist passed out of the frame to the right of the car, a distinctly audible "thump" could be heard on the sound track. Fiona most likely struck the cyclist with her right mirror.

Looking at her eyes and face in the smaller picture, and listening to the tone of her voice, it became clear Fiona never saw the cyclist, never heard the thump, and never suspected anything untoward had just happened. She continued talking to her friend as she brought the car back to the centre of the lane and drove on. I watched the video again, and realized just before she entered the curve, Fiona nearly dropped the phone, and in her recovery, she repositioned the cell phone against her right ear with her right elbow jutted up and forward, blocking her sightline to the cyclist. It was a possible explanation. 

I checked the date stamp -- 2:43 PM on 13 November 2012. I Google searched news articles for hit and run against that date, and found nothing. They I checked for a deaths around that date, and sure enough I found a report of a seventeen year old boy was found dead on the side of the road on the Brackmore Highway. The boy was found partially underwater in a deep ditch beside the road on 14 November -- that was the day after the video time stamp. Police suspected foul play, but had no leads. The bicycle was not damaged, and there were no skid marks at the scene, leading police to suspect the boy may have been attacked by assailants unknown. They could not rule out a vehicular collision, but had no evidence either way.

I found an article from a week later that reported an autopsy concluded the boy had drowned in the ditch, and had died at least 12 hours before he was found. The police identified him as Trey Boullion, a student at Fairview High School. There were severe injuries to his head and neck, probably leading to unconsciousness. The police believed the boy fell or was pushed into the ditch after sustaining his injuries, passed out, and then drowned. They explained the ditch was so deep it was impossible to see the boy from the road. The bicycle was found partly down the ditch, and only barely visible. A man walking his dog on the morning of November 14 came across the boy when his dog went down into the ditch to sniff out the body.

There was no evidence in the surrounding tall grass that supported any struggle in the ditch. The fact that the bicycle was found undamaged beside the road suggested the boy had not been hit by a car, or if he was hit, he was struck only by a glancing blow along the side of the car, perhaps by a mirror. The police had no further leads. The trail seemed to go cold there.

I opened the second video file from the memory card. It was Fiona sitting at the dining room table in the condo. She was clearly confused, and not at all comfortable about the camera. I heard Jet's voice off camera saying it would all come clear soon. 

Jet played the role of prosecutor, except Fiona didn't know she was on trial. He showed her printed out articles -- perhaps the same ones I found about a dead boy, and told her to read them out loud. She protested and deflected his instructions, until he walked behind her, grabbed her hands, pulled out a pair of real-looking hand cuffs, and secured her hands to a rail of the chair behind her back. She tried to struggle, but Jet had the advantage of his position over top of her, not to mention his strength. 

He placed the paper on the table in front of her and told her again to read the article. She refused, and he slapped her hard across the face. She yelled out, and he slapped her again, saying it would get worse if she didn't cooperate. Fiona was sobbing. Her mascara was streaking down her cheeks. He pointed to the article, and told her to read it. When she hesitated he raised his hand to slap her again, and in a panic she started to read the article. It was identical to the first article I found. 

Fiona was sobbing with betrayal and confusion when he told her to read the second article. Seeing neither the point nor the harm in reading it, she read the second article between sobs. It was written differently from the second article I found, but covered the same bases.

Finally, Jet set up a laptop for Fiona to see. The angle of this video did not permit the viewer to see what the laptop was displaying. Jet also had set up external speakers to amplify the sound track. He played the video, and I instantly recognized the sound of the road hum from the dash cam. About three minutes into the video, I heard the cell phone ring on the sound track, and then I heard Jet's off-frame voice to pay close attention as I heard Fiona's recorded voice chat on the phone.

Fiona's eyes opened wide when she saw the impending collision. She turned partly away, but couldn't take her eyes off the screen as Fiona could see what was coming. Fiona screamed at the sound of impact. The external speakers seemed to amplify the "thump" especially well. Jet came back into the picture, and rewound the video, and told Fiona to watch it again in slow motion. At the end of the slow motion playback, still with sound on, the thump sound was eerily elongated, at which point Fiona cried out she was going to be sick. Jet moved the laptop out of vomit range and waited. Fiona seemed to throw up into her mouth, but did not actually barf. 

Once she settled down, Jet said to her "You have a choice, and you have to make it now." He waited for her to refocus her attention on him. "Either you go to jail for the rest of your life and get ass-raped by three hundred pound butch bitches with plunger handles, or you stay here."

He waited for her to register her options, and then continued. "If you stay here, it's my way all the way. Everything I want. Every time. You don't get a say."

"Isn't that rape anyway?" she asked. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is," he snarked, "you get to live a life with a Mercedes and a condo. You get to go to Paris when I want a fuck toy to go with me. You don't get six lesbos gang banging you until you bleed, and you don't have to put out for some fat, smelly prison guard who won't let you go to the shitter until you do him."

"So what do I have to do?" she asked, with her hands still cuffed behind her back.

"Which part of everything I want do you not understand?" he barked. Then he unzipped his pants and pulled out his already hard member, and put it to her face. "Starting right now."

I'd seen enough. So this is who I took over. No wonder Fiona was deeply suspicious of dancing and Paris, and then ecstatic when it happened. 

I decided right there and then what to do. I started by deleting both files from the memory card. Then for good measure, I reformatted the card. When Fiona got home from her spa treatment, I asked her to sit down at the same dining room table. I then put the memory card and her passport on the table in front of her.

"What's that?" she asked apprehensively. 

"That," I said neutrally, "is your passport and the memory card from the dash cam. Before you say or do anything, I want to tell you what is going on." Her eyes burst wide open with terror. "First, you can relax -- nothing bad is happening to you. I promise that." I waited for that to sink in.




The Commander Ch. 04



"You promise?" she said with inflection on the word 'promise'. Earlier I had told her if I break my promises to her, I will hurt myself. It was a cover story for what The Commander did to Jet.

"I promise." The tension in her body melted away, but there was still trepidation and confusion in her eyes.

"This is the new deal," I told her. "I erased the video card. This was the only copy," I guessed, pointing to the memory card. "You can come with me to Paris, or you can take your passport and everything I have given to you and leave in peace. I won't stand in your way."

"Are you asking me to leave?"

"No," I said firmly. "I am asking you to stay under a new deal."

"And what is this deal?"

"We'll make it up as we go along. But right now, the rule is we respect each other."

"And last night, with Denise?"

"You mean Nicole?" I asked carefully, because maybe there is a Denise in Jet's memory I don't know about.

"Right, I mean Nicole. Do you still want threesomes like that?"

"Yes, Fiona, I still do want threesomes with girls. I'd also like to have a threesome with a guy"

"You mean me and ..."

"Yup -- you and two guys. I would love to see you do two guys at once, as long as I'm one of them." I offered. "But this is more than about sex," I added. "It is about us."

"So the old deal -- everything you want -- that's over?"

"As of this instant," I confirmed. "I promise."

Fiona thought for a long while. "What if I come with you to Paris and we beak up later?" she asked. 

"Fiona, I want you to stay. I want us to build something together -- whatever that is, I don't know. I want us to explore, go crazy, have fun, have simple moments -- I want to try it all. I want us to fuck like roid-raged rabbits, and I want us to walk hand-in-hand along the beach at sunset. And I want to try it all with you. 

"When it comes to Paris, I ask you to make me one promise." I waited for effect. "I ask that, by coming to Paris, you commit to giving this new deal a real try. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work. All I ask is that you honestly try."

"And if I don't come to Paris? If I want to leave?"

"Then you go with my blessing. Keep the Mercedes and all the clothing. I gave them to you."

"Why should I believe you?" she asked calmly.

"Fiona, I'm not going to bullshit you by claiming to be a new man and you should trust me."

"But you are a new man," she interjected. "You're completely different than before." She paused, thinking. "It scares me. I keep on thinking the old Jet is just around the corner, and I'm going to do something wrong, and you will ..." she sobbed at the memory of Jet's torturing her. 

"Those days are over. As for the new Jet, I think we need to take that a day at a time. You know how hard I am working on that. I'm not saying it is easy for me, but I can say that I wake up every morning thinking about my promise."

"Are you still going to fuck other girls?" she asked with a neutral voice. 

"What do you mean?" I asked with genuine confusion after talking about threesomes.

"Like Leticia?"

That name tugged at Jet's memory, and I then realized Leticia was the girl Jet was having an affair with. That was the girl he used to set his wall safe combination. I had no idea how many other girls there had been on the side. I also did not know if Jet that knew Fiona knew that Jet was having an affair with Leticia. I'm guessing the old Jet didn't care.

"How about this," I offered. "If we fuck other people, we are open to each other about it." After thinking for a moment, "And, no matter what, we are always do safe sex with outsiders."

"And what if I don't want you to fuck anyone else?"

"Fiona, I'm not saying no to that -- I'm not saying yes. Sometimes it gets tricky, like this morning with Nicole while you were sleeping. Was that still part of our three-way, or not? Like I said, we need to work this out as we go along. We can't decide everything right now. How about we take things one step at a time? If outside sex is a big issue for you, then we will figure it out soon."

"Did you fuck Nicole at her house? Or get another blowjob?"

"No. I dropped her off and came home."

"Do I have to decide about this new deal right now?"

"Well, I kind of want to know before we go to Paris," I offered logically. "So by Wednesday." 

"Oh," I remembered something else from the video earlier that day, "about Paris. If you come with me, it is as my girlfriend, not just my fuck toy."

We paused for a long time. She finally broke the silence. "Then what do you want to do now?"

"I want to make love to you -- not just sex -- but love."

"Me too."

That was Monday. After we made tender love, I gave Fiona as much space as I could to let her decide. I was in a no-lose situation. She could stay with me or leave. If she stayed, I had an amazing girlfriend with incredible potential for a fun-filled future. If she left, I could find another girl and make her mine in ways the old Jet couldn't possibly fathom. 

On Tuesday I phoned the hospital, and found my old self was still unconscious. I decided it was time to play my card. The Tuesday before the old me went into the biopsy operation, I went to a lawyer and established a living will. In that document, the old me appointed Jet, the new me, with the authority to make decisions on my old behalf. As Jethro Terrance I went to the same lawyer, and had him draw up the papers so the hospital would recognize Jet's authority in making decisions in the matter of Don Malloy's care. 

I arranged a meeting at the hospital for Wednesday morning. 

Back home that Tuesday afternoon, I was making plans for Paris when Fiona returned from shopping. "You'll never guess who I bumped into today," Fiona said as she stepped in.

Still fumbling over Jet's memories, I was at the disadvantage. "You're right, I won't be able to guess," I admitted, thinking it could by one among hundreds of people from Jet's former life.

"Nicole, from Sunday night."

"She recognized you?" I asked carefully.

"What do you mean?" She blurted. "We all fucked together! Of course she recognized me. She asked if we could get together again this weekend, and I told her we had other plans, so then she asked if we were free tomorrow night."

"A going away party?" I asked.

"My thoughts exactly," said Fiona, "so I told her yes as long as she could bring along a stud as good as you to make it a foursome."

So we had plans for the weekend and Fiona was buying into sex with other people. I would say we were on a good path. "What did she say," I asked, hoping I didn't sound too eager in my reply. 

"She laughed and said there are no other studs as good as you, but she'll bring over the best man she's got."

"I like your style," I complimented. 

"I thought you would," she smiled and kissed me warmly. 

Fiona pulled away and looked straight into my eyes. "I'm in," she affirmed, "and you can be my fuck toy in Paris!"

"Down girl," I teased with a big smile. We drew together in a long, tender embrace. 

"I have one condition -- and I'm not kidding," she said solemnly as we pulled apart.

"Okay," I held my breath.

"If the old Jet comes back, I'm gone that fucking instant."

"Deal," I said. If the old Jet comes back, I will already be gone, or maybe dead. 

On Wednesday morning I went to the hospital armed with my legal papers. I met with one of the hospital administrators and physicians in charge of my old body's care. I explained to them that Mr. Malloy had left specific instructions concerning his health care should he no longer be capable of making his own decisions, and that he entrusted those decisions to me. 

The doctor told me Don was responding to medication for the heart infection, which means they were treating his symptoms without actually eradicating the viral infection. Recent ultrasounds showed the pancreatic, and now hepatic (liver) cancer appear unchanged. 

The real puzzle was his persistent unconscious state, which is different from a coma. They explained that his brain function appeared normal, and they could see no reason for his unconsciousness, but he was clearly not awake. 

I explained that it was Don's wishes to remain on life saving support for as long as possible in the hope that some future treatment may become available to cure him. We discussed the treatment options, and decided the present course remained the best approach unless things changed. I gave them my cell phone number, and asked them to call in the event circumstances required my input.

Back home I made reservations at Boissy's Café in Paris for Friday night. I also booked a suite at the Raphael hotel from Friday to Tuesday. I hired a car to pick us up at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Finally I charted a boat for a private tour along the Seine for Saturday night. 

Fiona and I had decided to ask Nicole plus one to come over for a casual supper at 6. Fiona told Nicole they could not stay overnight, as we had to get ready for our flight the next day. She also warned them to take a taxi, as driving home might be problematic after drinking and whatever. 

Nicole and Kevin arrived just after six. Fiona buzzed them up to the apartment. Fiona was wearing a black skirt and a short sleeved maroon silk blouse. When she opened the door, Nicole stepped in and immediately wrapped her arms around Fiona's neck and planted a long, soft kiss her on her mouth. The air turned electric. 

The statuesque Nicole wore a skin tight white dress with a sea green shawl over her shoulders that matched her eyes. Her auburn hair flirted with her shoulders. She pulled away from Fiona and said a warm hello to me before she kissed me on the cheek. 

"No big sloppy kiss for me, then," I joked.

"I'm saving you for later," she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Nicole introduced Kevin, about five foot nine, solid frame, sandy brown hair. He shook hands with Fiona and me. Once we were in, I poured drinks. Fiona had a Heineken, Kevin a Glenmorangie, Fiona a Chardonnay, and I had a Borolo. We sat and chatted. 

Nicole used to be a model, but returned to school to become a nurse. She was in her third year. She had never broken into the big leagues of modelling, and was told at the age of 20 that if she hadn't made her big break by then, she never would. She still did catalog modelling to help pay for school. It was easy to picture her in a catalog -- she has a face that you want to trust, and a sleek, slender figure. Unlike many models, she actually has some breasts to speak of -- when I complimented Nicole on her shapely figure, she claimed her C cup breasts was the main feature that prevented her from breaking into runway modelling -- they were too large.

Listening to Nicole talk about herself, I found it curious that I have already had ribald sex with this girl and only now was I learning the first thing about her. Kevin was a graphics designer for an advertising firm. He was working to become a freelance artist, but at twenty six he didn't have enough experience under his belt to go solo. He met Nicole at The Arc many months earlier and they hooked up a few times, but neither of them was looking for anything more serious. 

Nicole asked about our upcoming trip to Paris. Fiona filled her in on the details, except for the cruise on the Seine because I was keeping that from Fiona as a surprise. Nicole expressed her drooling envy, and offered to come along as our Paris fuck-buddy. Fiona suggested maybe next time, but this trip was a time for Fiona and I to bond again. I couldn't tell if Fiona was being serious or just polite about her 'Paris fuck-buddy next time' response.

Rather than an all-out meal, we decided to go tapas style, with finger food throughout the night. Before Nicole and Kevin arrived, I ordered about twenty dishes for delivery from Toro Rojo, a great tapas restaurant nearby. The delivery guy buzzed up just before seven. Fiona spread out plates and food dishes on the coffee table while I refilled everyone's drinks. 

We sat around the coffee table in four leather sofa chairs. Nicole in with her long, crossed, slender legs sat across from me. Fiona was to my right, and Kevin admired her from across the table. "So how does this work," Nicole asked after we settled into the first round of our meal. 

"I'm not sure," replied Fiona. "This is our first four-way."

"How about an ice breaker to start things off," I suggested, "like strip poker." After a brief discussion, we agreed we would play in teams -- Fiona and I against Nicole and Kevin. Whichever team had the highest hand won, and each person on the other team had to take something off. The winning boy chose the losing girl's clothing, and likewise the winning girl chose the losing boy's clothing to take off. If the losing person had no clothing, then the winning person got to choose some action the loosing person had to do.

The girls insisted on wild cards, so we all agreed on 2's and one-eyed Jacks. The guys agreed on two draws of up to three cards for each hand.

Before we started, Nicole asked to use the bathroom -- Fiona showed her the guest powder room, and realizing she also needed to go, she went to the other bathroom attached to our bedroom. I took the opportunity when Kevin and I were alone to reach over and touch his arm, and put Kevin into skip mode with instructions to relax, follow my direction, and remember everything as fun. Kevin was the unknown -- I was just reducing any risks. I then asked if Kevin had any sexually transmitted diseases -- he replied no.

With the girls back around the coffee table, I dealt the first round. Fiona won the hand with a full house. I surprised Nicole by asking her to take off her underpants. She stood up and slipped off a white pair of dainty thong underwear. Fiona told Kevin to take off his pants, so he stood up and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, and dropped his jeans, revealing his boxer shorts. We all took a sip of our drinks. 

I won the next hand with a straight. Nicole took of her shawl and Kevin took off his shirt. He was not wearing an undershirt. I could see Fiona checking out Kevin's impressive abs. We all emptied our drinks, so I refreshed everyone's glasses. 

The shirtless Kevin won the next two rounds. Fiona took off her silk blouse, revealing her perfect unbounded breasts, and then her skirt. She was left wearing only black thong underwear. I took off first my shirt and then my pants, leaving my bikini briefs and my undershirt. We all drank some more. 

Fiona won the next round. I was rewarded when Nicole went completely naked when she took her dress off. Fiona said she wanted to see Kevin's junk, so he dropped his boxer shorts, and stood naked. While not as well-endowed as my Jet cock, Kevin still swung a full load between his legs. Fiona murmured appreciatively. I refilled everyone's glasses again.

Kevin won the next round with five of a kind (damned wildcards). Fiona went naked and Nicole said she definitely wanted to see my junk, so I took off my bikini briefs, leaving only my undershirt. "That's the cock I've been dreaming of," Nicole sighed.

Everyone was naked except me, so I voluntarily took my undershirt off and took a drink.

In the next round, Nicole thought she had won with four aces, and started telling me to come over to her and pay my penance, when I said "Not so fast," showing my straight flush. Nicole was crestfallen, but rebounded quickly. 

"How may I please you," she asked seductively. 

"Ladies first," I said to Fiona. She smiled, and leaned back in her leather chair, spreading her legs wide open.

"I want Kevin to come over here and eat my pussy," she claimed her prize. I pulled the coffee table out of the way, giving Kevin room to kneel in front of Fiona.

"And while Kevin's doing that," I said to Nicole, "you can come suck my cock for a while," pushing my chair back.

Fiona and I smiled at each other as we watched the spectacle of Kevin and Nicole on their knees administering oral pleasures to us. 

Kevin seemed quite adept at cunnilingus, as I noticed Fiona's bare chest start to heave in appreciation for his sensual ministrations. I gently nudged Nicole off my cock, stood up, and told her to follow me. I walked behind Fiona's chair and stood facing Fiona's back. I then told Nicole to sit on the floor leaning against the back of Fiona's chair. With her in position, I stepped forward, and told Nicole to resume her cock sucking. "Bring me home," I told Nicole, and she brought her hand up to the base of my cock to supplement her oral stimulation. 

I bent forward over the back of Fiona's chair and kissed her upside down while my hands roved over her breasts. Fiona moaned at my participation, and she opened her mouth and kissed me back, flicking her tongue into my mouth. I was surprised at Fiona's skin -- she was already sweating from getting close to climax, and she was now rocking her hips up into Kevin's face. We remained in a long kiss while I fondled her heaving tits. 

Fiona was now starting to moan loudly -- her climax was imminent. I was still a ways off, but I could feel my pressure slowly mounting. I watched Fiona buck her hips hard into Kevin's face has she thrust her tongue as far as she could into my mouth, now throating a loud moan. I squeezed her nipples hard, which added an erotic painful sensation to the mix, and caused Fiona's moan to climb an octave. Hearing all the commotion from below, Nicole redoubled her sucking and stroking efforts, and started bringing me closer. 

Fiona's orgasm started fading just as mine erupted. I grabbed Fiona's tits and heard myself moan involuntarily as I released wad after wad of my penis butter into Nicole's mouth. Hearing my orgasmic moans, Fiona reached up with both arms wrapped her hands around the back of my head, keeping a firm lock on our kiss. As last my ejaculatory spasms subsided, and I withdrew from Nicole's mouth. I gently pulled away from Fiona's kiss, and she released her headlock on me, letting my stand up straight again.

"Holy Fuck!" Fiona called out to Kevin. "You are the best pussy eater in the world".

"I'll be sure to put that on my resume," he replied with a crooked smile. We all laughed. 

I knelt down across from Nicole, who was still resting against the back of Fiona's chair. I kissed her gently on the lips. "That was beautiful," I said quietly as I pulled away. 

She smiled and replied "Shut up and fuck me!"

I suggested we retreat to our king sized bed where we made a train. I told Kevin to lie down on his back, diagonally on the bed with his head at the top left corner of the mattress. Next Fiona hovered over him in the middle of the bed on her hands and knees in cock sucking position. Then I asked Nicole lie on her back and slide her face under Fiona's pussy. Nicole's ass was resting at the other edge of the bed near the bottom right corner. I fetched one of Fiona's condoms and slipped it on, and then I stood on the floor next to Nicole and lifted her legs up and apart and aimed for her pussy. 

"One, two, three, go!" I announced. Fiona sucked Kevin, Nicole ate Fiona out, and I fucked Nicole. I watched Kevin's face when he first realized Fiona was going deep throat on him. I asked Fiona to take Kevin as slowly as she could -- drag it out for as long as possible. I saw her nod slightly in agreement -- I was hoping she understood why.

I knew from last time that Nicole's cunnilingus technique wouldn't do much for Fiona. I pumped Nicole hard for a few minutes, and I could hear her groan on each thrust. I remembered how deep Nicole's pussy was, and I nearly buried my whole ten inches. I also remember she was not very tight.

Unlike Fiona, Nicole was able to cum from just fucking. As I pumped harder I could hear Nicole's grunts mutate into carnal moans, and then into pre-orgasmic "oh's". As I felt her draw closer, I pumped harder, until I watched Nicole spasm into orgasmic contortions. 




The Commander Ch. 04



As soon as Nicole's orgasm was over, I pulled her legs so her whole body slid out from underneath Fiona and to one side. I heard Nicole call "weeeeeee!" as I pulled her along the bedspread. With Fiona's ass now exposed, I pulled off my condom, mounted Fiona from behind, and began fucking Fiona's amazingly tight pussy. "Let him have it," I called softly to Fiona as I started pumping her earnestly. 

Fiona intensified her sucking and stroking, releasing Kevin from his blowjob purgatory and let him ascend toward orgasmic heaven. I matched my thrusts to Fiona's sucking strokes, and felt my own balls start to roil. Nicole's deep pussy had warmed me up, and Fiona's tight pussy was bringing me home. I gripped Fiona's hip handles. As I felt my explosion erupt, I held one long, deep thrust in Fiona's pussy, being careful not to push too hard against her cervix. I felt wave after wave unload into Fiona while she continued working on Kevin. 

I pulled out from Fiona after a minute or so, and that's when I heard Kevin start to moan with impending salvation. At the instant he broke, I watched Fiona go deep on him, and I envied Kevin for the unmatched sensation he felt when Fiona deep throating his cock at the instant of eruption.

We all lay on the bed for a little while before I got up to fetch our drinks. Kevin came out with me, picked up his jeans and went back into the bedroom. By the time I refreshed everyone's drinks, Kevin was passing around a lit joint. I handed out the drinks and returned to the bed with everyone else. I lay beside Fiona and gently tickled circles around her areola -- first the left, then the right. The feather-weight sensation made her nipples harden, and I sucked on each erect nipple in between drags on Kevin's joint.

I lost track of time, but at some point, I felt someone playing with my cock. I looked down, and watched Nicole holding it in her fingers, examining it without expression, first one side, then the other, as if she was looking over a cucumber at the supermarket. "You must teach me how to deep throat, Fiona," she said, and then took my flaccid cock into her mouth. 

"The deep throating part is easy," ventured Fiona in a slow, stoned voice. "It is the gag reflex. Some people can get past it, others can't." Nicole started sucking me while Fiona was talking. I was still playing with Fiona's nipples. 

"Yes," Kevin observed, "you really should teach Nicole how to deep throat." That started the giggles all around, and Nicole had to stop sucking me because she couldn't stop laughing. 

After we settled down, Fiona said "Next time, I'll teach you." 

I lay my head down on Fiona's tummy and drifted off to sleep. I woke up alone and hungry. I had no idea what time it was. I head to the living room where I found Kevin and the girls eating the rest of the cold tapas and talking about a show they were watching on television. They were in various states of dress -- I was still naked. They all looked totally baked -- I'm guessing Kevin brought out another joint or two while I was sleeping. 

I wolfed down some beef strips and went back to the bedroom to put on some sweat pants. When I got back out they were all naked again and the two girls were taking turns going down on Kevin. Fiona looked up at me and said "You're just in time. I was trying to show Nicole how to deep throat, but Kevin doesn't seem ... up ... for the task." I wasn't surprised -- he'd already cum once tonight, and he was fried.

I slipped my sweat pants back off and sat down naked in the middle of the long sofa. Fiona sat down to my left and Nicole to my right. Fiona started by taking me into her mouth. Meanwhile I reached over and started playing with Nicole's pussy. She obliged me by opening her legs to let me in. I slipped my finger up and started pumping in and out while Fiona went deep up to my balls. Then Fiona pulled out. "Okay, he's ready," she observed my fully erect cock.

I pulled my finger out of Nicole's pussy and put it to her mouth. Fiona had no way of knowing I was now putting Nicole under skip control when Nicole took my finger into her mouth. "Do everything I tell you, and remember everything," I told her.

"Oh, so you're going to show her now," Fiona smirked.

"Yeah," I observed calmly to Fiona, "I've got it." Turning to Nicole, I said "you know when you throw up, how your throat closes?" Nicole nodded. "Well, push your diaphragm up like your throwing up to make your throat close and you can't breathe," I instructed. 

I watched Nicole tense her diaphragm, and then stop breathing. "Good," I rewarded, "now, start breathing again." I waited for her to inhale. "That's how you close your throat for deep throat. When your throat is closed like that, you can slip a cock way down your throat. But remember, you can't breathe, so start with short deep throat sucks. It also helps if you tilt your head up so your stretch your neck, especially at first." 

"How do you know all this?" Fiona asked incredulously?

"The internet" I lied. 

"And all this time I thought you were just surfing porn," Fiona joked. 

"You ready to give it a try?" I asked Nicole. She nodded. "Okay, do it in this order. Close your throat, then take my cock in to the back of your mouth, and then just push firmly until it goes all the way down. Pull out when you need to breathe or if you think you're going to throw up."

"It will take a few tries," coached Fiona.

"She'll get it first time," I ventured. In all this explaining, I had grown a little soft, so Nicole bobbed up and down for a minute to stiffen me back up. When I was fully erect again, I told Nicole to go ahead. 

She tensed her diaphragm and then went down half way, hesitated for a moment, and then pushed onward, taking me completely up to my balls. She rested there for a moment, and then pulled all the way out and took a breath. 

"Wow!" exclaimed Fiona. "First time."

"That was easy," Nicole smiled. "Can I do it again?" 

"Help yourself," I offered. As Nicole took me into her mouth I removed the skip from her, and let her continue unassisted. She took me deep again, and then instead of all the way out, she pulled back just to her mouth, and then went deep again. 

"I think she's got it," Fiona claimed. Nicole started sucking me earnestly, alternating between shallow and deep. I leaned over and fondled Fiona's breasts. 

"Hey, what about me?" asked Kevin. 

"Eat Fiona's pussy again," I told him, and he obeyed by kneeling in front of Fiona. She opened her legs in delicious anticipation. Fiona kissed me hungrily when Kevin went to work on her clitoris. Meanwhile Nicole was finding her rhythm, and my balls started churning reflexively. Nicole was using mostly her mouth without assistance from her hand, so I knew this would take longer. 

After a few minutes, Fiona started heaving her chest as Kevin closed in on her second orgasm of the night. I squeezed her tits while she darted her tongue in and out of my mouth. At last she exploded and bucked like a mule, knocking Kevin backward and biting my lip. At the sound of Fiona cumming, Nicole expedited her efforts, bringing me closer to my own eruption. With her orgasm behind her, Fiona knelt beside me on the sofa and leaned in to me, smothering my face with her fantastic tits. I suckled and nibbled on her nipples for a few more minutes until I felt my balls build up to an orgasmic release. Nicole went deep as I started spurting semen, but the novice stayed down for only ten seconds. She withdrew part way, keeping the tip of my cock in her mouth and holding it all in. When I finished ejaculating, Nicole returned Fiona's favor from Sunday night and kissed Fiona with an open mouth, exchanging the remainder my jism in snowball fashion before they each swallowed their share of my spunk. 

"You're a machine," Nicole panted at me. Fiona smiled.

I got up to go to the kitchen for another drink. As I arose from the couch, I steadied myself on Kevin's shoulder, removing the skip without anyone noticing. Just then I realized I had two people under skip that night at the same time without thinking about it. I also realized it is possible Nicole did everything without the benefit of a skip. I would have to experiment a little more with that option.

In the kitchen I checked the clock for the first time since I woke up from my post-coital nap -- it was 2:15 in the morning. I offered last call. The ladies sipped XO brandies while Kevin and I each sniffed a Napoleon Remy Martin cognac. Kevin pulled out another doobie, but I waived him off -- Fiona and I were flying tomorrow -- today actually.

We talked about the great evening we had while we got dressed and sipped our drinks. After we finished our aperitifs, I called a cab while the girls agreed we would have to do this again. Nicole reminded me about her Paris fuck-buddy offer. Fiona and I rode the elevator with them down to the foyer to wait for the taxi while we chit-chatted. When the car arrived, Nicole kissed both Fiona's cheeks French style and then gave me a long, open mouth French kiss. I shook Kevin's hand. Fiona and I watched them get into the cab before returning upstairs. 

Neither of us had packed yet, so I set the alarm for ten in the morning before Fiona and I collapsed into bed. She leaned over and kissed my cock tenderly. "Good night my machine," she mused. 

Fiona and I woke up unenthusiastically at the ten o'clock alarm. We quaffed down some orange juice to help ward off the morning-after fuzzies before we showered. By noon we finished packing and I called a taxi for the airport for a 3 PM international flight. While waiting for the taxi, we did a final checklist. 

We arrived at the airport at 1 PM after fighting the mid-day Thursday traffic. We encountered the first obstacle at the business class check-in counter. After the check-in agent informed us the flight was delayed by three hours, she informed Fiona her passport was invalid. I scoffed at the agent's remark, having checked both our passports before we left. The agent explained that, while the passport had not expired, it had less than six months validity on it, and that the EU will not accept passengers with a passport with less than six months remaining. 

I asked to speak with a supervisor -- she refused -- she said the rules are clear -- it was not a matter of judgement. Fiona started crying when I asked for our passports back. As the ticket agent handed them to me, I touched her finger just enough to skip her. 

"Check the passports again. You'll find them in order." 

She took the passports again, inspected them, and said "yes, of course they are." Fiona's jaw dropped open. The ticket agent processed our reservations, checked our baggage, and handed our boarding passes to me. I put our passports in my pocket, but held on to the boarding passes. 

"Do you have a first class lounge here?"

"Yes," the agent replied, "but it is reserved only for first class passengers. Your ticket gives you access to a very nice business class lounge. I'm sorry," the agent continued, "there are no exceptions."

"You will upgrade us to first class, then," I stated. Fiona barked out a laugh at the absurdity of my optimism.

"Yes, of course," she agreed. She took back our business class boarding passes and replaced them with freshly printed first class boarding passes. I took the passes, secured them in my pocket, and then touched her hand. "Thank you," I offered, removing the skip. 

"How did you do that?" Fiona wondered in disbelief as we walked away. 

"Must be my boyish charm," I smiled. She looked at me skeptically. 

"What's the difference between business class and first class, anyway?" she queried.

"On the plane, nothing -- it's the same seat, same service. But in the lounge, you get a private bedroom to rest in, and we have a three hour delay."

"Sleep!" Fiona cried.

"That too," I smiled. 

"Animal!" she snorted as we walked down the airport hallway toward the security check.

"Last night I was a machine," I retorted, taking her hand. We checked through the priority security line with our first class boarding passes, bypassing the huge security line-ups for the cattle class travellers. 

After we retrieved our pocket valuables from the security agents, we walked to the first class lounge. The lounge agent processed our boarding passes, and asked if we wanted two single rooms or a double room -- I said double. She assigned us room 12, and wrote the security code on my boarding card. Inside the lounge we went to the food counter, found some snacks and drinks, and took them to our private room. 

I punched in the five digit security code on the keypad beside door number 12. The room was tiny -- large enough to hold a queen sized bed with a 1-foot walk-around on three sides, and that's it. Inside the room I closed the door, threw my carry-on on the floor down one side of the bed, stripped down to my underwear, lay down on the bed, and patted the bed beside me for Fiona to join me.

Fiona pulled out a T-shirt from her carry-on luggage. She stripped down to her underpants, put on the T-shirt, and slipped under the sheets with me. "I like travelling with you," she said warmly, draping her arm over my chest. 

"And we're just getting started." Within minutes we were both fast asleep. 

"Shit!" I yelled, checking my watch as I woke up.

"What? What!" cried Fiona, dazed and disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings. 

"We missed our plane!" It was seven P.M. -- we were scheduled to leave at six.

"You didn't set your alarm?" she complained.

"No, they're supposed to wake us in time." I reached up for the call button on the headboard, and heard a buzzing sound at its press.

"Yes, Mister Terrance," the tinny female voice said through the speaker.

"Have we missed our plane to Paris?"

"No sir, it was delayed again, until ten P.M. I didn't want to wake you just to tell you that."

"Oh, thanks," I offered. 

"You're welcome, Mister Terrance. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah, tell me when we're scheduled to board now?"

"At 9:15 -- just over two hours." I did the math. An eight hour flight departing at 10 PM plus a six hour time difference would put us in Paris at noon -- still lots of time to check in to the hotel, relax, and get to the restaurant. 

"I'm hungry," Fiona grumbled. We got up, dressed, left our carry-ons in the locked room, and checked out the food in the first class dining room. There was a prime roast beef dinner, with all the trimmings, carved off the bone before your eyes by a chef, or at least a guy wearing a chef's hat. Fiona zoomed in on the fettuccini carbonara with freshly grated parmesan cheese and garlic bread right out of the oven. I opted for the poached salmon with holendaise sauce and fresh stir fried vegetables. At our linen covered table a waiter offered us wine -- I was surprised to see a Robert Mondavi Fume Blanc on the list -- one of my favorites with fish. I know Fiona drinks white wine, so I ordered a bottle. 

"Is this all free?" Fiona asked, pointing at the food and wine.

"It is included," I corrected. Actually, in our case, it was free. 

"What about business class?"

"Sandwiches, soup, muchies, fruit, cheese, beer, and not nearly as nice wine, and not in a nice dining room like this."

We ate dinner without saying a lot to each other. After dinner, we had coffee and dessert. Fiona had a chocolate mousse to kill for, and I had a crème brulee in anticipation of upcoming Parisian weekend. Over coffee we talked about what we would do, where we would go in Paris. When Saturday night came up, I just told Fiona I had a surprise for her, and she had to wait. 

We finished dinner around eight o'clock -- we had over an hour before we needed to think about heading to the departure gate. Airlines never start boarding at the time they say they do, and business class passengers can walk up to the gate any time and board right away without lining up, so there was no rush even at 9:15. 

We left the dining room and wandered back into the main lounge while discussing how to kill the time. We still had our private room, so when the prospect of sex came up, Fiona said flippantly "well, a three-way is out of the question this time."

"You pick the girl," I replied deadpan without delay.

"Yeah, right!" she scoffed. 

"Seriously -- pick the girl."

"Any girl?"

"She has to be over 21, speak English, be travelling alone, she can't board before us, and she can't have an S.T.D."

"How will I know all that?"

"Just pick the girl. I'll do the rest. If she doesn't qualify, then pick another one."

"You're fucking serious?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, unless you have condoms, no -- it will have to be a blowjob." She didn't laugh.

"So, I pick the girl, and you check her out, and if she passes your tests, then you will bring her back to our room?" 

"Yup," I smiled. 

"No way."

"What do you mean?" I asked genuinely.

"There is no fucking way you can pick up a girl here for a three-way." 

"I did it at The Arc," I reminded her.

"That was at a club. Girls go to a club dressed in nines hoping just maybe to meet the right guy." I started to speak, but she spoke over me and continued. "There is no way, and I mean no fucking way, that any girl from this planet travelling alone ever goes to a first class departure lounge and hopes some random dude hits on her for a three-way. You cannot win this one, chum."

"What do you have to lose then?" I asked the obvious.

She paused for a moment. "So let me get this straight. The first girl that qualifies -- you woo her to willingly come back to our room and have sex with both of us, and we still have time to catch our plane. That's the bet?" Fiona asked quietly to avoid being overheard. 

"You've got the picture. You wanna bet?"

"Oh, big time! You're going down, sucker. You may be a machine, but you don't have that kind of moxy." I don't think 'moxy' is what she meant. 

"Name your terms," I offered.

She thought long and hard. "If you can't do it on the first try -- if I win -- then you rip up that horrible prenup you made me sign." Technically it wasn't a prenuptial agreement, but I knew what she meant. I was prepared to do that anyway, or at least renegotiate it. 

"We're talking a dollar sign with many, many zeros," I ventured, implying the flip side better be worth it. "And if you lose?"

She thought a considerable while longer. Finally she offered "if you do it -- if I lose," she hesitated, "I will allow the one thing I always refused to do for you."

That had my attention. "Which is what?" Jet's memories were still useless to me.

"Oh, you know what it is," she admonished. 

"You need to say it for the bet." That sounded good.

"If you win, we will do a threesome with my twin sister, Jocelyn." I imagined doing two Fiona's at the same time, and I suddenly grew self-conscious about how the front of my pants might be tenting. "You know she's always wanted to," Fiona whispered with unguarded disgust. 

I silently counted to five so I didn't sound too eager. "Deal," I said. "Now, pick the girl."

We walked around the large lounge. There were easily over a hundred people in here. In my quick scan, I saw three possible targets, none of which came close to being as attractive as Fiona. Fiona started wandering around, pretending to look over the snack counter. I saw her stop at a young family, and with her eyes she signalled a young blonde woman sitting there. I had seen her initially, but had dismissed her as being part of that family, sitting right next to them, but now that I watched more closely, it was clear she was buried in her own book, and she didn't seem to interact with anyone from the family. "Her?" I mouthed across the room to Fiona, pointing surreptitiously at the blonde woman with just my index finger. Fiona nodded. 




The Commander Ch. 04



This was going to be tricky, because Fiona would be standing nearby -- she might overhear everything. I casually walked a different route toward the blonde girl than Fiona did so that I came up behind her. As I approached I noticed she was reading a book with an English title, which was good news. She had a long sleeve jacket on, to I had to tap her on the hand to get her attention and put her into skip mode at the same time. Fiona was standing across from her looking at some muffins, but I could tell she was listening intently.

"Excuse me," I offered politely. Normally at this time I tell someone to smile, but Fiona was listening, so I held on to the girl's hand and tried to pass a command to her by thought. My experience has been to keep it simple, so I simply thought "smile, happy."

"Yes," she smiled happily at me. So far so good. She had a British accent. 

"Answer some questions, please" I said in a gentle tone, but it was not a request. I was commanding her. 

"Sure," she smiled happily.

I crouched down beside her so I didn't have to speak quite so loudly to her. In my peripheral vision I noticed Fiona turning toward us now, watching us. "Are you travelling with this family?" I asked very quietly, hoping the family themselves couldn't hear me.

"No," she smiled. 

"Are you travelling alone?" She smiled yes.

"Are you over twenty one years old?" She nodded Yes.

"Where are you travelling to?" She told me Rome. She told me boarded at 11:20 PM, after my next question. I now realized it wasn't a British accent, but Australian. 

I looked around to see if I had drawn any attention beyond Fiona. The coast seemed clear. "Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Oh, no," she smiled happily.

"See that woman standing there," I pointed to Fiona.

"Yes," smiled the Aussie. 

Looking around once more to confirm if I had not roused any suspicion, I moved my mouth closer to her ear and I commanded to her in a whisper even Fiona couldn't hear, "collect all your things and come with us to our private room and have sex with both of us. Do everything I tell you to do. Smile like we are old friends and be happy."

"Okay," she said in a loud, cheery voice as she closed her book. I smiled up at Fiona. For the second time today, Fiona's jaw dropped wide open. I stood while the Aussie put her book away, picked up a magazine on the table beside her, and stuffed them into her purse. Then she picked up a carry-on and stood up, still smiling.

She was five foot seven, I'd guess, with long, dirty blonde hair. Her face was quite tanned. Her very dark eyebrows sharply contrasted her light hair, giving her a slightly exotic look. She had a high cheek bones, a long nose and a small mouth with a slightly pointed chin. I would call her attractive without going as far as beautiful. Certainly not gorgeous like Fiona. 

She wore a dark blue wool jacket with a light yellow blouse underneath -- it was difficult to estimate her breast size. Her grey slacks suggested slim hips with shapely legs. 

"This way," I said gently. Half way to the room I stopped and spoke with Fiona. I told her it would look suspicious for the three of us to all go into the room together, but not for a man and a woman to go in. I told her I and the Aussie would go in first, then Fiona should casually walk around the lounge, and come into the room a minute or two later. Fiona agreed -- I told her the combination for the door keypad.

The Aussie and I went ahead. I unlocked the door and ushered her in, and closed the door behind us. I told the Aussie to put her carry-on and purse in the corner of the room. 

"You will have sex with both a man and a woman, and you will enjoy it. You will also do everything I tell you to do. Do you understand?" She said she understood, still smiling.

"What is your name?" I asked. 

"Emily," she answered. 

I ushered Emily into the corner of the room, away from the door, aware that Fiona would open the door in any moment, and then I told Emily to take all her clothes off. Calmly, still smiling slightly, Emily first took her blue wool jacket off, then her yellow cotton shirt. She simply let the articles fall to the floor. I told her to neatly place them on the corner of the bed, not wanting Emily to draw attention to her wrinkled clothing as we left the room.

Emily revealed a healthy pair of C cup breasts when she removed her bra. Next she pushed her shoes off with her toes, then unzipped and removed her pants. Emily was just removing her boyshorts style panties when Fiona opened the door. She looked around as she entered, saw Emily naked in the corner, and closed the door quickly. 

"Wasting no time, I see," Fiona motioned to the naked girl.

"Fiona, this is Emily. Emily ... Fiona," I introduced. They said hello to each other. 

I told Emily to lie on her back on the middle of the bed. She happily obliged. 

Fiona seemed more nervous than I expected her to be. She hesitated and faltered as she started to undress. Meanwhile I carefully stripped off my clothing, folding it neatly beside Emily's pile. Once naked I lay sat beside Emily, and started caressing her body. 

Emily watched Fiona as she took off her bra and panties. At last Fiona climbed onto the bed on the other side of Emily. She lay down and started kissing Emily on the lips and started fondling Emily's breasts. As Fiona acquainted herself with Emily's upper body, I repositioned myself to better grip Emily's knees, and then I lifted them up and wide apart, thereby splaying Emily's thighs and exposing her soft pussy for our carnal pleasure. 

"Do you bring condoms?" I asked Fiona. 

"In my toiletries bag, inside my overnight bag," she replied, pulling away from Emily's lips to reply. I was impressed, since Fiona and I don't use condoms with each other. She anticipated a threesome (or perhaps was hoping for a 4-way). As I turn around to root through Fiona's carry-on, I noticed Fiona had diverted her attention to Emily's nipples. Fiona suckled on one and pinched the other with her fingers. I found the condoms and tore one pouch off a strip of six, and returned to the action on the bed. With Fiona focusing on Emily's tits, I dangled my semi-rigid cock over Emily's lips, and told her to suck it. 

Without hesitation Emily took my cock into her mouth and began a warm, delicious blowjob. She seemed quite accomplished at the task. While I felt my cock swell to full size, I watched Fiona's left hand venture down Emily's tummy until she reached Emily's neatly sculpted pubic hair. She lightly scratched the skin under Emily's fine blonde hairs with her fingernails, before slipping three fingers down Emily's open pussy. 

Emily brought a hand up to the base of my cock to compliment her oral ministrations. I reached across and fondled Fiona's breasts. "I want you to fuck me," Fiona asked. I pulled out of Emily's mouth and told her to sit up on the side of the bed. I then told Fiona to lie down in Emily's place. Finally, I told Emily to lie on top of Fiona in 69 fashion. Once she was in position, I told Emily to bring Fiona to orgasm with her tongue. She went to work right away, and I noticed Fiona reciprocating as best as she could, but Emily was three inches shorter, so Fiona had trouble reaching Emily's pussy with her tongue. Eventually Fiona gave up and occasionally fingered Emily's pussy while Emily kneaded Fiona's clitoris with her tongue. 

I repositioned myself between Fiona's legs, and while Emily continued her lingual massage, I pressed my hardened cock against Fiona's pussy hole and then pushed in. Fiona was already beginning to lubricate from Emily's cunnilingus, so I slipped in easily. I heard Fiona moan lightly as I entered. I started pumping, bumping my abdomen into Emily's head on each stroke, but she didn't complain or stop eating Fiona's pussy. 

After a few minutes of fucking, I withdrew and told Emily to suck me clean. She dutifully wrapped her lips around my shaft as deep as she could, and slowly drew back, removing all Fiona's pussy juices from my cock. Then she licked the base of the cock where she could not reach when my cock was in her mouth. 

When Emily was finished I plunged back into Fiona's pussy, and Emily returned her attention to Fiona's clit without further instruction. I interrupted Emily's erotic tongue massage a few more times with her cock sucking cleansings, alternating my phallic penetrations between Fiona's tight pussy and Emily's loving mouth. 

I sensed Fiona starting to mount toward her climax, so I stayed in her tight pussy, pumping my cock in and out while Emily brought Fiona closer to eruption. I felt Fiona lift her hips off the bed and do her best to supress a moan -- her trademark signal of orgasm. I pumped harder and faster, but I misjudged Fiona's state of arousal, and missed the simultaneous orgasm, not that Fiona seemed to mind. As Fiona returned her ass to the bed and began to relax, I felt the tension in my balls tightening to their release point. It took longer than I expected, but at last I exploded into Fiona's vagina, as I felt my orgasmic spasms pump spurt after spurt into Fiona. 

When my orgasm abated, I pumped in and out of Fiona's pussy to mix up all the juices, and then I pulled out my sopping cock and told Emily to suck it. She took it in eagerly, and swallowed down the love cocktail, leaving my cock shiny clean. I slipped my cock back into Fiona's pussy, reloaded it with another jism/pussy-juice coating, and then returned my glazed cock back to Emily's mouth for another oral cleaning. Back and forth I went until I got bored. 

After all those post-orgasmic in-and-outs, I noticed a fair amount of jism and pussy juice oozing out of Fiona's vagina and dripping down her ass crack. I told Emily to lick it all clean, including her asshole. Emily spread Fiona's cheeks open and licked clean the skin between her pussy and asshole. Then she circled Fiona's rosebud, eliciting a new moan of appreciation. Without further direction from me, Emily returned to Fiona's vagina and stuck her tongue up Fiona's pussy as far as she could and wiggled it around, scooping out the last of the sperm soup. 

I told Emily to stick her tongue up Fiona's asshole as far as she could, and Emily complied, bringing a sigh of satisfaction from Fiona. 

I told Emily to turn around so she was face-to-face with Fiona. I lifted her hips up into doggie style position, slipped Fiona's condom on to my still rigid cock, and pressed into Emily's pussy with surprising ease. All this carnal activity had obviously excited Emily greatly, as her pussy was sopping wet. While I fucked Emily, I asked her if she enjoyed being fucked up the ass, and she said no, so I let that alone. She and Fiona started kissing while I fucked Emily from behind. Like Fiona, Emily's vagina captured slightly more than half my cock. Emily was not as tight as Fiona, but she still brought the best out of my balls. 

As I approached climax, I reached around and grabbed Emily's tits and squeezed. I thrusted harder, feeling myself bottoming out against Emily's cervix once or twice. At last I unloaded, surrendering to wave after wave of ecstasy to the condom inside Emily. When I was done, I withdrew from Emily and pulled the condom off. I was just about to discard it when I heard Fiona say something, but I didn't understand what she said -- her words were muffled when she lay below Emily.

"What?" I asked her to repeat.

"Make the bitch eat your cum," she said louder this time, with Emily only inches from her own face. Whoa! That really surprised me. That didn't sound like Fiona at all. I paused for a moment, trying to decipher how to deal with this.

I figured now was not an appropriate time to explore what was going on inside Fiona's head, so I played along, dripped the cum from the condom onto my cock, and told Emily to suck me clean. As Emily performed her last oral cleansing on my cock, I made a mental note to follow up on Fiona's statement another time.

It was nine o'clock. We all got dressed. I left Fiona in the room, and returned Emily with her purse and carry-on to the same seat she was in when I first found her. I told her to take out her book and magazine, and turn to the page she was reading when I interrupted her. She did as she was told, then as I walked away, I reached out and touched the back of her neck, releasing Emily from my skip. I returned to our private room, and Fiona and I cleaned up and gathered our things. 

At 9:45 we boarded the plane and took our business class seats at the front of the wide body Boeing 777. The flight attendant brought us each a glass of complimentary champagne after we settled in. After they closed the doors, the massive aircraft pushed back while the jet engines breathed renewed life, and then we lumbered along the long taxiway to runway 25R. According to my watch, we lifted off at 10:15 -- over seven hours later than our scheduled departure time. I watched Fiona swallow back a lump of apprehension as we went wheels-up. 

As we climbed through a clear sky, we started to turn east toward Paris. A sudden air pocket jostled the airplane lightly -- nothing to get concerned over -- but Fiona reflexively gripped my hand tightly at the unwelcome turbulence, and then smiled embarrassedly when she realized her overreaction. 

"Maybe you'd like to wrap your hand around something else," I smiled. 

End of Part 4. 



The Commander Ch. 05



This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback. 

---

Paris was a fantastic long weekend. We stayed at the Raphael Hotel near the Arc de Triomphe. Boissy's Café was a big hit on Friday night -- our waiter remembered us from the last time Jet and Fiona were there. More likely, he remembered Fiona. We had a fabulous meal that, in true Parisian style, took hours to serve and enjoy. The Seine River boat cruise on Saturday night was even better. We had a small luxury yacht all to ourselves with a seven course dinner served on fine china and silverware while we sailed lazily down river through the heart of Paris and back over five hours. A crew of at least twelve catered to our every whim, including an on-board sommelier who paired each dinner course with its own wine. A tinted overhead glass canopy on the yacht let us watch the sights drift by while we sipped and dined, but the privacy tinting preventing onlookers from peering inwards. 

Fiona was enthralled by the opulence and attention. "I could really get used to this," she smiled as our privately hired yacht pulled into its final moorings. I silently agreed wholeheartedly.

"To the one percent," I toasted, clinking my crystal glass of Louis XIII Remy Martin Cognac to Fiona's 1982 Dom Pérignon Champagne. Her exquisite blue eyes sparkled in magnificent reply as we drew the last sips of our aperitifs. If I had to pin it down the exact moment, it would have to be that instant when I gazed into Fiona's eyes. It was then I began to understand Fiona's beauty transcends her stunning appearances. Beauty precariously incubated somewhere deep inside Fiona, and like a fragile seed, with the right nourishment and tender cultivation, Fiona's beauty blossomed into an unpretentious brilliance that bewitched everyone around her. But without devoted caretaking, Fiona's inner beauty withered and faltered, as it did under the old Jet. 

It was on that evening I began reflecting upon King Arthur's Court of Camelot -- 'might for right' instead of 'might is right'. That was the moment I began to question my mind-transfer motives. Supposing I could use my power for good? Supposing I started with Fiona? Supposing I am saying that night was the first time I felt a compelling desire to be the guardian devoted to nourishing, cultivating, and protecting Fiona's beauty 

Lest you fear I was going limp, I had no intention whatsoever of giving up mind-blowing sex with lots of women. It is just that I discovered within an undeniable stirring toward Fiona. After all, I was invincible, and I could have it all. 

We took all of Sunday to walk just three miles from the Champ de Mars where the Eiffel Tower stands, through hundreds of the little streets and alleyways, ending up at Saint-Michel, not far from the Notre Dame Cathedral. We stopped at two of the hundreds of cafes along the way and enjoyed café crème, baguettes, cheese, pate, and sweets. Countless boutiques captured Fiona's attention along our walk, but we were on foot, so she limited her shopping spree to things we could easily carry. That night in the Latin Quarter we found an authentic Greek restaurant where they actually tossed plates to the floor. For hours a few men working at the restaurant, who seemed to have no other purpose, smashed hundreds of plates. Late in the evening the men got up and danced around their pile of broken tableware, and soon invited Fiona to join them. Even wearing casual Jeans and a sweater, Fiona turned every head in the crowded restaurant while she laughed and giggled in a nursery-rhyme-like circular dance around the rubble while holding hands with men on either side of her who chanted Greek songs with vigor and pride. Everyone in the restaurant saw the same unpretentious beauty as I did when Fiona whirled around the broken plates with the unguarded innocence and abandoned delight of a carefree child. When at last she grew dizzy, Fiona returned to our table, leaving the love stricken men to call out "Come back pretty lady!" For that instant -- just that instant -- Fiona was bubbling with nothing but happiness -- at the restaurant -- at the dancing -- at the day -- at our trip -- at everything -- at life. I left a 400 Euro tip on a 200 Euro meal. You would have agreed that was an amazing deal in my favor had you seen Fiona's face that night. 

On Monday we visited the Louvre. A proper viewing probably requires days, but we just stayed a few hours before we walked up the hill to Montmartre and toured the Basilica. Late in the day we took a taxi to a back street off Rue de Grenelle, not far from the Eiffel Tower. From my former life I knew of a tiny, impossible-to-find restaurant called Le Petit Paname (The Little Paris). No foreigners ever go there, but we at last found it (there are no signs for it), and we enjoyed a genuine French meal void of all the tourist trappings. There was no menu, no prices. We sat down, and over the next four unhurried hours, they served us quite simply the best meal I have ever tasted. 

We caught our on-time flight on Tuesday morning and touched down Stateside Tuesday afternoon. I never had occasion to skip anyone else on our trip, although I did skip Fiona for the flight back home. Not that I could have skipped anyone in Paris anyway -- I was pretty sure I could not coherently connect with a French speaking person. My only concern was the passport check when we landed in Paris -- the check-in agent on our flight leaving America refused to board us, claiming Fiona's passport, while valid, was technically inadmissible to the EU. The boarding agent changed her mind after I skipped her. The customs official at Charles de Gaulle Airport didn't even notice the discrepancy, and he stamped our passports robotically. 

Fiona and I made tender love every night in Paris, and every morning she kick-started my day with a deep throat blowjob. We had no three- or four-ways. It was just us. 

I gave Fiona a secret gift only I could offer during our car ride to the airport. I skipped her, and told her she would remain calm and relaxed, and she would not be nervous or scared about flying. It worked like a charm. As we lifted off runway 27L at Charles de Gaulle airport, Fiona took my hand, and with a heartwarming smile she told me that was the nicest weekend she ever had. 

Fiona watched a movie on her business class entertainment system while I listened to Jet's iPod. Jet and the former me shared a small cross section of musical tastes, like Weather Report, Santana, and Dallas Green (City and Color). While I let the music weave through my thoughts, I mentally compiled a list of questions I needed answers to.

What does Jet do? I thought he had a job, but no one has been calling to ask him where he has been since I jumped him. His financial papers don't show employment income.

Does he have social activities (sports, hobbies, friends, whatever) that will notice his absence?

How does Jet pay his bills? I just racked up over $50,000 this weekend on credit cards, and I needed to pay them off.

How did Fiona and Nicole really happen upon each other after our night at The Arc? It seemed too convenient they just bumped into each other only two days later. 

Where does Jet keep his sex toys? I picked up BDSM memories from both Jet and Fiona during separate jumps, but I never found any equipment in the condo.

What secrets does Jet have that can hurt me? He was cheating with at least one other girl -- were there more? He blackmailed Fiona into sexual slavery -- does he have a sordid or even criminal past that can catch up to him, and me?

Why isn't Jet doing anything with his money? He has millions just sitting in bonds and mutual investments, and one investment property, but he is not really making his money work for him. Is he lazy, financially stupid, risk-adverse, or are there mitigating circumstances I hadn't yet discovered?

How did Jet learn about Fiona's dash cam evidence if she wasn't even aware she had been in an accident? Did he review her dash cam videos every night? Was there damage to the Mercedes that caused Jet to investigate? 

But one question came back over and over again. Every time I pushed it aside, it infiltrated the fibers of my conciseness, and wormed its way back to question number one.

Is Fiona's twin sister identical, and if not, is she as smoking hot as Fiona?

I had won a bet with Fiona, and my bounty was a three-way with her twin sister. I did my best to focus on just Fiona in Paris, but on the return flight I found myself obsessing on the imagery of doing two Fiona's at once. While listening to Bird Land, I started crafting a plan that would act on all my goals. 

We arrived at our condo at six in the evening, which was midnight Paris time. We stayed up a few more hours to reacclimatize our body clocks to our native time zone, but by nine we were both dead on our feet, so we went to bed. As so often happens after transatlantic travel, we both woke up around four in the morning with our biorhythms straddled somewhere between Paris and our home time zones. 

Fiona picked up a magazine and I downloaded a Michael Connelly book onto Jet's tablet. We both read in bed for about an hour. Fiona put down the magazine, turned off her bedside light, rolled over, and waited for sleep to overtake her again. Before she drifted off, I gently touched her shoulder and skipped her. 

I told Fiona she would answer all my questions, and she would not remember this conversation. I started with my list of questions from the airplane. 

I learned Jet has a job ... sort of. He started his own investment advice company, but Fiona didn't think he had any customers. I was not surprised based on his vanilla investment portfolio. She said there was an actual office somewhere -- she didn't know where the office is -- she had never been there. 

Jet plays pick-up basketball on Thursday nights, but he was not a league where his absence would be noticed. I don't know basketball, so I Jet had seen his last free throw. He had a few friends that he never introduced to Fiona. I would have to wait for them to call me.

Fiona had no idea about Jet's finances -- he never discussed them with her. She had no idea of Jet's worth.

Nicole had walked up to Fiona in the parking lot of a shoe store. It hadn't occurred to Fiona that Nicole might have manufactured the coincidental meeting. That was a dead end. 

Jet has a storage room in the garage of the condo building -- Fiona has never been in it, but she suspects Jet keeps all his sex toys there. I found that curious, as it indicates a certain amount of premeditation and planning to begin a BDSM scene. It takes all the spontaneity out of it. 

Fiona didn't even know about the dash cam until Jet showed her the video. Apparently Jet had the factory installed rear view mirror replaced with a mirror with an embedded dash cam before he first gave the Mercedes to Fiona. That implied an obsession with a dominant control over Fiona -- I suspected the old Jet routinely viewed the dash cam videos, probably to spy on Fiona, and he likely happened across the accident while reviewing her videos. That implied there may be other clandestine recording devices I need to be alert to.

I saved her twin sister to last. Yes, she is identical. Jocelyn lives in San Antonio, Texas near where Fiona and Jocelyn grew up. She is divorced without kids. Fiona regretted making that bet, because, while identical in looks, Jocelyn is the opposite personality of Fiona -- Jocelyn is conniving and manipulative. Fiona was convinced that, just when Jet seemed to be turning into a nice guy, Fiona will lose Jet if Jocelyn entered the picture. 

Fiona has a lifetime of memories of Jocelyn always getting her own way through charm and sexual deception. It was not so much a way to advance her status or fortune, but more of a game -- a one-upmanship sport with a trail of broken promises and crushed hearts as trophies. Jocelyn had stolen Fiona's boyfriends before, and then just dumped them afterwards, for no other reason than she could.

Fiona was worried that Jocelyn expressed an unhealthy interest for Jet, even going so far as asking Jet if he ever wanted to have a three way with twin girls the first time Jocelyn met Jet. Fiona was convinced that, if Jocelyn ever stole Jet away, she would bleed his money dry and then callously toss Jet into her deep pile of relationship carcasses. 

Fiona confessed Jet's money and divine cock were major factors in Fiona's initial attraction to him. After Jet blackmailed Fiona to service him, she hated Jet. Since Jet's transformation, she has felt an increasing desire to make the relationship work. Jocelyn threatens all that. 

Before I unskipped Fiona, I left two post-hypnotic suggestions with her. From now on, every time she lied to me -- even little white lies -- Fiona would quietly, slowly make a gentle fist with her left hand, and every time I said the word "fireplace" she would blink twice. She would do these things without realizing it. When she said she understood, I told Fiona to lie down and go back to sleep. As Fiona started to drift off, I touched back of her neck and took away the skip. 

While Fiona slept the morning away, I searched the entire condo, inch by inch, top to bottom, but I found nothing that looked like a clandestine recording device. From my earlier life as a security professional, I was quite certain I hadn't missed anything. 

Next I rifled through Jet's office desk, and found a set of keys. I took the elevator to the parking garage, and started where the BMW was parked. As soon as I saw it, I realized I had missed its significance before. There, where the BMW was parked, was a sign marked '902' -- the condo unit number. I had always assumed the sign was there to reserve the parking spot, but I now realized the sign was mounted on a door painted the same color as the wall, and the BMW was parked at the door. Fiona's Mercedes was parked beside the BMW.

I now realized the '902' sign identified the door to Jet's storage room. I pulled out the keys, and the third one I tried worked. Inside was a small concrete room with no windows -- about six by eight feet. Along one side wall and the back were shelves with boxes and plastic tubs. Along a third wall was a table. 

I turned on the light switch and closed the door. There was a laptop sitting on the table. Also on the table was a WiFi wireless hub with wired ports, and I traced an Ethernet cable to a high capacity industrial data server sitting underneath the table. A battery backup power supply protected the equipment against power failures or voltage spikes. From my security days I knew this was a serious set-up. The data server alone cost over ten thousand dollars.

I tried logging in to the Windows laptop computer, but the account was password protected. Using an old trick, I rebooted the laptop computer and brought up the hidden administrator account, and tried logging into it using 'Admin' as both username and password. It was a lazy shortcut many security illiterate people use when they first set up their computer. It worked -- I was in as the root administrator, giving me access to every file in the system. 

The laptop seemed to have no other purpose than to access the file server. Browsing through the files, I realized they were proprietary file types -- I didn't recognize the three-letter suffix. I double clicked on one at random, and up popped a dash cam video viewer application. The interface was more complex and informative than the video I saw on the memory chip. In addition to the exterior and interior videos, there was also a real-time map, presumably displaying the GPS encoded position of the car at the time the video was taken.

I closed the application, and then browsed through all the files, and paid close attention to the date stamps, and that is when I got worried. There was one date stamp per day -- and the most recent ones came from just before we went to Paris -- long after I jumped Jet for good. 

Then I got it. There was a WiFi hub in this room, and both cars were parked on the other side of the door. Every night, the laptop connected to the dash cam using the WiFi, and downloaded the videos from the past 24 hours. The dash camera likely recorded only when the car is turned on, and that explained why there were some days with no files -- the car sat in the garage all day.

I thought back to the time I leaped from Jake to Fiona in the spa parking lot. I remembered the Mercedes top was down -- the rearward facing camera probably saw Jake approach Fiona from behind and touch her. Then I thought to when I released her later that night in a parking lot down the road -- that was the real me! I might be on Jet's video collection. I worked backwards in my mind, and reconstructed the date that happened. I pulled up the video file from the morning after, and I sped through the dash cam video in ultra-fast forward. When I got to the spa parking lot, I slowed down to normal speed. And there was Jake -- clearly identifiable, walking up to Fiona, touching her, they talked, and then Jake went around the back of the car and got in the passenger side. I sped forward to Jake's apartment building, and then the video jumped to Fiona getting back in the car and driving home to her condo. Next the video cut to Fiona getting in the car, but it was dark. The roof was closed. She drove to a parking lot. She got out of the car. The video jumped again, and Fiona was in the car and lowered the driver's window. Someone was outside the car, I couldn't see who it was, but a voice distinctly said "Sleep for a short while," and Fiona fell asleep. I saw an arm reach in, touch Fiona's arm, and the arm disappeared out the window. Finally, I saw a car pull around behind Fiona's car and honk the horn. Fiona stirred, and the car drove off.

If the old Jet saw this he would have gone ballistic -- he certainly would have confronted Fiona with it. By then Jet was probably still reeling from the emailed video from The Commander and his crushed baby finger. Is it possible he stopped looking at the dash cam videos during that time?

I noticed the laptop had a file shredder icon on the Windows desktop. I dragged the video file icon for that day's dash cam video to the shredder, and permanently deleted the file beyond any hope of restoration. 

Then I looked for the video file on the day Fiona had her accident with the boy on the bike. It was still there. I dragged the file to the shredder. I looked for back-up and archive copies of the files, and deleted the corresponding files there, removing every copy I was aware of. 

Finally I looked for the day Fiona met up with Nicole while shopping. I found nothing unusual in that video, but I was still suspicious at Nicole's coincidental meeting. 

I finished with the laptop, and went through the shelves. I found Christmas decorations, hiking and camping equipment, ski equipment, old books, an electronic musical keyboard, some vases, lamps, and other small furniture, and a large locked wooden box. On my keychain I found the key to the padlock. An impressive collection of BDSM equipment lay inside: collars, metal handcuffs, leather cuffs, binders, spreader bars, blindfolds, gags, mouth rings, nipple and labia clamps, chains, ropes, belts, tape, harnesses, two yokes, whips, paddles, candles, and a few things I didn't recognize. I also found the white cattle prod I recognized from Fiona's memories, as well as a smaller black one, a remote controlled dog training shock collar, and a taser. What kind of sick sex was Jet having with a taser?! A smaller plastic box held dildos of various sizes, shapes, and colors. I noticed no but plugs -- Jet must have thrown out the one he used on Fiona.

At least half the items were unopened in their original packaging. There had to be thousands of dollars' worth of BDSM equipment, and most if it was brand new. 




The Commander Ch. 05



With a few mysteries solved, I locked the box back up, turned off the light, and left the storage room, locking the door behind me. Back upstairs, I went through Jet's financial papers, and found print-outs of internet banking receipts -- it looked like that is how he paid his credit card bills. Another mystery solved.

I came across more documents with Jet's signature on them. I took out a blank piece of paper, and practiced Jet's signature. I had done this already for Jet's credit cards, but I was planning to sign some serious documents, so I trained my Jet signature again. It was hopeless at first, but within ten tries it was a pretty good facsimile. By twenty, I couldn't tell the difference between mine and the old Jet's signature. I threw out the practice signature paper. 

I made some coffee, and about 9:30 Fiona woke up and padded into the kitchen with her hair hopelessly mussed up. She was wearing the same nightshirt she wore to bed the night before. 

"Morning," she kissed me.

"How you feeling," I asked her, thinking about the jet lag. 

"Horny," she replied with a cute smile. 

"I know a cure for that," in my best matter-of-fact tone.

"How about you cure me in the shower," she played along in her I-don't-care tone as she poured herself a coffee.

I followed her into the bedroom where she put aside her coffee mug and pulled her nightshirt over her head. I started undoing my belt when she walked naked toward me and squatted down. She unfastened the button on my jeans and unzipped. Pulling my jeans and underpants partway down, Fiona took me into her mouth and sucked as I felt myself hardening inside her. When I was firm, she deep throated me while I multitasked and unbuttoned my shirt while I watched my whole ten inches disappear through Fiona's lips. 

She drew away without a word and walked into the adjoining bathroom, leaving me with the sight of her lovely ass as I pulled off my own jeans. I heard the water running, and I found Fiona testing the shower temperature with her hand. From behind I cupped her breast in my left hand and fondled her ass with my right. Fiona bent forward slighting, pushing her ass against my hand, and I slipped my middle finger down her ass crack while I continued to massage her left breast. 

When the water reached temperature, Fiona straightened up and broke contact by walking forward into the oversized shower stall, standing under one stream of water. I followed, stood under the other stream and closed the glass door. We embraced in a long hug as we massaged each other's shoulders under the dancing water drops. 

I pulled away, slowly spun Fiona around so I stood behind her, and I reached around and gently caressed both breasts. She turned her head to meet mine, and we kissed passionately for a long time. At last I slipped my right hand down her tummy to her groin, and I started massaging her pussy. Recognizing my intent, Fiona widened her stance and braced herself against the wall with her left hand. I repositioned myself so that I stood beside Fiona, facing her right shoulder, giving my right hand more leverage to reach its blissful quest. She reached down with her right hand and started jerking me off, synchronizing her strokes to my massage thrusts. 

As I continued bringing Fiona closer to heaven, I bent forward and began suckling her right nipple. She groaned in appreciation, and I felt her hips gently rock against my right hand. I increased the pressure and cadence of my massage, and Fiona matched my up-tempo with her jerking of my cock. After about five minutes she started heaving her breasts -- Fiona was getting close. I put my massaging hand into overdrive and pulled my fingers into her pussy even harder, knowing I was pushing her over the edge. Fiona lost focus on my cock as she felt the eruption forces building. 

When I felt Fiona start to explode, I changed my suckling to a sharp bite of her nipple between my front incisors. Fiona cried out as the nipple pain and clitoral rapture coalesced into an orgasmic ecstasy that overwhelmed her nervous system, throwing her whole body into a tremor. I wrapped my left arm around her waist for fear she would fall down. Her legs started to give out, and I reflexively kept her from falling by using the only leverage I had -- I pulled upwards with my right fingers that were already hard against her labia, and the sudden force of my hand drove deep into her clitoris, and I inadvertently sent Fiona over the edge a second time even before her first orgasm flattened out. Fiona thrashed her head backward and unleashed a long, uncontrolled wail as she utterly surrendered to compounded orgasmic convulsions. At last Fiona steadied herself without my assistance, and she returned to earth under the warm blanket of the shower water.

"Oh my fucking God," Fiona hoarsed out a whisper. "That is the most amazing orgasm I've ever had."

After her breathing steadied, I positioned Fiona with her butt against my cock, then I bent her forward, and told her to steady herself with her hands against the shower ledge. She kept her back straight to maximize the upward angle of her pelvis, and then invitingly set her feet wide apart. I entered Fiona's pussy from behind slowly, gingerly, until her natural lubricants permitted me to fuck her more powerfully. Fiona went up on her toes, as if she was wearing high heels, increasing the angle of her pelvis again. Her tight pussy was making short work of my endurance, especially after she had been jerking me for most of the time I massaged her to orgasm.

As I felt my balls start to churn, and I knew I was passing the point of no return, I gripped Fiona's hips harder. That was the signal she was waiting for, because Fiona suddenly pulled forward and stood up, leaving my unfulfilled dick hanging in the shower. In a single, graceful motion, Fiona spun around halfway and crouched down at the same time, executing a corkscrew maneuver, finishing with my cock in her mouth. I was yearning to explode. Fiona sucked and hand jerked a few times until I could hold back no longer. She went deep -- up to my balls -- the instant I started unloading into her mouth. She wrapped her arms around my ass and pulled me in harder against her face, burying my cock even deeper while I pumped wave after wave of jism down her throat. When at last my balls spent their last load, Fiona pulled out, and still in her crouched position, smiled up at me with those big blue eyes, and slowly, deliberately planted a hundred delicate kisses over every millimeter of my cock while the shower rained warm water down my back. 

After a minute of her cock worshiping kisses, I gently guided Fiona to stand facing me so we both felt the warm shower against our backs, and then we embraced each other, rocking side to side almost imperceptibly, for a very long while. At last we broke our embrace and returned to the mundane showing tasks -- we shampooed, lathered, rinsed, and stepped out of the shower and dried off -- all without speaking a word.

As I shaved, Fiona started brushing her hair. I broke the comfortable silence when I told Fiona I needed to get some work done today, and I was going out. She said that she we needed groceries, and then she was meeting a friend for lunch. While Fiona was getting dressed and putting makeup on, I dressed and then retrieved the relationship agreement and will from the wall safe. I left the condo, and from my car I called Gerald Torney -- a lawyer I used in my old life years ago when I had my own security business. I introduced myself as Jethro Terrance and explained I had a will and prenup I wanted to change, and could I come in this afternoon. I explained that I had been referred to him by Don Malloy. Gerald had a two o'clock free. 

Then I phoned the hospital -- there was both good and bad news in Don's condition -- he was responding to the heart infection treatment, but his blood chemistry started to show signs of liver impairment. The end was beginning. There was no change in his persistent unconsciousness. Don was still listed as stable, so there was no action required on my part.

I ran some errands in the morning. When I met Gerald Torney that Wednesday at two, he asked me how Don is doing. I explained Don was not well -- he had pancreatic cancer and was in a coma. Gerald seemed saddened to hear the news, but admitted he and Don had lost touch years ago. Gerald then seemed confused -- how long ago did Don make the referral? I told Gerald it was about a year earlier, but I had only now decided to take action. 

I showed Gerald my documents. I explained what I wanted to do, and he said that would be straight forward. I understood the will might take some time, but I wanted the Relationship Agreement drafted as quickly as possible. Gerald looked at the one-page document, and said if I preferred, he could draft a new one while I waited. He asked why I hadn't gone back to the original lawyer who drafted these documents -- it would be cheaper. I told him that I had decided to make some changes, nothing serious. 

On my way back home I checked in at Don's house -- my old house. I picked up the mail and paid the bills. I cancelled the newspaper subscription so they wouldn't keep piling up at my door. 

I got home around 4:30 on Wednesday. Fiona hadn't started supper yet. I told her I wanted to speak with her. We sat down at the dining room table.

"Now is probably as good a time as any to talk about your sister and our bet," I said flatly. Fiona shrunk in her chair as her shoulders fell inward. Her eyes sank to the floor. 

"Do you really want to go through with this?" she grumbled, knowing the answer already.

"Yes," I said, "and I think you will too."

"I wish I hadn't brought her up. I never thought you'd win that stupid bet." I resisted the temptation to go down that path. Lecturing Fiona on the virtues of betting only what you can afford was not going to win me any points. 

"As you know, the one thing I value is keeping promises. A bet is a promise." I let that hang there.

"I know," she sulked. 

"Fiona, tell me what bothers you about this. We've done three-ways before. What's the difference this time?"

"There's no difference ..." she paused. I noticed her left hand gently close to a fist. 

"There's something you're not telling me, Fiona." I know I could have skipped her into doing this, but I that was short sighted. I was playing a long game that could end well for Fiona, for me, for us. I wanted her to speak next, so I just waited. 

"You don't know my sister," Fiona said at last.

"What about her?" I was sticking to open ended questions -- make her break the ice. It was part of my long game.

"It's just that she ... she ..." Fiona couldn't continue as a lone tear tracked down her cheek. She shuddered for a moment.

"There's something about your sister that scares you," I helped. Fiona nodded. "Tell me what scares you." Fiona sat for a very long time, now tears flowing down both cheeks. At last she blurted out her words, her voice trembling.

"You're going to think I'm a stupid blonde. You're going to think I am just jealous. But that's not it, and you won't get it. If I tell you the real reason, you won't believe me, and then then I ... I ..." she couldn't say the actual words. Fiona buried her face in her hands.

"You will what." I waited. "Fiona, you need to say it."

"I will lose you!" she shouted. And now it broke wide open. She dropped her guard, and spit venom at me. "You've been such a fucking asshole for so long. God, you have no idea how many times I wanted to walk out, but that fucking accident video, and so I'm fucked. I'm just fucked. I just have to lie back and let you fuck me -- let you fuck other girls -- you don't even try to hide it. You never satisfy me -- ever, you fucking prick. You make me sign a prenup that fucks me up the ass, because you never will -- And all of a sudden," she threw her hands up in the air and raised her voice an octave, "you change! You hammer your finger flat for me -- you care about me -- you erase the video -- you give me a choice -- you make me cum because you want to -- you turn into some Energizer Bunny super-stud -- we do fun things that you never used to -- you talk to me like I matter to you -- like you care -- we do real couple things together -- we have a weekend in Paris that rock stars only dream about -- and I actually start to like you -- I really like you," and she sobbed "and now I'm going to lose you and you won't believe me."

She looked at me with hopeless resignation in her red, puffy eyes. Fiona believed everything in her tirade, including the part about me leaving her. Either she reneged on the bet, which is a broken promise, or Fiona lets Jocelyn in on a three-way, who then manipulates her way into my heart. In Fiona's eyes, I was already gone, and I was the last one to know it.

I replied with no emotion "your sister is a cunt who wants to get between us just for kicks." There it goes again -- her jaw dropped wide open. 

"You ... how ... but if ..." That was all.

"Look, Fiona, it's obvious," I said shrugging my shoulders. She rolled her eyes, not at me, but at herself for being so stupid.

"So, you still want to ... I don't understand." Her mind was whirling.

"Fiona, let me start with this." I waited to make sure I had her attention. "I promise -- you know what that means," she nodded in understanding. "I promise you will never lose me because of your sister." A ten ton weight melted off Fiona's shoulders -- she literally sat up six inches taller in her chair.

"And you still want to do this?" She asked with deep skepticism.

"Yes, and so do you," I answered confidently. She opened her mouth to speak, but when nothing came out I continued. "Fiona, this is what will happen. You sister will fly up here. We'll have a blast together, but it will be on your terms."

"I ... what does 'my terms' mean?" 

"It means if you want your sister to treat you with respect and doting admiration, and call you 'O Mistress of the Universe', then she will." That brought out a big smile in Fiona -- I could see the wheels turning.

"Anything I want?" asked Fiona with more curiosity than skepticism now.

"If you want her to bark like a dog while wearing a men's jock strap, then guess what Jocelyn will be doing?" I was rewarded by a big laugh. 

"And why do I 'want' to do this, like you said," she asked.

"One word," I offered. "Payback." I watched Fiona smile at the possibilities, and then it evaporated as the reality set in.

"Nice story," she said, "but how am I going to ..." 

"You let me handle the 'how' part."

"You don't know my sister. You can't do it."

"Do you wanna bet?" I asked coyly.

"NO FUCKING WAY!" she shouted with smiling eyes. And then she paused before re-verifying "You can really do this? You can make Jocelyn do anything I want?"

"No, not everything. But I am pretty sure I can make her be nice to you -- to respect you like a sister should," I confirmed. After a moment's reflection, I offered "how about this? I promise that, if I can't get Jocelyn to do this thing on your terms -- to be nice to you -- then you call it off. You say the word, and I will send her home before anything happens." 

"What's in it for you?" she asked.

"Are you kidding?" I shot back incredulously. "Do you know how smoking hot just one of you is?" Fiona smiled warmly. Apparently Fiona had no inhibitions about the concept of a three-way with her own sister -- it was just Jocelyn she was worried about.

"Are we okay about this?" I asked Fiona. "I understand there are details to sort out, but are we okay in principle?" 

Fiona nodded. "I don't really want payback," she reflected distantly.

"I know," I confirmed. "You want your sister back -- the nice one you used to like." She stared at me expressionless, no longer surprised by anything I said. 

"My life is so fucked up," Fiona sighed hopelessly, staring vacantly at the table.

"If you'll let me," I answered calmly, "I would like to help you unfuck it," as I looked directly at her eyes, waiting for Fiona to lift her gaze from the table to meet mine. 

"I honestly can't tell if you're an angel or the devil," she spoke flatly to me.

"A little of both, I hope," I smiled mischievously, but the double entendre humor fell flat. 

We sat there in silence. I wasn't certain of the timing of my next step, but I had decided before starting this conversation that coupling these two topics together would deliver the greatest emotional impact, so I pressed on. 

"All right," I segued, "let's talk about our agreement," I said, as I pulled out the old signed Relationship Agreement from my jacket pocket, unfolded it, and put it on the table.

"What's that?" She asked apprehensively. I had shifted gears on her quickly, and it yanked her off balance. That was my intention. 

"That," I said, pointing to the paper, "is the Relationship Agreement, or prenup, as you call it, that we signed." I took out the revised agreement Gerald drafted today from an envelope, and put in on the table beside the first one. "This is the new one I am offering to replace the old one with."

"But, you won the bet," she said, more to remind herself.

"This isn't about the bet," I corrected. "This is about us."

"What does the new one say?" she asked.

"It is very simple. You should read it, but it says that if we break up for any reason, you keep everything I gave you, including the Mercedes, your clothing and jewelry, and you take away one hundred thousand dollars, and that's all you will ever get." I was waiting for the jaw drop, but she just looked at me blankly.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because it is the right thing to do," I answered honestly. "And because I trust you." Also, I didn't say, because the old Jet was a total douche, and he owed Fiona at least that much, probably a lot more.

"So, let me get this straight," she continued. "I can sign this new prenup tonight, leave you tomorrow, and I score a hundred thousand dollars, and keep everything you gave me."

"I wish you hadn't put it quite that way," I squirmed, "but, basically, yes." I chose the hundred thousand dollar figure carefully. At a million dollars, I figured Fiona would take her chances and leave. She knew ten thousand dollars wouldn't support her life style for more than a few months, so that would have been an insult. One hundred thousand dollars let her start over if Fiona really wanted to leave, but she also knew there was much, much more money in it for her if Fiona stayed with me. 

I also knew Fiona would not dare to ask for a larger figure. She was already under a binding contract for absolute zero -- she had no bargaining leverage. She also had no idea how much wealth Jet had accrued. To Fiona, a hundred thousand dollars was a huge figure, and she probably overestimated its relative significance to Jet's net worth. She may even have assumed that was Jet's best possible offer. Even if she felt she deserved more money and knew Jet had more to give, Fiona was too emotionally disjointed from the first half of our conversation to stand her ground and risk me walking away from the table, leaving her back at square zero, or worse. I was 99% certain Fiona would accept the new proposal right away. 

"And what do you get out of this?" Fiona asked.

"Your happiness," I answered honestly. "Fiona, I pray that you stay, but if things don't work out, I would never wish you to be unhappy. This helps you in that way."

She stared at me coldly for a long time, and then finally broke the silence. "Who are you and what have you done with Jet?" For the first time since I jumped Jet, I was completely flummoxed. Thankfully she didn't insist on an answer before she stood up and picked up the paper, walked away from the table, and read it by herself. I could see she read it at least twice. 




The Commander Ch. 05



A thought struck Fiona after she returned to the table and was putting the paper down. "Wait!" she cried. "You were going to do this anyway?" I nodded. She just realized she made her bet in the airport for nothing. "You bastard!" She smiled and started boxing me around the head, more with love taps than anything serious. I responded by standing up, wrapping my left arm around her waist, and pulled her in for a kiss while I fondled her left breast with my right hand. 

"Hey!" she yelled playfully, pushing me away. "No touching until I sign!"

"We need a witness," I remarked, "so we might have to try abstinence for a while."

"Fuck that," she retorted. I thought she was joking, but she left the condo, leaving the door open using the deadbolt, and returned with our neighbor, Carl, in under a minute. She explained to Carl we had legal documents to sign, and we needed a witness. Carl seemed unfazed, so he agreed. We signed the document in triplicate (using my newly acquired Jet signature) in Carl's presence, and he witnessed our signatures with his own on all three copies. Fiona thanked him and walked him to our door, locking it after Carl left.

As she returned, I held up the old "zero" agreement to Fiona. She snatched it from my hand and ripped it up again and again and then threw the tiny shredded pieces over her shoulder with a smirk. "Where were we?" she asked, wrapping her arms around my neck and began kissing me again. This time I brought both my hands up and caressed her lovely breasts through her shirt. 

Fiona broke away after a few moments and looked at me. "Can I have some time to think about Jocelyn?" I put my arms around her waist and replied of course she could. She hugged me for a long time, and then asked, still hugging me "Did you change this prenup because you love me?"

I didn't want to admit it -- not yet. Believe it or not, I prepared myself for this moment -- it just came sooner than I expected. "That's not the question I ask myself every night before I go to bed and every morning when I wake up," I said. She was learning to trust me a little more, so she was not concerned with my response, but she was curious enough to ask the obvious.

Fiona broke away from her hug and looked me in the eyes. "What question?"

"How could you ever learn to love me after all the bad things I've done to you." 

Her eyes welled up but she didn't cry. "I'm trying, but it's very hard," she spoke softly. "I like who you are now, but I'm still very scared of you. And parts of me are fucking angry at you. I need time."

"I know," I reflected. 

Fiona hugged me again, and she whispered in my ear "It might take a long time. Please don't give up on me." 

"Let me help you, and I promise I won't give up on you." 

"Okay," she agreed, and Fiona sealed the deal with a kiss my neck.

--- Three Weeks Later ---

As I pulled into the airport short term parking lot, Fiona and I were talking about our first sky diving class we had just attended the night earlier. I wanted us to start doing things together outside of the bedroom. We discussed ideas a few times, and we eventually agreed sky diving was something we'd both love to try. The ground school was three evenings -- we had just finished the first class on Tuesday -- the night before.

There were about twenty people in the class. It was a typical classroom setting with desks and chairs in rows and a larger teacher's desk and a chair at the front. I noticed the instructor, a fit, short balding man in is forties, set a small potted plant on the corner of his teacher's desk before he brought the class to order. 

About an hour into class, the instructor was explaining how to pull the rip cord -- bring both arms in to your chest, grab the rip cord, and then pull both arms straight out. Then he told us how to deploy the emergency chute in the event the rip cord doesn't work -- reach behind your neck, grab the handle, and pull it up sharply.

At that point, the student sitting behind Fiona asked what to do if the emergency chute doesn't open. That's when the instructor walked over to his desk, grabbed his potted plant, and threw it straight down at the concrete floor as hard as he could, causing a thousand shards of pottery, dirt, and plant to explode across the front of the classroom. I could hear shrieks all around the classroom, and I saw Fiona put her hands up to her face defensively. 

"Listen up!" the instructor bellowed over the hubbub. "This sport is dangerous -- it is not for the faint of heart, and it is not -- I repeat -- NOT -- for people who have trouble following instructions. If you are extremely careful every time, there is a good chance you will live. Those of you who think parachuting is the same as jumping on your bike and riding down the street should leave the class right now and get your money back, because after tonight you don't get a refund." I watched three people stand up, gather their belongings, and run out of the room, including the person who asked the question. They didn't return. Fiona and I stayed in our seats. 

As I backed the BMW into the parking spot at the airport, we were talking about all sort of what-if's from the night before. What if the instructor had used a pumpkin or a watermelon that sprayed "guts" over everyone. What if they showed a video of a guy who pancaked into the ground. The conversation ground to an end as we stepped out of the car.

Jocelyn's San Antonio flight was routed through Chicago. We checked online before we left the condo, and it was reported on-time, and Jocelyn had texted Fiona confirming she made the flight. 

Fiona took my hand as we walked through the parking lot to the airport terminal. We arrived at the baggage carrousel just as Jocelyn's flight touched down, so we waited about twenty minutes. I recognized Jocelyn the instant she stepped through the door from the security restricted zone. She was a true duplicate copy of Fiona. As the two women closed together for a big hug, I watched several passengers in the baggage area stare in amazement. One senior fellow, either genuinely or as a lark, took off his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on. Everyone couldn't help but watch two identical, gorgeous, blue eyed, tall blonde girls loudly welcome each other in a hearty embrace. 

As they turned walked toward me together, I was shocked at just how identical they were. I was expecting Jocelyn to be heavier or lighter, more or less tanned, or other subtle differences. I remember thinking thank God Jocelyn's hair was a few inches shorter, because without that, I feared I would have serious trouble telling them apart with their clothes off. As we waited for the luggage to loop around the carrousel, Jocelyn grabbed me in a huge hug and kissed me on the cheek. "I knew you'd come to your senses," she whispered out of Fiona's earshot. I skipped her right there, and whispered back "You will treat Fiona with respect and dignity the way a nice sister should. You will do everything I tell you to do. You will not ever try to steal me away from Fiona. And you will remember everything we do as being fun and as things you would like to do again."

Fiona shot me a look, wondering what we could be whispering to each other. "Actually," I said loudly as I pulled back, "this was Fiona's idea," referring to the bet she lost weeks earlier in this same airport. Later, at the condo, when Fiona had me alone, she asked what we were whispering about. I told Fiona exactly what Jocelyn whispered to me, and then I told Fiona that I whispered back that Jocelyn had to promise to treat Fiona with respect and dignity, or I would send her back home right there and then. I told Fiona I didn't want to embarrass Jocelyn by letting Fiona overhear me dressing Jocelyn down, and that's why I whispered to her. Fiona said she liked how I handled that. 

We retrieved Jocelyn's luggage and walked to the car. I offered to let the girls sit in the back seat together to chat more easily, but Fiona declined, and sat in the front seat and turned her head back to talk to Jocelyn most of the time. While I drove to the condo, Fiona and Jocelyn caught up on several years the way only sisters can -- talking as if they had never spent a moment apart. Jocelyn babbled on about her house in San Antonio, how she was remodelling the kitchen, how she had just upgraded the bathroom with a Jacuzzi, and how she had the exterior completely landscaped. 

Fiona, in turn, talked about our trip to Paris, the yacht ride, the five star hotel next to the Champs Elysees, the first class lounge, and on. I realized the girls were in a catfight over who spent more of their boyfriends' money. I stayed out of it and drove.

I pulled into the condo underground parking as the girls were remembering Pete, a boy in their high school, and they were laughing hysterically at his crazy antics. Pete had released over 10,000 crickets into the school building one weekend. They had all dispersed into the crevices and ductwork by Monday morning, but students could hear the unmistakable sound of cricket chirping for years afterwards. And remember the time Pete welded Principal Badger's doors shut on his pickup truck? Or how about the time he broke into the girls' locker room during gym class, found out how to pull the entire assembly of metal lockers away from the concrete wall as one solid unit, and the lockers had no backing on them, so Pete simply reached into each locker and stole every girl's bra. Jocelyn had her bra stolen that day, but not Fiona -- she was in a different class. Jocelyn and Fiona roared about the three guys who asked Jocelyn out on a date that day after gym class!

The girls were still giggling as I opened the door into our condo. Fiona had ordered some Szechuan take-out before we went to pick up Jocelyn, so she put it in the microwave, and we ate dinner at the dining room table. I poured beer for everyone while Fiona asked Jocelyn the whereabouts and status of various people back in San Antonio. 

After dinner, the girls confided to me that they had conspired by email that there would be no three-way tonight. They girls wanted to prepare a special surprise for me tomorrow, which was fine by me. We stayed up and chatted about old times, about our lives, and about saving the world's problems as our self-proclaimed IQs inflated with each additional drink. 

At two in the morning Fiona showed Jocelyn the pull-out sofa in my office, where she would sleep. I had installed an extra blow-up mattress earlier that day from the storage room to make the pull-out more comfortable. Fiona and I cleaned up the dishes while Jocelyn oriented herself to her temporary quarters, and soon after we all went to our own beds. 

"That whisper you told Jocelyn sure worked," Fiona told me once we were in bed. "By now Jocelyn would normally have made several mean remarks about me to make me look bad in front of you."

"I'm glad you approve," I offered. We kissed tenderly and fell asleep at three in the morning. 

On Friday morning I rose and showered, shaved, dressed, and made coffee. I had plans to go to Jet's business office. I had located it two weeks earlier. I now understood why Jet had kept all his investments in cash or convertible investments. After I went through his business office papers, I discovered Jet had planned to invest nearly five million of his own dollars in his new investment advice business. As a former business owner, I am convinced Jet would have lost all his money -- he would have been wiser to put all his funds in a banking savings account. I cancelled all of Jet's business plans, and that Friday was the day I was closing the office for good. 

Speaking of Jet, I had noticed over the recent weeks that my ability to access his memories was growing weaker. I found the memories more difficult to retrieve, and when I did link to a memory, it was much more fuzzy and less useful than earlier memories had been. I theorized that the legacy Jet was disappearing, and he was losing his hold on these memories as I gradually replaced them with my own. 

The news on Don was as expected. His heart infection had cleared up, but his cancer was becoming critical. The doctors were saying he was nearing a point where a quality of life decision was imminent. I reiterated my instructions to the doctors on behalf of Don -- the hospital should take every measure to prolong his life. I planned to visited Don's house again that day to make sure things were normal.

At breakfast in the condo, Fiona told me she and Jocelyn had their own plans for the day. I was to be back at the condo no later than five that afternoon, and that I was to make reservations for the three of us at a nice restaurant for eight o'clock. Five o'clock gave me more time than I needed at Jet's business office, so I had no problem with that schedule.

I made it back to the condo just after four-thirty. As I stepped in, I heard the girls talking, so I called out hello.

"Hi!" Fiona shouted back. "We're in our bedroom -- we're not decent -- you can't come in." I dropped on the sofa and turned the TV on. A few moments later Fiona walked out with a towel wrapped around her head and wearing her bathrobe. "Hi, Jet," she smiled and came over and kissed me hello. "We're going to be a while. Do you mind pouring us some wine?" Fiona followed me as I went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of Chardonnay from the fridge. She kissed me again and disappeared into the bedroom with both glasses. As I watched the bedroom door close behind her, it just then occurred to me I had only assumed that was Fiona. This was promising to be an interesting night.

I poured myself some red wine, and watched some recorded TV. Every once in a while I heard a burst of laughter erupt from the bedroom. I realized the girls were going to be in total control of tonight, and I found myself okay with that. 

Just before five in the afternoon, the bedroom door opened and someone called out that they're nearly done, and to get ready. I didn't know what I had to do to get ready, so I turned off the TV and stood there, waiting. I heard hushed words I couldn't quite make out, sounding like last minute agreements and collusions, and then they stepped out into the hallway with matching smiles. 

To say I was shocked could not convey the magnitude of my astonishment. First, they were the most gorgeous pair of women I have ever laid eyes on -- and second -- they were so perfectly, exactly, flawlessly identical, it defies description. The girls had spent the day shopping together and then went to the spa together. They purchased identical outfits, including shoes and jewelry, had identical makeup professionally applied, identical fingernail treatments, and had their hair put up into identical buns. Even their eyelashes and eyebrows were identical. 

They each wore a Persian blue mid-sleeve sheer top that matched their eyes perfectly, with white piping that accented their blonde hair. Underneath their sheer tops, I could see outlines of darker blue lingerie that celebrated their voluptuous figures. Black leather flare miniskirts showed off their long shapely legs, with a fine golden thread woven through the hem to accent their identical bronze tans. Each wore identical high heel shoes with a blue and black criss-cross open lattice across the top of the foot that unified their top and skirt colors. They wore matching diamond stud earrings. 

Their eyes sparkled with delight and they couldn't stop smiling. On some unspoken cue, they twirled once around in unison, letting their skirts flare outwards. As they completed their pirouette, they advanced toward me. I then realized their plan was to give me no hope of telling them apart, or letting me identify which one might be Fiona. 

The stood in front of me, smiling. I at last recovered my senses. "You ladies are a vision of heaven on earth," is all I could muster, thinking how corny that sounded as I said it. 

"You get to have us both tonight," said the one on the left.

"And you will never know which one was your girlfriend," said the one on the right. Even their voices were identical. 

I wasn't certain how to proceed. I was suddenly alarmed by my own indecision. I am normally so confident and in control, but I found myself having to quell my growing paralysis. I told myself doing something wrong is better than doing nothing at all, so I stepped forward, put my arms around the waists of each of them, end then I tenderly kissed the one on the left (I'll call her Fiona 1) and then the one on the right (Fiona 2). 

"That makes me the luckiest man who ever lived," I replied to both of them, again feeling uneasy with my lame platitudes. It occurred to me we should take a moment to get into the mood, and then another thought interrupted my first. "Do you mind if I take a picture of you two?" I asked. They looked at each other, shrugged at each other in a way that conveyed a thousand words that could only be understood through the lifelong bond of twins, and then both nodded in agreement.

I went to Jet's office, which also served as Jocelyn's bedroom, and retrieved a Canon EOS DSLR camera I found there weeks earlier. When I came back into the living room with the camera, the girls were already practicing their poses. I took several full frame pictures of both of them, along with head shots and bust shots. The girls posed in various combinations of frontal, three-quarter, profile and behind shots. At one point Fiona (I don't even know now if it was Fiona 1 or 2 -- from now on I'll just call them both Fiona), while posing for a behind shot, jutted her ass out and lifted up her skirt, revealing a naked pussy -- Fionas were not wearing underwear. 

Fiona asked me to put the camera down, so I switched it off and set it aside. "We have a little show to warm things up," other Fiona told me, and without another word, they started kissing full on the mouth as they both groped each other through the sheer fabric of their shirts. Then Fiona reach around and lifted the back of Fiona's skirt up, and started fondling her bare ass, while Fiona slipped her hands between Fiona's legs and felt upwards until she reached Fiona's pussy. The two Fionas continued kissing throughout their show. 

I was so mesmerized by their show that I hadn't become aware of how rock hard I had grown. "Someone is getting excited," Fiona observed as she pulled away from Fiona and came down to her knees and gently kissed my shameless bulge through the fabric of my pants. The other Fiona stepped over to me and kissed me passionately on the mouth while I let my hands wander over the lovely curves of her silky blouse. 

Kneeling Fiona started to unzip my fly, so I took that as a cue to pull standing Fiona's top off. She raised her arms agreeably, and I slipped the silky fabric over her head effortlessly. Standing Fiona was wearing a navy blue Chantilly lace stretchy camisole that hugged every contour of her perfect breasts. I slipped my hand beneath the camisole fabric and started to caress Fiona's tits while Fiona below, having already unzipped and dropped my pants, took my granite cock into her mouth. 

Fiona sucked me gently for a minute, and then went deep the way I know only Fiona can, and I was pretty sure I had just figured out who the real Fiona was. I was so aroused I felt my balls start to churn after only a few minutes. I wanted this to last as long as I could, so I pulled out of Fiona's mouth and told the Fionas it was time to switch positions, but first I took standing Fiona's camisole off, revealing the perfect breasts I have come to know and love.

Topless Fiona when down on both knees while the other Fiona stood up and took her own top and camisole off, giving me free reign over her lovely breasts. Now Fiona below took me into her mouth, and immediately deep throated me right up to my balls, and I realized it felt exactly the same as the other Fiona. Of course, standing Fiona's tits felt identical to her sister's breasts that I was feeling just a minute earlier. 




The Commander Ch. 05



Of course I had a way to differentiate the two, but that would ruin it for everyone. The mystery was part of the excitement. After another minute or two of sucking, kissing, and fondling, I suggested we retreat to the bedroom. When we got there, I took off my clothing, and the Fionas' took of their shoes and skirts. 

I lay down in the middle of the king sized bed. Fiona kneeled alongside of me on the bed, pointing the opposite direction -- with her ass beside my head and her head beside my cock. The other Fiona identically positioned herself on the other side of me. The two Fionas leaned their shoulders into me and started taking turns sucking me. I took advantage of the Fionas' positions, and I started fingerfucking the two Fionas with my middle fingers. As their lubricants made my job easier, I added my index fingers to fucking duties. I diddled both Fionas as they took turns sucking me, both alternating between normal and deep throat techniques. As I fingerfucked the two Fionas, I felt no difference in the tightness of their pussies. I then position my thumbs over their rosebuds and started burying another digit in there too.

Very soon after I felt my balls boiling, and I alerted both Fionas to my impending climax by squeezing my anal probing thumbs closer to my pussy fucking fingers. At last my balls erupted as I unleashed my love salvos. Fiona immediately went deep on me, and after ten seconds, Fiona took over and also went deep. The two Fionas alternated deep throating my geyser as they collectively swallowed down the single longest, continuous burst of jism in the history of the male orgasm. 

"I'm glad there were two of us for that one," one Fiona said to the other after my orgasm finished a marathon course. "No kidding," was the reply. They were being careful not to use identifying phrases, as in 'I told you he could go forever,' or 'you weren't kidding when you told me he has ten inches.'

After I had a short time to recover, I heard Fiona say "Time to ride," and she straddled me, preparing to lower herself onto my still rock-hard cock.

"Sorry to be the sex police," I interrupted. "I really don't know which one of you is Jocelyn, but Fiona and I have a deal that we don't have unprotected sex with outsiders."

"We know," started one Fiona. "We have both been tested within the last three months," the other one finished. "And we never" ... "have unprotected sex" ... "with outsiders," the two Fionas said the phrases in alternating sequence, building upon each other's sentence. I had come across Jet's and Fiona's test results in Jet's papers in his office in the weeks earlier. 

The two Fionas continued in this alternating speech pattern. "Jocelyn brought her test results with her" ... "and Fiona checked them" ... "and if you want" ... "you can check them too." These girls really rehearsed everything. 

I was feeling overwhelmed -- mostly in a good way. "Just fuck me," I answered, and Fiona continued lowering herself onto my cock, which had thankfully not lost its prime during that sidebar. As fucking Fiona started to ride, the other Fiona straddled my mouth while facing her sister. I took the hint and started eating Fiona's pussy while I reached up and fondled her breasts. 

It took me a moment to get my pussy eating rhythm. I repositioned my head and then I settled into a nice groove of massaging Fiona's clitoris with my tongue. I heard both Fionas moaning in different ways. Fucking Fiona was moaning lightly with each thrust she made, while cunnilingus Fiona would frequently let out a long moan each time I found another sweet spot. After several minutes, I could hear cunnilingus Fiona getting closer as I intensified my tongue lashing against her clitoris. She started rocking her hips gently against my face. Meanwhile her sister was increasing her fucking tempo sympathetically to the pre-orgasmic Fiona. 

I let go of cunnilingus Fiona's tits and brought my hands down to her thighs, pulling her torso down hard into my mouth to maximize the tongue pressure I could mount against her pussy. That did the trick, and in seconds I felt Fiona's body tense up as her moan gave way to a wail. "Kiss me! Kiss me!" I heard one Fiona cry to the other. I then realized, with the two Fionas facing each other, all this time they have been constantly watching each other's body language and facial expressions, and they have been empathizing and anticipating each other's mounting pleasures. 

With my face buried beneath Fiona's pussy, I couldn't see it happen, but I envisioned fucking Fiona leaning forward to meet orgasmic Fiona's hungry lips and the two of them embracing with locked mouths in a forbidden sororal coupling. I had been so absorbed in bringing cunnilingus Fiona to climax that I completely lost focus on my own body, and I did not at all notice on my own gonads approaching critical mass as fucking Fiona continued to slide her amazingly tight pussy up and down my shaft. The image of the two Fionas enraptured in such an erotic intimacy while one of them convulsed orgasmicly on my face instantly nudged my already high state of arousal past the tipping point, and without any advance warning or the usual sensation of passing the point of no return, I suddenly felt my balls rupture, and I strangely heard myself bellowing a long, ungodly orgasmic growl with my mouth pressed hard against cunnilingus Fiona's pussy. I think I also heard fucking Fiona yelp, as I must have involuntarily heaved my pelvis upward, driving my rigid cock too hard into her cervix. 

The two Fionas and I lay on the bed for a long while. After we recovered our energy, I got some wine for all of us. When I returned with filled glasses, one Fiona was in a downward dog position while the other one was massaging her pussy. I put wines aside for later. Downward dog Fiona said she hadn't had an orgasm yet -- so she must have been fucking Fiona. She asked me to ass fuck her while her sister massaged her to climax. 

I retrieved the K-Y from Fiona's bathroom drawer. "Let me," said messaging Fiona as I returned, and she took the K-Y and liberally spread some on her index finger, and then she lubed downward dog Fiona's asshole by pressing her index finger in and out as deep as it would go. Then she took me into her mouth for a few minutes to restore my machine to top performance. When she deemed me fit for duty, messaging Fiona applied a little K-Y to the tip of my penis, and with that I poised my rod at downward dog's awaiting anal entrance. 

As I pressed into Fiona's rectum, massage Fiona repositioned herself to get the maximum leverage on anal Fiona's pussy without getting in my way. After a few gentle trial strokes, I started seriously thrusting into anal Fiona while massaging Fiona stepped up her massage rate. 

Anal Fiona grunted lightly on my every thrust. Once I found my pace, I started slamming hard into anal Fiona, slapping my ball sack against her pussy. Anal Fiona's grunts turned into "oh" on each thrust. Meanwhile messaging Fiona worked to bring anal Fiona to her first climax of the day. 

Dedicated only to ass fucking anal Fiona, I was much more in tune with my own orgasmic temperature this time, and after a few minutes I could feel my balls start to tense. Massage Fiona was doing her best, but the downward dog position wasn't working for anal Fiona, and she just wasn't getting the traction she needed to climb the orgasmic ladder. The girls decided to go 69, with anal Fiona on top, so I could continue ass fucking her while massaging Fiona took care of business from below. Both girls began eating each other 69 style while I resumed pumping anal Fionas' ass.

One of the Fiona's called out "Lets all cum together," and so I paid more attention to the two Fiona's telltale signs of their levels of orgasmic arousal while I modulated the speed and force of my anal thrusts to match their timing. The girls each started calling out numbers from 1 to 10, 1 being no joy and 10 being in orgasm. They synchronized to each other at 8, and I sped up my thrusts. We all hit 9 at the same time, so I started stroking for the finish line. Underneath Fiona start wailing as I hit my point of not return, and I felt my own balls release wave after wave of spunk into anal Fiona's bowels just as I felt anal Fiona start to buck and shake. I slammed my erupting cock hard into anal Fiona's ass, and the mere force of my thrusts compressed anal Fiona's lungs, causing her to involuntarily grunt each time I drove my hips forward. We held that position long after our orgasms subsided. 

We finally all collapsed in a heap on the bed with weary delight. By coincidence one of my hands had landed on top of Fiona's breast and the other hand was near the other Fiona's pussy. With the index fingers on both hands I faintly traced out delicate figure eights on a breast and on a pussy. After a while, first one Fiona, and then the other moved out of my figure eight tracing range and started planting delicate kisses all over my body. Eventually our post-coital intimacy gave way to fatigue from the late night before, and we all slipped under the covers and drifted off to sleep.

We woke up at 8:30. We all needed showers, and we were already half an hour late for our dinner reservation. I call the restaurant, apologized, and asked if we could change it to 9:30. They politely agreed. When I got off the phone the two Fionas were already showering without getting their hair or faces wet. I waited for them to finish, and then I showered quickly. 

The girls got dressed in non-identical new dresses they bought earlier that day and touched out their makeup. We made it to the restaurant by 9:30 and enjoyed an excellent meal. I still didn't know who was who, and the Fionas truly enjoyed the power they held over me. I played along happily -- I still considered myself the luckiest man alive, and if it comes at the expense of a little teasing, bring it on!

The conversation at dinner was stifled, because the girls were still trying to use non-identifying language to keep me from determining who was who. Thankfully, they no longer resorted to speaking alternatingly in sentences. The girls admitted they had planned to have sex after dinner, but then decided the risk of letting something slip in the conversation was too great. So they decided on sex before dinner. I asked why not sex both before and after dinner? The girls looked at each other knowingly and laughed. 

We were all tired when we arrived back at the condo after dinner. Even with the nap before dinner, it had been a long day. I poured a final nightcap for everyone, and then we got ready for bed. The girls finally gave up their anonymity up as they called each other by their names when we all said goodnight. As expected, Jocelyn went to her bed in the office, and Fiona came to bed with me. 

"That was quite an amazing day," Fiona offered as we climbed into bed. 

"Amazing doesn't begin to describe it," I followed. 

"Next time we should try something with a more romantic setting." That's when I saw my opening.

"Like a hidden away chalet with a big fireplace," I agreed, looking at her unblinking eyes. 

"Yeah, something like that."

We chit chatted a little more, and then we turned the lights out, and went to sleep. Actually, she went to sleep, I stayed awake for an hour until I was certain she sleeping.

I slipped out of the bed as quietly as I could, closed the bedroom door behind me, and then tiptoed over to Jocelyn's room. I entered quietly, closed the door again, and stripped naked. She was sleeping in the fold-out bed.

I slipped under the covers beside her, and she woke up. "What?" She was lying on her back.

I put my hand on her tummy, and slipped it down, down, down, until I felt the bottom of the nightshirt, and then started bringing my hand up along her bare inner thigh. 

"Jet -- what are you doing!?" She cried.

"Shhhhhhh!" I said quietly. "You're sister is asleep. We don't want to wake her."

"But Jet!" she whispered hoarsely. "You shouldn't be here."

By now I reached her pussy with my hand, and I started massaging it knowingly. "Oh, come on, now" I chided, "you know you always wanted this." I grabbed her hand and brought it down to my cock.

"Jet!" She wasn't whispering any more. "You mustn't!"

"Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this for years. You know it. I know it. Your sister is sleeping in the other room. She'll never know it." 

"Oh Jet!" she cried. It was too dark to see, but I could tell she was crying with sorrow, not with passion. 

"Oh Fiona!" I cried back mockingly. 

"Uh, what?!"

"Fiona," I said, "I made you a solemn promise that your sister would never come between you and me. That includes you and me sleeping in the same bed -- together."

"You knew all along?!" Fiona cried out loud, now not worrying about waking Jocelyn in Fiona's bed.

"No," I said, "not until Jocelyn came to our bed and you came here. Then I knew,"

"How?"

"I just knew."

"And so you played that horrid little game with me? What if you were wrong?" Now Fiona was angry on so many different levels. 

"I wasn't wrong, and I knew I wasn't wrong," I affirmed. "So how does it feel to have your own little trick thrown right back in your face?"

"Fuck you, Jet!" Fiona yelled, "I thought I was dying just now! Don't ever do that to me again!"

"I won't if you won't," I cautioned. That took her back at first, but then she got it. 

"Okay," she accepted, realizing she really was the one who started this musical beds escapade. We lay in silence for a few minutes while Fiona recalibrated her emotions. 

"Jet?" Fiona said quietly.

"Yes."

"I'm not talking about the sex, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm having the greatest time with Jocelyn. She is being so nice, and decent, and a good sister. We are getting along so good together. We laugh and share. I just hope the rest of the week goes as well as the last two days. I am so happy we are doing this. You were right -- I did want to do this."

"That makes me very happy," I sighed. 

"What does? What part makes you happy?"

"That you are happy," I said softly. 

"Thank you so much for helping me do this," Fiona whispered and kissed me on the cheek.

"Can I ask a question about what you just said?"

"Sure."

"Well, you said you were happy, but not about the sex. I was just wondering ..."

"Oh God, no!" corrected Fiona. "The sex was great. I really liked it. I was just trying to tell you that you were right about Jocelyn, and I am so glad you are helping me do this."

"Okay -- good. Thanks for telling me."

Fiona kissed me goodnight and rolled over onto her side, with her back to me. At least five minutes passed -- I thought she was sleeping -- Fiona softly called my name. "Jet?."

"Yeah."

Fiona didn't move -- she remained with her back to me. "You know that question you ask yourself every morning and every night?"

"Yes," I answered cautiously.

"I'm not there yet."

"I know."

"But you're making it a lot easier."

"I'm trying," I offered.

She rolled over to face me and looked into my eyes in the darkness of the night. "I know," she declared sincerely.

We kissed passionately for a long time. She put her arm over my chest, and we fell asleep.

--- End of Part 5 ---



The Commander Ch. 06



This is my first erotic story – I welcome all feedback.

---

It was a lazy Sunday morning. Jocelyn had been staying with us since Wednesday night. On Thursday night, Fiona and Jocelyn had blown me away by dressing themselves up, and even doing their make-up, so they were exactly identical – and I really mean exactly. We had such amazing sex that night, and I still have no clue which girl sucked and fucked me, and they're not telling. 

I had skipped Jocelyn to be a good sister – to treat her with respect and dignity. So far, so good, Fiona was tickled with how well she and Jocelyn were getting along.

I was watching recorded TV in the living room. "Jet," Fiona called out from the kitchen. I paused the TV. "Jocelyn said she would like a bedside lamp so she can read in there. Do we have anything in storage?"

I had checked Jet's storage room just after Fiona and I returned from our weekend in Paris, and I remember seeing two or three lamps there. "Yeah," I replied, "I'm pretty sure we have a few." I thought for a moment. "Jocelyn," I was now looking at her, "do you want to come down and pick out the lamp you like?"

"Sure," Jocelyn shrugged. I then realized Jocelyn probably didn't care what the lamp looks like, but the deal was done.

"Oh!" Fiona skipped out of the kitchen, "I'll go too – I've never been in the storage room!" she exaggerated a quiver of mock excitement. I had anticipated this eventuality. Before Jocelyn flew up to see us, I went down to the storage room and pulled all the computer equipment out of there. I put it in the trunk of my BMW, and a few days later, when I was checking in on Don's (my old) house, I left all the equipment there. I didn't want to spy on Fiona anyway, and I didn't want her to discover just how creepy the old Jet really was. Clearly I wasn't thinking straight when I did that, because if I had, I could have prevented the scene that was about to unfold in that small windowless room.

We took the elevator down to the garage. I unlocked the storage room and turned on the light. The small table that used to hold the laptop and WiFi hub now lay bare. "Oh!" called out Fiona, "my skis. I wondered where they went." The girls started pawing through things out of curiosity and chatting idly, looking at everything except the lamps. 

It was impossible to miss the large wooden box with a padlock on it. Jocelyn crouched down to examine it more closely. "What's in here," Jocelyn asked out of idle curiosity. 

"Just personal stuff," I said with the most boring tone I could imagine.

"Open it up," Jocelyn said.

"No, it's ..." I just realized that wasn't Jocelyn who said that. Their voices are so similar, I just assumed Jocelyn was continuing her conversation, but looking at Fiona's face now, I instantly knew she had said it. 

Staring hard at me with wide eyes of fury, Fiona spoke again, this time she enunciated each syllable loudly and distinctly. "OP-EN IT." Fiona stood rigid with her fists clenched. Her face was ashen white. She was trembling. 

Still crouching at the box, Jocelyn did a double take on Fiona, looked at me, and looked back at Fiona. She didn't need a psychic twin bond to understand something serious was going down right now. Without speaking a word, Jocelyn said everything when she stood up, walked over to Fiona, unclasped Fiona's fist, and took Fiona's hand in her own. Together they stood strong, boring holes through me with matching cold, blue steel eyes.

I had walked myself into this trap. Fiona knew what was in that box. She was the one who first told me what was down here. Fiona probably didn't have the courage to face this alone. During this past week, Jocelyn had proven to be a dependable ally, and now the united sisterhood was staging a showdown over the atrocities committed by the old Jet. The problem is, I was going to be the one to answer for them.

None of the ironies escaped me. I was the one who pressed Fiona to invite Jocelyn up here. I was the one who skipped Jocelyn into being a decent, loyal sister to Fiona. With Jocelyn still under my skip, I suppose I could have then ordered her to turn against Fiona, but that would have created more problems between Fiona and me than I knew how to count. I saw this situation unfolding in one of two ways – good or bad – and all my secret powers were useless to influence which outcome prevailed. 

Without a word, I pulled my key ring out and unlocked the padlock and opened the box. Fiona broke away from Jocelyn's hand and in two strides was at the box. She instantly recognized the implement of her torture, reached in, and pulled out the white cattle prod, spun around, and thrust it toward my face. 

Fiona sob screeched louder than I thought possible "HOW'D YOU LIKE IT IF I SHOVED THIS UP YOUR ASS AND PULLED THE TRIGGER UNTIL YOUR EYES POPPED OUT, YOU FUCKING PIG ASSHOLE FUCK!" She stood there without breathing. Her face went beet red – the cattle prod shook violently in her hand – her eyes shifted wildly side to side. 

Suddenly Fiona dropped the prod, covered her face, and collapsed to the floor in a sitting position, and began sobbing inconsolably while she rocked back and forth.

"Oh my God!" wailed Jocelyn, both hands to her mouth. She rushed to sit on the floor beside the endlessly sobbing Fiona and hugged her, joining in her body motion. They gently swayed to the same silent tune. 

There was nothing I could do or say that would help this situation. This had to run its own course. After watching the girls weeping together on the floor for five minutes, I stepped outside and closed the door, and sat on the hood of my BMW. I think half an hour passed before I heard talking sounds from within the room. I couldn't make out the words, but I moved to the back of the BMW just the same, in case they opened the door and accused me of eavesdropping. 

They must have talked in there for over an hour. I eventually stepped into my car and sat in the driver's seat. When at last the storage room door opened, I stepped out of my car. Both their eyes were puffy and red with crying. 

"We're going upstairs to change." Jocelyn was speaking for both of them. "Then we're going out. You're not invited."

"I know," I said. "I'll stay here, but I want you to promise me one thing."

Jocelyn stared at me silently. 

"If you discover you have been drinking, call me or a call a cab."

Again without a word, the two girls walked to the door, and disappeared into the vestibule to call the elevator. I went back into the storage room, put the cattle prod back in the box, locked it, and turned off the light before I locked the door. I left the building through the garage pedestrian door, and walked the neighborhood streets aimlessly for about an hour. I wanted to give the girls space while they changed, redid their makeup, and came back down to the garage to Fiona's car. 

When I returned to the condo building, I went back to the storage room. Fiona's Mercedes was gone. I randomly picked out a lamp, locked the storage room up again, and went upstairs to watch some recorded TV. 

I killed time as best as I could, but I couldn't take my mind off Fiona. My logical side was telling me this was a good development. Fiona needed to go through an exploration phase before she could come around to accepting me, and this was the catalyst to do just that. The emotional side was worrying this was the snowball that starts the avalanche, and the girls were out there right now cataloging every sordid thing Jet ever did to Fiona, and they were reaching the conclusion that no amount of love or money could ever set that right.

I tried reading my Harry Bosch novel, but I just couldn't keep Fiona out of my mind long enough to absorb the story. I found myself reading the same page five times, and I still didn't know what it said, so I put it down. I had no more unwatched recorded TV shows, so started channel surfing live TV. I must have dozed off, because I awoke when my cell phone chimed in 12:30 with a text message from Fiona that both relieved and frightened me:

NOT COMING HOME 2NITE - AT HOTEL

I was mildly conflicted about this whole situation. On one hand, I knew I could just skip Fiona and force her to bury her bad feelings about the old Jet, but on the other hand I had already crossed a line where I would no longer do those things to Fiona. Skipping Fiona would be a betrayal to the pledge I made to myself in Paris, and to Fiona. In a tribute to my growing moral backbone, I reaffirmed my commitment to Fiona and decided against even thinking about skipping her out of this problem. I turned off the TV and went to bed. By now I was emotionally exhausted, so sleep came easily.

"Jet" I heard Fiona call to me in a distant dream.

"Jet!" I wasn't dreaming. Fiona was waking me up. It was morning. She was shaking my shoulder. "Jet, wake up."

"What time is it?"

"It's seven. Jet, you have to get up." There was an urgency in her voice.

"What's so important," I asked as I swung my legs over and planted my feet on the floor.

"Jet, we need to talk to you." My heart stopped. 'We' means Fiona has arrived at a decision, and she needs back-up to deliver the bad news. The united sisterhood is about to render their final verdict, and it's lights out for Jet. I really thought the logical side would win out. I dropped my head in despair. 

"Jet, PLEASE!" Fiona whined. For the life of me I couldn't understand why this won't wait to a more civil hour. 

"I need to go to the bathroom," I complained as I stood up. That reminded me of a novel I read when I was a kid – I forget which one – about a guy who is on death row in a Russian prison. His neighboring cell mate advised him to be sure to go to the bathroom just before the moment of execution, because after you're dead, the body relieves itself. Deny them that indignity.

"Okay," she conceded. "Please don't take too long," 

"Quite right," I observed. A speedy execution is always best. 

After I washed my hands, I walked out to the living room in my house coat. Fiona and Jocelyn were sitting beside each other at the dining room table. They looked anxious. 

I sat down across from them. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Jocelyn. Now I was getting pissed. She knew exactly why she was there, and she's starting to break my balls over it. Maybe this is what Fiona was worried about when she warned me about Jocelyn's character. 

I resisted the temptation to return a sarcastic reply. "Look," I said. "Let's just do this."

"Jet," Fiona started, "Jocelyn is in big trouble. She needs our help." 

Total reset. I tried clearing my mind, but it wasn't working. "That's why you're here – I mean, part of this discussion – because you're in trouble?" I stammered to Jocelyn.

"Well, I didn't really want to, but Fiona kind of made me," she confessed. 

"Okay," I said to Jocelyn. Turning to Fiona, "Before we get into this, tell me. Where do we stand?"

"What do you mean?" Fiona asked genuinely.

"Yesterday you left in a terrible state and you didn't come home last night. I am just trying to figure out what is happening to you and me – to us."

"Oh you thought ..." Fiona realized something, and then scrunched her face with a perplexed look, "... what did you think?"

"He's trying to figure out if you're dumping him," Jocelyn interjected. 

"Really?" Fiona asked inquisitively. She really wasn't getting it. "But, if I was dumping you, why would Jocelyn be here."

"Back-up," I observed flatly.

"Oh my God!" smiled Fiona. "That's so cute!"

"Okay, so ..." I hesitated, looking at Fiona, "... we're good?"

"Is the old Jet back?" Fiona asked flatly.

"No," I declared firmly. "Not even a little."

"Then we're good." 

I closed my eyes and exhaled softly. Then I looked at Jocelyn. "Okay," I started over. "What's going on?"

It took me well over an hour of questioning, clarifying, cross referencing, and backtracking to take in the whole story. In short, Jocelyn's ex-husband, Ted, had a gambling addiction. Over the course of three years he wiped out their bank accounts, forged her signature to mortgage the house to the brim, and drained their retirement funds – all behind Jocelyn's back. Jocelyn's first clue that anything was wrong occurred when her credit cards were declined after Ted had maxed all of them out. 

Jocelyn saw no end to Ted's madness, and she was being dragged down with him. Three months ago, when Ted was out, Jocelyn hired a locksmith to change all the locks and put bars on the windows. She then had a lawyer draft separation papers. The divorce is still pending. 

Jocelyn distanced herself from Ted as quickly and as far as possible. She disconnected the house phone and bought a new cell phone. That's when Fiona found out about the impending divorce, when Jocelyn called her about why Jocelyn had a new phone number, and not to tell Ted. I am guessing Jocelyn did not tell Fiona about the financial disaster, because later, when Jocelyn was bragging about all her house upgrades when we picked her up at the airport, Fiona didn't seem surprised or confused. It sounds like those house upgrade stories were just a fabrication for Fiona's benefit. 

Jocelyn had not seen or heard from Ted for two months until one day, about a month ago, the police knocked at her door, saying they were investigating the disappearance of Ted. Over the next two weeks, Jocelyn learned through the police that Ted owed loan sharks, and worse, got involved in drug trafficking. Ted was an airline pilot, and so he had certain privileges that make drug smuggling easier. 

It seems one of Ted's drug shipments went missing, and so did Ted. Ted's airline employer called the police after he didn't show up for three days and they couldn't reach him. 

A week after the police visited Fiona, she received a phone call on her new cell phone from a blocked number. The man did not identify himself, and said Ted owed him over a hundred thousand dollars, and as Ted "is no longer with us" – Jocelyn remembers the man using those exact words – they are now collecting from Jocelyn, Ted's wife. She told them good luck – she has no money – and then hung up.

A week after that – two weeks ago now – Jocelyn found an envelope wedged in her front door when she got home. Inside was a picture of a stripper with Jocelyn's face clumsily Photoshopped over the original face, and the hand scrawled message read something like "there are more ways to pay a debt than using money – or would you rather be with Ted?"

She called the police right away. They interviewed her in her house and took away the picture and envelope in evidence bags, and Jocelyn hadn't heard from the police until yesterday. A police officer phoned Jocelyn's cell yesterday afternoon, while Jocelyn and Fiona were out drinking, and asked her where she was. She explained she was out of town at her sister's place, and the police officer said that's good, because their investigation has led the Police to believe Jocelyn's situation as a credible threat.

I stopped Jocelyn right there. "Are you certain they used the words 'credible threat'?" I asked Jocelyn.

"Yes, pretty sure," she answered. "Why?"

"Because," I reflected solemnly, drawing on my former life as a security professional, "that is code among law enforcement agencies. It means you are in grave danger." Fiona raised her hands to her mouth and her eyes darkened with fear, but she didn't speak

"Go on," I asked Jocelyn to continue.

"Well, that's about it," concluded Jocelyn. "I just got that phone call yesterday. That's all Fiona and I have been talking about since midnight." 

"You've been up the whole night?" I followed up.

"Yeah," Fiona answered. I thought for a long while without speaking. I knew lots of people, but not as Jet. I needed an angle.

"What should we do," Fiona asked shakily.

"First," I declared definitively, looking at Jocelyn. "Give me your cell phone – right now." Jocelyn went to her bedroom and brought her purse back out. She handed her cell phone to me. I took the battery and SIM card out, and stuffed the phone, card, and battery in my pocket. "I'll get you a new one," I offered. 

"Two," I continued, "Jocelyn does not go back home." I paused. "Not until the threat has been neutralized."

"For how long?" Jocelyn asked.

"I mean it", I asserted. "Not until the threat has been removed. Weeks, months, years, forever. Who knows?"

"You just want to do three-ways every weekend!" she smiled, injecting some badly needed humor.

"Aw shucks," I play acted, snapping my fingers, "you saw right through my brilliantly devilish plan." Fiona smiled. 

"So now what?" contemplated Jocelyn.

"Temporarily," I ventured, "we put you some place safe – somewhere no one will think to look for you." I was thinking of just a place. 

"I can stay here," Jocelyn started, but then corrected, "well, not necessarily here, in your condo, but I can stay away for a few weeks. But eventually I have to get back. There are some things I will have to do."

"I know," I agreed. "Ultimately, you may have to sell your house."

"Well, the bank is going to take it over anyway," Jocelyn sighed. 

"I'm sorry, Jocelyn," I offered, "I have been focusing on the security side of things, but I guess you have basically already told me. You're out of money?"

"And to think," Jocelyn stewed, "four years ago we owned our own house free and clear, we had no debts, and had a sweet retirement fund." I was trying to imagine how that was possible at Jocelyn's and Ted's age. Maybe there was an inheritance involved. I didn't pursue it – it was irrelevant.

"Jet," Fiona interrupted my thinking, "can I talk to you?" Fiona and I left Jocelyn at the table and went into our bedroom. I knew what was coming.

She closed the door. "Jet, I have no right to ask you this, but ..."

"What do you want?" I interrupted. 

"I want us to help her." She paused. "No. That's not right. I am asking – begging – you to help her. I know it's not my money. It's not our money. It's your money. I'll rip up the new prenup if that makes a difference. I'll get a job. I will ..."

"Stop!" I said softly, gently taking Fiona by the arms. "You will not rip up that prenup. That is yours. You don't need to get a job. I have enough money to handle this."

"So you'll help?" 

"Whatever it takes."

"It could get expensive – if her tastes are anything like mine ..."

"Fiona, what would you think of me if Jocelyn was hurt, or worse, because I didn't do everything I could?" 

Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you so much," she hugged me.

"I guess we really should set some limits on her spending," I reflected. Fiona pulled away and nodded. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was too choked up to speak.

I waited for Fiona to recompose herself, then we returned to the dining room.

"Jocelyn," I said as Fiona and I sat down, "do you have a valid separation agreement with Ted?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I need a copy of that. Can you ask your lawyer to send you a copy here?"

"Well, I'll ask, but I still owe him money, so I don't know how helpful he will be."

"That won't be a problem," I assured her. "We'll call him today and straighten that out." 

I thought for a moment before continuing with Jocelyn. "This is what we're going to do. First," holding up one finger, "you will stay with us until we can find you a safe place of your own. Second," with two fingers, and so on, "we are going to take care of your mortgage, your credit cards, your lawyer, and anything other financial things that are on fire so you don't lose your house and you don't ruin your credit rating – any more than it is already. Third, we will find you a longer term accommodations. All that should happen in the next two weeks, I'd guess."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly, waiting for the "but".




The Commander Ch. 06



"I understand you will need to get you back to San Antonio some time. That is going to require a security detail."

"What do you mean?" Jocelyn asked.

"You are going to have armed escorts everywhere you go in San Antonio."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?" Jocelyn protested. 

"No, not when the police have identified a credible threat against you. Oh, that reminds me – do you have the name of the police officer who called you yesterday?"

"Yeah, I wrote it down – he gave me his number, too."

"Perfect – we'll need that."

"We?" asked Fiona.

"Sorry," I backtracked. "I'm getting ahead of myself. The security company will need that,"

"What security company?" asked Jocelyn.

"The security company I am going to hire to keep your pretty ass alive."

"Whoa," Jocelyn balked. "I don't want a whole security company."

"Jocelyn, I'm not asking. This is a package deal. If you want my help, this is the way it goes. There is no way I'm going to spend a whole bunch of money on you only to then see you get shot, or much worse, when you go back to San Antonio." I paused for effect. "You need to start getting used to not being in control of some of the decisions made by the people who keep you alive." I realized I was falling back into my security persona – the girls probably thought I was overdoing it, but I knew she was going to hear this from someone else eventually. I looked at Fiona. She was staring at me, but I couldn't read her expression. 

"So," Jocelyn was still looking for the hook, "is there a squid pro quo here?" She was serious. I smiled. I was thinking I could use 'squid pro quo' in a joke sometime. I knew what she meant.

"I am not following," I admitted.

"Well, we all know I don't have any money. So are we talking three-ways for life? I guess I am asking what's in it for you? What do I have to do for all this?"

"No, there is no quid pro quo. Don't get me wrong – I would love to do a three-way with you and Fiona any chance I get, but that is not part of the deal. No one is expecting you to put out."

"So what is the deal," she persevered. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because Fiona asked me to," I replied neutrally. 

"No, but why are YOU doing it?" she insisted.

"Because keeping you safe makes Fiona happy. I am doing this because I want to make Fiona happy. Keeping Fiona happy makes me happy."

Jocelyn looked at Fiona. "Is he for real?" Fiona nodded her head and wrinkled her eyebrows, a signal Jocelyn intuitively understood but eluded me.

Jocelyn looked back at me "You can shove that thing up my ass and pull the trigger any time!" I laughed at Jocelyn's brilliant comical relief after such a tense conversation. Too late I suddenly felt bad for laughing at Jocelyn's joke in front of Fiona. I looked over at Fiona, but she seemed unfazed. 

"You girls must be exhausted," I considered their lack of sleep.

"Now that you mention it," Jocelyn stretched, yawning.

"Give me your lawyer's name – I'll set up an appointment for us to call him after you wake up." She gave me as much details as she could remember. I wrote them down.

"Why don't you two get some sleep," I offered. It was nine in the morning. "We can start putting your plan to work after you wake up refreshed." 

"Yeah," Fiona stretched too. "I think I will." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

Right after that, Jocelyn kissed me on the other cheek. "Thank you."

As the girls headed to their separate rooms, I stood alone in the dining room. Something didn't add up. Fiona had such a visceral and overpowering emotional outburst yesterday when she saw that cattle prod. It triggered a primordial memory I thought would take years to resolve, and yet after one sleepless night, Fiona seems to have fully recovered and put the whole incident behind her. I was having trouble accepting it was that easy. 

I went into our bedroom, and found Fiona walking out of the bathroom. She climbed into bed and slipped under the covers, but left her arms over top. I lay down beside her, and started affectionately caressing her breasts through the bed covers. She smiled up at me.

"Are you really okay after yesterday," I asked. "You seemed so shattered, and now you look perfectly fine. We haven't even discussed that horrible incident that made you so upset yesterday. Are you sure everything is alright?"

"Oh, yeah," she confirmed. "It's cool." Her left hand closed into a fist. 

I showered, shaved, and dressed as quietly as I could while Fiona slept, and then I read my book in the living room. Then I phoned Jocelyn's lawyer's office at 10:30, which was 9:30 San Antonio time, and arranged a telecon for 3 PM my time. I was just about to leave the condo to go out when I received a call on my cell phone. It was the hospital – Don Malloy passed away at 8:30 that morning. He died of heart failure. I was dead. 

I felt sorrow, loss, relief, and happiness all at the same time. I was so confounded by my conflicting emotions, I had to sit down and process my feelings. My disarray startled me – I am normally a very stable person emotionally. I guess it is not every day you are informed that you just died. 

I was thinking – at 8:30 I was still talking to Fiona and Jocelyn. I retrospectively played that conversation through my head – at no time did I ever notice the dark tunnel, or even feel an inkling that anything was different or amiss.

I phoned Sam Allison – he was the lawyer Don went to before his biopsy operation to establish a living will, a power of attorney, and a last will and testament. Don Malloy named Jethro Terrance as the executor of the will. I explained to Sam that Don died this morning, and we would need to administer the will. Sam told me we needed the death certificate before anything can be done, and that will take a few days. 

I told Sam I would appoint him as the attorney of record, and he should begin the necessary document filings. Sam had an opening at one this afternoon – could I come in then? 

Ironically, I was leaving the condo to go check on Don's house when I got the call Don had died. So I went over to his house anyway, and when I entered, everything was different this time. This was no longer my old house. This was a dead man's house. It felt eerie and awkward. 

Instead of making sure the house was in good shape, as I usually did, I looked at how much work was required to prepare the house for sale. Even if I decided Jocelyn should move in here (unlikely, as I was formulating new plans for her), I still had to sanitize the house. Not to mention Jet's file server with Fiona's dash cam videos were in this house – there was no way to explain that. 

I sat down and started preparing a logistical list of everything that had to occur, and in what order, to manage the disposal of the house. When I filled two pages, I put the notepad in my – I should say in Don's – desk drawer, locked the house up, and left. 

I went to a nearby coffee shop Don used to frequent, and ordered a burger. When my food arrived, I discovered I wasn't hungry. I then realized I was morbidly participating in my own wake. 

I thought about Don's life – how his wife and only son of ten years died in a car accident twelve years, seven months, two weeks, and three days earlier. That was the day Don's own life ended, except he just didn't die. Both his parents were gone, and he was an only child. He had no family to mourn him. I was the closest thing Don had to family, and I couldn't admit to knowing him. In fact, I realized I would have to manufacture some fiction about why Don chose Jet as the executor of his will, because chances are good Fiona will soon learn about this connection. What a sad legacy. 

At that instant, I promised myself I would not let that happen to Jet. When Jet dies, he will be a somebody. He will be remembered and loved. 

I paid for the uneaten burger and bought a cell phone with a new local number for Jocelyn on my way to Sam Allison's office. At the lawyer's office I signed the documents naming Sam Allison as the attorney of record in the disposition of Don Malloy's estate. He also had a paper waiting for me to sign giving me the authority to take charge of Don's financial affairs. He said he would keep the signed master copy, and then fax it to financial institutions, after he received the death certificate and after I sent him the bank account details. He had already contacted the hospital, and asked them to send him a copy of the death certificate. Once all that was done, Sam and I would have to meet again.

Sam asked me if I had reviewed the estate. I told him that, after a very brief examination, it appeared Don owned his house free and clear, and there was just over two million dollars in various investments. I explained Don had once told me he received a multi-million dollar settlement from the trucking company whose driver killed Don's wife and son, and that was his primary source of investment capital. 

At two o'clock I returned to the condo. The girls were still asleep. I went first to Jocelyn's room, closed the door behind me, and woke her up. Once she was coherent, I told her to say "beep" three times and pull her hair. She did as instructed, so I knew the skip was still active.

"I want you to listen carefully," I told her. "You will not ever reveal any part of this conversation to anyone else, and especially never to Fiona. Do you understand?" She nodded, so I continued. I asked her about Fiona's emotional state – was she really over the memory of Jet's abuse of her with the cattle prod? Jocelyn said no – Fiona was putting on a good show because she wanted me (Jet) to help Jocelyn with her financial problems. That is what I expected. 

"You will continue to support Fiona. You will always be a good and loyal sister to her. Do you understand?" She nodded yes.

"You need to understand that sex between Fiona and me is part of our relationship. It is one part of how we express of our love for each other. Do you understand?" She nodded yes. 

"You also need to understand that sex between you and me is good friend sex – it does not mean I love you, or that you love me – all it means is we like having sex with each other. Sex between you and me does not in any way reduce or change the love Fiona and I share for each other. And sex between you and me does not change how we feel toward each other as just friends. Do you understand?" Again, Jocelyn nodded yes.

"I want you to discuss with Fiona, as often as you think is reasonable and advisable, that the three of us should have sex together more often. But you should never force it on Fiona, or never make her feel pressured by you. Do you understand?" She nodded.

"I also want you to discuss with Fiona, as often as you think is reasonable and advisable, without pressuring her, that if just you and I had sex, that Fiona should be okay with that as long as we never go behind Fiona's back. You and I could have sex with Fiona in the room with us, or when she is not there, but we would never hide it from her. Do you understand?" She nodded again.

"I want you to be the one who usually initiates sex with me – I don't want Fiona to think I am the one chasing you. Do you understand?" She nodded.

"I want you to encourage Fiona to let me have sex with other people, and to let Fiona and I together have sex with other people. Do you understand?" She nodded. 

"Finally, we are going to have to make many decisions about your safety. I want you to always put your own safety first, but after you have done that, I then want you to factor in all the things I just told you about sex in all these decisions. Do you understand?" Jocelyn nodded.

"Okay, this conversation is over. Remember to never tell anyone about it, and especially never tell Fiona. Say yes if you understand." Jocelyn replied yes. 

"Rise and shine," I announced, opening the door again to Jocelyn's room. "Your telecon with the lawyer is in an hour. I'm guessing you're hungry."

"Famished," agreed Jocelyn. And with a sly grin, "And horny!"

Then I went to our room to wake up Fiona. I pulled back the covers beside her as gently as I could without waking her. Then, I slipped my hand under the covers without touching her body, and positioned my hand over her groin. I lowered my hand and started massaging her pussy in my special way. Fiona awoke to the sensation of receiving a hand job and moaned appreciatively. Welcoming the end game, Fiona spread her legs slightly and arched her back without opening her eyes. When I saw Fiona was just beginning to get close, I pulled my hand away.

"Ohhhhhh," she moaned. "Please don't stop."

"That's just a preview of what's waiting for you tonight," I teased. 

"You're bad," she whined. I kissed her gently and told her Jocelyn has a telecon at three o'clock. She looked at the time – two-twenty. "Okay," she stretched, and started getting up.

In the kitchen I made ham and brie cheese croissant sandwiches as the girls got dressed. 

The three of us phoned Jocelyn's lawyer at three o'clock on my speakerphone. I offered to pay all of Jocelyn's outstanding fees, and told him I would give him my credit card number for that. He told me Jocelyn's fees were just shy of six thousand, and they only accepted credit charges of two thousand or less because of the fees the credit card company charges. He changed is stupid tune when I said, okay, he could try to get the money from Jocelyn directly maybe in, oh, about ten years' time, and good luck even with that. 

With the account payment settled, I asked him to email a PDF copy of Jocelyn's separation agreement to me. Jocelyn spoke up and gave him the authority to disclose the document to me, and he said he would send it by the end of the day.

After the call, I asked Jocelyn to make a list of everything that needed payment, and how much was owing. I told her to guess at the amounts she wasn't sure of. I also told Jocelyn that, at some time, the security company will require a detailed list of absolutely everything related to Ted's activities, and everything she can remember about the threats on Jocelyn's life. I explained no detail was too small. I suggested Jocelyn use my MacBook to compile these two lists over the next few days. Fiona said she would help.

While the girls worked on their lists, I took the opportunity to have a rest – I had a short sleep last night, we have had quite an emotional day, and I found out I died this morning. I could use a break. 

I woke up about a couple of hours later. The girls were still hovering over the laptop. As I looked at the two of them, I realized I no longer had any trouble telling them apart. I was learning their subtle body differences and personality nuances.

"Still working on those lists?" I asked impressively. 

"No, we got tired a while ago," Jocelyn admitted. 

"We are planning a party for this weekend," Fiona offered.

"Sounds interesting," I ventured optimistically. 

"Oh, we think so," Jocelyn agreed. "It is going to be a dungeon party." 

"I've never heard of a dungeon party," I confessed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. 

"We made it up," Jocelyn clarified. "We're going to put all those toys in your locked box downstairs to good use."

"Except," qualified Fiona, "the electrical ones. No electricity."

"Good idea," I confirmed wholeheartedly. "So, what will we do at a dungeon party?" I asked.

"Well, let me show you," Jocelyn said as she walked up to me. "Something like this," she purred, then kissed me hard on the mouth and wrapped her arms around me, grabbing my butt. 

Fiona walked around me and then pressed her soft body against my back. I felt her hands slip around my waist and start to unbuckle my belt. 

I took Fiona's action as license to play at ease, so I brought my hands up to Jocelyn's chest and started fondling her breasts through her sweater. Jocelyn broke her kiss, backed up two steps, and hoisted her sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor. Staring at me with a knowing smile, Jocelyn then reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, and dropped it to the ground, showing off her perfect 36D tits. Now Jocelyn stepped forward again and re-engaged her sensual kiss with me while I caressed her bare breasts. 

By then Fiona was pulling my pants and underpants down, so I stepped out of them one leg at a time while Fiona pulled them off my feet. She took up her position behind me again, pressing into my back, and reached around and grabbed my cock, and started jerking my off, gently slapping Jocelyn in her jeans crotch with each stroke. A few moments later, Fiona repositioned herself behind Jocelyn, and reached around Jocelyn's waist and undid Jocelyn's jeans buckle and zipper. Jocelyn allowed Fiona to pull her pants and panties off a leg at a time without breaking her kiss with me. With Jocelyn now completely naked, I slipped my right hand down to her pussy, and in response, Jocelyn set her feet amazingly wide apart, giving me freedom to play at will.

As I fingered Jocelyn's pussy and fondled her right breast with my left hand, Fiona stood back and undressed herself. Finally, Fiona stood behind me and started lifting my V-neck sweater over my head. Jocelyn broke her kiss and pulled away to allow the sweater removal. I lifted my hands up supportingly, and as Fiona temporarily blindfolded me by pulling my sweater over my head, I felt Jocelyn take my now rock-hard cock into her mouth as she cradled my ball sack in her delicate hands. 

Jocelyn started sucking me earnestly as Fiona pulled my sweater over my fingertips. We were all naked. Still standing behind me, I felt Fiona press her breasts into my back and I could feel her warm breath on my right ear. "You are saving my sister's life. Thank you so much," Fiona whispered softly into my ear as I began to feel my balls warm in response to Jocelyn's flawless cock sucking technique. 

Fiona left her post behind my back, walked over, and facing the nearby coffee table, she splayed her legs and bent over at the hips, keeping her knees straight, and rested the palms of her hands against the low height table. I took the opportunity to disengage from Jocelyn's loving mouth, and I redeployed Mister Happy against Fiona's pussy, and gently pressed my steel love machine in. Jocelyn still stayed on her knees, and from below lifted her head up until her mouth met by ball sack, and she started gently sucking on my balls as I slowly pumped in and out of Fiona's already wet pussy. After a minute or two of fucking, I pulled out of Fiona and let Jocelyn take me up to my balls, sucking my rod clean of her sister's carnal juices. I went back and forth between pussy and mouth until I knew I was getting close, and then locking my aim on Fiona's pussy, I gripped her hips hard as I started thrusting for the finish line. 

"Oh, fuck yes!" cried out Fiona, anticipating my explosive release deep inside her. Jocelyn stood up and kissed me hard on the lips. When my balls hit their flashpoint, I groaned involuntarily into Jocelyn's mouth as my cock heaved a barrage of jism loads into Fiona's pussy. At exactly the same time, Jocelyn drove her tongue into my mouth and squeezed my nipples with vice-grip ferocity. The unexpected pain from my nipples amplified the orgasmic pleasure of my eruption, and I felt my knees go weak. I pushed down on Fiona's hips to regain my footing while my cock continued to spurt load after load after load into Fiona's tight pussy.

When at last the ejaculatory palpitations faded, I steadied myself, still inside Fiona's pussy. As if reading my mind, Jocelyn broke her kiss from me, squatted down with her face beside Fiona's hips, and opened her mouth wide. I pumped a few more times inside Fiona to mix the juices up, and then pulled out and let Jocelyn clean me deep throat style. I went back and forth several times from Fiona's pussy to Jocelyn's mouth, each time transferring another slick of jism/juice cocktail for Jocelyn to suck clean. 




The Commander Ch. 06



"This promises to be a great party," I smiled. "Why don't we move it into the bedroom?"

I laid the girls down on their backs on the king sized bed with enough room between them for me to kneel down. Then, with one hand on each pussy, I started a double feature hand job – a new attempt for me. It took me a moment to get my rhythm right. I eventually discovered if I set my left hand out of phase with my right hand – so one is rubbing up Fiona's pussy while the other is rubbing down Jocelyn's pussy, and vice versa – I could use my shoulders in a washing machine spinning back-and-forth agitator motion to maximize the excitement I could deliver to both Fiona and Jocelyn. They arched their backs and tightened their thigh muscles to better expose their clitorises to my sensual massage. After five minutes of non-stop massaging, both my hands grew tired, but I didn't give up, and my persistence was rewarded as I heard the girls' breathing reduce to short, shallow gasps. As they approached climax together, Fiona and Jocelyn held hands and closed their eyes. When one girl's gasps grew into moans, the other's moans grew louder into groans, and then the first groans expanded into cries, and so on, as the two girls audibly fed off each other's excitement in a runaway audible feedback loop that climaxed in both girls screaming together. They arched their backs higher as I watched both bodies exploded in orgasmic seizures. I dug my weary fingers harder into their pussies, further intensifying their eruptions. 

When at last the girls' orgasms faded out, we all slipped under the bed covers, and formed a spoon sandwich on our left sides with me in the middle. I felt Jocelyn's soft breasts against my back, and I wrapped my right arm around Fiona, pulling her back tight into my chest. With the rollercoaster emotional day now behind us, I drifted off into a blissful post-coital sleep for about fifteen minutes. When I awoke, I motionlessly listened to the two girls' soft breathing. 

About twenty minutes later, Fiona stirred, turned her head back to look at me. I lifted my head over hers so we faced each other, and then we kissed passionately for a very long time.

"Get a room!" Jocelyn announced she was awake, and we all broke out laughing. 

When her laughter subsided, Fiona slipped southward under the covers and locked on to Mister Happy with her lovely mouth for another go. But Mister Happy wasn't. And suddenly it hit me. Don was dead. I was no longer in a jump. My multiple orgasm days were over. 

---

End of Part 6



The Commander Ch. 07



This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback. 

---

If my pancreatic cancer hadn't struck Don so quickly, I would have handled events more gracefully. But I had to make big decisions hastily, and because I was rushed, my worlds were now colliding. 

Don Malloy appointed Jet as the executor of his will. Considering his plans at the time, that made sense then. But circumstances changed. Back then, I only lusted after Fiona -- I planned to use her and lose her, like I did all those other women. I didn't really care what she felt. Now I loved her, and I wanted Fiona to get over the old Jet and fall in love with me.

I was juggling three issues. One, as Jet, I was trying to win back Fiona's heart. Two, Fiona's twin sister, Jocelyn, was in danger, and we were harboring her from harm. And third, I had to administer the disposition of Don Malloy's estate, which was going to take time and energy away from the first two objectives. 

I had to explain to Fiona why someone Jet had never met decided to appoint Jet as his executor. While thinking how to do that, it occurred to me that, by altering that story by just the tiniest detail, everything fell into place. I rationalized I was fighting fire with fire -- tell a small lie to hide the colossal lie. 

On Tuesday morning I told Fiona that, when I started my investment advice practice, I only had a few customers -- not enough to make the business thrive. That was nothing new -- Fiona already knew that company was going nowhere. 

Among the very few customers I had, I explained to Fiona, there was this one. We spent hours, days even, talking about finances. And when you talk about finances, you are really talking about life. After all, money is nothing more than a means to live your life at your desired comfort level. So a good financial planner starts with your life goals, and then works backward to determine the financial portfolio you will need to support that way of life. 

So while we were talking about finances, I told Fiona that this one customer and I started talking about our lives. Sometimes you can tell a stranger things you could never tell your best friend -- and that is how our discussions went. Over time, we became friends -- maybe even good friends -- and I started sharing details of my life with Don. I eventually discovered Don dispensed better advice than I did, and that's when I knew I would never succeed in this business, and so I eventually closed it down.

Yawn.

"Fiona," I looked into her eyes. We were at the dining room table. Big talks always seemed to happen there. "Don was the one who turned me around. He was the one who told me if I don't do something drastic to change my life, I would lose you. Don was the one who convinced me to smash my own finger, because by taking such an extreme measure against my own body, I would force myself to re-evaluate who I am." I waited for Fiona to absorb what I was saying before driving it home. "Don is the reason the old Jet is gone, and why I am sitting here trying to win you back." I congratulated myself with how close that part of the story was to the truth. 

Fiona didn't know where I was going with this. She saw the vulnerable underside of this dynamic. "So, what ..." Fiona critiqued ",,, you go off and talk to Don? About us? About me? How much do you tell him? Did you talk to him yesterday when you went out? Does he know about Jocelyn, you and me? About, you know ...?"

"No," I answered softly. "Don is dead."

"What?" 

"Just after I took his advice, and smashed my finger, Don took ill. It turned out to be cancer. He went into the hospital. I couldn't even visit him -- he fell into a coma for a long while, and never recovered." I paused because talking about Don's death was making me emotional. "I got a phone call yesterday morning after you girls went back to bed. He died." I realized my voice cracked as I said that. That was not for effect. I was really shaken. 

I didn't understand the sudden intensity of my grief. Yes, Don was dead, but I was still here. 

She held my hand for a short while as I recomposed myself. "I'm so sorry." She paused, thinking. "And on top of everything else."

"That's why I am telling you this, Fiona." She looked at me cautiously. "I also found out that Don appointed me as the executor of his will."

"What's an executor?"

"It is the person who processes the will -- who handles all the money."

"So," she asked with a faltering tone, realizing it couldn't be true as she spoke, "you get all his money?"

"No," I offered neutrally. "I distribute Don's money to the people that Don wanted to have it."

"So where does his money go?" I think she was asking out of genuine curiosity, not opportunism.

"I haven't read his will, yet," I replied with the honesty of a lawyer. 

"Okay, so ..." she paused in thought, "... why are you telling me all this?"

"Because this is going to take up some of my time. Even without Jocelyn's issues, I feel this is a critical time for us -- for you and me. I think we -- I should say I -- have made some real changes that have allowed us to become closer together. I also know I still have a long way to go before I can earn your complete trust. This is not the best time for me to be dealing with the discharge of someone else's will."

"I think you need to," replied Fiona without hesitation. "I think, if this Dan guy ..."

"Don," I corrected.

"Sorry, Don -- if Don was this important to who you are becoming, and that affects who 'us' is, then you need to do this." I had to admit her argument was very perceptive. 

She thought for a while longer. "Jet?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Back before ... before your ... your finger thing ... I didn't think you even cared if you lost me."

"Well, I did, and I didn't." I faked it. "But Don told me something else." She waited while I collected my thoughts.

"I think if he were here today," I offered, "Don would tell you he died a broken and lonely man. He deeply regretted some things he did, and the weight of those regrets haunted Don to his grave." I paused because this was difficult -- I was telling the bare honest truth. "Fiona, back when I was the old Jet, I think Don saw some of himself in me."

"What I'm trying to say, is that, yes -- I am doing all these things to win you back. But I am also -- maybe even mostly -- I am doing this for me. I now know that, if I hadn't changed my life, starting with hitting my finger, then I would surely end up like Don -- broken and lonely." I actually believed that of the old Jet -- except he would have been broken, lonely, and rich. 

I paused for a long time. "Don helped me see that I could take a chance -- a chance he never had, or never took -- I don't know -- a chance to make a change -- to make a difference in my life." I paused in reflection. "I don't think I'm explaining this very well, but I think Don would be happy if he knew that, because of him, I changed my life enough to have a chance for you and me to stay together." I was getting emotional, and I was confusing myself with my interlaced truth and lies, so I stopped.

She took my hand again. "That might be the most important thing you told me since this whole thing began." She reflected for a moment. 

I thought we were done, but Fiona asked when Don's funeral was going to be. I was stunned to realize I had never thought about that. I explained Don had no family, no friends -- maybe the hospital would do something, but I knew that wasn't true.

"Give the man a proper funeral, Jet," Fiona said. "You owe him that." Great. One more thing on my to-do list -- bury myself.

This was not the way I expected this conversation would go. I was expecting Fiona to be putty in my hands -- all 'boo hoo you lost your friend'. Instead, Fiona was strong. She was wise. She was supportive.

Next I prepared to phone Jason Braggs, president of M.B. Security services. I had to put some thought into the call before I placed it. When I got through to Mr. Braggs, I explained I was a former colleague of Don Malloy.

"How is Don doing?" asked Jason.

"I am sad to report Mr. Malloy passed away yesterday, Mr. Braggs," I replied somberly. "That is partly why I am calling you." I explained I was the executor of Don's will. Don had spoken very highly of Jason, and I thought Jason would like to know the circumstances surrounding Don's death. After I explained about the cancer and coma, Jason thanked me for contacting him, and I could tell he was expecting to wind down this call.

"Mr. Braggs," I continued, "as fate would have it, I have a second reason for calling you. I have an urgent need for your professional services regarding the security of a high value target with a credible threat." I used the lingo I knew Jason would understand. "Mr. Malloy told me that, if ever I needed security work, that I should put you at the top of a very short list."

"You should also know," I continued, "there are complicating factors." I explained 'the target' has an identical twin, and the two are living together with me while one takes refuge from the threat. I explained to him the phone call with the San Antonio police, and how Jocelyn was certain they used the words 'credible threat'. I gave Jason the name and number of the police officer who called Jocelyn. Jason asked me questions and we discussed details for another twenty minutes. I told him we have Jocelyn's separation agreement, and Jocelyn was making a detailed account of everything relevant to her ex-husband's circumstances and the threat against her. He asked me to courier that to him as soon as it was finished, and he gave me the address. He then told me a list of precautions to take, all of which I already knew. Finally we talked about money in very broad terms -- he was trying to gauge if I had sticker shock at a security cost that could exceed one hundred thousand dollars -- I told him that was what I had expected. 

"Are you calling locally?" he asked. I said yes. He said he was chocked full this week, but he could meet all three of us Monday morning next week at 0900. "Mr. Terrance," Jason offered, "you seem to already know a bit about the measures you should be taking -- that is good. I feel I need to warn you, that when you come here on Monday, all three of you might be surprised by the changes you will have to endure to protect the safety of the target." I knew exactly what he meant when he said 'the target' -- he was not talking about Jocelyn. "I just want you be sure all of you come here on Monday with an open mind." I assured I would pass the message on, and we hung up. 

I spoke to Fiona before leaving for the day. I told her we would have to postpone the dungeon party, at least until the following weekend, because of the security threat to Jocelyn. I told her about the meeting I set up with Jason on Monday. I explained everything would become clearer at that meeting. Fiona didn't understand the reasons why, but she also didn't hesitate to postpone the party -- if this involved Jocelyn's safety, then the decision was already made. 

My last chore before leaving home was to give Jocelyn the replacement cell phone I purchased the day before with a new number. I admonished Jocelyn that she shall restrict the use this phone to talk only with Fiona and me. Period. No exceptions -- ever. No, not even the police in San Antonio, I said. I told Jocelyn the police would be taken care of after our meeting with Jason Braggs on Monday. I also admonished Jocelyn from accessing any email accounts or personal web pages that she signs in to, including webmail, FaceBook, Twitter, internet banking -- ANYTHING that asks for a user id and password. Finally, she was not to use any phone to call anybody back home for any reason.

With that done, I kissed Fiona goodbye and went out. The remainder of my day was consumed by Don issues. I went over to Don's house and put together a detailed list of all his financial portfolios. I pulled out my to-do list I made earlier about selling the house, and started making phone calls. Then I called the hospital and a few mortuaries before settling on the funeral home. And finally -- how weird is this -- I wrote my own obituary. 

Speaking of FaceBook and the like, I had to shut down all of Don's social network accounts. For FaceBook and Tumblr, I posted the obituary I wrote, and announced that would be the last posting ever on Don Malloy's account, and then changed the passwords for the accounts. For the rest of the social network accounts, I either cancelled them, or decided to just ignore them and let them go stale. 

About that time I received a call from Sam Allison -- the estate lawyer. The death certificate had arrived, and he was now ready to sit down with me to review the will. So I met him at three in the afternoon. Before I went to Sam Allison's, I got some tools from Don's basement and I removed all the disk drives from Jet's old file server and laptop with Fiona's dash cam videos on them, and took the hard drives, together with Jocelyn's old cell phone, to a data security company I know, called Kill-O-Bytes. They have these massive shredders that literally tear apart the disk drives -- enclosures and all -- into tiny silicon crumbs. Anything Fiona did in her car was now her secret to keep, and Jocelyn's cell phone and SIM card were irreparably destroyed. 

Meanwhile, back at the condo, Fiona helped Jocelyn go through her recollection of Ted's issues and the threats against Jocelyn. They decided to work on the party anyway, even though it was postponed to the following weekend. Fiona had called Nicole, the girl we met at The Arc, and asked for her help in putting together a suitable guest list of six to eight people. 

Today was Tuesday, which meant skydiving class was tonight. I drove home. Jocelyn had made a chicken Florentine supper -- it was delicious. Then Fiona and I drove to skydiving class. 

"Can Jocelyn live in Don's house until it's safe for her to go back to San Antonio?" Fiona asked me as I drove to skydiving class.

"I thought about that," I answered. "I reviewed his will today with the lawyer, and I don't think that will work." I knew she would ask why, so I continued. "He left everything to charity, and asked for an immediate disposition of assets, when means we have to sell the house quickly."

"Well, she can stay with us, but I am already finding it crowded, and you don't have an office anymore." I think Fiona was fishing, which was fine with me, because I had an idea I wanted to float past her anyway.

"So suppose," I propositioned, "we look at this as an opportunity."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've always thought our condo is a bit small, and I would really like one with a fireplace."

Fiona blinked twice. I had to choke back a laugh -- I completely forgot about that skip. "Supposing we got a condo with two large bedrooms and a den, or even a three bedroom condo? I think it creates all sorts of opportunities."

"Opportunities like what?" She asked.

"Well, Jocelyn could stay with us until she lands on her feet, and we won't all feel so crowded all the time." I paused. "Plus I wouldn't mind have a larger condo that we can grow into."

"Grow into ... Jet, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm talking about long term, Fiona."

"With me?"

"Yes."

"Please stop the car." I pulled over into a spot on the side of the road.

"Jet, are you proposing to me?"

I chose my words very carefully. "Not yet," I offered. "I am like a bird -- I am feathering my nest so that, when I do, there will be a nice place for both of us to live and raise a family."

"Have you discussed this with Jocelyn," Fiona asked quickly.

"God no!" I refuted. "Why would you even ask that?"

Fiona thought for a while. She was struggling with an internal debate. Finally she said "Jocelyn has spoken to me three times about us all having sex together. She even thinks I should be okay if she fucked just you -- without me there. Do you know anything about that?"

"Fiona," I said, deflecting the question, "I know nothing about what you and Jocelyn discuss about sex."

"So you didn't put her up to this?"

"I'm not sure I would know how," I continued to evade.

"Its just that ..." Fiona stopped. "You know what I told you about Jocelyn before she came here."

"Yes," I agreed. "But she seems to me to have been nothing but a pillar of support for you."

"I know," Fiona replied. "I'm trying to figure this out."

"Maybe she's just horny," I offered as a plausible explanation.

"Jet, please."

"Well, what do you think it means?" I reflected the questioning back to her.

"Until you talked about feathering your nest, I didn't worry about it -- I just figured it's just more three-ways and parties. Although her fucking you alone was strange. But even there, Jocelyn was very clear when she spoke to me -- she wanted everything out in the open -- nothing behind my back, which is not her old style. But now you are talking about a larger condo, and Jocelyn is talking about endless sex, and I hear you saying you are thinking about our long term future, and you're feathering our nest, and well, you see the problem." I didn't, exactly, but I also didn't want to chase Fiona down whatever that rabbit hole she was talking about. 

"I don't see how these things are connected," I offered instead.

"That's just it," Fiona replied. "Neither do I."

I waited for her to continue, but there was no more. "So, we better get to class", I cautioned.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed. I pulled the BMW back out into the street and we drove in silence. 

She broke the silence as we pulled into the skydiving class parking lot. "When are you planning to propose to me?"

"When I know that you love me," I replied without hesitation. 

After class, Fiona brought up the subject of sex again as we drove home.

"Do you think I should let Jocelyn fuck you?" she asked.

"I don't think we can answer that until after you and I have had the bigger discussion about sex with outside people."

"So then," she continued, "what is your take on sex with other people?"

"I would have to say," I thought for a moment, "that if -- and I say if -- we have sex with other people, there have to be very clear rules."

"Such as?" she prodded.

"No secrets. Everything is in the open. That's the biggest one."

"And you would be okay knowing I am fucking some other guy?"

"One guy on a regular basis, no," I clarified. "I am talking about casual."

"But to be clear," she pressed on, "you are okay with me fucking other guys casually?"

"Especially if I am in the room, yes." She raised her eyebrows at that. "If I am not there, then I would like to know, in advance, who the guy is."

"So you'd like to watch me fuck someone?"

"Again, not on a regular basis. On a regular basis, I want to be the guy fucking you. But every once in a while -- absolutely -- I'd love to watch you do another guy."

"And so that's what you think I should say to you -- I mean about letting you fuck other girls?"

"No," I retorted, "I was hoping you would have your own opinion."

"And what if I say 'no' -- no outside sex?"

"Then there is no outside sex, no further discussion, and no hard feelings," I asserted. I was serious.

"I'm getting mixed signals from you," she observed.

"Look, you asked my opinion, and I ..."

"No," Fiona interrupted, "I'm not talking about just now. I mean there's Leticia, and I don't know how many other girls you had on the side. And even since your finger banging, we've had two three-ways with Nicole, one with that girl at the airport, and two with Jocelyn. It seems to me you are very in favor of outside sex."

"I'm not going to try to defend or even discuss what I did during my dark days," I tried escaping from her legitimate concern about Leticia, "because that wasn't who I am now. But in all those three-ways you mentioned," I challenged, "how many happened because I started out saying I wanted a three-way?"




The Commander Ch. 07



"Well," she thought, playing them all through her mind, "none, I guess."

"I have followed your lead, Fiona. Hell, this whole thing with Jocelyn started out as your idea, even if you thought it was a bet you couldn't lose. This party coming up -- I don't really know anything about it, but it is all you girls." I paused for effect. "Fiona, if you say three-ways, then we do three-ways. If you say no outside sex of any kind, then there is no outside sex. Period"

"Huh," Fiona said, just realizing it now as she again replayed all the encounters in her mind. "Actually, three ways, four, and even parties are fine -- I have no problem with those," Fiona accepted. "And I agree with you -- fucking in secret is completely out." She paused, thinking. "No," she mused, "it's outside sex with one person I am stuck on." 

"Then let's not try to solve this now," I brokered toward a truce. "How about this? For now, until we make a long term rule, you have to ask my permission each time you want to have sex with an outside person, and the same goes for me."

"And if I say no?"

"Then it's no. Simple as that. And I don't get to ask again."

"What if I say no just because I'm pissed at you?" she played devil's advocate.

"It seems to me that could be a legitimate reason to say no," I observed. 

"Do you want to fuck Jocelyn?"

"I would rather make love to you," I replied without hesitation.

"Bullshitter!" She was smiling.

"Fiona," I announced, "I am not going to do anything to fuck up again." I qualified with a wry smile, "well, not on purpose, anyway."

Fiona stared silently out her passenger window for several minutes as I drove under the rolling glare of the streetlamps. Still with her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, she pronounced softly "I don't want you to fuck Jocelyn. Three-ways and the party, okay. But not alone."

"Done," I confirmed. "By the way, it sounds like it is Jocelyn who is doing the asking, so I guess ..."

"I know," Fiona interrupted, now looking straight ahead. "I'll talk with her."

We drove in silence again for a while. "What about me having sex with other girls," Fiona asked.

"Now we're talking!" I cheered.

She slapped me on my shoulder with the back of her hand. "I'm serious," she pouted with a big smile. "I like fucking girls too." I have never understood the use of the verb 'fuck' when referring to girl-on-girl action. I let that pass.

"Same rules," I replied flatly. "It is outside sex. There is no difference."

"Do you want to watch?" She asked seriously.

"Not if it makes you uncomfortable," I offered truthfully.

"But do you want to?"

"Sometimes." I ventured. "Maybe we can discuss that when you ask my permission." 

Fiona fell silent again for the next several miles. I honestly didn't care whether Fiona let me fuck Jocelyn or not. In fact, the events of tonight worked in my favor. I manufactured this situation only to prove to Fiona that I was giving her complete control over the boundaries of our sex life, and I would happily abide by whatever she chose. More than that, I was effective in demonstrating that, unlike the old Jet, I was not the one pressing for outside sex. 

When I steered the BMW into our underground parking lot, Fiona resolved our original discussion of the evening. "Do you want to start looking at new condos next week?"

"Sure," I agreed. I smiled at Fiona's unspoken implication of it being 'our' condo. 

Fiona had her chat with Jocelyn that night, and later that night I updated my skip with Jocelyn, and told her to stop asking Fiona about sex with me, and to stop wanting one-on-one sex with me, but to continue casual three-way sex with Fiona and me.

I spent most of Wednesday with Don issues again. I reserved a small viewing room for the Friday funeral -- I didn't expect many visitors. As for the disposition of his will, I hired a company to come out to the house next week and remove all the furnishings, clothing, dishes, tools -- everything. It takes a few days to pack everything up and haul it out. They sell what they can at second hand stores, and throw away the rest. A small sum from the sales goes to charities. I then hired cleaners and painters to fix it all up. If all went well, the house would be empty, clean, repainted, and on the market with a few weeks. 

Don didn't have time to organize his affairs before he died, so his finances were scattered all over. I spent a lot of time bouncing between banks, investment brokers, trust agencies, and insurance companies. Each company needed a notarized letter from the estate lawyer declaring that Don was dead and that I was the executor of the estate and that I had the requisite powers of attorney to manage Don's finances. It was a time consuming and tedious process.

On Thursday morning the girls asked me to help them bring up the wooden box full of sex toys to the condo apartment in preparation for the party. They knew it was postponed a week, but they wanted to see what was in the box. I went to the condo office and borrowed their wheeled dolly. In our storage room, I unlocked the box, and removed everything that looked like it could discharge an electrical shock, and left it on a shelf. Fiona remained steady at the sight of the offending cattle prod. Then we wheeled the box to the elevator and up to the condo, and I returned the dolly to the office. When I came back to the condo, the girls were sorting through and counting all the equipment. I was astonished by the inventory:

- 12 pairs of wrist/ankle cuffs; - 2 pairs of metal handcuffs with keys; - 3 neck collars; - 2 binders that hold your arms together behind your back; - 4 adjustable spreader bars; - 10 leather blindfolds; - 6 gags; - 2 mouth rings; - 2 anal hooks (I didn't know what those were except they were in their original packaging with a picture of a woman with the hook up her ass with the other end tied to a rope with the other end tied to her pony tail); - 2 slim style yokes that hold your wrists up beside your neck; - 5 whips of different styles and lengths; - 4 spanking paddles; - 3 candles inside clear glass beakers, which I presumed allowed you to pour hot wax onto your victim; - dozens of nipple and labia clamps with chains; - various locks and hardware to fasten things together; and - over 50 ropes of different lengths, diameter, and fiber.

In the smaller box, there were over a 13 dildos of varying girth, length, and color. Nothing that looked specifically anal.

Over half of all the items were unopened in their original packaging. 

"My God Jet," Jocelyn asked in wonder after they went through it all, "exactly what were you planning for?"

"Next Saturday," I shrugged, "I guess." I searched through Jet's memory to try to get a clearer understanding of why he ... It was gone. Jet's memory was completely gone. Even his memories I saw before, like Leticia and the front of the safe -- were gone. I realized this was probably the first time I had tried searching through Jet's memories since Don died. Jet's memories had been fading so badly in recent weeks anyway, I wasn't relying on them. But now they were gone. Jet was dead.

"We need some vibrators," Jocelyn observed, interrupting my private revelation. I didn't think it could be possible we could want more sex toys.

"Oh, yeah!" agreed Fiona, "and some strap-ons".

The girls started making a list of things they needed, including all the food, drinks, toys, and hardware. I prepared to get ready to go out -- I still had lots of more to do for Don's funeral tomorrow, and his will administration duties had no end in sight.

Just as I was preparing to leave, Jocelyn called out "hey, stay a while and play." She was holding up a pair of handcuffs. I looked at Fiona -- she shrugged, and then nodded in agreement. 

"Just what did you have in mind," I asked Jocelyn. 

"Oh," Fiona purred in a sultry voice before Jocelyn could answer, "we're going to tie you up and take advantage of you." She went from shrug to ringleader.

"Listen," I cautioned, "I'm game, but I really need to leave in an hour."

"We won't keep you late," Fiona promised.

"Not that much." Jocelyn added mischievously. 

You have to know that, the old me never allowed anyone to tie me up -- ever. I was into many bondage scenes, but never once as a sub. I never trusted anyone else enough. I now realized maybe that was part of why Don died a lonely man.

Fiona looked at me holding leather cuffs in her hand. I swallowed hard, and walked toward my bondage masters.

"So where do we start?" I asked Fiona.

"With this," replied Jocelyn instead. It was a leather blindfold. I could tell that, once attached, there was no way to sneak a peek. The two girls worked together to secure the blindfold on me. 

"Relax," I heard Fiona -- I think it was Fiona -- say. I realized I was quite tense, so I relaxed my shoulders and let my breathing flow more normally. I felt someone behind me wrapping her arms around my chest and unbutton my shirt, while I felt someone else tug at my belt. I had no way of knowing who was who -- even when they spoke, I couldn't tell their voices apart. 

Before long I was naked, and then I felt something soft and heavy wrap around my right wrist -- it was a cuff. In an instant I felt my left wrist fall to the same confinement. And then both my ankles. One of the girls took me by the hand and said "Follow me." I was pretty sure we walked into the bedroom, and I confirmed my assumption when I was told to lie down on the bed. The girls debated for a short while about the mechanics of tying me up, and I knew the debate was over when I felt my left hand helplessly pull away toward the corner of the bed, and not long after, the right hand followed to the other corner. Then someone spread my legs apart very wide, and I felt something on my foot momentarily, and I heard a click, and another click, and then I could no longer close my legs. They put a spreader bar between my ankle cuffs. I was spread eagle and naked. I had no idea if they were naked, but I imagined they were taking their clothes off then.

A sting surprised me on my inside right thigh -- I flinched more at the surprise than any pain -- I realized someone was lightly whipping the inside of my right leg. Then my left leg. I flinched again at the surprise. Then the right leg. Then higher on the right thigh. And then higher again, and higher still until I thought the next one would surely strike my cock. 

"You have been a bad, bad boy, Jet," I heard one girl say, "and we're here to punish you," said the other girl. A swell of panic rose in my throat -- I really didn't like being tied up. And then, with complete surprise, a mouth took in my flaccid cock and start sucking on it. As my member stiffened in her mouth, I twitched in surprise when I something touched my lips -- I didn't know what it was -- it felt metallic, hard, and it traced around the shape of my lips several times. 

Just then the mouth went deep on my cock, and I felt both helpless and excited. I surrendered to the moment, and started paying attention to the sensations. I could smell a perfume -- I didn't recognize it, and suddenly my right nipple burned with fire and then my left. Someone was waxing me. After the initial pain, it felt warm, soothing, and it left me even more relaxed. 

The mouth withdrew from my cock, and before long it started again, or perhaps a different one --I couldn't tell. I sensed the mattress deform beside my head -- someone had just kneeled there -- and then on the other side of me. I felt the sensation of skin touching my face at the same time my nose filled with the scent of pussy. I stuck my tongue out, and probed for her vagina, and then stuck my tongue up as far as it could go. 

Suddenly the cock sucking stopped. There was more movement on the bed, and then my cock welcomed the unmistakable sensation of her tight vagina sliding up and down my shaft. I returned my focus to the pussy over my face, and started massaging where I thought the clit was. As I resumed my cunnilingus, someone whipped my chest and tummy in rhythm to whoever was fucking me. Every down stroke fuck on my cock metered out matching lash on my front. I was surprised how much the whipping excited me. I increased the force on my tongue work, and I was rewarded with an appreciative moan. The whipping continued. Each lash stung a little, but it never left a lasting pain. 

Now I felt my balls start to churn, and I knew the fucking would soon end in eruption. I focused on bringing whoever was sitting on my face to climax, and redoubled my lingual massage. More moans agreed with my efforts, and I soon heard the moans intensify with greater frequency -- she was getting close. After a few more minutes I knew I was close to blowing my wad. I upped my game on the clitoral stimulation, and finally I felt the unmistakable feeling of my balls passing the point of no return. 

I closed my fists and pulled against my arm restraints as hard as I could while pressing my face up against her pussy so hard I felt her whole body rise off the bed. Somehow I maintained my cunnilingus technique. Whoever was fucking me suddenly withdrew -- just at the worst possible moment -- but salvation was mine when I felt a loving mouth envelope my exploding cock and it took me deep right up to my balls. I drove my tongue and lower jaw hard against the pussy over my face, and I heard the moans overhead give way to a long, low wail, and her pussy started humping my face. My cock unloaded wave after wave deep into someone's mouth. Whoever it was stayed with me until my orgasmic pulsations ebbed, while the pussy on my face continued humping my mouth in orgasmic convulsions. 

At last the mouth pulled away from my cock, and I heard a gasp for air, while the pussy over my face stopped rocking, but stayed in position. I darted my tongue in and out, trying to tickle her pussy a little. Only then did I realize the whipping on my chest had stopped, but I had no idea when. 

We stayed in position for several minutes. As the pussy pulled away from my face, I felt the other girl playing with my flaccid penis. "What happened to never-ending fucking?" I heard one of them say.

"I think it's in mourning," is all I could think to reply, which was not far from the truth. 

"I know I am," said one of the girls, and I smiled. 

"Jet, don't go anywhere," I heard one of them say. And then I felt movement on the bed. All went silent, but I could feel the odd motion through the mattress. Then I heard the distinctive moans of someone closing in on a distant orgasm. Only two of us climaxed, and one girl was taking care of that for her sister. I couldn't tell if it was a hand job or tongue work -- I know both girls are adept at either. The moans turned into groans, and I was surprised to discover how erotic just the sound of sex was. As I listened to her growing closer and closer, I discovered I had been squeezing my own butt cheeks hard together in my own excitement. At last I heard her erupt, and I exhaled sympathetically, only then realizing I had stopped breathing for a while. 

The girls quickly unfastened my wrist and ankle cuffs, but asked me to leave my blindfold on. Then they slipped me under the bed covers, and was all spooned together, with me in the middle. I didn't know who was in front or behind, but I reached around and gently caressed the breasts of the girl ahead of me. We stayed that way for a while -- maybe fifteen minutes. 

I figured I was closing in on my hour time limit, so I removed my blindfold and did my best to get up without disturbing the girls. A film of red wax covered my chest, and a few whip marks remained on my stomach. I showered and dressed while the girls, still in bed, closed the gap I left and were spooning together. I kissed Jocelyn (who, it turns out, was in front of me during our spooning) lightly on the cheek, and then I leaned over Jocelyn and I kissed Fiona on the lips. 

"See you tonight," I offered as I left the room. 

I went to the funeral home to attend to final preparations. Don was already cremated. I had also arranged for his remains to be laid to rest beside his wife and son. I answered what seemed to be a million questions about music, seating, refreshments, religious needs, and on and on. 

Back at Don's house, I met with the real estate agent, and we went through the preparations for the sale. I explained my plan to remove all the furniture and belongings. Only the appliances would remain. I also told her I had hired cleaners and a painter. I gave her instructions to sell the house quickly -- translation -- low price. She said she had already crunched the numbers on her computer based on sale prices in this neighborhood for the past three years, and after looking through the house, she thought a reasonable price would be $725,000. I told her to list it at $699,990. 

I thought about my discussion with Fiona in the car to skydiving class on Tuesday night. I decided I needed to be better prepared for future events, so I took some personal time at a high end store I had always coveted as Don, but never been in to. I always carried it with me after that. 

Throughout the day I found myself oddly distracted by a haunting question. With both Don and Jet dead, who am I? 

I phoned Fiona from my cell. I asked if she would like to go out with me tonight -- alone -- for dinner. I explained we hadn't had have much 'us alone' time this week. She agreed without hesitation. "How about dancing afterwards," she asked.

"Sure," I said, "as long as it's just you and me, and not too late -- the funeral is tomorrow morning." 

"You got it, Big Boy" I could hear her smile. This wasn't more manipulative babble to connive Fiona to love me. I had a long, emotionally draining week, and I needed someone to share that with. The parts I could share, that is. 

When I got home, Fiona was dressed smartly in a trim white cotton blouse and a knee-length dark blue skirt. She wore a thin, black, unbuttoned cardigan. Not dancing club clothing. She and Jocelyn, who was in jeans and a tee shirt, were doing something on my computer. After I kissed Fiona hello, I realized they were looking at condos online. "I told Jocelyn we're thinking about a larger condo -- I hope that's okay, Jet."

"Of course it is," I assured her. "Actually, I'm glad you've already started looking around."

"In what way?" Fiona asked gently.

"Well, if you can narrow the search down, then it will take us less time to find perfect one for us."

She paused, perhaps thinking about all the implications and assumptions I built into that statement. "Jet," she started, "you do you have an idea of how much a condo costs as nice as this one -- waterfront -- top floor -- but with three large bedrooms and a fireplace?" She didn't blink, but that's because I wasn't the one who said it. I cursed myself for forgetting again to remove that skip. I would do it tonight for sure, because I know that word is going to come up often.

"I am guessing three to four million," I replied.

"Closer to four," she confirmed. "And, you're okay with that?"

"That's what I was expecting. I can work with that," I assured her. The old Jet was about to dump five million of his own cash into a business doomed to fail. I'd rather invest it in real estate.

"And you won't overextend yourself with two mortgages -- you know -- until you sell this one?" I knew exactly where Fiona was trying to take this conversation. It was time to let her in.

"There's no mortgage on this place," I informed her, "and I won't need a mortgage for the new condo. I can carry both properties without breaking a sweat." Fiona and Jocelyn exchanged a wide eyed look. This is the first time Jet had ever given Fiona a peek at the magnitude of his wealth. 

"You two go have fun," Jocelyn smiled. "I'll keep looking." I had a quick shower after a day of talking about dead people and rummaging through an old house, and then I put on fresh clothes. 




The Commander Ch. 07



Fiona wanted to go to a new piano restaurant a friend of hers told Fiona about, called "B Sharp". It was on Jackson Road, in the newly redeveloped area of the city. We arrived at seven -- there were still lots of empty, small bistro style tables. At the back of the restaurant a female vocalist sang excellent contemporary and fusion jazz, accompanied by two men on a grand piano and a bass. An empty small dance floor allowed a handful of couples to dance to the live music. Fiona ordered a shrimp creole and I ordered a rack of lamb. We tasted each other's dishes, and agreed the creole was the winner. 

Fiona asked me about all the details I was managing for Don's funeral and will disposition. We also talked a lot about Jocelyn. When no one was looking, I touched Fiona, and I replaced the fireplace skip instruction with the phrase "blue dog" -- she would blink twice when she heard me say "blue dog" -- what are the chances that will come up in casual conversation?

Just in time, as we next started talking about our future condo. We discussed what we wanted in a home -- location, nearby amenities, level of comfort, top floor versus other floors, balcony, view, fireplace, waterfront, bedrooms, bathrooms, flooring, parking, ad infinitum. Did we want a condo at all? What about a house? Do we want to continue living downtown? We didn't make any breakthroughs, but it was helpful to just put those questions on the table. 

After coffee, Fiona asked me to dance. We were the only ones to take the dance floor, but like the first penguins in the water, other couples soon joined us. I was impressed by the number of younger people -- people Fiona and Jet's age -- that ate at the restaurant and danced alongside us. Somehow I expected this place to be haunted by people more Don's age, but apparently not. 

Fiona wrapped her arms around me and we slow danced for eight or ten songs. We returned to our table for another drink, and listened to the music, talking less frequently. The jazz trio struck up Ray Charles' Georgia on my Mind, and I asked Fiona to dance with me. We danced about five songs, and then Fiona said she was ready to go. I left a tip for the jazz trio and paid the bill at our table. 

"That was not what I was expecting when you said you wanted to go dancing," I admitted as we drove home in the dark.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked.

"I loved it -- it's exactly what I needed," I complimented her on her choice of venue.

"I thought you might," she smiled. 

When we arrived home just after eleven, Jocelyn was already asleep. Fiona and I got ready for bed -- she in her nightshirt -- me in my pyjamas. As she crawled into bed, I took hold of the shoulder of her nightshirt and tugged on it. "Take this off," I said gently. When she was naked, I told her to lie on her tummy. She crossed her arms over her forehead, and lay face down. I sat gently on her buttocks, and gave Fiona a thirty minute neck and back deep-tissue massage -- a skill I picked up proficiently from my former life. 

When I was done, Fiona was in a Zen-like state of relaxation. I gently kissed the small of Fiona's back, softly said good night, and pulled the bed covers over her naked body. I turned out the lights, slipped under the sheets beside her, and put my arm over her back. 

In the darkness, Fiona lifted her shoulders over me, and rested her upper body on my chest before she brought her lips to mine. We kissed tenderly for a long time. "Good night Big Boy" Fiona whispered as she pulled away and slid off my chest. We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. 

As I expected, very few people showed up to Don's ten o'clock funeral. A few people I didn't recognize came into the viewing room, but then realized they were at the wrong funeral, and left. Fiona, Jocelyn, and I paid our respects. 

As we sat there in silence, my thoughts turned to Cyrano to Bergerac, and how he asked Roxanne let her veil of grief secretly hold a double meaning for both him and Christian. Here I was secretly observing the passing of two men -- Don and Jet. I deliberately avoided the use of the word 'mourn', because I don't think I could mourn the passing of the old Jet. I didn't know him well, and what little I did know of him disgusted me. The sad truth is, Don was no better. He used a rare gift to bed girls without their awareness, let alone their consent. 

I sat there wondering if two negatives could ever produce a positive, or does the mathematics of life operate on a different plane? Could I ever become a man of character, a good person? Or did the sins of my two pasts obviate any hope of me becoming a person worthy of love? Was I just a pathetic fool when it came to Fiona? How could such a good a person -- so rich with life -- ever love someone borne out of hateful men like Don and the old Jet? 

Fiona's only crime was a momentary lapse in judgement that led to the tragic death of a young boy. It seemed ironic that the consequences of Fiona's minor transgression were so horrific and final. I never spoke to her about that accident, but I know it haunted her every day. I know that boy's death was a major factor in Fiona's inability to leave Jet or me. It probably didn't matter I told Fiona the video evidence was destroyed -- for all she knew, I was lying, and I held back revenge copies. Even if she believed me, Fiona's soul was eternally damned until she admitted her sin, an act that would surely ruin her life, and worse now, threaten her sister's safety if Jet was no longer in Fiona's post-confessional life. 

Fiona was right. Her life was completely fucked up. Sitting there in attendance at my own funeral, thinking about Cyrano, something crept into my mind. It was not a complete thought -- it was more like an echo of a whisper of a thought -- impossible to grasp in a complete form. No one could ever bring Tray Boullion back, and no one could ever relieve Fiona of the burden on her soul. But could I, like Cyrano, be in a position to make amends for Tray's death and remove the dread from Fiona's heart in a single stroke? And in that same stroke, could I wash a small measure of redemption over Dan Malloy's self-inflicted sins?

I needed a lot more thought and careful planning. But for the first time in twelve long years, it occurred to me that maybe -- just maybe -- Dan could make a positive difference with his life, even if it was after he died.

At eleven o'clock, we followed the hearse in my car to the graveyard, where a small hole awaited the internment of Don's urn of ashes. The grave head stone had not yet been updated, and listed only Jackilyn Elizabeth Malloy (Age 34) and Robert James Malloy (Age 10). 

When Fiona read the tombstone, she observed how sad it was that his whole family was gone. I explained Jackie and Bobbie (yes, they really were called that) died in a car accident twelve years ago. We left the cemetery at noon.

Fiona, Jocelyn, and I went for lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. We talked about the weather, about fashion, current events -- everything except what has been going on to us in recent weeks. Finally Jocelyn asked about Monday's meeting with the security company.

"The first thing you should know," I explained, "is Don Malloy -- the man we just buried -- used to be a partner in the firm."

"What!?" cried Fiona. She felt her skin crawl. 

"Don't get creeped out," I said. "That's how I knew about the security firm in the first place -- Don told me what a great place it is -- best in the country, according to him."

"That's so weird," Jocelyn said. "I mean, what are the chances -- a kudzillion to one that I would need a security firm to protect me, and you buried the partner of the best firm around."

"I have been obsessing a little about it myself," I admitted. 

The light turned on. "That's why you know so much about security -- and how you knew about this firm in the first place," Fiona nodded.

"Like I said," following Fiona's thread, "we talked a lot about finances, life, and everything."

"So, when did Don leave the firm?" Jocelyn asked.

"I don't know all the details," I lied, "but legally I think he left a year or two after his wife and child died." I paused in sober reflection. "But I think in reality, Don's life ended that day. The way he told it, he just stopped caring, and Jason had no choice but to take over the business."

"How sad," Fiona sad again. 

"So," I returned the topic to the original question, "on Monday -- we are going to meet with Jason Braggs. He is the president of M.B. Security Services." I paused. "From what I understand, we are all going to be quite surprised by what is in store for us."

"What do you mean 'all of us'", Fiona followed up.

"I am not sure," I lied again. "It's just that Jason told me all three of us had to go together on Monday, and we all had to have an open mind." 

"Maybe he wants a three-way with us," Jocelyn smirked. Fiona rolled her eyes dismissively. "Hey!" Jocelyn defended, "I'm the one with a bullet named after me -- I'm just trying to make it not so heavy and serious all the time."

"All I am saying," I continued, ignoring Jocelyn's failed attempt at humor, "is that, based on my conversation with Jason, we should expect the unexpected."

"Oh, Jocelyn," I just remembered to ask, "Did you send that list you have been working on and your separation agreement to the address I gave you yesterday?" She said yes, she saved them to a USB memory stick and sent it by FedEx high priority shipment -- under my name as I asked -- it should arrive today. 

"Why couldn't we just send it by email," Jocelyn asked. 

"Jason told me not to -- I am assuming emails can be traced or intercepted."

We sat in silence after that. Jocelyn observed it had been a long and difficult week for all of us. We were in a funk. We all could use an escape from that condo. 

"How about we go somewhere for the weekend," Fiona suggested. That sounded like a perfect idea. It had to be within driving distance -- no flights -- for security reasons. The girls wanted to go to a spa resort (what a surprise). Fiona said she always wanted to go to the Broadleaf Lake Inn -- it was a luxury spa and with a 5 star hotel and great restaurants nearby. Jocelyn said that sounded good. It was a three hour drive -- we could get there by eight tonight easily -- we all agreed that was our first choice.

It was the off-season -- a last minute trip might be possible. I pulled out my cell phone and called directory assistance right there in the Cheesecake Factory -- and I was connected to the Broadleaf reception. All the regular rooms and cabins were sold out -- only the more expensive family suites were left. I asked if they had a honeymoon or executive suite -- no, but they had something called a presidential suite -- two large bedrooms, each with a Jacuzzi, and a common sitting room between the bedrooms. I said I'd take it for the weekend. I reserved the room with my credit card number. Oh, I added before I hung up -- I wanted two bottles of chilled champagne and four glasses waiting for us in our room -- not the cheap bubbly crap -- but real French champagne, like Moet & Chandon or Dom Perignon. 

We finished our lunch in much brighter spirits. As we drove home the girls started chirping excitedly about what outfits to pack. We were all primed to blow off some steam this weekend.

We pulled into the semi-circular driveway of the Broadleaf Lake Inn and Spa Resort at seven-fourty-five. On the drive up the girls exchanged perspectives on movies they had seen over the past few years. Fiona talked about places she would like to go other than Paris -- Rome, Hawaii, Fiji. I told her if she did the legwork -- researched all the possibilities -- I would entertain any possibilities. That got the girls talking about exotic travel destinations. 

A bellhop took our bags, and the valet parking attendant took my keys and gave me a chit. We checked in, and the bellhop led us to our suite. As promised, two bottles of Moet & Chandon in ice buckets awaited us in the common sitting room, as well as a complimentary fruit basket and Belgian chocolates. 

We toured the large bedrooms -- they seemed identical with king sized beds, a massive ensuite bathroom, each with a Jacuzzi and separate shower. A wall mounted flat screen TV faced the king sized bed. A pull-out sofa along the wall allowed another couple to sleep in the room. In the corner a work station permitted you to set up a laptop with lots of plugs for adapters. A floor-to-ceiling window the width of the room offered a spectacular view of the lake from the twelfth floor. There were two oversized sofa chairs facing the window with a side between them. Outside I could see a balcony that spanned the three connected rooms.

The common room had a full kitchen with a fridge, stove, microwave, dishwasher, pots, pans, dishes, cutlery, etc. There was a small round table with four chars for a dining room table, as well as three sofas in U configuration, a proper desk, and several chairs and side tables. This room had its own separate bathroom and shower. 

Fiona and I claimed the second bedroom we inspected, and offered the first one to Jocelyn. The bellhop distributed our luggage accordingly, which included the case of wine and spirits I brought from the condo that went into the common room. I tipped the bellhop and sent him on his way.

The girls fluttered around the three connected rooms with childlike curiosity as I opened the first bottle of champagne with a pop of the cork. I poured out three glasses, and handed one each to Fiona and Jocelyn. 

"To the once percent," Fiona repeated my toast from Paris. We all clinked our champagne glassed and drank.

"Holy fuck that's good champagne," Jocelyn pronounced. 

"Generally," I chided in a mock, high-brow professor's voice "'holy fuck' and 'good champagne' are not found in the same sentence."

"Blow me!" Jocelyn chafed before she downed her first glass already, and then held her empty flute in an outstretched arm. I obliged by refilling her glass. 

I watched Fiona tip her flute up and drain her remaining champagne. Then she kissed me with open lips and swished her unswallowed champagne into my mouth. Fiona stepped back two steps with a knowing smile, and with her devilish eyes locked on mine, Fiona silently mouthed the title line from the Black Eyed Peas song "Tonight's gonna be a good night" as she swayed her hips in rhythm to her secret tune. 

At nine-thirty, we were at the West of Lenin restaurant, a small bistro that specializes in Russian cuisine. Fiona wore a modest silk teal V-neck top with a wide black belt around the mid-waist. She wore slim black leather pants that complimented her shapely legs and knee-high front lace leather boots with two inch heels. Jocelyn wore a blue tank top layered under a black short sleeve cotton shirt unbuttoned to her bust and tight blue jeans that hugged her lovely shape. She wore silver and black open toe heels.

We started with a caviar and vodka appetizer followed by borscht soup. I had the beef Stroganov with an anise sauce -- Fiona had a cured pork Goulash -- and Jocelyn had Arctic char Priozhki. We all tasted each other's meals, and declared everything delicious. 

We had Black Russians and coffee after dinner. Over our drinks, we discussed what to do next. When our young, dark, handsome waiter, Andrei, who had been flirting with the twin blondes all night, offered to refill our coffees, Jocelyn asked Andrei where I should take these two ladies for a good night of dancing. The only place fit for Jocelyn and Fiona, Andrei assured, was Left Hand Spankies. He said we would really enjoy it -- Andrei looked at me when he explained the steep cover charge kept out the riff raff. I had to hand it to him -- Andrei sized us up pretty well. 

Jocelyn asked Andrei if she and Fiona were suitably dressed for Spankies -- he asked them to stand up. Everyone could tell Andrei was having fun, but the girls indulged him and each girl stood and gave him a twirl and a smile. "You don't find a lot of girls with jeans there, and if I were you," Andrei continued, "I would lose the casual look and wear something high end -- but avoid club trash -- you will look out of place -- Spankies is a top notch gig. "You," he gestured to Fiona, "will fit in with real good with that expensive silk top and leather pants and boots." Jocelyn walked over to Andrei and kissed him on the cheek and whispered something in his ear. He nodded.

I was wearing a black shirt and tie, a black silk jacket, black linen pants, and black leather shoes. "You," Andrei said to me, "don't change a thing," and then he returned to the kitchen. The dinner bill came to $210 -- I rounded it up to $300 with tip on my credit card. 

It goes without saying we went back to the hotel. Both girls changed. Fiona wore a burnt burgundy brushed silk long sleeve top with large black leather lapels and black leather sleeves. The lapels offered the allure of deep cleavage without being immodest. She sported the same black leather flare skirt with the fine gold thread in the hem that she wore the night she and Jocelyn ganged up on me as identical twins. She put on black open toe heels with rubies on the top. When I looked closer, I realized there was also identical fine golden thread in the edge of her top's black leather lapel and sleeves -- I assumed she must have bought the top at the same time she bought the skirt. She looked stunningly well put together. 

Jocelyn wore a sleeveless blue chiffon dress with a layered hem and black closed toe heels. Both girls looked ready to walk the red carpet. 

We took a cab to Left Hand Spankies. We stepped inside the front door fifteen minutes before midnight, and one of three hostesses standing there greeted us in a modern stainless steel and glass entryway. Two well-dressed musclemen guarded the interior door into the club. Stephanie, our greeter, asked if we had a reservation. I had never heard of a club that takes reservations -- no -- we didn't have a reservation. Stephanie apologized, and said there was no standing room available tonight. Fiona and Jocelyn were crestfallen, but I figured we could just find another club. Just as we turned to leave, Stephanie said to me "Sir, wait -- what is your name?"

"Terrance," I replied.

Stephanie picked up a clipboard and read from it. "Jethro Terrance?" she confirmed. 

"Yes."

"The West of Lenin restaurant called, and said you would be arriving in a party of three. Come this way." I suddenly realized I did not tip that waiter, Andrei, nearly enough. We followed Stephanie through the doors, held open by walking refrigerators in tuxedos. We made it about fifteen feet, into the inner reception area. "Melanie will look after you," Stephanie explained, as she turned to retreat through the still open doors to her greeting area. 

"Wait," I called to Stephanie, and pulled out my wallet. She stopped and faced me. I asked "Do you know the name of the person who made our reservation for us?"

"I believe it was Andrei," she replied -- I wanted to hear her say his name.

"Do you know Andrei personally?" I asked her.

"Yes -- he is a regular here," she confirmed. I bet he is.

I pulled out a hundred dollar bill. "The next time you see Andrei, please give this to him, and thank him for making our reservation -- we were not aware we needed one." Stephanie accepted it and smiled. "Of course I will," she assured me. "And here is something for your troubles," I offered Stephanie another hundred dollar bill. 

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Terrance. I will personally guarantee Andrei gets your gratuity." She smiled and returned to the outer greeting area, and the doors closed. Fiona leaned to me and whispered "He probably gets a kickback anyway."

There were three girls were in the inner reception room, along with two more refrigerators in tuxedoes. The coat check -- a fourth girl behind a counter -- took our coats and gave me a yellow plastic chit. We went through an airport style metal detector, after I put my keys, watch, and all our cell phones in a little tray. 




The Commander Ch. 07



Melanie, our greeter, picked up the tray with our valuables, and put it behind her. "Ladies and gentleman," she explained, "cell phones are not permitted in this club. We will lock them away securely for you, and you can retrieve them when you leave."

"Why?" Jocelyn asked.

"No pictures allowed in the club," I answered for Melanie.

"That's right, sir."

She grabbed a lock box from a shelf behind her, put our three cell phones in, locked it, pushed the lock box through a tiny rectangular tunnel into another room, and gave me a red plastic chit. Once we cleared physical security with my watch and keys returned, Melanie asked for our names and identification. Fiona and Jocelyn didn't have identification with them -- that was OK as long as I did. I showed them my driver's license. Melanie held it under a scanner, and returned it to me, and typed the girls' first names into a keyboard at her reception station in between lots of mouse clicks.

"Why do they want our names?" Fiona asked me in a hush.

I circled my finger, pointing at the dozen or so cameras all around this little room. "Face recognition system," I answered without trying to lower my voice. "They don't recognize us, so they know we've never been here before." 

"What about Jocelyn -- won't she leave a record behind?"

"It's only her first name, and they only have my last name -- I think we're okay." Fiona nodded slowly as she processed all of this.

"So, the next time we come back ..."

"Before you even say hello, they will know your name, everyone you came with, and when, for every time you ever came here."

"Wow," Fiona mused.

"This will just take a moment, sir," Melinda said to me. We all waited for about thirty seconds more, and then we heard a faint beep from her computer. 

Melinda typed something on her keybaord, and then smiled. "Mr. Terrance, the door entry fee is $75 per person. That will be $225 please."

I handed her my credit card.

"Andrei wasn't kidding," Fiona snorted.

Melinda processed the credit card and handed it back to me with a signature slip and a pen. As she took back the signed receipt, Melinda smiled "Beth will take you to your table now."

"What just happened?" Fiona asked.

"They took my money," I answered plainly -- I didn't see what else she was getting at.

"No, before that -- we waited for a while before she even asked for your credit card."

"They ran my driver's licence through a criminal record database."

"Are you serious?" Fiona asked in near disbelief.

"It certainly seems they are," I smiled to Melinda. 

"Yes," Melinda assured, "the next time you come here, it will take a lot less time to check in. Oh, and for the ladies," Melinda explained like a flight attendant reviewing the pre-flight safety rules, "when you come back here again, you absolutely must bring valid government ID with you. You are allowed a one-time pass with a registered client, which you have just used with Mr. Terrance. We only need your ID the one time -- the next time you come here. After that, we will have you in our system."

The two tuxedo refrigerators opened the doors from the interior reception into the real club, and Beth led us through. 

As we walked into the club, Jocelyn leaned over to me, and said "We could just register Fiona and then I could come in her place."

"I realized that right away," I agreed. "There is always a crack in every system."

Inside it was a club like many other clubs, with a few subtle differences. I am used to Fiona and Jocelyn being the most stunning women in the room. I would say they were only just above par in this club, but you would never catch me saying in front of them. Second, the security hardware inside this club was non-existent -- I couldn't see any cameras, although there were mirrors behind bars, where some cameras could be hidden. But no overhead cameras -- anywhere. I thought about that, and I realized with the security outside, they don't need cameras inside. More importantly to staying in business, I was willing to bet solid money there are all sorts of things that go on in this place every night that participants never want recorded on video. Thus the confiscation of cell phones at the door. Speaking of security, I saw the odd walking refrigerator wearing a tuxedo standing along the outside walls, but not nearly enough to control a crowd should things turn ugly. That surprised me. Finally, there was a higher waitress-to-customer ratio than in most clubs (I learned later they are called hostesses), and they were exceptionally well trained to magically appear at your table the instant you wanted something, but to leave you in peace at all other times. 

While Andrei was able to reserve us a table, he didn't have enough pull to reserve us a nicer booth along a wall. They were on an elevated mezzanine about five feet above the main floor along two opposite walls. I noticed some empty booths. I am guessing a place like this always keeps a few tables and booths in check, for circumstances just like ours, when a last minute reservation comes in from a high value guest or from their valued supply chain, like Andrei. 

As Beth showed us our table in the middle of the floor, I asked her if we could have one of the elevated booths along the wall. She informed me those were all reserved. I gave Beth a hundred dollar bill in tip, and asked her if she could check if a booth just became available. She smiled and said she could see what she could do. A minute later, a manager named Lake arrived and said he understood we had a concern about our table. Two more one hundred dollar bills later, we had our booth. 

The booths rested on a walkway about five feet above the rest of the club. From here we could easily scan across the whole room. Fiona sat next to the wall, and I sat beside her. Jocelyn sat across from us. Our hostess, Jessica, arrived immediately and asked what we would like to drink. I asked for a single malt scotch -- she handed me a 40 page wine list, which included about a hundred scotches. While I looked at the scotch list, Fiona ordered a glass of white Chardonnay, and so did Jocelyn. I told Jessica to hold on -- let's order a bottle. I found a Bouchard Père et Fils Meursault Perrières 2006 Chardonnay, and I ordered a Glenmorangie Ealanta scotch, neat, for myself. Our first round of drinks cost $500, and that was on the cheap side of the drink list Jessica gave to me.

A wine steward arrived to open our bottle and asked who would taste it. I wasn't drinking it, so Fiona decided she would. He poured a sip, and Fiona said okay after a taste. The steward poured out two glasses for Fiona and Jocelyn, then he set the remaining bottle into an ice bucket beside the table. While he did that, Jessica brought my scotch and took my credit card -- I told her to hold on to it and run a tab.

When the wine steward and Jessica left us alone again, Jocelyn lifted her glass up in cheers and said "Toto, I don't think we're in the one percent anymore." We tapped our glasses to each other's, and sipped. 

"Enjoy it while you can," I offered. "I can't afford this every week."

"Holy shit," Fiona uttered, looking out to the dance floor. Jocelyn and I turned to see what Fiona was looking at. Near the dead center of the crowded dance floor, where it was impossible to continuously observe people, I could the catch occasional, brief glimpse of several girls who had gone topless, and at least two of them were squatting down and fellating their dance partners. I probably stared too long only because it was so hard to see anything.

"Hey Big Boy," Fiona interrupted me, "I'm over here." Fiona put her hand on my thigh -- I looked toward her -- she kissed me with an open mouth while she moved her hand to my crotch and massaged my cock through my pants to an instant hard-on. She pulled her lips away, but continued massaging my pocket rocket, and with sparkling, mischievous eyes, Fiona mouthed those words again "Tonight's gonna be a good night ..."

"Let's dance," Jocelyn announced. Without a word, Fiona started shuffling sideways in her booth seat, bumping up against me in the booth, so I slid sideways and stood up to let Fiona out.

"You coming?" Fiona asked.

"Try stopping me," I smiled. Jocelyn took the lead, Fiona behind her. Fiona held my hand behind her back, and the three of us traipsed a line to the dance floor. 

We started dancing as a trio on the edge of the dance floor. It took us a while to get our rhythm, but within a couple of minutes I felt like we had joined a collective harmony. Jocelyn took opportunities to move closer to the middle of the dance floor, which I preferred -- it is better than dancing on the edge of the floor. Fiona and I followed each time Jocelyn sashayed into an opening closer to the center. 

We found a good spot about a third of the way to the center -- there seemed to be a pocket here where we could just relax and enjoy the music beat. Fiona and I kissed for about a minute while we continued dancing and Jocelyn danced close by. Fiona pulled away, turned to Jocelyn, and they kissed for a few minutes. As they pulled away, I completed the triangle by kissing Jocelyn as we danced. 

As I was kissing Jocelyn, I saw a big, tall man -- maybe six feet-four, glide behind Fiona, and he took her around her waist and started dancing his front to her back. I pulled away from Jocelyn and looked at Fiona's face -- she looked at me and smiled -- she was okay. So Jocelyn and I continued dancing, and between us, we kept an eye on Fiona. Fiona and tall-boy drifted slowly away from us. Just when I was thinking that was far enough, without warning, tall-boy raised his hands and cupped Fiona's breasts from behind. I saw Fiona jab both elbows back hard, spun around, and yelled something at him I couldn't hear. I disengaged from Jocelyn, and moved to intercept tall-boy. There were maybe a dozen people between me and Fiona -- it took me five seconds to reach her. As I closed the distance, I watched Tall-boy advance on Fiona, and she tried to backpedal, but there were too many people dancing behind her. He was instantly upon her and saying something. 

When at last I reached Fiona -- I stepped sideways with my back to Fiona and forced my body between Fiona and tall-boy. Now face-to-face with tall-boy, I put my left hand on his chest, pushed against him forcefully, and held my right index finger up to his face, and wagged my finger side to side, as in no-no-no. My only purpose in doing this was to put distance between tall-boy and me -- the right index finger waggle was to distract him from realizing I just shoved tall-boy back three feet. Tall-boy was considerably taller and bigger than me, and looked a lot stronger, and I was at a disadvantage in a bear-hug contest. Give me one arm's length separation, and I could take him down in two seconds.

Combat training I hadn't used in over twelve years instinctively flashed back to me. Tall-boy brought a fist to my left shoulder, but I saw it coming. I blocked his attempt with my left arm as I started pivoting on my left foot, doubling my leverage available to drive the heel of my right hand hard in and up against the base of tall-boy's sternum. I was going to snap his zyphoid process -- a sharp piece of internal cartilage -- off his rib cage and drive it into his diaphragm. It wouldn't kill him, but it would inflict such excruciating pain that it would give me time to step back and kick his knees out. It was a highly effective, non-lethal, in-close combat maneuver when confronted by an unarmed opponent much bigger than you. 

Unfortunately, I did all my training and combat in Don's body. Jet's muscle memory was all wrong, and my combat instincts couldn't adapt to Jet's body shape, coordination, strength, and timing. My initial block was too slow and sloppy, and before I knew it, tall-boy connected his right fist against my left shoulder. The impact of his hand on my shoulder stalled my pivot, causing the heel of my right hand to glance harmlessly off the side of tall-boy's rib cage. Tall-boy's left hand came down hard on my right should, and he started to push me down with so much force that I completely lost balance in mid pivot. I had to regroup my feet, which forced me to lower my center of gravity even more. I found myself at a grave disadvantage -- my head was now at tall-boy's chest level and he started leaning over top of me, pushing down with considerably more force than before. At any moment now he would smash his right arm down on the back of my neck with a decisive blow. I had maybe half a second before I was going to the floor. My lower position offered me one good shot at his nuts. Crouching down as I was, my legs were useless, so I drew my left fist back and swung a vertical roundhouse upwards into tall-boy's groin. To my astonishment, I hit tall-boy with so much force that I drove both his feet right off the ground, and then his feet kept going up, up, up, and he lost contact on my shoulder. 

Confused at this impossible outcome, I remained crouched, because standing up would expose too many vital parts to a counterattack. When tall-boy's feet didn't come back down, I looked up, and there I saw tall-boy suspended by two tuxedo refrigerators -- one on either side -- who had grabbed him by the arms and lifted him straight up -- twenty inches off the ground. Tall-boy started thrashing his feet and was kicking me, but I didn't sidestep the blows, because I knew Fiona was behind me, and I was preventing her from taking the brunt of his damage. 

I heard one of the refrigerators yell "settle down or die." I think that's what he said -- the music was loud and I was in maximum adrenaline mode. Whatever he said, the kicking stopped. I thought back a moment -- it took me five seconds to make it through 12 people to reach Fiona -- there was no way these two tuxedo refrigerators could have make it here from the edge of the room. Something wasn't adding up.

Another booming male voice behind me interrupted my thoughts. "Is there a problem, miss?" I stood up straight and spun around, and was dumbfounded to see two more tuxedo refrigerators flanking Fiona. Where the fuck did these guys come from? 

"KEEP THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE AWAY FROM MY TITS!" Fiona yelled, pointing at tall-boy.

"That's all!" I heard one of the refrigerators say, and I watched three tuxedos carry tall-boy out of the club like he was toothless poodle. One tuxedo remained on station with Fiona. 

I asked Fiona if she was okay -- she nodded yes. Next I moved back to where I left Jocelyn -- she was confused but otherwise fine.

We decided to go back to our table and regroup. It was a few minutes past one o'clock. Within a minute of sitting down, a man in a business suit arrived at our table.

"Mr. Terrance?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"I am Brian Winchell, general manger of Left Hand Spankies." He paused. "I understand there was just an incident on the dance floor that involved you and one of your friends."

"You're fucking right there was!" Fiona yelled back for me. She was sitting against the wall to my right. Brain was standing to my left, so I wasn't able to see both Fiona and Brian at the same time. I kept my attention on Brian. 

"Madam, I sincerely apologize for what happened. This is a very rare event at Spankies, and I am truly sorry you had to suffer through any part of that regrettable event." I actually believed him, but I didn't say anything. 

"Sir, and ladies," Brian continued, "as a gesture of my deep apologies, I have waived the cost of all your drinks for this evening." 

"That's a start," I answered.

"Sir," Brian answered, "by any chance, are you staying in a hotel nearby?" I told him we're staying at the Broadleaf Spa.

"Very good sir -- could I send something to your room there?"

"I like Dom Perignon, 1992."

"I'll have a case sent to your room immediately, sir." 

"And some nice Chardonnay," Fiona added. Brain looked at the ice bucket beside the table. 

"Madam, are you satisfied with the bottle you are drinking now?"

"Yes," Fiona answered.

"I'll have a case of that delivered to your room without delay." He paused. "Can I do anything else for you?"

"Got any good weed?" Jocelyn asked.

"I regret, madam, that is beyond my authority."

"Forget it, then," shrugged Jocelyn.

"Ladies and gentleman, if it is any consolation, I have placed that man on our watch list -- effective immediately, he is forever banned from this establishment." Not only did I believe that, I was absolutely certain he could enforce that ban without fail. 

"If there is nothing else for now, I will leave my card with you," he said as he handed his business card to each one of us. "I want to make this very clear. If there is anything else you need -- anything at all that I can provide at any time," he said looking at Fiona," please do not hesitate to call me."

"Thank you," I said, and Brian turned and walked away.

"You okay?" Jocelyn asked Fiona.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me."

I started rubbing my knees where tall-boy had kicked me -- I would have some bruises, but there was no serious damage. As I massaged my legs, I looked out to the dance floor where the skirmish just happened, and then I smiled. I rebuked myself for not noticing it before. Looking at the hundreds of dancing bodies, I now counted four massive tuxedos -- and that was just among the dancers I could see on this side of the floor. They "danced" slowly, even ponderously, to conserve energy. Hide the razor toothed guard dogs among the sheep -- it was one of the oldest tricks in the book. I was disappointed in myself for not noticing that before. But that disappointment was nothing compared to the anger I had for myself for not handling that situation properly. 

"Jet," Jocelyn interrupted my thoughts, "what the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"I think I'll call that an attempt at saving Fiona," I replied, privately cursing myself for a mission gone bad.

"I didn't even see what happened -- next think I know, you're knocking people over to get to Fiona."

"He wasn't right beside me?" Fiona asked.

"No," Jocelyn continued. "you and Dance Moves there got away from us. I had even lost you for a moment -- you were half the way across the dance floor -- then Jet is knocking people out of his way like bowling pins making a bee line for you, and then he stands up to Dance Moves and shoves him backwards, away from you, and the Jet gets all into his face." I didn't remember knocking anyone over, but I confess I might have. 

Looking at me, Fiona said "You got in between us so fast, I just figured you were right next to me." People's recollection of stressful events is like that -- time gets compressed.

Fiona changed her voice to mock a bad actress. "You saved me!" as she exaggerated a swoon with the back of her hand on her forehead. Then Fiona kissed a peck on my cheek. I smiled. I wasn't in the mood to confess to a botched mission if she thinks I saved her. 

More seriously now, Fiona continued, "so ... you ran over to me and put yourself between me and that dude?" I nodded. "What would you have done if those big guys hadn't shown up?"

"Whatever it takes," I said forcefully, which in truth probably meant crumpling into an unconscious heap on the floor. 

Fiona obviously didn't see it that way, because this time she tenderly held my face in her hands and kissed me on the mouth. "I'm getting into the habit of thanking you," she said quietly.

We went silent for a moment. "That champagne he is delivering to our room," asked Jocelyn, "how much does it cost?"

"We ordered one bottle on our Paris river cruise," I answered. "It was a thousand dollars."

"Oh my God -- we have a whole case of it!" Fiona did the math. "That's twelve thousand dollars!"

"And what about the Chardonnay?" asked Jocelyn.




The Commander Ch. 07



"They charge $450 a bottle here," I reported. 

"That's over seventeen thousand dollars of "we're sorry" they just sent to our room!" Jocelyn calculated. 

"And we've only just started drinking here," Fiona added. She paused for a while in thought. "Why would they do that?"

"They're hoping we won't make a fuss," I explained. "You post something about this on FaceBook, stories about sexual harassment at a dance club can really kill profits." I was willing to bet Brian figured he got away easy on this one, but I didn't say that.

"Or a lawsuit," Jocelyn added.

"I doubt you'd win a lawsuit," I ventured. "Out of court, maybe, but if it ever made it to court, a place like this would defend itself very aggressively. And it's your word against theirs -- there are no cameras in here. Their bouncers will testify they never saw tall-boy touch Fiona inappropriately, and the only evidence you have is Fiona's and my word on it."

"Enough talk about this bullshit!" Fiona called out. I poured the girls more wine from the bottle, and ordered another bottle from Jessica, our hostess. I asked her to bring me another scotch, too. 

"It's time we found us some boys," Jocelyn announced in an exaggerated southern drawl. "I've got free drinks all night, and I'm gonna find some gorgeous thing to share them with."

"What about Antwon, or whatever his name is?" Fiona asked.

"Andrei is for later," Jocelyn smiled. 

"How about some girls," I counteroffered Jocelyn's mission statement.

"Boys AND girls," Fiona ventured. "Now we're talking!"

Around one-thirty Fiona and Jocelyn decided they would troll the club for some meat -- maybe they didn't use those exact words. But they got up and wandered the club together. I stayed at the table -- I figured Brian was right -- we probably experienced a rare event. From my elevated booth, I could keep a general eye on Fiona and Jocelyn's whereabouts. 

I wasn't too concerned about their safety through a recurrence like tall-boy. Besides, in retrospect, I was nothing more than window dressing when it came to keeping Fiona safe -- the tuxedo refrigerators took care of business with tall-boy. I thanked my lucky karma that all Fiona saw was the window dressing. 

Besides, I already had my eye on a tasty treat. While we were recounting the events of Fiona's encounter with tall-boy, I had noticed a hostess seated three girls at our original table below on the floor -- the table we paid to get out of to come to this booth. I started thinking about a plan while I sipped my single malt scotch. 

Within five minutes, the three girls that sat at our old table got up to dance. As I watched them at on the edge of the dance floor, one of them immediately stood out from the other two. She had a sensual way of rocking her hips, of holding her mouth, of moving her hands, of her wanting eyes -- a total package that reeked sexuality. It's not something girls can learn -- some are just born with it. I thought more about my plan. Tonight I would take a chance.

I saw Fiona and Jocelyn standing on the far side of the club -- they were talking in a group of people -- a mix of beautiful girls and guys. I alternated my attention between Fiona and Jocelyn at the far side of the bar and the trio of dancing girls on the dance floor. 

After maybe half an hour, the girls returned to our old table. I saw Fiona and Jocelyn privately discuss something -- they both nodded in agreement, and then Fiona broke away from the pack, leaving Jocelyn with the beautiful people. Fiona walked toward the booth -- I was anticipating being with her again, when suddenly, she stopped at the very table I was fixated on with the three girls. Perhaps Fiona had seen the same sensuality I did. She stood and chatted for a bit, and then sat down, making it a foursome. 

I divided my attention between Fiona and Jocelyn, making sure I could see both of them. I also noticed they made occasional eye contact with each other. I have no doubt twins could recognize a look of distress in each other that would escape anyone else watching. Maybe another half hour passed before Fiona left from the table and returned to the both with me. She could Jocelyn's eye and hand-signalled her destination. 

Fiona and I chatted a bit, and soon I saw Jocelyn making her way across the floor to our booth. Before Jocelyn arrived, I asked Fiona about the table of three girls. 

"I asked them if any of them wanted to come with me back to our hotel," Fiona said, "but they all said no."

"Why only one?" I asked in all seriousness. 

"Well, I wasn't getting good vibes anyway." Jocelyn was just sitting down.

"Well," I said, "you picked the girls ..."

Fiona thought for a moment, then her face lit up with understanding. "No way!"

"You wanna bet?" I asked.

"NO!" Fiona barked, smiling broadly.

"Bet what?" Jocelyn asked.

"Fiona just struck out on one of those girls that table down there," I said, point to our old table. "I was betting I could get all of them to come to our hotel room."

Jocelyn snorted a laugh. "You for real?"

"I'll bet you I can convince all of them to come back to the hotel with us," I said, looking at Jocelyn. 

"You're definitely on ..." Jocelyn jumped in her seat and her face showed in instant of surprise. "On, second thought," Jocelyn said, "I think I'll pass." I realized Fiona had just kicked Jocelyn under the table.

"I'll just have to do this for honor, then," I said as I stood up. In truth I had no idea if I could bag one girl, let alone all three. As far as I knew, I was still holding Jocelyn under a skip, and I didn't know if I could do two at once, let alone four. I found Jessica -- our hostess -- and asked her to buy the girls at that table a round of drinks on my tab. Thank you Brian.

I walked over to the table of girls, introduced myself, and started up harmless conversation. When we established I wasn't an axe murderer, I asked if I could sit down for a while -- they said sure. We chatted idly for about five minutes. When I saw Jessica walk toward us with the drinks, I said "You know that blonde girl you were just talking to a while ago?" They all said yes. "She asked if one of you wanted to come back to our hotel?" They all smiled embarrassedly, and said yes, that they declined Fiona's invitation. 

"Well," I explained just as the drinks arrived, "I have bought all of you a round of drinks just so you understand there is no awkwardness and no hard feelings." They thanked me with delight. I knew Fiona and Jocelyn were watching my every nuance from the booth, but I didn't look back.

"And all I ask in return," I said, and I saw two of their faces collapse into 'here we go again' looks. "No, hang on," I persisted. "All I ask in return is that you give us a cheer for the drinks. That's it, and then I'll leave you in peace."

"You mean like a toast?" one of them asked.

"Yes, almost a toast, but a cheer." I paused, looking at the one immediately to my left. "What's you're name?" I asked. It was Caitlyn. "Caitlyn, put your hand down in the middle of the table -- its okay -- its part of the cheer. Caitlyn hesitated, looked at the other girls, shrugged, and then stretched her arm out, resting her palm face down in the middle of the round table. I put my left hand over hers. What's your name? I asked the one across from me. It was Bailey. "Bailey, put you hand on top of mine." She did. Then I put my right hand in top of Bailey's hand. I saved the dancing sex goddess to last, "What's your name?" It was Hannah. "Hannah put your hand on top of mine." She did. I looked around -- there was no one close enough to overhear us. 

I was in simultaneous physical contact with all three girls. I sent out a skip to all three girls as I said the words. "You will do everything that I tell you to do. You will remember everything we do as fun, as things you like to do, and as things you would like to do again sometime. Give me a huge smile if you understand," and they all smiled. "Okay, everyone laugh like I just told you the funniest joke ever," and all three girls broke out into hysterical laughter. "Okay laugh just a little now," and the girls quieted down to a mild laugh. "Okay, you can stop laughing, but keep smiling," and they did. 

Looking around again to check if it was clear, I then said "If anyone here has a sexually transmitted disease, close your eyes." They all kept their eyes open. 

"Everyone take your hand back," and they all pulled their hands away. From a distant viewer, it looked like we just had a good joke, and we were all talking again. "So tell me," I asked them all, "were you girls looking for some action tonight?" They all agreed yes, and no offence to my blonde friend, but that's not what they were looking for. "Fair enough," I said. "So let's just relax and chat while you enjoy my drinks," I offered. We idly chatted before I took the next step. I wanted to make sure everyone was loose and comfortable. 

"Okay," I said after about ten minutes. "Do you see those two lovely blonde girls sitting in that booth behind me -- they're watching us," I asked -- they all looked over and then nodded. "When I say 'now', I want you all to stand up and blow them a kiss." I stood up, turned around and looked at Fiona and Jocelyn, and I winked. I turned my head back toward the three girls, and said "Now!" They all stood up. I turned to face Fiona and Jocelyn, and I blew my own kiss toward them in unison with the three girls at the table. Predictably, Fiona dropped her jaw open. I saw Jocelyn's face light up with amazement and I saw her mouth form the words "Oh my God."

An hour later we were back at the hotel. I had retrieved our cell phones and coats on the way out of the club. Brian Winchell thanked us for coming, and reminded us to call him if we had any more concerns. 

Fiona, Jocelyn, Caitlyn, Bailey, Hannah, Andrei, Erik, and I sat in the common room of our hotel suite. Andrei, of course, was from the West of Lenin restaurant -- he joined us at Spankies and the chemistry instantly flowed between Andrei and Jocelyn. Erik, a tall, blonde, handsome Swede, was Andrei's friend. I couldn't help but notice some sexual sparks arcing between Erik and Fiona. 

Almost true to Brian Winchell's word, the Champagne and Chardonnay were waiting for us when we returned to the hotel room. I said 'almost', because there was a note attached to the Champagne, explaining he regretted he did not have the 1992 vintage, so please accept two cases of the 1993 vintage in its place. I am certain he knew the '92 vintage was a more spectacular year than '93, which is why he threw in the extra case. We loaded the sink with ice water and put six bottles of champagne in to chill. 

The Dance Clubbin' hotel music channel was playing on TV, and Caitlyn, Bailey, and Hannah were dancing topless. They were all trim, fit, beautiful, brown-eyed brunettes around five foot-six. Caitlyn had long, flowing light brown hair to her mid-back with lovely highlights. Her firm B cup breasts sat higher on her chest than most girls. Bailey had short dark brown hair with bright eyes and a cute triangular face. Hannah had shoulder length straight chocolate brown hair with bangs across the front and bedroom eyes. Bailey and Hannah both had full sized C cup breasts that bounced and jiggled playfully as they danced. I noticed Hannah's sensual dance moves captivated everyone in the room -- it wasn't just me.

I called down for extra glasses for the champagne. Thirty minutes later a twenty-five year old room service attendant stepped in our room, wide-eyed at the sight of three beautiful topless dancing girls. The girls cajoled him to stay, but he muttered something about being fired, and backed out the door. I was pretty sure he'd regret that for the rest of his life. 

I poured out the first two bottles of champagne, and we all hoisted our glasses in cheers. After they finished their Champagne, the three girls resumed dancing. I put two more warm bottles from the case into the sink and added more ice. 

Fiona then signalled me with her eyes to meet her in our bedroom. "I want to fuck Erik, and I'm pretty sure you want to fuck the disco sisters," she explained behind our closed door. 

"Works for me," I agreed.

"Do we want to be in the same room?" she asked casually. 

"Do you trust him?" I asked, referring to Erik.

"I think so, but I would still kind of like you to be there." 

I pulled out the sofa bed. "Some of us here, some of us there," I said, pointing at the two beds. We looked for bedding, but there was none to be found. I called down for lots of extra bedding, blankets, and pillows.

I sat on the sofa bed, and patted the mattress beside me, gesturing Fiona to sit beside me. "How are you doing?" I asked her.

"Great!" she smiled.

"Good," I replied. "I was just checking in after tonight's ... incident at the club." 

"Thanks," she smiled warmly. I leaned in and kissed her. I fell back on the bed and pulled Fiona on top of me, and we kissed tenderly. 

I saw the long, narrow, dark tunnel, and when I came out of it, I was on top, looking down at Jet. "Jet?" I said in Fiona's voice. Nothing. I pinched his nipple through his shirt as hard as I could. Nothing. Back came the long, narrow, dark tunnel, and I was on the bottom looking up at Fiona. 

"Whoa?" Fiona called out.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, too much Champagne, I guess."

"Good," I kissed her lightly. "I'll get some more." She smiled and we kissed again.

Back in the common room, I called out "Hey girls," to the disco sisters, "would you like to take the rest of your clothes off?" They were getting tired of dancing, so the girls stripped off their skirts, underpants, stockings, and whatever, and then sat on one of the sofas together. I refilled everyone's Champagne glasses, and cycled two more bottles through the ice water.

I saw Fiona go to Erik and talk to him quietly. I'm guessing she was telling him how it was going to go down tonight. Erik must have liked what he heard, because they started kissing. Fiona took hold of Erik's hand, and gently repositioned it over her bosom and let him play. 

The same room service boy brought bundles of bedding on a trolley cart. This time, the complete naked disco sisters jumped up and surrounded him, begging him to stay. He pushed the bedding cart to the side of the room, and said he was nearly at the end of his shift anyway. I walked over to the disco sisters and whispered to Caitlyn and Bailey that they could do what they want with him, but they were forbidden to fuck him. 

I picked up some bedding, took Hannah's hand, and told her to come with me. I caught Fiona's eye as I led Hannah to our bedroom door. I looked back at Caitlyn and Bailey, who already had the boy's shirt off and were working on his trousers. 

Inside the bedroom, I told Hannah to make the pullout bed. I went to the bathroom and retrieved some condoms. When I came back out, Hannah had her back to me and she was bending over to tuck the sheet into the mattress. I walked up behind her, and slipped my hand down her ass crack past her rosebud, and started fondling Hannah's pussy. Obeying her master, Hannah continued to tuck the sheet in while I goosed her with my middle finger. 

I told Hannah to lie back on the bed. She lay down with her head on the pillow -- I told her to scoot down so her feet dangled off the end. Then I told her to start playing with herself as I started taking my clothes off. 

I crawled onto the bed and positioned myself overtop Hannah in an inverted position, with my ten inch swelling cock dangling over her face, and I was looking down at her pussy. I reached back, grabbed a pillow, put it under Hannah's head, and told her to start sucking me. 

As Hannah took me into her mouth, I reached down and pulled her knees up and spread her thighs wide open. I started fingering Hannah's split pussy while she continued to suck me from underneath. Just then I heard the door open, and Fiona and Erik entered. Fiona assessed my situation in one look, walked over, and kissed me and then returned to Erik. Fiona kneeled in front of Erik, undid his pants, and took his cock into her mouth. I envied Erik, as Hannah did not seem to be a deep throater. 

I watched Fiona suck Erik as I felt Hannah suck me, and I felt a rush of excitement overcome me. I resumed my finger fucking of Hannah's pussy, but never took my eyes off of Fiona's loving mouth engulfing Erik's cock. My balls were warming up. I pulled out of Hannah's mouth, and retrieved the string of condom packages from the floor, and tore one off. I walked to Fiona -- tapped her on the shoulder -- showed her the condom package -- she acknowledged with her eyes without losing suction on Erik's six inch member. I put Fiona's condom package on her bedside table. 

I returned to Hannah, donned my own condom, and put Hannah into a doggie fuck position that allowed me to watch Fiona as I fucked Hannah. Hannah had a nice pussy -- not as tight as Fiona's -- but it was deeper. I could bury eight inches before I bottomed out.

Fiona took my lead, retrieved the condom I left for her, and put it on Erik as I continued to fuck Hannah from behind without taking my eyes off Fiona. I thought Fiona would go to her bed, but she didn't. She pulled a square leather ottoman to the floor just beyond my pullout bed, kneeled on it, and then leaned way down and put her hands flat down on the floor. She placed herself in profile position to me, so I could see her bare ass sticking way up in the air, and I watched the standing Erik penetrate her from behind. I could see Erik's cock slide all the way in and out of Fiona's pussy, and the image of Fiona being fucked drove me wild with excitement. I started pumping harder into Hannah, staring intensely at Fiona taking Erik's cock up her pussy. 

I saw Erik throw his head back -- he was getting close already. I pounded Hannah's pussy with wild abandonment, bottoming out many times, but she didn't complain. I continued staring at Fiona taking Erik's cock from behind.

At last I felt my balls pass the point of no return -- I was ready to unload. I crushed my fingers into Hannah's hips and cried out "Oh, fuck yes, Fiona!" as I started to unload wave after wave of my hot spunk. I let out a low, inhuman growl as my cock continued to ejaculate spurts of jism. Next I heard Erik rumble out his own grunt as he started to cum while my orgasmic spasms continued strong. 

At last my balls emptied their last load, and I pulled out of Hannah. I tugged the condom off my still rigid cock and let it turn inside out as I pulled, leaving all my jism on my rod. I was about to tell Hannah to suck it dry when I heard Fiona say "Let me do it." Fiona was still in the downward dog position with her knees on the ottoman, so I slipped off my bed, and crab walked under Fiona's face until her lips could reach my cock, and she took the whole ten inches in. She slowly pulled her mouth back, keeping a tight seal with her lips against my rigid cock.

When she finished cleaning me off, she said "Jet -- are you ..."

"Yup," I confirmed. "Energizer stud bunny is back."

"Oh, you are so getting a deep throat blow job," Fiona announced while Erik was still inside her.

I told Hannah to go out to the other room and come back with Caitlyn and Bailey. Meanwhile Fiona pulled away from Erik. 

The three disco sisters came into the room. I noticed Erik took off his condom and started to dress. "Where are you going?" Fiona asked him.

"This is too crazy for me," Erik complained. I noticed it wasn't too crazy when Fiona had his dick in her mouth, or when he came sheathed in her pussy.

"Don't hang around, then," Fiona said. "I want you to go." Erik finished dressing and left without another word. 

"Change of plans, girls," I announced to the disco sisters after Erik was gone. "New mission. Commence Operation Fiona Overload," and I saw Fiona smile with bright eyes. "Let's do everything we can to give Fiona the best orgasm she's ever had," I commanded. The three girls climbed up on Fiona's bed and swarmed her body with tongues, kisses, and massages. 




The Commander Ch. 08



This is my first erotic story -- I welcome all feedback.

---

On the top-ten list of best things to wake up to, the first nine involve a blowjob. I became dimly aware I was growing erect as my slumber grudgingly yielded to consciousness. Once fully awake, I saluted the unmistakable sensation of my cock stiffening inside a loving mouth. I stretched my arms and legs to shake of the drowsiness as I lay on my back, welcoming this erotic gift. 

Fiona pulled out for a moment to say "I promised you a deep throat blow job, Big Boy. Lay back and relax."

"I'd be more relaxed if you gave it to me sixty-nine," I said, and without another word, Fiona repositioned herself so she was lying inverted on top of me, with her legs splayed and her pussy resting on my face before Fiona resumed fulfilling her oral promise. I probed her fuck hole with my tongue for an instant, and then drifted northward to the million nerve endings that made up her clitoris. As I started massaging the region around her clit, I reached around with my right hand, and landmarked my middle finger on her rosebud, and gently pushed in. Fiona moaned appreciatively without losing suction.

As Fiona started to take my blowjob to the next level, I gently fingerfucked her asshole while I massaged her clit with my tongue. I could hear occasional moans of appreciation when I happened upon the right combination of sensual stimuli. When I felt my own balls stir, I pressed my tongue harder on Fiona's clit and drove my finger deeper into her asshole. Fiona rewarded my initiative by going deep. She licked my ball sack with my entire ten inches buried up to her lips for a few seconds and then resumed sucking at her normal depth. 

Fiona reflexively rocked her pelvis over my face, making my clitoral massaging job easier. I bent my tongue down over my lower lip and chin, and now pressed my chin supported tongue firmly into Fiona's clit, and I heard her moans grow into long groans. With my cock still in her mouth, I heard Fiona breathing hard through her nose, like a bull spoiling for a charge. I knew she was close, so I reduced my clitoral and anal stimulation to let Fiona bring me up to her arousal level using her oral magic. She intuitively understood my throttling, and Fiona brought her encircled right finger and thumb into action to jerk the lower half of my shaft to accelerate my orgasmic ascent. 

After a couple of minutes grew really close, so I resumed my full press massage on Fiona's clit and I pressed my finger more firmly into her asshole. Fiona responded by doubling the frequency of the jerking motion of her hand on my lower shaft. 

We both exploded in a perfectly choreographed orgasmic ballet. Fiona instantly went deep on me, letting me unload salvo after salvo down her swallowing throat, while I wrapped my left arm around her lower back and pulled her pussy into my face as hard as I could, doubling the pressure I delivered to her clitoris. If she could have breathed, I know Fiona would be groaning wildly, but the beauty queen stayed deep on my cock while my balls continued pumping seemingly unending spurts of jism down her throat. 

At last both our orgasmic spasms subsided. Fiona pulled out, and I heard her take a gasping recovery breath. I gently retracted my finger from her ass. We lay there uncoupled in our sixty-nine pose, and I wrapped both my arms around her ass in an oddly intimate embrace. 

"Oh my God!" cried Fiona. "What happened to your legs?" In the course of our sixty-nine, the bed covers had slipped off my legs, and I am guessing Fiona was now noticing for the first time the bruises that must have developed overnight from my encounter with tall-boy last night.

"Bruises?" I asked.

"They're everywhere!" she exclaimed. 

"That sissy at the club kicked me last night," I explained. 

"My God you look awful!" Fiona declared. "Does it hurt?" she asked as she pressed a finger deep into the middle of one of my bruises.

"Only when you do that," I chided.

"Oh, sorry," she offered sheepishly. 

Perhaps in penance, Fiona started jerking her hand up and down the shaft of my cock, and sure enough, it responded with renewed vigor. She lifted herself off, kneeled beside me, and continued jerking my cock. When I was stiff as steel again, Fiona positioned her pussy over my erect piston, and fucked my reborn multi-orgasmic cock with her beautifully tight pussy. She leaned forward and rocked to and fro on my pelvic bone, allowing me to reach up and play with Fiona's perfect tits. 

Fiona moved her hips rhythmically, and I synchronized my pelvic thrust to her hip motion. We continued in this amorous dance until I felt my balls ready to burst again. I closed my eyes and gripped her shoulders. Fiona doubled her pelvic frequency. The tightness of her pussy was just too much to resist, and my balls unloaded for the second time that morning. Fiona stopped rocking, and lowered herself as deep as she dared as I shot wad after wad, splashing into the deep end of her tight, hot pussy. My orgasmic contractions continued for at least thirty seconds. When I finally relaxed, I gently caressed Fiona's breasts. 

We rested with my still stiff cock still inside Fiona for a few minutes. Then she lifted off and sucked my cock deep-throat style. When I was shiny clean, Fiona disappeared in the bathroom, and closed the door for about five minutes. I heard the toilet flush, and I was thinking I needed to go myself. I waited a few more minutes for her to wash up and come out. But when she did, I saw a tube of K-Y in her hand. "Do me up my ass," she requested as she handed me the tube. 

"With pleasure," I agreed. Fiona took me in her mouth and sucked me for a couple of minutes to restore my cock to its full measure. Then Fiona knelt on the bed with knees wide, and then bent forward until her shoulders touched the mattress. This posture left her ass cheeks and pussy lifted high and spread wide. I took my mounting position, and started by fucking Fiona's pussy in part to galvanize my cock, and I'll admit, just for fun. As I fucked Fiona, I held the K-Y tube in my left hand and squeezed a big dollop onto my right index finger, and I slipped my finger to her rosebud and pushed it in. I doubled fucked Fiona -- cock and finger -- for a while before I withdrew both, put some K-Y on my cock, and pressed to her lubed asshole.

I entered Fiona anally, and she breathed a big sigh of appreciation. I pushed the whole ten inches in, and pulled back, but not out, a few times just to ensure everything was lubricated properly. Fiona was still in a face plant position on the bed. I reached down and grabbed her right hand, crossed her arm diagonally behind her back, and securely held it in position by wrapping my left hand and fingers around her right wrist. Then I grabbed her left hand, crossed that arm diagonally behind her back, over her right arm, and held it tightly with my right hand. Fiona was face planted into the bed with her arms criss-crossed behind her back, and I had an unbreakable grip on both wrists. There was no escape for the powerless Fiona. Now I started thrusting for real into Fiona's asshole, and I pulled against her firmly bound criss-crossed arms for leverage on each thrust. I savagely drove into her ass, and the mere force of my hips slamming against her ass compressed her lung cavity, causing her to involuntarily bark out a grunt on each thrust. I felt -- and I could even hear -- my ball sack slapping against Fiona's pussy on every stroke. I ass fucked Fiona mercilessly, and I soon heard her bark-grunts grow louder.

My balls began churning for the third time this morning, and that prompted me to drive even harder into Fiona's ass. Her bark-grunts gave way to shouts. I was surprised how quickly my balls went from lightly churning to explosive. As I ruptured into Fiona's ass, I clamped my fingers even harder around her wrists, and I pressed one, long, hard thrust as deep as I could while I pulled her arms back toward me. Fiona let out a long groan of satisfaction as I unloaded wave after wave into her bowels. I know it is only teaspoons, but in the insane intensity of this orgasm, I was certain I pumped gallon after gallon up her invaded anus. 

After I expelled my last gallon, I released Fiona's wrists and pulled out. "Holy fuck!" Fiona cried out. "You're a fucking animal!" I laughed at the different ways I could interpret that sentence. 

I gently rolled Fiona onto her back and I straddled over her. I leaned forward and slipped my hands behind her neck, and I lowered my body onto hers, and I hugged her firmly. She returned my cuddle by wrapping her hands tightly around my shoulders, and we stayed embraced that way a long time. "I need a shower," I finally said. 

"Me too," she admitted. We took a shower together. After our shower I shaved while Fiona brushed her hair and did her makeup. As we dressed I realized we had slept in. It was one in the afternoon when we stepped into the common room of our hotel suite. Caitlyn, Bailey, and Hannah (Fiona called them the disco sisters) were there in various states of undress watching TV. The room service guy from last night was also there. I presumed Jocelyn and Andrei were in their bedroom. Fiona quietly poked her head in their door a moment, and reported Jocelyn and Andrei were both asleep. 

The mess in common room amounted to a small disaster. I told the disco sisters to get dressed and tidy the room -- from what I could tell it was mostly their muddle. They got up from their couches, put their dance club clothing on from last night, and took the next fifteen minutes to clear out all the garbage and clutter. I realized their attire from last night wasn't exactly Saturday afternoon appropriate. Instead of going out for lunch, I decided to order room service, and we would sort out our day after lunch. While the disco sisters cleaned up the room, I called down and asked room service for some croissants with butter and jam, coffee, burgers, smoked salmon, a cheese plate, a fruit and vegetable plate, and an assortment of Danishes -- I covered all the bases. 

The AWOL room service guy from last night (turns out his name is Mike) got nervous when he heard room service was on its way -- I told him he could hide out in our bedroom when our food arrived. He seemed especially smitten by Bailey, and appeared to have developed a lost-puppy crush on her.

Now the TV was playing a tune from a program. "What show is that?" I asked Hannah. It was a show called Doctor Who, whatever that was. Another medical show, like House, I presumed, except it depicted a blue telephone booth bouncing around an electronic tornado. The theme music sounded eerily familiar, but I couldn't place it.

I went into Jocelyn's room -- she and Andrei were still fast asleep in their bed. I woke them up and told them to join us in the common room for lunch in half an hour.

Over lunch everyone else engaged in an animated recounting of Fiona's run-in with tall-boy at Spankies. The disco girls, Andrei, and Mike knew nothing of the incident, so Jocelyn and Fiona excitedly shared every last detail from their separate perspectives. They also relished at how we scored with all the free Champagne, Chardonnay, and drinks at Spankies.

By now, the story of my intervention had grown to epic proportions. The girls simply didn't remember, or perhaps were never aware of, the decisive role the refrigerator tuxedoes played. In the girls' storyline, the tuxedos stepped in only after I took care of business. If you considered being pile driven to the floor as taking care of business, I suppose they were right.

I was really quite embarrassed, and I felt uncomfortable taking undue credit for a pathetically executed rescue mission riddled with rookie mistakes. Fiona and Jocelyn misinterpreted my discomfort for a rare moment of modesty, which only fanned the flames of my heroism status. Then Fiona mentioned the bruises on my legs, and she insisted I drop my pants to show everyone. When I realized I wasn't going to get out of there without a peep show, I stood up and lowered my trousers to my ankles, and they all gasped at the ugly colors and sizes of the bruising on my knees and thighs. I had to admit they looked awful. My battle scars summarily vaulted me to a semi-god standing. 

After lunch we discussed our plans for the rest of the day. I told the disco sisters I would hire a car to take them home. Fiona and Jocelyn wanted to enjoy a spa treatment. Mike remained silent -- I think he secretly hoped Bailey would take him home, perhaps forever, but he didn't have the nerve to act on his desires. I welcomed a quiet afternoon to relax and read my book. Fiona, Jocelyn, and I planned to rendezvous at six that evening in the hotel suite. 

Andrei said he had to go home and change before he went back to work. He then remembered to thank me for the generous tip I left him at Spankies. He kissed Jocelyn a long goodbye, and left. 

I walked the disco sisters to the hotel lobby and asked the concierge to hire a cab to take them home, and charge the fare to my room. Before we left our suite, Mike waved a pathetic goodbye to Bailey. As we waited in the lobby for the concierge to arrange the taxi, I told the disco sisters to do one more cheer, just like last night. We all put our hands together on a table. I told them to remember they had a great time, and they would like to do it again sometime. I removed the skip. I asked the three girls for their phone numbers, and I programmed them into my cell phone. I kissed each girl on the cheek and I watched them walk out the hotel front door and climb into the waiting cab. 

On my way back up to the suite, it hit me -- I know where I had heard that Doctor Who theme song before. The first time I jumped Fiona, long, long ago, I made Fiona give some clerk from a grocery store a blowjob, and while she blew him, he sang that tune. 

When I got back to our suite, Mike was gone. 

Fiona, Jocelyn, and I enjoyed a tamer Saturday night -- dinner and drinks. We were all pretty tired from the late hours and escapades of Friday night. Fiona and I were asleep by midnight. 

Andrei joined Jocelyn after his work at the West of Lenin, and he stayed overnight in her room again. No one had any delusions -- Andrei knew he would never be on the long term menu -- he was a weekend special. 

On Sunday morning Fiona, Jocelyn, and I took massages from the spa, and then we drove back home Sunday afternoon with our Champagne and Chardonnay. Back in the condo, Fiona and Jocelyn thanked me for such a perfect weekend with a peck on the cheek from each of them. 

It had been a perfect weekend. We blew off a big load of steam on Friday night, and the girls had a story to tell for it. The time we took to relax on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning rounded out the weekend nicely. By the time we arrived home on Sunday evening, we felt rested from a great adventure. 

And so we were in high spirits as the three of us drove to meet Jason Braggs at M.B. Security Services on Monday morning. We arrived ten minutes early. The receptionist took our coats and led us to an interview room, which was sparsely appointed with new furniture. I noticed several empty plastic trash cans around the room, and wondered if we would be using any of them.

I recognized Jason the instant he stepped into the room. I had to check my instinct to greet him warmly as a long, lost friend, as I know Don would have. Jason sat behind a desk and the three of us sat across in separate chairs. I sat in the middle. The desktop was bare except for a telephone. 

Jason looked at Fiona, and then to Jocelyn. 

"Okay," Jason admitted, "we were all standing when we were introduced, so you need to help me out already. Which one of you is Jocelyn."

"I am," said Jocelyn, to my right -- closest to the door.

"Alright, Jocelyn." Jason looked right at Jocelyn and began speaking. "So I have read everything you put in your documents -- you provided a very thorough accounting. I want to thank you for that -- it saves us a lot of time. 

"I also want to tell you, I called Detective Juliotte of the San Antonio Police Department. He is the one who spoke with you. I also spoke with his supervisor, Lieutenant Mancy." Just like I remember him, Jason wasted no time -- he dove right in and got to the point in a hurry. "After reviewing what information they were prepared to share with me, I agree with them that there is a credible threat against your life." Jason stopped and let that sink in. 

"Having said that, there is a bit of a good news -- bad news thing going on here. I have already delivered the bad news," Jason paused for a moment. "The good news is that I, and the San Antonio Police, believe that the threat is diminished, but not zero, while you remain here." 

"What does that mean," Jocelyn asked.

"It means," Jason replied without hesitating, "that you made an exceptionally smart move to leave San Antonio. It also means that, while you are somewhat safer here, you are not out of danger altogether. So it stands to reason that we need to take precautions no matter where you are."

"Okay," Jocelyn was following it well. "What precautions." 

"First, I need your cell phone."

That's where I jumped in. "I already took her cell phone and sent it to Kill-O-Bytes. I gave her a replacement with a new local number."

"That's good," Jason said. "I need her new cell phone." Jocelyn surrendered the new cell phone I recently purchased to Jason. 

"Next, we are going to sit down with you and remap your footprint," Jason said. "What that means," he continued, answering her unasked question, "is we are going to hide your location and existence from anyone who might be trying to find you. We'll get into details later, but in effect, your physical and mailing address, your email, telephone, web presence, texting, credit cards, banking, loyalty and reward programs -- everything -- will change, and anyone trying to find you will hit a dead end. The only think we can't change is government ID, like your driver's license, and we don't care about that -- everyone already knows your San Antonio address. 

"Next, we are going to do some monitoring for you. You are going to notice some changes in the freedoms you used to take for granted, such as" he didn't wait for Jocelyn to ask, "people you associate with, people you invite over for dinner or parties, people you go out to see."

Jason asked "Are you employed or at school?"

"No," Jocelyn answered.

"Does your financial situation permit you to remain unemployed for an extended period of time?"

Jocelyn hesitated. "Yes," I answered for her. 

"Excellent," Jason observed. "This is getting easier by the minute."

"Okay, I'm nearly done here. There is a lot of work you need to do with my staff, and I assure you, Jocelyn, that I will remain closely involved in this case. You and I will be in touch regularly. There are a lot of details that we need to take care of right away, and I have highly qualified and reliable staff who will do that."

"Okay," Jocelyn was taking it all in.

"One more thing, then," and Jason now turned his attention to Fiona. Here it comes. "Everything I just said about Jocelyn -- all the precautions, measures, activities -- everything -- also applies to you."

"What!" Fiona breathed with an open jaw. She recovered, and then said "I don't see ..."

"Fiona," Jason cut her off. "Let me tell you what you are thinking the nightmare scenario is right now." Jason waited to get everyone's attention. "You are thinking the worst case scenario is some bad dude rides into town, kills Jocelyn, and you are left with a dead sister."

"Yeah," Fiona said in her 'like duh!' tone of voice. 

"Fiona," Jason pressed on, "that is nowhere close to the nightmare scenario. So here it is. Some dude rides into town, waits outside your building, and sees Jocelyn walk out of the building. He looks at his picture of Jocelyn, verifies he has the right person, shoots her dead, and goes back to Texas. Then," Jason pressed on, "when he gets back to Texas, he reads in the newspaper someone called Fiona was killed, not Jocelyn."




The Commander Ch. 08



"Oh God!" Jocelyn burped out in horror, holding her mouth.

"No," Jason pressed on, "were still not at the nightmare. The bad dude has to finish the job, or he's dead himself. So he comes back, but this time there's police, guards, whatever all around Jocelyn and Jet here. He can't get close enough to do the job the right way, so he uses a car bomb, a cheap rocket propelled grenade, or maybe he torches the whole building -- whatever -- he kills both Jocelyn and Jet along with everyone who gets in the way."

Jocelyn stood up. "I have to go!" she breathed in a panic. Jason sat there motionless.

"Please sit down, Jocelyn," Jason said calmly.

"No, I have to go." Jocelyn was shaking. "I am so fucking stupid," she said mostly to herself.

Now Fiona stood up. "Jocelyn, what are you talking about?"

"I thought I was running away, but I brought them here. Don't you get it? You're going to die because of me."

"No one is going to die," assured Jason, but Jocelyn wasn't listening.

Jocelyn went to open the door, but it was locked. Jason has done this once or twice before.

"I have to go, NOW!" Jocelyn was panicking. Her breath was rapid and shallow. Her pupils were wide, and her eyes scanned side to side. She steadied herself on her chair for balance. Her pale forehead and face beaded with cold sweat. Jocelyn was going into shock. 

I reached for one of the empty garbage pails and held it at chest level in front of her. Ten seconds later Jocelyn grabbed both edges of the plastic trash bin and emptied her breakfast into the pail with a single heave.

Jason reached into a drawer and brought out two clean cloth napkins -- one dry and one damp. He handed them to me. I waited with the pail in position until I thought the barfing was over, then I handed Jocelyn the damp napkin, and she wiped her mouth. Thankfully, nothing splashed on her clothing.

I put the vomit pail in the corner. Instantly the door opened, a lady came in with an empty pail, lifted the vomit pail, put the clean pail in the original location, and left with Jocelyn's breakfast, closing the locked door behind her. 

"Jocelyn," Fiona "you're my sister, we'll work ..."

"I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING SISTER," Jocelyn was shrieking. "MY WHOLE LIFE YOU HAVE BEEN GOOD TO ME AND I HAVE BEEN A WORTHLESS WHORE."

"Oh Jocelyn," Fiona welled up with the pain she empathized for her twin sister. "That's not true."

"I STOLE ALL YOUR BOYFRIENDS. I RUINED YOUR LIFE. AND WHEN YOU FINALLY GET YOU SHIT TOGETHER, I KILL YOU."

Fiona never thought she would hear those words in this lifetime. Fiona rushed to Jocelyn and took her tightly in her arms. They were both sobbing, each for a hundred different reasons.

Jocelyn wasn't shrieking anymore, but she was still bawling. "Just let me go home and die."

"No no no no no no no no no" Fiona wept in reply, still holding Jocelyn tightly.

Jason waited a few minutes until he thought he could get their attention. "Ladies," he offered, "could we sit down please, and we will take all of this morning to explain why no one is going to die." Fiona and Jocelyn stood in their embrace for a few more minutes. Jason knew better than to repeat himself. 

At last Jocelyn pulled away from Fiona, but she still held Fiona's arms tightly, and looked directly into Fiona's eyes. She spoke sternly in a trembling voice. "You promise -- you fucking promise me -- you do every last fucking thing this man says." 

"I promise. I really do," Fiona attested, trying to contain her tears. 

"You too, Energizer Bunny," she said, looking to me. Even in her most emotionally compromised state, Jocelyn found a way to inject some humor. 

"I promise," I said honestly. 

I realized there was no better way to convince Fiona to accept Jason's advice than what just happened. I doubt Jason uses this approach with everyone, but he probably sized up Fiona's and Jocelyn's twin bond in an instant, and knew exactly how to play it. Jason, as always, was brilliantly perceptive.

Fiona and Jocelyn took their seats. I gave Jocelyn the dry towel, which she used to pat her face. Jason offered a dry towel to Fiona, who took it to dry her own eyes. 

"Jocelyn, Fiona," Jason continued after the recomposed themselves, "I'm sorry if I upset you. I hope you appreciate one of my jobs is to make you fully aware of the scope and nature of the danger you both now face. Sometimes it takes a bit of a shock therapy to help people understand the gravity of the situation." The girls nodded quietly. "Understanding your own risks is one of the most important factors in ensuring your safety. We will spend a lot more time discussing those risks in more detail, but I promise you those sessions will be less dramatic that what you just went through."

"Good!" Fiona laughed, still with tears in her eyes. 

"Okay," Jason concluded. "You have been through quite a bit just now. I am going to introduce you to Karen Bruno. She will be your case lead. Karen will start by taking you to our recovery room. You will be able to relax, lie down if you need to, for as long as you want. You can get some water, coffee, tea, or juice. There is a powder room there where you can freshen up. And then when you feel ready, Karen will walk you through all the details you will need to cover today." Jason looked at his watch. "We should have you out of here by lunch time."

Jason looked at all of us, and then asked "Do you have any questions?" The girls shook their heads no vacantly. I said no.

Jason stood. The door opened and a compact, hardened, five-foot six woman in her mid-thirties stepped through. This was a different woman than the one who replaced Jocelyn's bucket. She pulled her jet-black hair into a short pony tail. She was pretty, maybe more accurately handsome, with a slightly squared jaw. Her pale blue eyes looked older, sadder than the rest of her face. She wore a blue sweater vest over a tan shirt and dark pants. I guessed she was former Secret Service or FBI. I knew for certain her current salary was more than double whatever she made in a promising public service law enforcement career. I also assumed she had watched and listened to our entire conversation.

She stepped in, and shook Jocelyn's hand first. "Hi Jocelyn, I'm Karen Bruno." Jocelyn replied hello. Karen stepped past me and next shook Fiona's hand. "Fiona, I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Karen Bruno." 

Karen shook my hand last. I beat her to the punch line. "Hi Karen. Call me Jet." Karen smiled a professional smile. There was nothing warm or affectionate in it. She was one hundred percent business. Already I liked her. 

"If you will follow me, please," Karen gestured us out of the room.

"Actually," Jason said, "Jet, if you don't mind, can you stay behind, and you and I can sort out the business details." I nodded as I watched Karen lead Fiona and Jocelyn out the meeting room door. Karen closed the door behind her.

"Mr. Terrance," Jason asked when we were alone, "I have to ask. Have you been in the security business before?" Jason, as always, was brilliantly perceptive.

"No." I didn't know if I was lying or not with that answer -- it's complicated when you come from two separate people. "Don and I shared stories. Nothing improper, you understand," I added to make sure Jason knew Don didn't tell inappropriate secrets. "I also did my homework before I came here."

"I'm not saying this to be rude or disrespectful, Mr. Terrance, but I don't believe you. The way you comport yourself, your comfort -- I would even say familiarity -- with the dynamics of our discussion this morning. Nothing surprised you. Your anticipation of Jocelyn's stomach upset. I watched you size up Karen just now, and yes, she was Secret Service. You seemed to know where I was going with this interview even before we all sat down.

"You have to know I did background checks on all three of you. None of you ever served in the forces or law enforcement. You have never worked, taught, or done research in security, and yet you have shown remarkable insights and ease for a layperson who has Googled his way to this meeting.

"I am telling you this, Mr. Terrance, because I cannot -- I do not -- protect people who lie to me." Jason fixed his eyes on mine and didn't let go.

"I pick things up quickly," I offered weakly.

"Mr. Terrance, please don't insult me." He stopped talking. He was waiting for me to speak next.

"Well I'm not hiring you to protect me, so I guess we'll just have to leave it where it is," I finally said. I knew that was bullshit, and I knew Jason knew I knew it. I was throwing the gauntlet down. I was counting on this case being too interesting and lucrative for Jason to pass it up. 

Jason looked at me for a long time in silence. "Very well," he at last spoke. "There is something significant you are not telling me. The way I see it, you're not primary, and I don't see how this affects my job except by making it easier. But I have to tell you, your secret is a possible risk I can't manage." Jason paused. "I rarely do this, but I am adding a drop clause to our contract -- that's non-negotiable." Jason was introducing a special clause in our contract that permits his company to fire us as his clients if my refusal to tell him about my past compromises his company's ability to protect us. Jason was saying it's either that, or there's the door.

"I understand," I replied. 

"Somehow I thought you would," he observed as he stood up. "I'm going to take you over to Harold, who will review the financial and contractual details with you. You can meet up with Jocelyn and Fiona after that." I was left wondering -- how many times can I get away with my worlds colliding? 

"Okay," I agreed as I stood up. This time the door was unlocked, and Jason led me through a maze of hallways to find Harold. It took me half an hour to sign the forms and authorize the use of an escrow account for payment. With that done, I joined Fiona and Jocelyn, who had used almost the same half hour to recompose themselves. They had just sat down with Karen Bruno to go through the initial paperwork authorizing M.B. Security Services to do all the things it needed to do to protect their lives. Karen had two assistants working with her to speed things along, but as Jason predicted, it took until about noon to get through everything.

"I need your cell phone," Karen told me as I joined Fiona and Jocelyn. I surrendered it to her, and she asked one of her assistants to run it over to her technician. Fiona explained Karen had also taken hers. Jason, of course, already confiscated Jocelyn's phone. The assistant returned after a minute, and continued helping Karen. 

At one point, Karen asked me if I had considered moving, and I explained coincidentally we had just started thinking about that. She said that was a good idea -- we should consider it sooner rather than later, and to involve M.B. Securities, who can register the title with a shell company, but I still retain ownership, so that we become even more difficult to find. I could see the wheels turning in Fiona's mind, following our earlier discussions about a new condo.

The next issue was associates and friends. Before any planned parties or gatherings at our place, M.B. Securities had to run a background check on all invitees. They needed a minimum of three days advance notice with names and complete addresses, including apartment numbers and zip codes. Fiona and Jocelyn looked at each other, presumably thinking about the upcoming dungeon party. 

The list of things we processed is too long to review here, but a few highlights included:

1. M.B. Security had already rented a car for me in the short term, and would lease cars for all of us in the long term, all in the company's name so an ownership trace cannot lead to us. My BMW was to remain at M.B. Security when we drove away today. They would hold on to our cars for us, or they would sell them for us -- our choice.

2. M.B. Security would come to the condo on Thursday and carry out extensive upgrades on the physical security and monitoring systems. Thursday was the first possible day available. 

3. We were to go to the condo today at 2 PM -- someone would meet us there, and they would escort us to our condo where we would pack some bags, and then go to a pair of hotel rooms already rented under M.B. Security's name until Thursday, then we can return to our condo with the upgraded security.

4. Just before we left for the day, Karen gave Fiona, Jocelyn, and me Samsung Galaxy S4 phones and Samsung laptops. She explained they are preconfigured with new email accounts and phone numbers. The technician had already transferred most of the contacts from Fiona's and my old phones over to the new Samsung S4s. Karen and Jason's coordinates were already programmed in to our new phones. All use of these new phones and computers were monitored by M.B. Security. Jocelyn was forbidden to email, call, or text anyone in San Antonio, or anyone remotely connected to her ex-husband. If we tampered with the phones, or used them unwisely, Karen would know.

When we left at noon in our rental car, we were tired and hungry. The girls were cranky -- they had an emotionally draining interview with Jason, and Jocelyn didn't have the benefit of her breakfast. We went out for lunch, and discussed our next steps. 

Condo shopping suddenly became a high priority. 

The girls needed the names and addresses of all the dungeon party guests by the next day so Karen could clear them this week. Fiona said she would contact Nicole when we go home at 2 PM -- she didn't have Nicole's email address in her new Samsung laptop.  

Fiona asked if we should drop the skydiving course. I suggested we finish the ground school -- we had one more class the following day -- and then we would decide if we want to continue with our first jump -- Fiona agreed. And then it occurred to me -- we completely forgot to tell Karen Bruno about the skydiving class. 

Fiona used her new Galaxy S4 to send an email to Karen explaining about our skydiving class, and that the next and final ground school lesson was tomorrow afternoon, which included an actual flight, although we would not jump. Karen's swift reply was this was not allowed -- she did not have enough time to vet the school. I found the instructor's number in my new cell phone, so I called him, explained there was a family emergency, and we could not make it to tomorrow's class. He told me there would be another series of classes in about two months -- we could pick up our missed class then at no extra charge.

At two we met Charles outside our condo, a man who had M.B. Security credentials. We went up to the condo together. We packed our suitcases, and Fiona got Nicole's email address and the email addresses of her invitees.

At three we drove the rental car to the Marriott, where we had two adjoining suites. We were on the lam. 

The three of us spent the remainder of the week condo shopping. Fiona was able to send the names and addresses of all the dungeon party guests to Karen Tuesday night. 

The security upgrades took longer than expected, so we moved back into our condo on Friday morning, and received a two hour technical briefing on how to use the new security system. Karen Bruno was also there. Karen berated us on the importance of following the rules, and that she would know within seconds if we had not.

We went out condo shopping again. By the end of the week Fiona and I had narrowed it down to three locations. We felt a little oversaturated from condo shopping, so we agreed to take a break over the weekend and see if we could make a decision next week.

On Friday afternoon, Karen Bruno sent an email to Fiona -- one guy failed the background check, and he was not permitted to attend the party -- Karen didn't say why. Everyone else was okay. It was too late to find a replacement, so Fiona and Jocelyn decided to go ahead with six guests to make nine people instead of ten. It was a person on Nicole's list, so Fiona had to email Nicole and ask her to delicately un-invite him without being able to explain why -- it was very awkward. 

The girls spent Saturday shopping and preparing for the dungeon party. Later, as Fiona, Jocelyn, and I were preparing food in the kitchen, I asked them how the party would work. They explained the rules to me.

Everyone would split randomly into two groups: masters and slaves. Then they would randomly pair masters to slaves. They would make sure there would be no boy-on-boy pairing, which they didn't think would go over well. Masters would get to dress/undress their slaves any way they wanted and they would put whatever bondage hardware they want on their slaves, and could do whatever they want to their slaves, within the agreed rules. 

Half way through the night, everyone would switch -- all the slaves would become masters, and all masters would become slaves. They would randomly pair up the masters to slaves again, and start all over. Everyone would be a slave once and everyone would be a master once. 

I suggested one change to that rule. When people are tied up in a defenceless situation, it seemed important to have one person who made sure nothing went wrong -- to make sure no one overstepped the boundaries. As we had an odd number of people anyway, pulling one person out would restore the bodies to an even number. I volunteered to be that person.

"That's a good idea, Jet," Fiona offered, "but won't that mean you won't have any fun?"

"Oh, in addition to making sure everything was okay, I was thinking I could be a roving participant," I offered. The girls saw right through my clever little idea. But after a while, Jocelyn said she liked it -- after the Spankies incident, she considered having me always untied was a good idea. Plus, she mentioned, I would probably be the only Energizer Bunny there -- I might as well rove. 

Fiona said that, with one guy already uninvited, my roving would take two guys out of the rotation, guaranteeing one girl-on-girl in each pairing. She and Jocelyn were fine with that, and they knew Nicole was okay. 

I asked what were the rules that everyone had to follow. They were: no hurting anyone, always fuck with a condom, no anal (unless everyone agrees), and stop when people say stop.

I suggested one change. Instead of "stop", I suggested we could use colors: "green" means I am fine and continue; "yellow" means I am at my limit -- continue but don't make it any more intense; and "red" means stop. Obviously, "stop" also means stop. The girls liked that variation.

Finally, I suggested we remove the gags and mouth rings from the available hardware, as that prevents slaves from being able to say stop. The girls said they had already thought of that.

I debated whether to pursue my next topic. I decided to give it a try, hoping I was not about to sink the entire party by forcing Fiona to revisit some unwelcome memories.

"Fiona," I started, "you know I am looking forward to this party, especially now with my role as roving Energizer Bunny."

"But?" Fiona said for me, anticipating there was a downside to that thought. 

"At the risk of being a buzz kill, I am wondering why you are doing this at all. I know you must have discussed this with Jocelyn -- about that incident with you and me that I am ashamed ever happened." I paused, looking for concern or hurt in Fiona's eyes, but I saw none. "I am just surprised that, after your raw outburst several weeks ago in the storage room, you would even consider going through with this."

"You're right," Fiona said, "I have discussed this a lot with Jocelyn. I wasn't convinced at first, and to be honest, I'm still not one hundred percent sure, but Jocelyn has this crazy idea that that I can use party this as a way to get past those memories." Fiona exchanged a meaningful glance with Jocelyn. There was much more to it than that, but that's all she was willing to share right now. 




The Commander Ch. 08



"Okay," I indicated my understanding. "Tell me then, what do you need from me to make sure tonight goes as smoothly as possible."

"Be the new Jet. Be the Jet I feel safe with." 

"I'm trying," I said solemnly. 

"I know," she said, and kissed me gently. Her left hand had remained open the whole discussion.

There was no graceful segue out of that moment. I said "So what do you want me to do with this roasted red pepper dip?" We resumed our party preparation tasks. 

At six o'clock we heard a chime. The security display beside the door showed Nicole and another girl I didn't recognize standing in the hallway. 

"Who is it?" Fiona asked, pressing the white talk button and then the black listen button.

"Hi Fiona, it's Nicole," we heard her say as we watched Nicole speak on the video monitor.

"Do you have anyone with you?" Fiona asked, in accordance with the procedures explicitly spelled out by Karen Bruno.

"Yes, Danielle is with me. Fiona checked her Samsung S3 in her hand -- Danielle was on the list of Nicole's invited friends. Fiona pressed the green button twice followed by the blue button beside the speaker, and we heard the multi-arm door lock system in the new bulletproof door automatically withdraw four hardened steel pins from the three sides of the steel door frame and the new steel plate on the floor. Fiona knew someone back at M.B. Security was watching this very same video in real time -- right now -- and was listening to Fiona's voice on the intercom. They would also be reviewing the additional four video cameras in the hallway to see if anyone was lurking out of range of the camera that fed the video screen Fiona saw. They would have noted Fiona pressed the green button twice -- meaning she recognized or had correctly identified two people on the other side of the door, and then she pressed the door blue release button. All the buttons also had intuitive icons printed on them, making the system easy to use.

Fiona knew if she tried to open the door without first going through this process of identifying and acknowledging everyone on the other side of the door, she would get a phone call within fifteen seconds, and Karen Bruno would come down there within the hour to chew her out and would probably kick all the guests out of the condo, and it was party over. 

If she pressed the yellow button beside the speaker, Fiona knew the door would not unlock, and she would signal M.B. Security she was not expecting one or more people in the other side of the door. M.B. Security would capture images of the people from the five cameras and save the images in their face recognition database and cross reference the images against known threats. 

If she recognized the person on the other side of the door as hostile, Fiona knew she could slide open the access cover panel beside the speaker, and press both red buttons underneath, and M.B. Security would dispatch an armed response team. They would also notify the local police indicating a break-and-enter attempt was in progress, and a private armed security response team was on location. Or Fiona, Jocelyn, and I could retreat to our ensuite closet, and close the new steel reinforced door and press the panic button inside that locked that door with four hardened steel pins, and we would be secure inside our protective cocoon with new ugly steel plating on the inside walls that can stop a barrage of .45 calibre rounds. I knew where my $100,000 was going. 

Nicole came in with her friend Danielle. Nicole, you will remember from The Arc dance club, is tall, statuesque, a former model, and has green eyes and shoulder length auburn hair. She wore a long black cotton dress that flowed loosely about her trim body. I would have thought she would have worn something more flattering for her physique. 

I actually did a double take on her friend, Danielle. Picture Jennifer Lawrence from the Hunger Games, and you are nearly there. She so closely resembled the movie actress, I found myself nearly double taking looks at her all night. Her hair was quite different -- long, very thick, wavy, dark brown hair with streaks of burnt red throughout. Her hazel eyes had a sunken, sultry quality. She too had a long, black dress that did not do justice to what I believed to be a hot body underneath. 

Fiona closed the door and I heard the four steel pins automatically lock the door in place. Nicole hugged Fiona and me hello, and she did an actual double take when she saw Jocelyn standing behind us. She was astonished at the twin girls' similarity. She introduced Danielle, a graduate student in applied chemistry. 

We were working our way to the living room when the doorbell sounded again. I took Fiona's Samsung and went to the door. Standing in the video picture were two men I didn't recognize. I went through the procedure, before inviting David and Matt to come in. They were friends of Nicole. While I had the door open, Kevin appeared from around the corner -- I remembered Kevin was Nicole's friend when we did a four-way here some time ago. I wasn't sure of the procedure when I already held the door open. I decided to keep the door open, and shake Kevin's hand in the hallway. Anyone watching the video back at M.B. Security would realize I knew him. I pressed the green button one more time after Kevin came in.

Alyssa, Fiona's friend, arrived about five minutes later. She was five foot eight, had long wavy red hair and freckles, and lovely green eyes. She had a slightly athletic, larger boned build that easily supported her D cup breasts. She wore a stunning sleeveless sequin silver cocktail dress with a deep back, and a faux plunging neckline that dipped below her large breasts that had a see-through sheer material across the open bosom to keep everything in place. 

She was the last guest to arrive, so Fiona did introductions all around.

Fiona was wearing skin-tight black leather pants, a sheen white short-sleeve blouse, and a black leather vest.

Jocelyn wore a red mid-thigh pencil leather skirt with a black thin-strap tank top

Nicole and Danielle both wore long cotton dresses.

All the male guests were Nicole's friends. Kevin was five foot nine. He had sandy brown hair, solid build, and light brown eyes. He wore jeans and a simple black T shirt that suited him very well.

David might have been a male model that worked with Nicole. He was nearly six feet tall, and had thick black hair, a trim black beard, slim build, and brown eyes. He wore black pants, a teal shirt and an open black vest. 

Matt was about five foot ten with brown hair and blue eyes. He wore black pants and a khaki shirt. 

Yours truly was wearing charcoal grey silk pants with a matching jacket and a pale powder blue shirt. 

After introductions, someone commented on how tight the security was in this building. It was only through talking with our guests we learned Karen Bruno had posted guards in the form of elevator operators for this evening's party. When our guests boarded the elevator, the elevator operator asked what floor. If you asked for the ninth floor, he then asked what suite and the name of the person you are visiting. If you said 902, they also asked your name, and cross referenced it against a list they had on a clipboard. 

According to our guests, the guards were not armed, but I wouldn't be surprised if both elevator operators had permits to carry concealed weapons. It occurred to me Karen probably posted guards in the stairwells, or at very least, closed circuit cameras. I had no doubt that all our guests' names and faces were already whirling around in some M.B. Security database.

The conversation organically migrated to security in the post 911 world, and then to other topics, so we never had to offer detailed explanations. The next day Fiona told me that Nicole had asked Fiona in the kitchen what was going on? Why all the names and addresses before the party, and what happened to Bill? Fiona confided to Nicole that they had to hire a security company. Following Karen Bruno's advice, Fiona did not provide Nicole any specifics or reasons. Fiona explained that Bill failed the security company's background check, and no, Fiona didn't know why.

I served drinks while Jocelyn stocked the food and dips that was distributed throughout the living room. Fiona hosted. At around eight Fiona asked me to get the dungeon part of the party started. I refilled everyone's drinks, and then brought the meeting to order, so to speak. I went over the rules Fiona, Jocelyn, and I had agreed upon earlier that day. I made sure everyone said they understood and agreed to the rules. 

I used a deck of cards to randomly separate the masters from the slaves. Masters were Danielle, Fiona, Kevin, and Matt. Slaves were Alyssa, David, Jocelyn, and Nicole. I told all the masters to go to one side of the room, all the slaves to the other.  

At this point, Nicole and Danielle, who had arrived at the party together, stood up and took off their frumpy cotton dresses, and the room temperature went up five degrees. Danielle revealed a very hot black leather mini-dress with a top-to-bottom zipper down the front of the dress. Nicole had a dominatrix style black leather corset and black leather panties below. Both girls wore garter belts and black open weave stockings. Danielle joined the master group and Nicole joined the slaves.

I decided to improvise and have some fun. I told all the slaves to turn around and face the wall, so they could not see what the masters were doing. Then I walked the masters to the dining room table, and pulled off the oversized table cloth that had been hiding all the bondage equipment and sex toys. Danielle, Kevin, and Matt expressed amazement and excitement at the quantity and selection of equipment. Fiona, of course, already knew what was under there. Jocelyn was the only slave who knew what they were so thrilled about. I watched the other slaves start to squirm and whisper to each other. 

Using cards again, I ranked the masters from first to last, and allowed the first master to have first pick among slaves, then the second, third, and fourth. The pairings were:

David was slave to Danielle;

Alyssa was slave to Fiona;

Jocelyn was slave to Kevin; and

Nicole was slave to Matt.

I held this pairing exercise secretly among the masters so the slaves did not know who their masters were. 

I explained to the masters they were free to use any and all available bondage equipment and sex toys on the dining room table, and reminded them to respect all the rules. I also reminded them I would roam, and I might assist masters with the enlightenment of one or more slaves.

I told the slaves to remain facing the wall until they were instructed otherwise by their masters. I also told the slaves that their instructions may be silent -- a touch here, a tap there -- and the slaves should do their best obey instructions -- both verbal and silent. 

"Go!" I said, and the masters were off.

Fiona picked up a blindfold, two dildos, and a strap-on, and then walked to Alyssa, who was still facing the wall. Fiona stood behind Alyssa and, without saying a word, secured the blindfold to Alyssa's eyes. Fiona took a moment to make sure the blindfold would remain in position with Alyssa's long, wavy hear underneath the leather straps. When she was satisfied Alyssa could not see, Fiona silently lifted the hem of Alyssa's sequence dress high above her hips, exposing Alyssa's mostly bare ass with just a pair of slim thong underpants covering her ass crack. Fiona pulled Alyssa's thong underpants to her ankles, tapped her finger on Alyssa's right foot, and Alyssa obediently lifted the foot, and then the left, and that way Fiona removed the panties altogether. 

Next Fiona firmly grabbed Alyssa's wrist -- as firmly as a man might do -- and led Alyssa by the wrist to a sofa chair. Alyssa blindly followed Fiona with her dress humped up around her waist, revealing her trimmed naked pussy. Fiona positioned Alyssa so she was facing the front of the chair. By pressing forward on Alyssa's back and inward on Alyssa's tummy, Fiona silently commanded Alyssa to bend forward, until she reached her arms to the sofa chair. Next Fiona silently gestured Alyssa to spread her legs wide, and Alyssa complied. Alyssa was bent over at the hips, resting her hands on the chair, with her legs spread wide open. Alyssa's long red wavy hair draped down beside both sides of her head. 

Silently Fiona put a dildo to Alyssa's pussy and gently penetrated. She took short, shallow strokes at first, getting Alyssa's natural juices to lubricate the phallic toy, and then started penetrating Alyssa's vagina further. Before long Fiona was driving full length strokes of her dildo in and out of Alyssa's pussy. She continued doing this for a few minutes. Then, holding the dildo in Alyssa's pussy with her right hand, Fiona picked up the other dildo with her left hand, and brought it to Alyssa's mouth. Alyssa obeyed the silent command, and opened her mouth and started sucking the dildo. Fiona resumed pumping her right hand dildo in and out of Alyssa's pussy while also pumping the left hand dildo in and out of Alyssa's mouth. 

Fiona double-dildo penetrated Alyssa for a few more minutes, then she withdrew both dildos, swapped the pussy dildo to Alyssa's mouth, and the mouth dildo to Alyssa's pussy, and resumed her double-dildo fucking of Alyssa. Over the next fifteen minutes, Fiona swapped dildos every few minutes to ensure Alyssa had many opportunities to taste her own pussy juices. 

I had done my first founds with every master-slave coupling, and things were going well, so I decided to help Fiona out. I knew she was trying to keep Alyssa in the dark about having a girl master. I brought over a neck collar and two cuffs. I held them up to Fiona and gestured putting them on Alyssa -- Fiona nodded in agreement and withdrew her dildos. 

I was deliberately clumsy while handling Alyssa so she could feel my arms, pants, and so on to let her think her master was a man. I silently brought the blindfolded Alyssa to her knees, and I pulled her dress off her head. Then I put the neck collar on, followed by a leather cuff on each wrist. I used the quick-links from the dining room table to fasten both Alyssa's wrist cuffs to the D-ring on the back of her collar. Both Alyssa's wrists were now bound together behind the back of her neck, forcing her to push her chest out, prompting her already impressive D cup breasts to stand firmly at attention. 

I pulled some throw pillows of the couch and put them on the carpet near the sofa. Then I gently lay Alyssa down with her back on the pillows, but I made sure there was no pillow under her head. This pillow arrangement let Alyssa's neck bend backwards as she tilted her head to the floor while her hands remained helplessly bound behind her neck. She still had her blindfold on.

Fiona and I both undressed. She sucked on my soft cock for a minute while I fondled Alyssa's unguarded tits. I handled her boobs slightly roughly, the way a man would. Once I was nice and stiff from Fiona's oral stimulation, I kneeled over Alyssa's head, facing her body, and touched my rigid cock to Alyssa's lips. She obediently opened her mouth and let me in. With her head tilted back and her hands secured behind her neck, there was little Alyssa could do but let me mouth fuck her while I continued playing with her vulnerable tits. 

As I pumped in and out of Alyssa's mouth, I watched Fiona mount the strap-on to her pelvis. Then Fiona kneeled between Alyssa's legs, spread her knees wide, and used her phallic accessory to fuck Alyssa's pussy while I continued fucking Alyssa at the top end. 

Mouth fucking didn't give me much traction. Sensing this, Fiona gestured to me to ask if we should switch. I nodded yes, pulled out of Alyssa's mouth, went to the dining room table, and got a condom from the bucket Fiona and Jocelyn had set up there earlier that day. I scanned the room to make sure everything looked good. When I returned, Fiona was already fucking Alyssa's mouth, so I set up between her legs, and dove in to Alyssa's pussy. That was much better. This time Fiona played with Alyssa's tits, and I leaned across and started fondling Fiona's 36D's. She smiled as we both continued fucking Alyssa. 

Alyssa's pussy let me bury about six inches of my cock, and was about average tightness. As I felt my balls start to churn I let go of Fiona's tits and concentrated on my own fulfillment. Fiona and I stared at each other as I drew closer and closer, until at last I unloaded my signature barrage of a million spurts of jism and rolled my eyes into the back of my head. 

When I finished my orgasmic pulsations, I pulled out of Alyssa while Fiona continued fucking her mouth. Fiona watched me remove my condom, then she opened her mouth, so I stood straddled over Alyssa, and positioned my still solid member to Fiona's lips. I dripped some jism onto Alyssa's chest and face in my approach to Fiona's mouth. Looking down at Fiona sucking my cock, I suddenly realized how hot Fiona was when she took my entire cock right up to my balls while she fucked Alyssa's mouth. I stayed in Fiona's mouth for a minute. 

When I pulled out, Fiona made her move. She stood up and removed the strap-on. Then Fiona went to the dining room table and retrieved a vibrator and returned to Alyssa. She unfastened the quick-links that bound Alyssa's wrists to her neck, but left the leather cuffs on. 

Fiona found another pillow and doubled it beneath Alyssa's head, letting Alyssa keep her neck upward slightly. Finally, Fiona squatted over Alyssa, and lowered her pussy onto Alyssa's face. Alyssa squealed when she realized a girl's pussy was on her face. For the first time, Fiona now spoke "Oh, honey," Fiona cooed, "it's been me all along. Now be a good little slave and make me come."

I decided to rove around the room.

Kevin and Matt were more aggressive in their bondage. Nicole was lying naked on her back with her arms stretched out over her head and her hands tied together by a short rope terminating at a nearby sofa chair. A spreader bar kept her long legs very wide open, and was pulled up high over her head, and tied to the back of the same sofa chair, leaving Nicole's legs spread wide and up over her shoulders. Her helpless pussy was split open, and I could see an inch or two down her fuck hole. 

Jocelyn was also naked, near Nicole. She was kneeling upright with her knees set apart on two pillows. Her wrists were bound upwards in a yoke, which was fastened around her neck. She had firmly attached nipple clamps secured to a chain. The chain had a cord tied in the middle, and the other end of the cord was tied overhead to our chandelier. The clamps prevented Jocelyn from sitting back down onto her heels -- she had to remain kneeling straight upright to minimize the tension pulling against her nipples on her lovely 36D breasts. 

Kevin repositioned our foot stool in front of the kneeling Jocelyn. He used rope to firmly lash an unused spreader bar across the top of the stool, and taped a Hitachi magic wand vibrator to the end of the spreader bar. Kevin was positioning this makeshift apparatus to press the vibrator head firmly against Jocelyn's pussy. Kevin plugged in the vibrator and turned it on. Then Kevin stood up, straddled the foot stool, and pressed his cock to Jocelyn's lips, and she took him into her mouth while the vibrator worked its magic on her clitoris. 

Before, while I had been roaming elsewhere, I heard both Matt and Kevin ask Fiona and Jocelyn their colors repeatedly throughout the evening. Every time they did something new they asked again. They were being aggressive but careful. Kevin pulled out of Jocelyn's mouth and asked her color once more. She said yellow -- she was fine, but did not want to make this any more intense. She also said she had no control over when she could pull out, so she did not want to go deep throat. Kevin agreed without hesitation. 




The Commander Ch. 08



Meanwhile Matt crawled on all fours under the spreader bar holding Nicole's legs up and back, and he brought himself into a 69 position with his cock hanging over Nicole's mouth. He also had a Hitachi vibrator in his hand, which he pressed against Nicole's split pussy and turned it on. Before he lowered his cock into Nicole's mouth, he asked Nicole her color -- it was green. He lowered his cock into Nicole's mouth, who started sucking earnestly. Matt rewarded Nicole's efforts by turning up the speed on the vibrator.

Matt, Nicole, Kevin, and Jocelyn labored toward their communal orgasm. Jocelyn moved her hips forwards and sideways to locate the best spot to rest against the vibrator. She continued sucking Kevin while I watched her yoke bound hands clench and release as the vibrator started working its magic on her clitoris. Meanwhile Nicole was sucking hard on Matt's cock, while he gently rocked the vibrator head up and down beside her clitoris. 

I heard moaning from Fiona's direction, so I went back to her. Alyssa had found her cunnilingus rhythm, and Fiona was sitting up on Alyssa's face, rocking her pelvis back and forth. Fiona saw me approaching, and she urgently motioned me closer with both hands. Fiona grabbed my hips and pulled me to her face and sucked on my semi-rigid cock. Fiona's moans grew louder with my cock in her mouth, and Mr. Happy's sprits returned quickly under Fiona's oral encouragement. 

Fiona's chest was heaving, her skin was sweating -- she was really close. Fiona's orgasm broke, and her moan rose an octave with my cock still in her mouth. She went deep on my hardened cock, which abruptly stopped Fiona's moan when she lost her ability to breathe. I felt Fiona's arms shudder against my hips while she jammed her pussy as hard as she could into Alyssa's face. 

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! 

I pulled out of Fiona's mouth I looked over to Danielle and her slave, David. She had applied no bondage equipment on David, except for nipple clamps and a dog leash clasped to the chain between the clamps. I don't think the dog leash was ours -- she must have brought it. David was naked, crawling on all fours, and dominatrix Danielle was savagely wailing on his ass with a spanking paddle -- that is, when she wasn't leading him around the room like a hound. She was still wearing her leather mini-dress with the zipper all the way up.

I thought I better check, so I went over and asked David his color. 

"Green!" he yelled. "I'm so fucking green!"

SLAP SLAP SLAP. "Did I tell you could speak, you pathetic miserable worm?!" Demanded dominatrix Danielle.

"I'm sorry mistress," he called out. "I won't do it again."

SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP . I looked over at Fiona, who had climbed off of Alyssa. She returned one of those 'who knew?' shrugs. 

Back to the foursome. 

I could see Jocelyn was tiring, and she was straining to stay in her upright kneeling position, so I reached up and untied the cord from the chandelier, giving Jocelyn more room to maneuver. She moaned a thank you sound without breaking her suction on Kevin's cock, and rested back on her heels. As I watched Fiona sit back, she pulled away from the vibrator head, and I realized she lost her chance for her own orgasm. Only later did I discover Jocelyn had cum twice already, contributing to her fatigue. 

Kevin recalibrated his center of gravity as Jocelyn lowered her body onto her heals. He was getting close. Jocelyn sensed it too, and she worked harder to drive him home using only her mouth, as her hands were still bound in the yoke around her neck. At the same time, I heard Matt moaning from Nicole's oral ministrations, and looked over to see Matt pumping his cock 69 fashion into Nicole's sucking mouth. Back to Kevin, who threw his head back while Jocelyn continued to suck him skillfully. As Kevin erupted into Jocelyn's mouth, Matt unload into Nicole' mouth. Both girls gulped down their boys' pumping jism without spilling a drop. There would be many jabs in store for the two boys who came together, I was certain. 

I went to the table and retrieved a condom. When I returned, the boys had both pulled out of their slaves' mouths. Jocelyn was moving her jaw all about, trying to regain the feeling in her muscles. "You're not done yet," I said, as I put my flaccid cock to her lips. 

Jocelyn was still bound in her yoke. She looked up at me with pleading eyes, but I stood resolutely. Eventually she gave in and took me into her mouth. I helped her out a little by rocking my hips to generate some of the motion. Jocelyn wrapped her sore lips around my member, and within a minute I was rock hard. I pulled out, bent over, and kissed Jocelyn on the lips. 

"Release her," I said to Kevin. He nodded.

I turned around, and there was Nicole still splayed wide with her feet over her head. For some reason, Matt did not get any orgasmic traction on Nicole's pussy with the vibrator. I could see in her face Nicole was growing frustrated. I looked at Nicole's open pussy hole, thinking I knew something that would fit in there. I slipped a condom on my solid cock and asked Matt if he minded if I cut in. 

Matt pulled the vibrator away, leaving the helpless Nicole all to myself. I kneeled at Nicole's split pussy, and hovered my ten inch iron rod over her open vagina. Her lubrication had dried up, so I went in very gently. At first I only probed lightly with my tip. That little action prompted enough natural juices to flow until friction give way to smoother gliding, and then I started pumping deeper. 

I bottomed out at about eight inches, and then started taking full strokes, still gently. "Oh, fuck yes!" I heard Nicole say. I knew she had the ability to cum just from fucking, and that was my plan. In the background I could hear repeated staccato bursts of spanking -- I tried to stay focused on Nicole's restrained pussy for my taking. Now I started fucking Nicole earnestly, and she replied with an appreciative groan. 

Fiona had released Alyssa, and came over to see what I was doing. Fiona kneeled at Nicole's head and bent forward. She and Nicole kissed each other with open mouths as Fiona reached down with her slender fingers and began fondling and teasing Nicole's nipples. The extra stimulation worked, and Nicole started rocking her pelvis sympathetically to my fuck strokes. 

All that frustrated orgasmic energy Matt created with his vibrator had built up inside Nicole. My fucking gave Nicole's orgasm the escape route she needed. Just like a gas well blowout, Nicole exploded without warning. Her wailing was so loud and sudden, at first I thought Fiona bit Nicole, but when I saw Nicole's body contort and strain against her bindings, I realized Nicole was enduring the mother of all orgasms. Nicole's legs bucked hard in orgasmic seizures, but the restraints held fast. Fiona pulled her face away from Nicole's and then I watched Fiona pinch Nicole's nipples firmly to enrich Nicole's ecstatic sensations. 

Nicole's volcanic eruption gave me license to fuck her harder while she bellowed out her orgasmic release. I even bottomed out once or twice. After maybe half a minute, Nicole's eruption was over. Fiona was now tenderly caressing Nicole's breasts. 

A minute or two after Nicole's orgasmic seizure ended, I felt my own balls churning. Somehow sensing this, Fiona moved around and put her head on Nicole's tummy and opened her mouth facing me. As I felt my balls reaching the point of no return, I followed Fiona's lead and pulled out of Nicole's pussy, pulled my condom off, and guided my about-to-explode warhead into Fiona's loving mouth. She brought her hand in for assistance to the base of my cock, and a few seconds of jerking was all it took before my balls detonated. To my disappointment, Fiona did not go deep on me -- she kept me shallow while I shot load after load of hot jism into Fiona's mouth. When I finally spurted my last salvo past Fiona's lips, she pulled away, went back to Nicole, and kissed Nicole with a large open mouth in a very messy cum swap. Nicole wasn't expecting Fiona's snowball play, leaving streams of my jism oozing down Nicole's cheeks and chin. 

Matt started releasing Nichole from her bondage when I became aware again of Danielle's voice, but I couldn't see either her or David. I followed the sounds of her orders and quickly located them under the dining room table. David was naked, blindfolded, lying on his back, and spread eagle with each limb tied off to a leg of the table. He still had nipple clamps with a chain, but the leash was gone. Danielle was kneeling beside him in her mini-dress and was jerking him off with her right hand and whipping his chest and nipples with her left hand. She shouted words of encouragement, like "Come on you pathetic, disgusting, pig!" As David grew closer to his climax, Danielle whipped him harder and amped up the vitriol in her encouraging words. 

David started contorting his face -- he was about to come. Danielle saw it too. She began jerking him harder, and commenced a non-stop flagellation of his chest. The added stimuli pushed David over the edge, and he erupted in Danielle's right hand. She stopped whipping him and reduced her jerking to long, slow strokes while she aimed his spurting jism to land on his own stomach. When David's ejaculation stopped, Danielle unzipped her dress, pulled it off, and tossed it to the side. She was naked. 

Danielle reached behind David's head, and removed his blindfold. Then she lay her body flat on top of the still spread eagle David, and Danielle planted dozens of delicate kisses on David's mouth, face, and eyes. Danielle then raised her head, looked into David's eyes, and said in a fulfilled and loving voice "You are such a good slave. Mistress is very proud of you." 

"Thank you Mistress," David said falteringly, maybe with a tear in his eye. The moment was both intimate and bizarre. I suddenly realized everyone else was crouching around the dining room table, watching the spectacle beneath. 

"Okay, folks" I announced, "That's the end of the first round."

--- End of Part 8 ---



The Commander Ch. 09



The Commander – Part 9

--- 

It has been seven weeks since Don Malloy died, nearly five weeks since our legendary Dungeon party.  We still talk about that party.  That, and our move.  I bought a new four thousand square-foot four bedroom condo.  As these things always seem to go, I blew the budget, but I got a much nicer condo than we were looking for.  The former owner vacated the premises and put it up for sale for over a year ago, and he was showing signs of desperation. He originally listed his unit for 5.5 million, and begrudgingly reduced his price by several decrements until he was asking 4.5 million last month.  Still at the reduced price, no one was biting in this soft high-end market.  I put in a cash offer of 4.1 million with a one week closing date.  He accepted without a counteroffer.  The good news is, my real estate agent tells me my old condo should sell for about 2.1 million, which is six hundred thousand more than I thought it would, so the budget will balance out after I sell the old property. Maybe I can rent it out until the market picks up before I sell it.

The new condo master bedroom is twice as large as our existing one, with his and her walk-in closets and a large heated tile floor bathroom with both a Jacuzzi and a shower.  A second bedroom – as large as our old master bedroom – also has an attached bathroom.  A regular sized bedroom and a smaller bedroom make four.  I will use the smallest bedroom for my office.  Jocelyn will take the second largest bedroom with the ensuite bath.  There is a separate living room and dining room and an ultra-modern kitchen.  

There are only two penthouse units on the twelfth floor, which makes the footprint of the combined units smaller than the floor below.  The remaining floor space offers a lovely outdoor garden terrace that wraps around three sides of the condo.    The east and west sides of the terrace are twelve feet wide, and the south terrace is twenty feet wide. Even when it is windy, you barely feel a draft on the terrace owing to eight foot high tinted glass perimeter walls.

The former owner converted a greenhouse at the west end of the terrace into a year-round glass sunroom.  On mornings after we stay up all night, like we did at our Dungeon party, we might sit on the east terrace and watch the sun rise, and in the evening we will sit in the glass sunroom and watch the sun set.  There are no high-rises nearby, so our view is unobstructed, and the south terrace is secluded, allowing Fiona to nude sunbathe in privacy.  Although not exactly a waterfront property, there is only a municipal park between the condo building and the Hudson River to the West, and the zoning laws do not permit development on that park land. 

I took possession of the property exactly one week ago today, on a Tuesday.  M.B. Security did the upgrades on Thursday and Friday last week, to the tune of an extra $40,000.  They were pleased to see the two penthouse apartments share their own private elevator that services only three floors – the twelfth floor, a private, locked entrance on the ground floor, and a private six car underground garage accessible only to penthouse owners.  I took up Mary Bruno's offer, and the condo was legally purchased by a numbered corporation, which is wholly owned by a family trust, that I have total control over.  The lineage is not completely untraceable, but it obfuscates the fingerprints of my ownership to anyone except a forensic accountant. 

Speaking of real estate transactions, Don Malloy's house sold for $650,000 - $49,000 under my asking price.  The circumstances were remarkably similar.  I wanted a fast close on a vacated property, and someone offered cash – I accepted without countering.  The sale closed two days ago, and the funds appeared in the estate trust bank account yesterday.   I was finalizing the estate finances just before our own move.  

Weeks before, when I sat at Don's funeral, a diabolically clever idea came to me while I was thinking about Cyrano de Bergerac.  Suppose Jet were to "find" Don's holographic will (a handwritten will signed by Don with no witness signature – it is a legal document) while Jet cleaned out Don's desk at his home.  Who was to say that will wasn't there all along?  It would be penned in Don's handwriting and it would bear Don's signature.   Suppose that this holographic will, dated when Don was in the hospital, revoked the Sam Allison will, and suppose it included Don's deathbed confession stating Don accidentally struck and killed the young boy, Tray Boullion, while he rode his bicycle.  And suppose Don left one million dollars out of his estate to the Boullion family.  

Now suppose Don wrote the security code to his front door on outside of the sealed envelope that contained the holographic will, and suppose Don also wrote a note on the envelope declaring that Bruce, an orderly at the hospital, promised to deliver the holographic will to Don's home.  The taxi records could verify that, even if Bruce couldn't remember.  It could all work, until I later realized it would almost certainly result in a police investigation of Don's affairs related to the homicide of a young boy.  I don't remember where Don was or what Don was doing on the thirteenth of November, 2012, when Tray Boullion was killed.  Suppose a record exists of Don being somewhere else – a bank machine maybe – at the same time – then what?  I didn't want the police scrutinizing Don's affairs – Jet was at Don's house on the night The Commander hammered Jet's finger.  Jet almost certainly left fingerprints.  Even after the cleaners had been through Don's house, traces of Jet's blood and DNA may still be there.  And while Jet could fool Fiona about Don being a client of his, he could not fool the police's forensic accountant.  Not to mention the time Jason Braggs called me a liar about my past life.  I felt I was already playing too close to the edge – following this Cyrano path was inviting disaster.   

Two weeks ago, when I signed the agreement to buy my new condo, I decided then to abandon the Cyrano plan.  But that decision was part of something bigger.  I also arrived at a more fundamental understanding – call it a solemn declaration – a promise.  If Jet was to become the honorable man I wanted Fiona to love, I had to stop preying on defenceless women.  Don was dead, and I had to let him go.  I decided that continuing to have sex with people I had already turned, like Nicole, was fair game.  But no new victims.  

I wasn't suggesting I would forfeit my powers altogether – but I decided I had to find a more honorable way to use them.  I needed some time to decide how to harvest my powers with dignity and self-respect.  

Since the Dungeon party, Fiona, Jocelyn, and I have felt caged in our old condo.  It took a lot of time, energy, and coordination with Karen Bruno to arrange even simple things, like Fiona going to the spa.  After a while, Karen wore us down, until the path of least resistance prevailed – we became condo hermits.  Thankfully, the move to our new home offered a welcome distraction.  We had to pack up the contents of the old condo – that took nearly a week.  With Karen's supervision,  Fiona and I broke out of our hermit shell and went furniture shopping.  We were expanding from a two bedroom to a four bedroom home – from a combined living/dining room to separate rooms.  That proved less productive than we hoped, and we realized one of our new bedrooms would probably go bare for a while.

Fiona wanted to hire an interior decorator, but that required pre-clearance from Karen Bruno.  Everything took more time, energy, and effort than it should.  

Yesterday – that was Monday – the security approved moving company arrived at the old condo, and they carried everything we owned into a moving van.  We were in the midst of moving our contents in to the new condo this Tuesday, around ten in the morning, when Jocelyn's cell phone rang.  She looked at the incoming number – it was Karen Bruno – again.

I heard Jocelyn's side of the conversation "Hi Karen ... yes, they're both here ... hang on."  She went to fetch Fiona, who was in the master bedroom directing traffic about placement of the furniture.  "Fiona," Jocelyn called out, "its Karen – she wants to talk to all of us."  After almost a minute, Fiona came into the living room where Jocelyn and I were.  Jocelyn selected the speakerphone on her cell phone and set it down on a moving crate.

"Go ahead, Karen – Fiona and Jet are here."

"Okay," I heard Karen's voice over the cell speakerphone.  "I have Detective Juliotte from the San Antonio PD on the other line.  Detective, please tell Ms. Wheaton what you just told me."

"Ma'am," the southern drawl started out of the speakerphone, "on Thursday last week, State Troopers found three individuals deceased in an abandoned warehouse just outside a small town called Bandera, about fifty miles from here.  The State Troopers asked for our assistance in this case because of certain evidence they collected on scene.  In our subsequent searches of the deceased's premises, we found evidence that one of these deceased was the person responsible for the credible threat against your life."  We all looked at each other, hoping we correctly understood the significance of Detective Juliotte's news.  He continued. 

"Specifically, we found, on a computer laptop, a photo editing program with the exact, identical picture of an erotic dancer with your face digitally altered over top of the original face – the same picture that was left for you to find at your house.  We also found a disposable cell phone with a call history that includes one outgoing call to the cell phone you possessed on the date you received the threatening request for money.  The fingerprints on the cell phone and laptop match the deceased.  We have sent them away for DNA testing just to dot all the i's.  We have also uncovered a great deal more evidence, some of which I have shared with Ms. Bruno on her solemn promise she will not disclose any part of that evidence to anyone else, but I wanted to give her a clearer understanding of the magnitude of evidence we are now collecting."  The line went quiet. 

"Jocelyn," came Karen's voice again, "as Detective Juliotte explained, I cannot discuss with you this other evidence, but I have reviewed it with Detective Juliotte, and on its face value, it appears that the credible threat to your safety is over.  Would you agree, Detective?"

"Absolutely," confirmed the southern drawl.  "We have no reason to believe the threat ever extended beyond the individual in question.  The credible threat against your life died with the deceased."

"Jocelyn and Fiona," Karen continued, "Jason and I are going to review this new development later this morning, or early afternoon latest.  I am reasonably confident that, by end of day today, I will issue an official stand-down order on your protection detail.  I want to be clear – nothing is official.  But I wanted you to hear this news as soon as possible directly from Detective Juliotte."

"Detective Juliotte," Jocelyn asked, "have you found out anything about my ex-husband."

"No, ma'am," replied the drawl.  "I regret I have no new information about Mr. Wheaton."  He paused for a moment.  "Ms. Wheaton, I may be breaking one or two rules by suggesting this, but I have had similar situations with your husband ... ah, pardon me, your ex-husband ... I have seen these circumstances before.  I think you need to brace yourself for the possibility you may never learn what happened to him."

"I'm halfway there," replied Jocelyn.

"I understand, ma'am," Detective Juliotte offered with genuine sincerity.  "I offer my deepest condolences."

"Thank you, Detective."  Jocelyn then remembered to add, "you too, Karen."

I jumped in.  "Karen, so what's next?"

"Well," Karen replied, "as I said, I need to review the case Jason, but I am pretty certain that is going to be a formality.  After that, you get your life back.  But again, I need to be clear.  You must to wait for my official stand-down order before you start celebrating.  Does everyone understand that?"

The three of us assured Karen we understood.

"Okay then," Karen concluded.  "Jocelyn, I am going to hang up now, and I will call you this afternoon.  Detective Juliotte, can you stay on the line, please."

"Yes, ma'am" the southern drawl replied agreeably.  The line went dead.

Jocelyn and Fiona hugged each other for a long time.  "I couldn't have done this without you," Jocelyn said to me, and pulled me into their embrace for a three-way hug.  "I owe you both a huge debt I can never pay back."  

"Yes you can," I corrected Jocelyn.  "Keep on being a good sister to Fiona.  Never forget that, and all is repaid in full," I ordered as a post-hypnotic command, and I removed the skip from Jocelyn while we were still hugging.  I pulled away from the hug.  Fiona and Jocelyn were still embraced, so Jocelyn did not see Fiona mouth the words "Thank You" to me with tears in her eyes.  I went to the kitchen, pulled out one of the bottles from the cases of 1993 Dom Perignon we received from Left Hand Spankies, and put it in the fridge. 

Minutes dragged into hours as we waited for Karen's call that afternoon.  We filled the time with more unpacking and rebuilding furniture.  Just past three-thirty, my cell phone rang – it was Jason Braggs.  He told me Karen had just issued the formal stand-down order on Jocelyn and Fiona's protective detail.  We all needed to come into the office the next day to sign off some papers and recover our automobiles. As of that phone call from Jason, we were free to resume our normal lives.  I thanked him, hung up, and explained the call to Jocelyn and Fiona.  They did a high-five as I went to the fridge and popped the cork on the chilled champagne.  

"A toast!" I called out as we hoisted our champagne glasses.

"To new beginnings," offered Jocelyn.  It was an apropos toast along at least a dozen dimensions, some of which Jocelyn and Fiona could never know. 

"To new beginnings!" we all tapped our glasses and drank.

It was going to be nice to have my own BMW back.  I had misunderstood the deal about cars.  They didn't lease us one car – they kept rotating cars – each week – sometimes twice a week.  They would swap one car for different one.  As we became condo bound, we noticed the car swap less, but it was still one more chore to surrender the keys and learn all the new idiosyncrasies of the latest car.  

We spent the rest of the day unpacking and setting up furniture.  We barely made a dent in the unpacking – there were boxes everywhere.  I decided to use the third bedroom as temporary storage – all unpacked boxes would go in there while we put together the rest of the condo.  By six o'clock we were too tired and grimy to out for dinner, and no one knew where any shampoo or soap was.  I ordered Szechuan from our old neighborhood and drove over to pick it up.  I left right away and went to a corner drug store to pick up milk, bread, toilet paper, shampoo, and about fifty other basics you normally take for granted.  By the time I got to the Szechuan restaurant, our take-out was ready.  

Over dinner, we talked about what we should do next.  Fiona looked at me.  "What do you want to do?" she asked.  

I thought about it for a while.  "I know it sounds kind of lame," I said, "but I have never been to the Florida Keys."    

"So like Key West?" Fiona asked.

"No, I'd like to go to some place quiet.  Some place relaxing, peaceful.   A secluded rented villa where we can bake in the sun, and drive down to Key West to party if we want."  

"One thing, though," Fiona said.  "I don't mean to sound selfish, but a rented villa – that means we do our own cooking, dishes, housecleaning ... you know.  It isn't as much of a holiday for everyone."  

"I'm way ahead of you," I said.  I was willing to bet good money the disco sisters from Left Hand Spankies were willing to do cooking, cleaning, and who know what else in return for an all-expense paid trip to the Keys.  

I bounced my disco sisters idea off Fiona – she gave me one of those thoughtful frowns.  "Are you looking for someone to cook and clean, or someone to fuck?" Fiona asked.  

"Why can't we have both?" I pointed out the obvious. 

"While we're inviting people, why not Nicole?" Fiona thought out loud. "But I wouldn't ask her to clean."

"Fiona plus one works for me," I agreed. 

"How about Andrei?" Jocelyn asked.  Fiona and I shrugged a 'why not' look at each other.

"I will pay for the disco sisters' flight because they will work for us – I expect actual guests to pay their own return fare."  Everyone agreed.

"When do we go?" Fiona asked.  We bounced that discussion around until we decided we would leave Friday next week, returning ten days later on a Monday.  That gave us enough time to organize the new condo and plan our trip.  Jocelyn decided she would return to San Antonio this coming Sunday, stay there the week, and then she would join us in the Keys on Friday.

The next day, on Wednesday, Jocelyn, Fiona, and I went in to M.B. Security and signed the stand-down papers, and retrieved our cars.  I also sent text messages to Caitlyn, Bailey, and Hannah explaining we were going to the Florida Keys with the dates we had in mind – did they want to join us – I would pay their way – they had to cook, clean, and shop.  Caitlyn and Hannah were immediately agreeable – Bailey said no – she had other commitments.  The next day, Bailey texted back – she changed her mind – could she still come along – I said yes.  I told them to go out and buy some clothes and things they needed – I would reimburse up to $300 each.  I gave them specific instructions about what kind of bathing suits I wanted them to buy.

Nicole thanked Fiona for the kind invitation, but no – it was a bad time to take a whole week out of nursing school, but Nicole asked if she and Kevin could visit for just the first weekend.  Andrei turned down Jocelyn's invitation. 

On Friday I rented a villa on Marathon Key through an on-line service.  I phoned them to confirm the reservation.  The agent told me it was a beautiful private property – right on the beach, with a secluded swimming pool, four bedrooms, modern kitchen, with many nice shops and restaurants nearby.  I also purchased flights to Key West for Fiona, me, Caitlyn, Hannah, and Bailey, as well as Jocelyn's flight from San Antonio.  I booked a full sized van out of Key West airport to take us and all our luggage to Marathon.  There were another thousand maddening logistical details, and I decided to sort out as much as I could in advance so my stay in the Keys would be as relaxing as possible. 

Bailey, Caitlyn, and Hannah drove to our condo the day before we flew south.  They arrived around five in the afternoon.  We went out for supper.  During dinner, the girls explained that Caitlyn would do all the cooking and food shopping in the Keys.  Her father, a Cordon Bleu accredited cook, is the head chef at the New York Intercontinental.  Caitlyn grew up in the kitchen with her dad, and she loves to cook.  Hannah and Bailey would do all the dishes, laundry, and house cleaning.

Fiona and I were already packed, so after we returned home from dinner, we chatted with the disco sisters.   We laughed about the time we spent together at the Broadleaf Spa and the Left Hand Spankies.  They talked about the great party we had in the hotel room.  The disco sisters wanted to know of any developments since the run-in with tall-boy – there was none.  

I could tell Hannah had something on her mind, and she finally screwed up the courage to ask how was it possible that I fucked her and then moments later Caitlyn gave me a blow job.  This had obviously been a topic of contention among the disco sisters, because they were all interested in the answer.  




The Commander Ch. 09



I explained I am multi-orgasmic – I can have one orgasm right after another.  "I could do you all four of you in a row right now," I said to the disco sisters and Fiona.  

"No way!" Bailey challenged, as murmurs of disbelief rippled through the disco sisters' banter, until I heard Caitlyn said "Prove it."

"Yeah," Fiona said to me with a twinkle in her eye, "prove it."

"You don't think I can do all four of you in a row?" I said to Caitlyn.

"No way," asserted Caitlyn. "It is not possible – no guy can do that."

"You want a bet?" I asked the three disco sisters, winking to Fiona.  The disco sisters all agreed.  

"But if you can't do all four of us in, say, two hours," Caitlyn announced, "we still go with you to Florida but you have to find someone else to do all your cooking, cleaning, and shopping.  You'll be screwed," she said with a devilish grin.

"And if I can?" I asked

"Well, then," Bailey offered, "I guess we'll all have to keep on checking you for multi-orgasms in between house work chores."  

"You'll still get screwed," laughed Caitlyn.  I looked at Fiona – she shrugged okay.  We had an accord.  

I stood up and walked to Bailey, and I cupped her right breast in my hand through her shirt.  "Seeing that you and I have never had the pleasure," I smiled to Bailey, "how about you and I lead off?"

"Let's all go to the bedroom," invited Fiona as she stood up.  The disco sisters followed Fiona into our new master bedroom, and I trailed closely behind.  The girls stood there uncertain how to begin, so I stood behind Bailey, wrapped my arms around her, and fondled both her breasts through her T-shirt.  She was facing the other girls, who stood there watching us.  Bailey seemed frozen at first, so I lifted my right hand and gently touched her chin with my finger, prompting her to turn her head up and sideways, and I bent my head down and we kissed while I continued petting her through her shirt.  

Still standing behind Bailey, I continued fondling her breasts with my left hand while I slipped my right hand down past Bailey's tummy until I landmarked on her blue jeans, and I unzipped the front of her pants.  Next I unfastened the button at the waist, leaving her jeans loose around her waist.  Still locked in a kiss, I slipped my whole hand down the front of Bailey's jeans and I fondled her pussy through her panties.  

Bailey broke her kiss and slowly spun around to face me, and as she did, Caitlyn approached, crouched down, and pulled Bailey's jeans and panties off her hips.  Bailey and I kissed again as I slipped my right hand over her bare ass and massaged her cheeks.  Caitlyn now had Bailey's jeans and panties down to her ankles, so Bailey stepped out of them one leg at a time as Caitlyn pulled them off her feet.  I gently spun Bailey about 45 degrees, which let me reach down with my right hand and slip my fingers over her shaved pussy.  Bailey sighed and opened her legs, letting me massage her folds more generously.  

Fiona stepped behind me, reached around my waist, and unfastened my belt buckle and pants while I continued to caress Bailey's outer pussy lips.  Soon my own pants and underpants fell to my ankles, and I stepped out of them as Fiona pulled them off my legs.  I stepped back from Bailey, and Caitlyn stood behind Bailey and hoisted her T shirt over Bailey's head.  I unbuttoned my own shirt while Fiona took hold of my flaccid member and gently started jerking it with her right hand.  By the time my shirt and undershirt hit the floor, I was fully erect as I watched the shirtless Bailey reach behind her back, unfasten her clasps, and let her bra slip off her shoulders, exposing her rounded shaped C cupped breasts. 

Fiona, still fully clothed, spun me around, knelt down, and took me into her mouth while I caught Caitlyn out of the corner of my eye escorting Bailey toward the bed.  Bailey lay down while Caitlyn removed her own clothing.  Hannah also started stripping, and by the time Fiona had galvanized my cock in her loving mouth, the three disco sisters were naked on the bed.  Bailey was lying on her back, and Caitlyn and Hannah were kneeling on either side.  Each girl had taken hold of one of Bailey's legs underneath her knees, and had lifted Bailey's knee up and outward, and held it like so, creating a human bondage.  Bailey's splayed and lifted legs split her pussy, and her exposed fuck hole beckoned my hardened cock closer. 

Fiona pulled her mouth off my cock, and she tore open a condom package and rolled the sheath over my rock solid rod.  Ready for the hunt, I turned and faced my helpless quarry.  Bailey returned my gaze with smiling eyes.  I knelt onto the bed between Bailey's held-wide knees, and positioned my piston over her waiting opening.  I touched my cock to Bailey's inner lips, and she closed her eyes and lifted her head back in anticipation.  

I plunged in all at once, instantly filling Bailey's vagina with my hardened rod.  Bailey yelped in surprise with eyes burst open.  She tried to close her legs, but the flanking girls held strong, and Bailey's legs futilely strained against their human shackles.  Now I started fucking Bailey smoothly, gently, and she started rocking her hips in rhythm to my strokes.  The smile returned to Bailey's face.  As I settled into a steady pace, I felt Fiona crawl on the bed behind me, and she dry mounted me from behind, pressing her naked body on top of mine.  I hadn't notice when she undressed.  I felt her soft breasts against my back, and the curve of her hips and pussy rubbed against my ass each time I fucked Bailey in and out.  Fiona gently moved her hips in sync with my own, and we created a fuck sandwich with Bailey below, me in the middle, and Fiona resting on top.  

I braced both my arms against the mattress to support Fiona's weight on my back.  It meant my hands were not available to wander over Bailey's delicate parts, but I was surprised how intoxicatingly erotic Fiona felt lying naked on my back while I fucked Bailey.  I started to feel my balls roil within few minutes of dedicated fucking.  Fiona reached around and started playing with my nipples as my balls approached detonation.   I drove faster into Bailey's pussy as I my balls passed that magic moment of no return.  My balls erupted.  As load after load of my spunk pumped into Bailey's sheathed pussy, Fiona squeezed my nipples hard, and the mixed sensation of pain and climax caused me to bark out an orgasmic growl.  I continued pumping my cock in and out of Bailey's split pussy as I felt waves of jism unload.  When my ejaculation pulsations finally ebbed, I stopped fucking her and I lowered my body on to Baily in a post-coital sandwich with Fiona still overtop. Hannah and Caitlyn released Bailey from her bondage, and we rested like that for a few seconds. 

I stirred to move off Bailey, and Fiona lifted herself off me.  I rolled over onto my back, and removed my condom.  Fiona took me into her mouth to suck me clean, and then went deep to my balls to the amazement of all three disco sisters.  When Fiona withdrew, my cock was standing rigid.  "Who's next," I smiled. 

Caitlyn answered the call by kneeling next to me and taking me into her mouth.  I remembered Caitlyn's excellent blowjob from the Broadleaf Spa, and welcomed an encore performance.  As she began, I found my right hand within range of Hannah's pussy, and I started fingering her as Caitlyn began sucking me in earnest.  Bailey positioned herself to my left side, and I started fondling her round, C cup tits.  Not wishing to be left out, Fiona knelt over my head facing northward – with her back to the other girls – and lowered her pussy onto my face.  I took Fiona's hint, and started massaging her clitoris with my tongue while I fingered Hannah's pussy with my right hand, played with Bailey's tits with my left hand, and while Caitlyn sucked me like a pro.

Caitlyn did not disappoint – she brought her hand into action on the lower half of my shaft, and together with her expert suction I felt my balls begin to stir again.  I inserted a second finger into Hannah's pussy, and she repositioned herself to make my finger fucking easier.  I focused my tongue on stimulating Fiona's clit, and she rewarded my efforts with small moans now and then.  With my left fingers I pinched and rolled the nubs of Bailey's nipples. 

Fiona started rocking her hips as I brought her closer to an orgasmic flashpoint.  Bailey moved away – with Fiona on top of me, I couldn't see where she went, so I brought my free left hand to assist with Fiona's stimulation by lightly feathering around Fiona's asshole while I continued my tongue work on her clit.  Fiona groaned welcomingly to the heightened assault of erotic stimuli.  I suddenly realized my own level or arousal was climbing precariously close to climax – that surprised me because Caitlyn had not been sucking me for very long.  Clearly her fellatio mastery was still at the top of her game.  

I pumped my fingers in and out of Hannah's pussy as I felt my orgasm closing in.  I invaded Fiona's rosebud with my middle finger and increased my tongue pressure on her clit, and Fiona moaned louder.  My orgasmic pressure passed the critical point, and my balls unloaded salvo after salvo into Caitlyn's mouth.  I jammed my right fingers as far as I could up Hannah's pussy.  The explosive waves of my orgasm caused me to falter in my cunnilingus duties, but I regained my composure within seconds, and I resumed Fiona's climb to her climax while Caitlyn swallowed every drop of my liquid seed.

When my ejaculatory contractions waned, I pulled my fingers out of Hannah's vagina and I wrapped my right arm around Fiona's hips, pulling her body down onto my face, letting me increase my lingual pressure on her clit.  I stayed with Fiona's clit and started pumping my other finger in and out of her asshole.  It took maybe two more minutes before I pushed Fiona over the climactic cliff.  In her orgasmic spasms, Fiona closed her legs hard on my head, and I felt my face distorted to comedic proportions. She might have been wailing, but Fiona clamped her thighs so hard against my ears, I couldn't hear a thing.  Still, I pressed my tongue firmly on her clit like a good boy to drive her orgasm all the way home.  Finally Fiona's orgasm abated, and she relaxed her legs, releasing her vice grip on my head, and both my ears popped from the pressure changes. I pulled my finger out of her anus, and Fiona dismounted me.  

"Half way there," I smiled at my still rock hard penis.  I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and when I returned, Bailey and Caitlyn were getting into a little kink by tying Hannah's hands behind her back using a fabric belt they pulled out of Fiona's housecoat.  I folded a pillow in half and put it in the middle of the bed, and I directed the girls to roll Hannah face down with her hips over the raised pillow, lifting her pelvis off the bed and exposing her bare pussy from behind.  I massaged and fingered her pussy while Hannah lay helplessly face down with her hands tied behind her back.  While I spread her pussy lips and flicked my tongue down her fuck hole, Fiona rolled a fresh condom onto my still rock hard cock. 

I knelt over Hannah, straddling her closed thighs, then I poised my still rigid cock over her exposed fuck hole, and pressed inward.  Hannah's pussy was tight with her legs closed, and I started pumping my piston in and out of her vagina.    

Perhaps inspired by the orgasm I delivered to Fiona – maybe because, back at the Broadleaf Spa, I told the disco sisters to practice their cunnilingus – for whatever reason, Bailey lay down on the King sized bed beside us with Caitlyn on top in a 69 configuration and the girls began eating each other's pussies.  Fiona sat in a chair watching the show.  I watched the girl-on-girl action while I fucked Hannah's pussy.  I bottomed out once or twice, causing Hannah to suck a sharp breath inward with surprise, but she was otherwise helpless to do anything about it.  

As I continued fucking Hannah, I reached across with my right and started caressing Caitlyn's ass.  Without missing a stroke in Hannah's pussy, I slid my middle finger down Caitlyn's centerline and stopped at her pretty little rosebud, and started circling my finger.  Caitlyn seemed conflicted – she enjoyed the sensation but clearly was not comfortable with the concept, so I continued until I found her pussy, and slipped my middle finger in.  I started pumping my finger into Caitlyn's pussy in time with my fucking of Hannah.  As Caitlyn's natural lubricants made my penetration easier, I introduced a second finger, and drove them deeper while I continued fucking Hannah.  

My balls started to churn.  I continued fucking Hannah, but pulled my fingers out of Caitlyn, and lowered my hand to meet Bailey's mouth, and pressed my pussy juice soaked fingers to Bailey's lips.  She opened wide and took my wet fingers into her mouth, then Bailey closed her lips tight around my fingers and sucked Caitlyn's love juice clean.  Over the next few minutes I alternated my fingers between Caitlyn's pussy and Bailey's mouth while my balls grew closer to critical mass.  I vaguely realized Fiona was no longer in the room – I didn't notice her leave.

When I approached detonation, I started finger fucking Caitlyn's pussy harder.  At the instant of detonation, I drove my two fingers hard up Caitlyn's vagina and held them there as my balls unloaded.  Incredibly this orgasm was as intense as the first two, and I groaned in satiated delight as my balls pumped load after load.  After my ejaculation ended, I withdrew my fingers from Caitlyn's vagina and let Bailey suck my fingers clean one last time.  

I pulled my cock out of Hannah, removed the condom, and pressed my cum-slicked rod to Bailey's lips.  She indulged me and opened her mouth and took me as deep as she could, then she wrapped her lips tightly around my shaft as I pulled it out shiny and clean.

Fiona stepped out of the attached bathroom.  She tossed a tube of K-Y to me.  I knew exactly what she wanted.  But first she went to her knees and took all of me in, and licked my balls with my full ten inches down her throat.  Fiona was showing off.

When Fiona was satisfied I was good, stiff, and clean, she stood up, faced the bed, spread her legs wide, and bent ninety degrees at the hips.  I squeezed a large dollop of K-Y onto my finger, and thoroughly lubricated the interior of Fiona's anus.  The disco sisters looked on with amazed anticipation, obviously never witnessing back door sex before.  

I lay Fiona down on her right side.  She pointed her right leg straight toward the foot of the bed, and she curled her left leg up toward her body.  Fiona opened her shoulders so both her breasts rested free.  I set her hands on the bed high over Fiona's head so I could enjoy an unobstructed view of those magnificent 36D beauties. 

I knelt, straddling Fiona's straight lower leg, and positioned my hardened rod against her rosebud.  I slipped in easily, and Fiona groaned in appreciation.  As I started fucking her sphincter, the impact of my hips against her ass traveled up her body, causing her lovely tits to undulate after each thrust.   The sight of those perfect breasts oscillating up and down in rhythm to my ass fucking drove me wild.  I started fucked Fiona savagely, ramming my hips hard into her ass while I obsessed on Fiona's tits waving up and down under the seismic forces of every thrust.  I suspect the disco girls watched with mouths agape – I wasn't paying attention to them – it was just Fiona and me in the room.

Fiona grunted on every stroke as I compressed her rib cage on each thrust.  After several minutes of all-out ass fucking, I grew closer to eruption, and I dug my fingers in Fiona's left hip.  She sensed my impending climax, and instead of grunting now, she hoarsed "Yes!" on my every thrust, as in "Yes! ... Yes! ... Yes! ... Yes! ... Yes! ..."  We became wild, carnal animals oblivious to our surroundings.  The heavy air reeked with our sex.  I exploded into Fiona's ass with a guttural, inhuman growl and Fiona sang harmony with a powerful, long groan.  My cock rippled wave after wave of jism into Fiona's invaded bowels.  I bent all the way forward and found Fiona's lips with mine and we locked lips savagely with an urgent hunger as my seed continued filling her rectum.  When at last my cock spurted its last drop, I withdrew and wrapped my arms around Fiona and we embraced tightly like it was our last day on Earth.  

"Just once in my life I'd like to be fucked like that," I heard one of the disco sisters say as Fiona and I recovered our breath in each other's arms.  I felt Fiona smile and she kissed me sweetly on the neck.  

I got up from the bed and went to the disco sisters. I kissed Bailey on the mouth while I fondled her breasts with my left hand and played with her pussy with my right hand.  I then moved to Caitlyn and did the same thing, and then Hannah.  I pulled back and took them all in one gaze.  "Looks like we're going to have a fun trip," I smiled. 

We landed at West Key at three o'clock on Friday afternoon.  Jocelyn had arrived from San Antonio an hour earlier, and was awaiting our arrival.  Fiona, Jocelyn, Nicole, Kevin, Bailey, Caitlyn, Hannah, and I dumped our luggage into the back of the fifteen passenger van and we all climbed in.  

The Marathon Keys villa was more spectacular than I had envisioned.   Starting with the driveway – a fifty foot long natural tunnel through trees and cedar hedges gives the visitor an eerie sense of being transported to a distant time and land.  The villa building is completely hidden from the road, offering excellent privacy.  Unknown to the first time visitor, as you drive approach the villa through that tunnel driveway, on your right – on the far side of the tunnel wall – lies a full sized swimming pool, a hot tub, and a sundeck guarded on three sides by twelve foot high cedar privacy hedges.  

The villa is built overtop the concrete garage, car ports, and utility rooms, presumably to secure the living spaces from flooding, but that arrangement also has a desirable effect of elevating the main house, allowing you to look far across water.  Stairs from the garage and car port lead up to the house overhead. 

On the main floor, over the garage, the back half of the villa – the side facing the unseen road – two more floors house four large bedrooms, and four bathrooms.  Also on the main floor of this back half are a family/television room and the kitchen.  The front half of the villa – the half facing the ocean – is one single great room – fifty feet wide, thirty feed deep, and twenty feet high – with floor-to-ceiling / wall-to-wall windows across the front wall facing the ocean.   A mezzanine library wraps around three sides of the great hall, leaving the south-westward facing windows unobstructed.  Two spiral staircases lead to the ten foot high elevated platform with thousands upon thousands of books tucked away among miles of bookshelves against the three walls. 

From the great hall you step outside a door on either side of the building near the front windows onto the upper deck that wraps around both sides of the villa and across the front.   At the front of the upper deck, six steps lead you down to a private wooden pedestrian overpass with side railings that flies over the sandy beach to the outer deck.  The outer deck is a fifteen foot wide roof-covered octagonal wooden deck built on stilts literally over the water.  The outer deck's stilts rise out of the water about ten feet beyond the shoreline.  Seven sides of the outer deck have sturdy railings, and the eighth open side connects to the incoming overpass from the villa.  At the center of the outer deck is a small bar equipped with a fridge, a sink with running water, and cupboards for glasses and plates.  




The Commander Ch. 09



Back at the upper deck, against the villa, instead of taking the six steps down to the overpass to the outer deck, you could instead take a different full staircase all the way down to a boardwalk that skims over the water even further out to sea to meet the lower deck – a twelve by twenty foot wooden platform with no railings.  Cleats along the side of this deck permit boots to moor alongside. 

The octagonal outer deck was my favorite place to watch the sun set over the ocean.  Fiona and I spent many quality hours there sipping wine and talking about everything – or about nothing.

Nicole and Kevin spent hours of their weekend walking down the sandy beach.  Our villa was on a peninsula of the key.  They could walk around the point, up the other side, cut across the peninsula's base, and return to our villa, completing the circuit in an hour of slow hand-in-hand walking.

The disco sisters divided their outdoor leisure time beside the pool, where they sunbathed nude in the privacy of the twelve foot hedges on three sides and the villa building on the fourth side, or on the outer deck, where they wore their string bikinis.  There were lots of lounge chairs everywhere, but we had to bring the chairs in from the outer deck when we weren't using them so they didn't blow away.

Jocelyn seemed especially fond of the large hot tub next to the pool.  It had a submerged ledge around the edge allowing you to sit with just your head above water. 

Fiona liked to sleep in – I am more of an early riser.  With Fiona's blessing, by eight in the morning I would have already taken my morning blowjob from one or two of the disco sisters.   Even though everyone knew, I kept it discrete to avoid awkward moments.   My preferred location was on the outer deck – I'd lie back in a lounge chair, so we would be hidden by the solid railing wall that surrounded the octagonal deck.    

Saturday morning we did a big shop in the van for food, drinks, and supplies.  While we were out, I also rented a Ford Taurus and made sure Fiona, Jocelyn, and Caitlyn were registered as extra drivers.  Caitlyn said she needed a car shop for fresh groceries every morning.  I gave her five hundred dollars cash for food expenses – I was she would need more before we left. 

After we got back from shopping on Saturday, Fiona asked me if it was alright if she fucked Nicole.  I like Nicole – I consider her a friend.  I told Fiona I was perfectly comfortable if Fiona wanted expand their friendship into a casual physical relationship.   I suggested they use our bedroom.  Fiona asked me if I wanted to watch – I said maybe some other time.

I thought about my relationship with Fiona.  I sensed no misgivings from Fiona about my frolicking with the disco sisters, and I certainly had no concerns with her having casual sex with other people.  I wasn't sure how long Fiona and I could continue this way.  It occurred to me that one or both of us may eventually reach a crossroads where we had to choose between a commitment to our relationship and fun.  But not today.  For now, our open relationship was working, so I wasn't trying to fix it.  I don't Kevin felt the same way – he seemed more resigned than accepting of Nicole having sex with Fiona, and he was uncomfortable discussing it with me.

For supper on Saturday Caitlyn cooked pork loin stuffed with crab and ginger with a rosemary glaze, crispy baked garlic mashed potato fingers, and a spinach walnut salad with a fresh raspberry dressing.  It was astoundingly delicious.  For dessert she made a key lime pie with a candied mango top layer to kill for.  After we finished supper, Bailey and Hannah cleared the table, washed the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen until it shined.  

Over dinner I suggested that everyone fend for themselves for breakfast, and I expected Caitlyn to do only simple things for lunch – like cold cuts and sandwiches.  We all agreed. 

Sunday was the first real day of my vacation.  I wasn't out shopping or renting cars.  I did walk up to a nearby hobby store I noticed yesterday and I bought two kites specifically designed for low wind sailing.  The storekeeper also sold me two large spools of string – he said the kites were good, but their strings were too short.  I launched one kite off the outer deck, and it took flight right away, but the storekeeper was right – there wasn't enough string on the spool to give it any height.  I pulled the kite back in, tied one of the extra spools to the end of the kite string, and launched it again.  This time it went hundreds of feet up.  It stayed aloft without any guidance from me, so I tied the string off to one of the boat cleats.  I went inside, got a beer, a few folding lounge chairs, and my e-reader, and I sat on the outer deck in the warm midday sun, occasionally glancing up to ensure my kite was still flying.  Half an hour later Fiona came out in her bikini carrying two more beers, sunscreen, and her book.  She gave one beer to me, slathered sunscreen all over me, and we sat together in the sun reading our books. 

After an hour and two beers later, we both became too hot in the afternoon sun.  I pulled the kite in and we retreated to our bedroom for a siesta.  We lay down together – she was still in her bikini, and I was in my shorts.  I rolled onto my side, and slipped my hand underneath her top and caressed her left breast.  "So," I said playfully, "what wicked things did you and Nicole do in my bed yesterday?" as I gently squeezed her nipple.

"Oh, some of that," she replied coyly, as I ribbed my opened fingers back and forth across her stiffened nipple.

I withdrew my hand from her breast and slid down her tummy, and slipped my fingers underneath her bikini bottom and reached for her pussy.  Fiona opened her legs.  "Some of this?" I asked as I started to fondle the folds of her labia.

"Lots of that!" she whispered.

I rose to my knees and positioned myself between Fiona's open legs.  I grabbed both sides of her bikini bottom, and Fiona cooperatively raised her hips off the bed, letting me to pull her bikini bottom off her hips.  After I tossed her bikini bottom to the floor, I spread open her knees and poised my mouth at her pussy.  "Any of this?" I asked as I started tonging her clitoris. 

"Oh yes," she assured me, "that too."  I massaged her clit with my tongue for a couple of minutes, then I kneeled up again, removed my shorts, and now naked, I positioned myself beside Fiona's head.  My cock was already erect from our foreplay.  I touched it to her mouth and she took it in hungrily.  Then I slipped my right hand down to her pussy, and Fiona instantly knew I was going for broke – she arched her back and pointed her toes as I started my infallible massage.  

"Any of this?" I asked.  

Fiona just murmured a few words unintelligibly with my cock in her mouth, but then she pulled away.  "Make us come together," and she re-engaged her suction on my willing cock.  That reminded me of a Beatles song, and I started humming it as I continued massaging Fiona's clitoris.  She broke her suction on my cock when Fiona recognized my song and smiled, and then Fiona went deep to my balls to help her refocus.  When she returned to shallow depth, Fiona brought her hand to jerk the bottom half of my cock while she continued to suck the top.  I increased the tempo of my strokes against her pussy to match her game.

After a few minutes I was getting close, and I could tell Fiona was too.  Her chest was heaving and she was moaning louder.  I thought I might be closer than she was, so I amped up my massage tempo and pulled my fingers harder into her pussy.  Fiona's moaning turned into groaning as she kept suction on my rigid member.  I felt myself pass the point of no return just as I watched Fiona's back arc sharply and her hips shudder with orgasmic tremors.  I unloaded into Fiona's mouth and she rewarded me by taking me deep, letting me pump wave after wave of my love potion down her swallowing throat.  I jabbed my fingers hard against Fiona's pussy.  I knew she would be wailing right now if she could breathe, but instead she bucked her hips convulsively against my hand.  Fiona stayed deep until I released my last salvo, then she withdrew and started breathing again.  

I lay down beside Fiona, and removed her bikini top.  I pulled the covers over us, and I played delicately with her nipples while I waited for the beer-assisted, sun-baked, orgasm-induced fatigue to overtake us.  I woke up an hour later with my hand still resting on her sleeping breast.  

That evening we had a Caitlyn served another fantastic supper.  Later that night, Jocelyn suggested we all go skinny dipping in the hot tub.  The circular pool was just large enough for the eight of us to sit around the ledge.  The bubbling water jets frothed the surface of the water, providing some visual privacy for everyone, as the water came up everyone's upper chest or neck while we were seated on the circular ledge. 

Fiona sat to my right, Jocelyn to my left.  Nicole and Kevin sat across from us, and the disco sisters filled in the rest.  In part to cool down from the hot tub, I had my arms out of the water, and I put my hands around Fiona's and Jocelyn's shoulders.  At a while I felt Fiona's hand stroking my inner thigh, eventually reaching my cock.  She was being careful not to let her upper body motion betray her submerged foreplay.  Just as Fiona wrapped her hand around my cock and started stroking gently, I felt Jocelyn's hand on my left thigh, and it travelled northward until Jocelyn's hand bumped into Fiona's hand on my cock.  They both smiled at each other.  One took the upper half, and the other took the lower, and together they started tag-team jerking me off. 

I lifted my hands off their shoulders, and dropped my arms back into the warm water, and I surreptitiously slid my fingers to both girls' pussies at the same time, and started massaging.  I hadn't considered that it had been a long time since Jocelyn had a man's hands on her – she spread her legs and let out a loud moan as I started rubbing the folds over her clitoris. 

"Fiona are you okay?" Nicole asked with genuine concern.

"No," I corrected, "that was Jocelyn," and I started massaging Jocelyn's pussy faster, and pressed harder.

"I am still amazed how much you two look alike ... Jocelyn, is everything all right?"  I knew this was the nurse in training asking.

"I'm fine," hoarsed out Jocelyn as I sped up my massaging over her clitoris.   With the girls seated, my clitoral seemed to have nothing more than a titillating effect – I was not going to get enough traction with Fiona and Jocelyn in this posture to bring anyone to climax.  Fiona leaned to me and whispered in my ear "I think we should invite Jocelyn to our bedroom tonight."  It's nice the way sisters always look out for each other. 

Nicole stood up, raising her C cup breasts high out of the water.  She and Kevin must have been doing the same thing, because presently, Nicole stood in front of Kevin with her back toward him, sat down half way, reached down with her right hand between her legs for a moment, and having guided Kevin's cock to her pussy hole, Nicole sat the rest of the way onto Kevin's lap.  

Seated on Kevin's lap now, Nicole's breasts were half way out of the water, and they lifted above the waterline each time she heaved her shoulders upwards, which was about every two seconds – coinciding with her pelvic tilt to slow-fuck Kevin's cock.  After a minute or two Nicole closed her eyes and increased her tempo.

"Fuck this," Jocelyn said, stood up and positioned herself right in front of me, and she straddled her legs around mine before lowering herself halfway to my lap.  Like Nicole did, Jocelyn reached down, grabbed my cock, and brought its tip to her pussy opening, and then gently lowered herself.  

My cock was too long to let Jocelyn sit on my lap, so she reached her arms backward and grabbed on to the edge of the pool deck for balance.  Jocelyn flexed and relaxed her legs to lift her body up and down, sliding her tight pussy up and down my upper shaft.  I knew this was not sustainable – Jocelyn's legs would give out within a couple of minutes.  I took the opportunity with her arms pulled back to reach my arms around Jocelyn and I started fondling her perfectly firm 36D tits.  

Jocelyn's back obstructed my view of Nicole, but I heard distinct repeated splashing noises as Nicole hastened the fuck tempo and her body started agitating the water with each lunge.  Jocelyn didn't even last two minutes – she lifted her body up and off my cock, giving me a view of Nicole with her head back and her breasts bouncing in and out of the water as she threw her whole body into fucking Kevin.   We all watched as Nicole started groaning in anticipation of her release.  Within another minute, Nicole's splashing arrested as an orgasmic seizure overtook her whole body with her face looking skyward.  Nicole let out a long groan.  Eventually she returned her face toward us with unfocused eyes, and took a moment to regain her surroundings.  

Fiona whispered we should go.  I took Jocelyn's hand as Fiona and I stood up, and the three of us left the pool – me still with a raging hard-on.  We retrieved our towels and patted ourselves dry, and then Fiona, Jocelyn, and I went up to our bedroom.  As I walked through the door leading to the stairs, I looked back to the hot tub.  Kevin was standing on the submerged ledge and Nicole was returning his favor with a blowjob.  The disco sisters were huddled together. 

Once in our bedroom, Jocelyn wasted no time – she took a doggie position on the bed with her head down on the mattress and her knees opened wide.  I started petting her pussy, and then an idea came to me.  I had seen this in a porn movie, but had never tried it.  I asked Fiona to go doggie on top of her sister.  I was staring at twin pussies – one on top of the other.  I started fucking Fiona, on top.  It was a bit awkward, because her pussy was too high for me to reach kneeling, but too low to stand, so I squatted my legs and started pumping into Fiona's pink pussy.  After a minute, I switched to Jocelyn's pussy, and fucked her equally tight vagina.  I alternated pussies for four or five times until I felt my balls start to stir.  I switched pussies one more time – from Fiona to Jocelyn on the bottom, and I started driving for home.  

Fiona sensed I was getting close – she pulled her body forward, sliding her pussy down the slope of Jocelyn's back until Jocelyn pulled away.  She turned around, rested her head on Jocelyn's ass facing me, and opened her mouth.  I fucked Jocelyn's pussy even harder until I felt my balls approaching detonation, then I pulled out of Jocelyn's pussy and guided my cock into Fiona's waiting mouth.  She brought her hand to assist, and fifteen seconds later Fiona took me deep as I unloaded.  Fiona held all ten inches in her mouth while I tommy gunned rounds of jism down her swallowing throat.    She pulled away after my ejaculations stopped and Fiona started breathing again.

I wasted no time – I knew Jocelyn wanted release.  I rolled her onto her back and kneeled beside her head.  She took my cock into her mouth as I slid my right hand toward her pussy.  "Let me do it," Fiona whispered, and she took over massaging Jocelyn's clitoris.  With Fiona taking care of Jocelyn's pussy, I was free to try another approach.   I knelt straddling across Jocelyn's stomach, facing her, and lowered my stiffened boom to her sternum.  Jocelyn knew where I was going with this – she wrapped her large tits around my member by squeezing her hands inward against her breasts, creating a nice, tight tunnel for me to fuck.  Better yet, each time I thrust toward, her parted lips met my cock and Jocelyn sucked my first two inches on every stroke.  

I tittyfucked Jocelyn and she continued to suck me on every up stroke while Fiona massaged Jocelyn's pussy.  I reached across and fondled Fiona's breasts while I fucked those 36D breasts' identical twins.   It was a mind boggling moment.  The sensory overload stimulated my balls to reload for a second volley.   After a few minutes Jocelyn was approaching climax, and she lost her concentration, and stopped taking me in her mouth on every upstroke.  Fortunately, she kept her hands pressed inward on her tits, letting my tittyfucking continue.  

When Jocelyn exploded, she pressed inwards on her tits harder, creating an even tighter canal for my thrusting cock, helping me drive closer to my own release.  After her orgasm subsided, Jocelyn laid her head back – no more oral pleasure for me.  Just as I felt my balls unload, I made a snap decision, and I pulled away from her tits, and poised my orgasmic hose a few inches above Jocelyn's mouth, and started spurting hot cum all over her face.  Like all my other orgasms, this ejaculation lasted for twenty or thirty seconds, and I aimed my jism over her closed eyes, her nose, mouth, cheeks, and forehead.  By the time I settled down, her face was crisscrossed by a dozen spunk trails or more.   I couldn't tell if Jocelyn was smiling or frowning – she looked conflicted. 

Fiona went to the bathroom and retrieved a fresh washcloth she dampened with warm water, and tenderly cleaned off her sister's face.  Jocelyn started crying.  

"What is it?" asked Fiona.

"Oh, it's stupid," Jocelyn sniffled, holding back the tears.  "Ted used to cum on my face. I really tried to put him out of my mind these past months, but everything came rushing back to me when Jet just did that."  I had nearly forgotten about Ted – Jocelyn's presumably dead ex-husband.  

"I'm sorry, Jocelyn," I offered.  "I should have asked if it was okay before I did that."

"No, no," Jocelyn rebuked.  "It was fine.  Something was bound to trigger all this.  I guess I can live in denial only for so long."  We sat in silence for a while, until Jocelyn added, "maybe it was even therapeutic for me."

"Well now," I ventured, "maybe I have found my calling," and we all laughed.  Fiona and I lay down on either side of Jocelyn.  Fiona held Jocelyn in her arms, and I put my arms over Fiona.  I awoke at seven in the morning with both girls still in bed with me. 

Nicole and Kevin flew back home on Monday night.  The disco sisters wanted to go to a dance club in Key West. Jocelyn was still in a funk after the emotional Ted reminder scene from last night, so Fiona and I stayed home with Jocelyn.  The disco sisters dropped Nicole and Kevin at the airport, and they continued on to a night spot.  I didn't hear them return, but they didn't wake up until after lunchtime on Tuesday.  Caitlyn said they pulled in around five-thirty.

Tuesday was a slow day for everyone. 

On Wednesday early in evening I was standing alone on the outer deck leaning with my arms folded on the railing.  As sun slipped away, the horizon sky grew heavy with pink and crimson clouds.  I had come to a decision about what to do with my powers – what to do with my life.  I stared into the distant sunset, hoping it would inspire me how to tell Fiona.   

I heard gentle footsteps behind me.  I turned to see Fiona approaching on the wooden walkway with a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a smile.  Her lovely golden hair glowed in the twilight gleaming.  "You looked like you could use some company," she offered as she stepped onto the deck.  She set two glasses on the bar, and filled them from the already opened bottle.  

"I was just thinking about you," I reflected.  

"Me too," she said.  "Cheers," Fiona chimed, holding up a glass.  We touched glasses and sipped.  We enjoyed our wine while the sun set in silence.  After a few minutes I put my arm around Fiona's waist.  She kissed me softly, and then Fiona took my half full glass of wine away and set it down on the bar beside her own glass.




The Commander Ch. 09



Fiona turned around to me – she was looking into the sun, and the evening glow made her more beautiful than thought possible.  "Jet?" she asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yes Fiona."

"Do you still ask that same question every morning and every night?"

"Without fail," I replied sombrely.  

Fiona stepped toward me and put her hands gently around my face.  "Jet, stop asking."  I went silent – I couldn't dare to hope.  "Jet," Fiona whispered, "I love you."

I gently took hold of her wrists, and pushed her hands away so I could see her left hand.  It was open.  No fist.

"Jet," Fiona breathed anxiously.  "Did you hear what I said?  Why are you looking at my hand?"

"Because something is missing," I offered quietly.  I have been ready for this moment for seven weeks and two days.  I felt in my left trouser pocket and pulled out a small box, and opened it, showing Fiona an engagement ring with a large central diamond and eleven small diamonds surrounding it.   For fifty one days I rehearsed this moment.  I dropped to one knee.  "You have over a million reasons to say no, and I can only pray the one reason you have to say yes is enough.  Fiona Elizabeth Ruston, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jet!" Fiona put her hands to her face.

"Before you answer," I said, still on my knees.  I knew this wasn't proper proposal etiquette, but I had to do this now.  I was straying off script.   "I have made a very big decision about me, about what I am going to do with my life.  It will affect both of us.  Fiona, when we go back home, I am going into politics."

"You mean city council?" Fiona asked, her hands still on her cheeks.

"I'm thinking bigger."

"Senate, congress?" She looked emotionally discombobulated, but stayed with the conversation.

Still kneeling, I said "I could see a senate or congress seat might be necessary stepping stone to where I'm going."

"Jet!  The only place after ..." she didn't finish her sentence.  

"Fiona Elizabeth Ruston," I asked again, "will you marry me, and someday become the first lady of the United States?"

"Oh, Jet, Yes!"

"Fiona, I mean it.  I'm going to do this."

"I know you will, Jet," Fiona said to me with remarked assuredness. "The answer is still yes."

I pulled the diamond ring from its plush socket in the small box and slipped it on to Fiona's fourth finger of her left hand.  I stood up and we embraced in a long kiss.  A cheer rang out from the villa, and Fiona and I both looked in surprise.  Jocelyn, Caitlyn, Bailey, and Hannah were standing on the upper deck clapping and cheering.  Presently Jocelyn trotted down the six stairs to the wooden overpass and then she ran full gait toward us with outstretched arms.  Fiona broke her embrace with me and met Jocelyn on the outer deck and the twin sisters laughed and cried in a minute long embrace. 

At last Jocelyn broke away from Fiona and came to me and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. "Took you long enough," Jocelyn jabbed.  I winked at Fiona.  "Let's see the ring," Jocelyn said as she returned to Fiona.  Fiona held out her left hand.

"Oh, its beaut ... Jet!  It's missing a diamond!"

"Yes," I agreed.  Now Fiona looked more carefully, realizing for the first time there was a setting for twelve small diamonds around the large central stone, but one of the small diamonds was gone.  "I had the jeweller remove it."

"Why?" Fiona asked.

"Because there is a part of me – a dark past – the 'Old Jet', as you say – that is not invited to this union.  That missing stone will forever reminder us that the Old Jet must never be allowed to come between us – ever again."

"Quirky," Jocelyn observed with a dubious tone in her voice.

"I like it," Fiona smiled and hugged me hard.

"I thought you would."  I looked over and saw the disco sisters traipsing along the overpass toward the outer deck.  "Come join us," I called out.  "I would like to introduce to you the future Mrs. Terrance."  Fiona snapped her head to me when she heard that.     

"I was in the house looking at the sunset," exclaimed Bailey nearly out of breath, "and I saw you go down on one knee, and I yelled to everyone 'Jet is proposing to Fiona!'"  That explains why they were all on the upper deck watching us.

Fiona spent our remaining days at the Keys walking, talking, holding hands, laughing.  We talked about our future, about children, about politics, about our dreams.  We made love every night, and I quit my morning blowjobs with the disco sisters – Fiona didn't ask me to, I just quit.

Fiona, being the considerate twin sister, divided her time between me and Jocelyn.  She didn't want Jocelyn to suddenly feel like the unwanted third in the two-man boat.  And so we included Jocelyn in many of our walks along the beach, and in some of our less personal discussions about our future.  The time flew by like a flash, and before I knew it, we were heading the airport to fly back home.

Jocelyn's flight was on Monday afternoon, ours late in the evening.  So we packed everything up after lunch, and dropped Jocelyn at the airport, then Fiona, the disco sisters, and I went for dinner, and then returned to the airport around seven that night.  At the Key West departure lounge, I accidently bumped into a man dressed in expensive casual clothing.  We chatted briefly, and I discovered he was a retired political campaign strategist.   He worked deep behind the front lines – he was the voice that whispered into the ear of the strategist that the candidate hired.  Larry had worked for everyone – the two Bush campaigns and the Clinton campaign.  His last campaign was Obama – he retired after the 2008 election.  I gathered his was a name you never heard discussed except by the few select people who knew where the real power lies.

I suggested that, if someone like me was interested in getting into politics, Larry would be an ideal person to get things started.  Larry agreed – that was one of his fortes – kicking a campaign off on day 1.  I asked Larry to come visit me at my condo – I'd like him to help me.

"Oh, no," Larry conceded, "I'm fully retired.  You'll need to find someone else."  I shook Larry's hand.  I'm sure no one else saw anything unusual.  "Well, on second thought," reflected Larry, "maybe I can come out of retirement this one last time."

"I'd like to introduce my fiancé," I said to Larry.  "This is Fiona.  Fiona, meet Larry, my first campaign strategist."  We talked casually in the departure lounge.  Larry was taking a different flight out, but he agreed to fly over from Seattle and see me the following week.  We exchanged email and cell phone coordinates. 

On the flight home, I was thinking how crazy lucky I have been.  Things just seem to fall into place for me.  Fiona and I sat in our business class seats while the disco sisters sat in the more crowded seats toward the rear end of the plane.  Around mid-flight, Fiona leaned over to me.  "I know what you do is impossible."  

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I overhead your conversation with Larry at the airport.  I struck out with the disco sisters for a half hour before you waltzed over there with your little cheers trick at Spankies.  I looked into the eyes of that Australian girl at the airport, and I saw she turn into a completely different person the moment you spoke to her.  The same for the ticket agent who refused my passport to Paris.  And how you turned Jocelyn around in a whisper.  Everything you do is impossible."  I looked around – no one was listening over the drone of the engines. 

"Fiona, I don't ..."

"Don't bullshit, me, Jet!" Fiona interrupted sharply.  "Like you once said to me, I am not wrong, and I know I am not wrong."  I had no cards to play, so I waited.  "Two conditions to this marriage." Fiona dictated. "They are forever, and they are not for discussion.  Is that clear?"

"Okay," I said.

"I don't know if you did already, but you never – I mean never – pull that shit on me. Ever.  You promise that to me – and you know what I mean when I say you PROMISE."  

"Okay," I offered solemnly. "I promise I will never control you, ever," I honestly swore, holding up my left hand with the slightly crooked small finger.   

"Two" Fiona continued, "I don't care if you use your little trick to fuck girls, boys, threesomes, or whatever, and I don't care if you use it to influence people like Larry to become president, or to make your millions," I was waiting for the 'but".  "Jet, don't you ever make me regret what you do.  Not once.  Not even one single time.  Do you hear me, Jet?"

"I promise," I offered.  

"Good," she kissed me softly on the lips. "Now, let's go kick the doors in at the Whitehouse."   As she kissed me, I removed the last post-hypnotic skips to clench her left fist when she tells me a lie, and to blink twice when I say 'blue dog'.    After all, every successful marriage depends on a few white lies. 

--- The End ---

--- Epilogue ---

I read the letter one last time before posting it.

Janice DeLaney
The Pancreatic Cancer Research Establishment 

Dear Ms. DeLaney:

I am enclosing a photograph of Mr. Don Malloy from his earlier years, when he was a vibrant and healthy man.  Don recently died of pancreatic cancer.  Mercifully, he was in a coma during the last months, and he was spared the savagery that so often accompanies this illness. 

I knew Don better than most, which, if truth be told, is not that well.  If he were able to, I believe Don would tell you he died a lonely and broken man.  His greatest fear, he once confided to me, was that Don would die a forgotten soul who never made a difference in this world. 

Before he died, Mr. Malloy appointed me as the executor of his will.  In accordance with his explicit instructions, please find enclosed a cheque for $2,548,281.73, which represents 100% of Mr. Malloy's estate, after disposition expenses.  

Please remember Don Malloy as a once good and compassionate man who lost his way after tragedy stole those people most dear to him.  Please remember Don Malloy as a person who, in his closing breath, sought to help people he will never live to accept their thanks.  Please remember Don Malloy and the difference he will make in this world through this contribution to your organization. 

Please remember Don Malloy.

Yours Truly,

Jethro (Jet) Terrance