Welcome To Prefect City

# Welcome to Prefect City Stephanie Burke

All rights reserved. Copyright ©2005 byStephanie Burke No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

ISBN1-59596-037-6 Formats Available: HTML, Adobe PDF, MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader Publisher: Changeling Press LLC PO Box 1561 Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561 www.ChangelingPress.com Editor:Katriena Knights Cover Artist:Bryan Keller

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Chapter One

“Just in time for another fast-paced episode of…Perfect!” “Well, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Shaquandra murmured as she settled deeper into her comfortable couch. Dressed in all of her ratty, terry-clothed splendor, the out-of-work accountant cuddled her closest friends closer. Her friends being three bags of assorted potato chips, one bag of barbecue pork rinds, two packages of popcorn, cheese and caramel flavored respectively, one box of pocky… and a fifth of tequila. She poured another shot of tequila into a tumbler, took the shot, and chased it with a swig of lime juice from the nearby plastic lime-shaped squeeze bottle. She had no place to be since she got downsized by corporate America. All of her resumes were electronically filed, her interviews from headhunters were conducted by phone, and her unemployment check came straight to her front door. Now, with her snackable friends gathered around, she settled down for the next round of relentlessly sexist pointless soft porn known as the daytime soaps. “You know,” she gurgled to her pet potato chip Chippy Three Thousand, named thusly because she had

eaten his two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine predecessors, “look at that chick.” She pointed to an overly developed blonde with underdeveloped acting ability. “She was a drunk prostitute turning tricks for her younger brother on the Perfect Strip. Now she’s a millionaire heiress with a handsome, mysterious fiancé. Damn, I wish I was in a soap opera. Five minutes after you get there, you’re a millionaire and everyone loves you.” Chippy had nothing to say, so she tossed him into her mouth and poured out a little liquor for her newly fallen brother who didn’t make it. And she poured it right down her throat. She was adding a second memorial shot to her tumbler when the first fly buzzed around her head. Absently, she swatted it away and returned to her TV viewing. Brad was about to announce to the world that he was a product of the first male birth, an experiment gone wrong back in the seventies… and that he was the mother of Christy’s baby, and that Christy was really Christian and had only married the aged oil baron for his money and not for love. Christy, nee Christian before the sex change operation, was about to rise up and invite the alien horde waiting just out of range of the Star Wars defense grid to come and make slaves of the human race when the second fly dive-bombed her. Did I forget to close a window or something? The third fly landed in her drink. Cursing, she tilted the glass to peer inside and saw something that almost made her swear off drinking for life. The fly in her drink was reclining on a melting ice cube and smoking a cigar, and damned if it didn’t smell like those Cuban things her ex-boss loved. She was about to let out the prerequisite B-movie scream when someone speaking behind her pulled her attention in that direction. “Ignore Murray, love,” the gravelly voice rasped. “You got the good top shelf stuff and Murray needed to wet his whistle.” “M-Murray?” she stuttered as she slowly turned her head toward that voice. Maybe it was Chippy coming to claim revenge for all his fallen brethren. But all she saw was another fly. This one was also smoking a cigar and brandishing a metal wand with a heart on the tip. Okay, she decided, slowly putting down the tumbler. It was definitely time to give up on spirits of a Latin origin. Time to switch to good old fashioned German beer. She never saw flies with wands smoking cigars and resting on ice cubes, stealing sips of her good hooch, when she was wasted on Jagermeister. “We are not flies,” another voice huffed, joining the second cigar-smoking… thing that was hovering above her face. “We are personal, paternal, aviated, size-challenged inner desire granters.” “Did I say that out loud?” she gasped, then his words, or at least some of them, penetrated her alcohol-fogged brain. “What?” “Ignore Carl,” the first personal paternal… flying thing interrupted. “He is playing the PC, card-holding metrosexual nowadays. His cigar is a legal Cuban,” he whispered in his rough voice, “and he has manicures to prevent tobacco stains on his fingers and nails.”

“I’m dreaming,” she muttered. “This is a tequila induced fantasy.” “Then I would hate to see your nightmares,” another fly added as it joined the two hovering over her shocked face. “I mean really, look at those drapes and that carpet. Was your designer Martha Screw Up? I mean, plastic backings! Who has plastic backings on drapes? And that color! Neutral is not a color, darling -- it’s a country, like Switzerland!” “Okay,” Shaquandra muttered, desperately holding her panic at bay. “My brain is fried, I am receiving fashion advice from an insect.” “Decorating advice,” the perturbed voice corrected. “If I was going to give you fashion advice, I would say something about that terry cloth robe. Hello? It is soLaverne and Shirley ! I mean, get out of the seventies.” Then he added, in an aside to the others, “And a little wax will take care of that unibrow, ducky. Wax is for black people, too!” “I need a drink!” Shaquandra’s voice cracked as she felt herself slipping farther into insanity. She reached for her tumbler, forgetting her tequila moocher until the glass was at her lips. A movement made her look down with a whimper, just in time to catch the first of several cigar smoke rings that the floating fly blew at her. “I think you’ve had too much,” the first fly mused as she very carefully placed the tumbler back on the table. “I think you may be right,” she agreed, her voice reedy and thin. She was shocked that her voice sounded that normal. Hell, she had just impressed herself. “Okay,” she continued, sliding back into her couch to hide her trembling limbs. “Talk to me.” She was now ready for the pronouncement that the world was coming to an end or that Jenna Jameson, Nicole Ritchie, Anna Nicole Smith, Paris Hilton, and Michael Jackson had decided to form a Christian Coalition and give up sex, liquor, scandals, shocking people, and plastic surgery altogether. “We,” the first voice began formally, “are your Fairy Godfathers.” “Personal paternal…” the second voice began, but was cut off. “Fairy godfathers, Carl! We have wings and we wear tutus!” “Enhanced body sheaths,” Carl muttered, but fell quiet as the rest of the fly-fairy -- or was it the fairy-fly -- contingency shot him glares. “Carl the PC, Murray the drunk, Phil the fashion consultant, and I am Carter the leader. We are your four fairy godfathers!” Carter sounded pleased with himself. Shaquandra stared. “Well?” He flew in closer, close enough for her to see that the fly really did have a tiny face… that was covered with a five o’clock shadow. It was wearing, sure enough, a small black tutu and had a cigar clamped between its lips, lips that spread into a smile without dropping the precious cigar.

“Get out!” She hid deeper in her comfy neutral colored couch and fiddled with her snack friends. “Truly!” Carter added, shifting his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other without the use of his hands, a truly skilled and magnificent feat. “No,” Shaquandra stated. “Get out. Get out of my house! Get out now!” Her voice rose with each word, until she was nearly roaring. “You…” Carter stammered, a confused expression crossing his tiny little face. “Maybe you are not understanding us…” “Get out! Get out! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!” Then she was on her feet ad swatting at the little buzzing creeps like mad. “Get out of my house!” Suddenly there was a poof, a damned audible poofing sound, and suddenly four -- count them, four -beefy buff type guys, wearing matching dark colored tutus, ballet slippers, and puffing on cigars, stood in her living room, all fisting heart-topped wands. She knew that they were there because in her wild, fly-flapping flight, she barreled into the one called Carter’s chest, then bounced, bottom first, onto the floor. “Now will you listen to us?” Shaquandra gaped like a slack jawed yokel at the four buff men, who were glaring down at her like she’d tried to kill them. She opened her mouth to speak, but in tandem, they each snapped open previously unnoticed mother of pearl wings and slammed equally large hands onto their hips, still fisting those damn wands. Numbly, she closed her mouth and nodded. Suddenly her four personal paternal flies were looking like a thug gang of four. “Good,” Carter snapped. “In that case, you made a wish and we are here to grant it.” “Wish?” “You wished for it, we grant it!” Carl continued. “Too bad you didn’t wish for decent living quarters.” “Or some better manners,” Phil added, sniffing around his cigar. Murray said nothing, but he reached down and picked up the nearly empty liquor bottle, shook it twice, and frowned at her. Shaquandra stared at the four winged fairies and gave in, just a little, to the urge to laugh hysterically. It started life as a chuckle and grew and grew in sound and in fervor. “I think we broke her,” Carl whispered loudly from behind a raised hand after a few long moments of manic laughter. Murray just nodded.

“Grant and vacate?” Phil asked hopefully. “Post haste,” Carter whispered back and gave the others a nod. “Wands up!” In tandem, four little heart topped wands were hefted with all the reverence of the Olympic torch. “We grant thy wish!” Shaquandra paused in her laughter, the sound of the deep voices in stereo knocking her somewhat out of her stupor. She looked up just in time to receive the invocation… or rather, four heart topped metal wands bashing down on the top of her head. Again there was that “poof” sound, and the room began to spin.

She must have blacked out for a moment, because when next she became aware of her surroundings, she was sitting in a damp clump of grass, leaning against a signpost, wearing the most God-awful red rhinestone stiletto heels on her feet. Her head felt like the whole defensive line of the Baltimore Ravens was parading through, double time! “What the fu…” she groaned, then a huge shadow blotted out the light. “You will be safe here… Jessica!” a deep male voice purred. “Jessica?” She looked up and saw a creature who looked like the Rock’s older, more handsome brother staring down at her, and dammit, it looked like he was a few donuts shy of a dozen. “I was sent to kill you, Jessica, but I find myself falling for you!” Suddenly from nowhere, there came a deep bass of an orchestral hit. Dum dum dummmm. Looking around for the band, she spotted no one. She looked up at tall, dark, and stupid to see if he would react to the sound, but he didn’t appear fazed at all. In fact, as the last notes died away, he continued speaking as if nothing untoward had happened. “I desire you so much!” he breathed. “Jessica, I love you!” “Um… you love me?” She stared at the man. Why were all the hot ones totally mad? “You doubt my love? Let me prove it!” He dropped to his knees and sank a bit into the damp earth, the look on his face determined and earnest. His hands gripped her knees, pulling them apart, tugging her damp and dirty formerly white terry cloth robe aside. All her startled and confused mind could come up with to counter this was, “But I’m still in my shoes!” “Kinky!” he purred. “I like it!” Then his head dropped and he began to dine on Shaquandra tartar!

Okay, she decided as her toes curled in her tacky shoes. Maybe she could be Jessica in this dream, just for a little while. His warm tongue caressed her sensitive skin, making her squirm on her ass in the wet grass and not even give a damn. His breath wafted over her, sending her juices flowing as her desire for a real tongue-bath rose. “You smell so divine,” he whispered. “Can I taste you? Please? Can I lick you here?” His fingers gently caressed her throbbing clit, sending her breath hissing from between her teeth. Good figment of my imagination, she thought as she bit down on her lower lip.Damn good figment . She spread her legs wider, inviting him to do more, to explore, to take her to a higher level of arousal. As far as dreams went, this one was not that bad. Then his finger was rubbing, playing with the moisture on her pussy lips, gently circling her opening before thrusting in deeply. “Oh… oh… God!” she gasped, clenching fistfuls of damp grass in her hands. Her moisture ran over his fingers, dampening the back of her robe as well as leaving her inner thighs shiny and slick. “More?” he asked, adding a second thick finger to the first, rotating them gently, scissoring them and stretching her for the taking. “Yes, please,” she gasped politely in between harsh breaths as her back arched up, thrusting her whole burning groin in his direction. “As you wish.” He parted her with those teasing fingers, exposed her thrumming clit and her swollen lips, and leaned in closer to get a bigger taste. But before things could get any more interesting, a voice from over the green hills called to her. “Jessica!” The Rock, Jr.’s head popped up from lapping at the skin of her upper thighs, and he glared over his shoulder in the direction of the voice. “I’ll return, my love,” he purred again, then the magical vibrating tone withdrew. In a flash, he totally withdrew from between her legs, and he was gone. Shaquandra turned toward the sound of that high pitched female voice screeching her name, and just stared at what she saw. A team of limos -- did limos come in teams? -- was headed in her direction, a wildly waving woman hanging from the rear side window of the one in the lead. “Jessica!” She blinked, as the woman seemed to float from the car to her side, gently patting her arm while scolding her soundly.

“Why did you wander off? We were looking for you. And you fresh from a plane crash, too!” “Um, who are you?” This was getting maddening. One person would go. Another would take his or her place, and the confusion continued. This was one really fucked up dream! “And what plane crash?” Well, a crash would definitely explain all the screwy things rolling through her head. “You don’t remember?” The woman looked near to tears, then she smiled a smile that Shaquandra was sure was unflappable. “Of course you don’t remember! You’re distraught after your crash, and you being the only survivor as well. I am your baby half sister Jennifer!” The smile got brighter. Shaquandra’s headache grew worse. “Half sister?” This woman was as white as new driven snow and as blonde as a bottle of bleach, and she was supposed to be Shaquandra’s sister? She looked down at her own cocoa colored arm, then back at the vanilla colored woman. “Yes, half sister, Jessica!” The woman threw out her arms in a way too melodramatic manner as she delivered her next line. “Welcome to Prefect City!”

Chapter Two

The limo ride was uneventful, and that was saying a lot for a black woman who was now the proud possessor of a blonde baby sister who just happened to be rolling in dough. But as Shaquandra was handed her first mimosa of the day, she decided this wasn’t all bad. She tuned out the other woman’s prattle, and instead mentally went over things in her head. Okay, she was in some kind of Latino-liquor hallucination. Now that she was rich and stuck in this particular fantasy, it didn’t seem quite so bad. She decided to ride it out as far as it would take her. And maybe if she hung in there long enough, the Rock, Jr. would make a return and actually finish what he’d started. The damp on the back of her robe was not all mud and morning dew… and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She paused in those thoughts as they pulled up in front of a building swarming with reporters. “Media savages,” Jennifer groaned, her eyes narrowing in anger as she spied the ravenous horde of paparazzi circling the team of limos. Voices cried, “Where is the heir? Bring out the heir! Roast her alive with garlic butter!” Okay, she imagined that last one, but from the way they were saluting, she couldn’t be too far off. “Okay, you stay here and I will go and rout them at the gate.” Shaquand… uh, Jessica, nodded and placed her empty champagne flute in the built-in bar.

“You may want to clean up a little. I see the owner of the Prefect Press and the leaders of about three other worldwide media organizations here.” With one last smile, the blonde bopped away, slamming the door shut before the reporters swarmed that particular limo. Taking Blondie’s advice to heart, Shaquandra looked around the cabin, determined to at least fix herself up a bit. After some exploration, she discovered a pull-down vanity, and to her surprise, she looked absolutely… perfect! Her eyes were perfectly aligned, her brows perfectly arched. Her lips were perfectly dewy and supple, while her skin was perfectly flawless. Her hands perfectly soft, her nails perfectly manicured. The only issue she had was with her hair, which was perfectly done up in rollers -- big, silver-dollar-sized rollers. “What the hell?” Before she could even move to pluck the damn things out of her hair, the limo door was flung open and a red-haired female stuck that red head inside. “Ack!” Jessica squawked as the strange woman smiled at her. That smile was familiar, but who the hell was she? Jessica backpedaled in her seat, falling from it to the floor as the grinning woman grinned harder. “Of course you’re jumpy,” she crooned as if speaking to a wild animal. “You just survived a plane crash!” “Uh, Jennifer?” “Yes! Yes, Jessica, yes!” Well, Jessica reasoned, she had that same overly perky attitude. Strange, but it did appear to be her long-lost, very white, baby half-sister. “You look lovely, and they --” she gestured to the waiting media, “are waiting.” Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Jessica stepped out of the limo and into a sea of perfect faces, each one flashing a fake, smarmy smile and resembling a Stepford Wife. “Jessica! Over here!” they shouted. “Jessica! A word!” Swallowing deeply and wishing she had some Latino courage in a bottle at hand, Jessica stepped out into the limelight. She was only given a brief glimpse of the building, managing to take in its tall imposing façade, before she was rushed right through into a massive lobby, her heels clicking as she struggled to keep up with her now red-haired half sister. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a wall of perfect reporters held at bay by two tall, unfazed security officers. Well, she thought, back at home, they would have run over the security, rushed the front doors, and all but assaulted her with their microphones, photographers, paparazzi, and other assorted media filth.

Strange. They were behaving just like this was a soap opera, kind of like reality, but candy coated and sanitized. “This elevator will take us to the offices,” the now redheaded Jennifer cooed as she pulled Jessica toward a bank of crystal elevators lining the far wall. A huge portrait hung above them, seemingly hovering over the bank of three elevators. “Holy Hanna!” Jessica gasped. “That’s Daddy.” Jenny clapped her hands, staring almost reverently up at the lifelike portrait. “Isn’t he handsome?” “That’s one way to describe it,” Jessica allowed, staring at the stern, imposing man. He looked like a Baptist preacher dropped in the middle of a drunken whorehouse orgy on Easter Sunday, where his wife and daughter were the main attraction. His eyes were a flat, depthless brown, condescending eyes that were faintly accusing and looked nothing like her. “Handsome and brave,” Jen gushed. “You know, he never married our mother?” Jessica blinked as suddenly the air was filled with the whining sounds of violins and piano. She looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but then a beauty light, of all things, shone down on her white, illegitimate, and apparently half sister. It made her huge blue eyes seem even larger and cast a liquid sheen over them. She turned away from Jessica, only to turn rather dramatically again, arms clasped to her bosom as she began to speak rather quickly, but with too much feeling. “He spent his whole life searching for you, Jessica. He spent a fortune in Dramamine and seasick pills, but he never gave up his dream of sailing down the Tigris and finding you.” Just as abruptly, the music ended and the bouncy redhead was back. “We have to get you upstairs to sign these important documents.” “Um.” Jessica was growing more confused by the minute. “What documents?” “I don’t really know.” Jennifer sighed. “But I know that they are important and vital and you need to sign them so the plot can advance.” “What?” “You need to sign them so that the company will continue running the way it is. You see…” The same whining music started up again. Damn, Jessica thought. “Father left the whole company to you.” “Again with the beauty light,” Jessica grumbled under her breath as she watched Jennifer do that melodrama thing again. “He was so sure of your existence, that he left everything to his baby Jessica. So you have to sign the papers, ensure the company runs, keep it out of the hands of the evil Brad Cantkillum, and save the migrant bean farmers! Okay?” Jessica stared for one long moment, as everyone seemed to lean forward, waiting for her response.

“This is worse than the most cheesy of soap operas,” she finally said after again looking at all the too-perfect people surrounding her. Then it dawned on her. Soap opera! Her wish! The cigar smoking personal paternal god-fairy thingies werereal . They had granted her wish. She was now in -- what was the name of this stupid town again? “Prefect City,” she giggled as she turned and damn near pulled Jennifer to the elevators, “here I come!” *** The bank of elevators opened straight into a huge boardroom. “Nice,” she purred, all but dancing into the room, despite her gaudy spiked heels. She began touching the huge leather chairs and the huge mahogany tables. “Fine Corinthian leather,” she intoned, running fingers over the dark brown chairs. “Yes,” a deep, feminine voice said from behind her. She turned just as there was a hugebumm, bum, bummm bass hit, and saw… Another miniature Jennifer. But this one had black hair and eyes. “Jamie!” Jennifer gasped, hand clutched to her chest as she spun around to face the other woman. “So, you found her,” this Jamie person growled as she began to stalk around Jessica, eyes taking in the tattered robe and the slinky heels. “Doesn’t look like much.” Jennifer gasped, and Jessica just rolled her eyes. So this was her arch enemy. Kind of scrawny, she decided, watching the petite brunette walk around her like a big cat sizing up her next meal. “Am I supposed to start the prerequisite cat fight now?” Jamie glared at her. “You are just supposed to sign those papers like a good little girl and then disappear.” “Little girl? Honey, you don’t know who you’re talking to. I am --” “One of the most exquisite creatures that I have ever encountered,” another voice, a male voice, chimed in. This man was tall, pale, blond, and had eyes that reminded Jessica of a wolf. A hungry wolf. ”Is this your sister, Jamie? The one everyone has been searching for?” He stepped deeper into the room, his eyes on Jessica as he too played a round of walk around the black woman. But unlike with Jamie, his eyes spent a great deal of time resting on her ass and hips. “Yes,” Jennifer gushed, breaking the tension building in the room. “And she needs to get cleaned up before the stockholders get here. Then she can sign the papers ensuring that our makeup company

remains the best in the country.” “I’ll take her up.” Jamie’s sudden outburst was odd and kind of creepy, considering it seemed like the woman had hated her on sight. But Jessica decided it was all part of the soap opera experience, and it was best to go with the flow. It wasn’t like she didn’t know how these things worked out. She’d watched so many soaps since she’d been laid off that she could have written one of the things in her sleep. Jennifer clapped in agreement, spouting some nonsense about getting to know one another, and they were off again, this time speeding to the top floor by use of a special key in the elevator. Once there, Jessica ignored her midget of a youngest sister and her leering boyfriend and made straight for the bathroom. “There’s always some kind of orgy-sized shower in these things,” she explained as she gleefully thought of taking off the grubby robe and getting into some clean designer originals. Did Versace do wardrobe for some of the soaps? Maybe she would luck out and get Bob Mackie! “Don’t wait for me!” she giggled, as she looked the space over. “I just want to soak my bones, scrub off the grime, and feel like a new person all over again.” “Oh, you’ll feel like a new person.” At the malice in Jamie’s voice, Jessica turned, only to have something hard hit her in the back of her head. Her headache returned with a vengeance just before the light, as she knew it, ceased to be. Her last thought as unconsciousness claimed her was, will someone stop playing that stupid nineteen-twenties villain music?

Chapter Three

“Jessica, darling?” A soft, masculine voice calling her name pulled her from the darkness. That and something cold and wet, that she prayed was water, splashing into her face. “What…? Fuck!” She lurched up into a sitting position, her hands going to her face to wipe whatever it was out of her eyes. “Come, come, Jessica. It’s only a little water.” That voice again! She turned her head, scanning the room while still blinking rapidly, to see a tall, overweight,

dark-complexioned man standing over her. “There you are,” he said. His accent, she now noticed, was distinctively Italian. He reached one large hand out to caress her wet cheek. “Beautiful.” “Beautiful… my… ass!” Jessica was not amused. Water in her face, some cheap Godfather knockoff was rasping at her… and she still hadn’t had her shower! “Yes, that is quite attractive too,” he mused, walking across the small room to a sideboard where a bottle of wine, complete with an assortment of cheeses, sat in wait. “I seem to find almost every part of you quite attractive.” “Where am I?” Jessica gave the room a quick once-over and saw that she was in some sort of bedroom. And she was still wearing that damn robe and the heels. “You are with me.” He paused in taking a bite of what looked to be aged cheddar to give her a short bow. “I am Don Carlieonie, master of this house, the one chosen to end --”Bumm bum bummm , went the unseen band and Jessica’s hands went to her ears. This music crap was beginning to give her a headache. “The vendetta my family has against yours!” Fast violin music began to play and Jessica looked at the tall, overweight man as if he were the one with a cracked skull. “My family? Vendetta?” Suddenly, the music dulled into the soft strains of a haunting violin as Don Carlieonie began to speak. “There is a vendetta against your father that has dragged on for decades.” “My father the dead priest?” Her face was screwed up in confusion even as she rolled her eyes at the man. “No, your father the Egyptian prince!” “Egyptian prince. Riiiiiight.” “He allowed the honorable daughter of the Carlieonie house to be assassinated on his land. Sure, it was our enemies that followed her there, but the prince failed to protect her. She was the only daughter of the house, and with her died the Carlieonie blood.” “But,” Jessica felt the need to point out, “you are a Carlieonie. Some blood, or at least some seed, had to be spilt on some fertile ground.” She arched her eyebrow challengingly. He stared, dumbfounded for the moment, but quickly recovered. “Be that as it may, your father had to pay the price. All of his daughters were assassinated save for one, the one he so loved he sent her away from his Egyptian shores.” “Um, why didn’t he just hire some bodyguards or something?”

“Because he didn’t!” “Or he could have sent a sincere letter of apology and caught the assassins.” “That is not the point!” “Or he could have at least moved his daughters when they started dropping dead! I mean, there is always the FBI, the CIA, and any other government agency that would have killed to have information about the whereabouts of Italians with vendettas.” “But he didn’t!” Hmm. It seemed to Jess that maybe logic just wasn’t going to work here. “Or he could have --” “You are the remaining daughter!” That gave her pause. “I am the remaining daughter?” “Yes.” “But my pappy was a minister! At least that’s what they told me!” “Your father was an Egyptian prince. You are his daughter, his only remaining daughter. I ought to know! It is my people that blew your plane out of the sky!” Bumm bum bummmmmm! “Do you hear that?” she felt compelled to ask. Really, she thought. Was she the only one who could hear around here? “All I hear is the pounding of my heart, Jessica.” “Say what?” “I find that I no longer wish to kill you, Jessica. In fact…” At his dramatic pause, Jessica knew what was coming. She clapped her hands over her ears just in time to muffle the loud bass orchestra hit that filled the air. “…I am in love with you!” “What?” Two female voices screamed out suddenly, Jessica’s in shock and another, near the entrance to the room, in angered disbelief. Jessica turned to see… “Carmen!” “Fabio!”

The woman was tall, svelte, and dark-haired. She stalked into the room in a ridiculous peasant blouse and skirt, matched up with a huge red flower in her hair and a pair of stiletto shoes fit for a tango. Talk about your stereotypes! At least she was cursed with sucky footwear as well, Jessica thought. “Carmen!” The don looked pale. “Fabio!” “Jessica!” he cried out, looking at her beseechingly. “Jessica!” the woman, apparently Carmen, sneered, narrowing her eyes. “Fabio?” Jessica asked, shuddering at another cliché. “Carmen!” Fabio was now sweating, and that did not do nice things to his white suit. “Okay.” Jessica’s voice broke the tension. “Now that we’re all introduced and stuff, why don’t you show me the front door? I need to go back and see a woman about signing some papers.” “You cannot go!” Fabio shouted, clutching at his heart as if it were breaking. Then he glanced over at the storm cloud that made up Carmen’s face and gulped. “I mean, you just got here. You need to have a meal. Hospitality dictates it.” “Yes,” Carmen purred. “Stay, Jessica. Even a condemned man gets one last meal.” “Oh, yeah.” Jessica chuckled a bit, glaring at the two strange people in the room with her. After a moment her laughter died a sick death. “The whole assassination, blow up my plane thing. I’m sorry, but you have the wrong girl.” “No, you are… the one we sought.” The don backed away and walked over toward Carmen. “My wife and I insist that you stay until the rest of the family gathers.” “Wait!” Jessica was now getting quite perturbed. “You were hitting on me while your wife was standing right at the door? Man, if you aren’t a ho, I don’t know what one is! I should call you Big Trickin’ or Big Papa at least! What’re you trying to do? Keep your pimp hand string and all of that? Shit, man, late for you!” She dropped her legs over the side of the bed, and with dignity stood up, water still soaking into her robe, and made for the front door. It was time to blow this joint and get back to the part where she became fabulously rich and waited for tall, dark, and Rockish. But the click of a high-powered semi-automatic weapon brought her to a halt. She recognized the sound from her many hours of soap opera viewing. It would probably be a nine millimeter Glock. She turned slowly, and stomped her feet as she let out a curt curse. Itwas a damn gun! This place was so predictable. “This nine millimeter Glock says that you stay,” Carmen added, grinning nastily from bright red painted lips.

“Red is a whore color!” she hissed, trying to save a little face. “And they match your shoes,” Carmen countered. Oh yeah. She had forgotten about those. A point for Stereotype Carmen. Damn, she thought.How do the brainless writers make this shit look so easy ? She’d only been in Prefect City for a few hours and already she was beginning to long for her couch.

Chapter Four

The etiquette for eating a meal chained to one’s chair while wearing a dirty damp robe and gaudy whore shoes was not covered in Miss Manners. So Jessica sat and pouted while Carmen glowered and Fabio just looked sweaty and nervous. “The family will be gathered soon,” Carmen stated as she speared a bite of lettuce, but never brought it to her lips. She just kind of moved it around on her plate. “This is good.” Fabio sighed into his wineglass, but never took a sip. “You are not eating,” Carmen snapped at Jessica, drawing her eyes away from her husband. “It is disrespectful to my house.” “Well, whoop dee fuckin’ do!” Jessica snarled. “I’m sure it’s disrespectful to my house for you to kidnap a member of it -- namely me!” “Kidnap?” Carmen snorted. “There is no kidnapping here. A member of your house all but gave you to us all gift wrapped in a bow.” “The fuck you say!” Jessica was indeed shocked to hear that, but then after a moment’s thought, decided that it went along with a soap opera plot. “Fuck is such a nasty word. Wouldn’t you say so, Fabio?” Carmen asked, turning her head to stare at her husband. “Depends on who’s doing the fucking,” he muttered, then smiled at his wife. “Nasty bit of business, Carmen. By the way, where are the children?” “Fabina and Fabian are out with friends,” Carmen snapped. “My children, fruitages of the belly,” Fabio explained as Jessica rolled her eyes again. “You do not enjoy children?” Carmen asked. “What I would enjoy is getting out of these chains and back to where I belong.” “With me, ur, uh, with us,” Fabio hastily amended as Carmen shot him a glance.

Just then, there was the sound of a door slamming and quick footsteps. “Mama, I’m home!” “Fabina!” Fabio gasped, looking between Carmen and Jessica. How could he explain this one while keeping his daughter out of the family business? Too many daughters had wound up dead or kidnapped, er, gift wrapped for the enemies, for his taste. He didn’t want anything happening to his darling beloved daughter. “Dinner party?” she asked as she made her way into the dining room. Fabina had dark hair like her mother, and a well-rounded figure. She smiled sweetly at her father and shot a confused look at her mother and the other woman in the strange robe. “Something like that.” Carmen smiled. “Why don’t you go on up to your room and… find Miss Jessica something to wear. Something of yours should fit.” “Yeah right,” Jessica snorted, noting that little Fabina had massive tatas to go along with the well-rounded hips. Any shirt that girl loaned her would have interesting breast prints that she couldn’t fill with a Wonderbra! “Miss Jessica had a bit of an accident, and we are waiting for her people to come and retrieve her, poor girl.” “Right away.” Fabina smiled, then turned and swiftly made her way out of the room. Her father smiled and followed, hoping to draw her off with distractions while his wife handled the delectable Jessica. “You will be dealt with.” Carmen sneered at Jessica. “For being the daughter of an Egyptian prince?’ she asked archly. “For trying to steal my husband!” “Trying to… For the love of Pete, woman! Wake up and smell that biscotti! That man is hitting on me!” “Fabio would never --” “Sister, please! And I do mean sister! You know what the Moors did to Italy? So you all got dark hair, attitudes, and ghetto booties. We are sisters, sister, and I am telling you that you need to ditch that zero for a hero!” “How dare you!” Carmen’s eyes widened in outrage as she glared at the trussed up woman. “I dare because it’s true! I don’t want him! I have a candy-coated hard body around here somewhere. And I want to get back to him. So how about you let me go? I go, and you get fatso. Sound good?” She smiled her most engaging smile. Carmen jumped to her feet, knocking her chair back, and exited the room, shooting Jessica one nasty glare. “You will be sorry!”

“I’m already sorry!” Jessica shot back. “I didn’t get my shower and I want to go back to my billions of unclaimed cash!” The slamming of the door was her only answer, and she soon turned her mind back to the food in front of her. No matter how hungry she was, she could not lift the damn fork to her mouth. She could only move it around on the plate. And she was getting thirsty, too! She sighed and tried to figure out what would happen next. It would be the great rescue, right? God, she hoped so! This was getting tedious. *** “Potent venom from the deadly fangs of an Egyptian asp! Even more potent when swallowed.” Carmen chuckled as she placed three drops of the deadly poison into the wine glass on the tray. “Soon you’ll be sorry, my pretty Jessica!” Standing just outside the dining room doors, Fabina paused as she saw her mother doing something at yet another sideboard. Looked like she was putting something in a glass. She paused, holding out the T-shirt and skirt she brought for the visiting woman, Jessica. She stood there for a moment, watching her mother cackle, before her father came down the hall beside her and took the clothing from her arms. “You run along, poppet! You go and spend some time with your brother at your friend’s house. I will take these in to Jessica.” Smiling, Fabina left the house to join her friend and her brother, but the strange sight of her mother with that glass never left her mind. *** “I brought you some clothing,” Fabio called as he entered the room, smiling like a loon. His wife entered a moment behind him, bearing a tray with two wine glasses. “Please, drink and refresh yourself,” she chuckled as she poured the wine, handing one glass to her husband and the other to Jessica. “Thank you, but I never touch the stuff. And why are you being so nice to me now?” “You will be dying soon, so that makes me happy!” Carmen chuckled as she sat back and watched the strange black woman pale. “They may not, Carmen,” Fabio sighed. “They may spare her.” He walked over to Jessica, placing his glass beside the untouched one that Carmen had offered to her. Jessica refused to even touch the glass, preferring to glare at the nasty woman instead. “They will kill her,” Carmen sang. “And then, husband, we will be happy together again.”

Rolling his eyes, Fabio picked up his wineglass and drank deeply. “Excellent vintage as usual, Carmen,” he conceded after draining the glass. “You have excellent taste, my love.” “Too bad her choice in men sucks ass,” Jessica snapped, shifting away from him. “Now see here, Carmen has excellent taste in whatever she decides to do.” Jessica rolled her eyes. Carmen grinned. “Drink up,” she called to Jessica. “Your end is near.” “Wine is fine, but liquor’s quicker,” Jessica intoned, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tequila around here, would you?” “Plebeian!” Fabio snorted, picking up her glass and draining it in a few gulps. “No!” Carmen shouted, racing across the room to her beloved husband. Suddenly, dark, fast-paced music began to play, and Jessica strained her mind to try and recall what that meant. It didn’t bode well, she thought, as the music turned to dark violins and piano. “Why?” Carmen wailed. “Why did you drink from the glass, my love?” But Fabio was beyond answering. His face turned an interesting shade of purple before he clutched his chest and collapsed on the floor. Death music began to play and a piano pounded discordant notes. Tension built, as the man writhed for a moment, then gasped out his wife’s name. “Carmen…” Then he exhaled deeply, his head tilting to the side. “Nooo!” Carmen wailed. She tossed her head back and then collapsed onto the dead man’s chest. “Fabio!” “Holy shit!” Jessica gasped, drawing the attention of the maddened woman. “Fabio was all that I had left, all that I cared for, and you took him away!” She looked at Jessica, her eyes filled with hate and death as panic music began to play, the shrilling violin reminding her of a scene in Psycho . “Now you will pay!”

Chapter Five

The police were less than cooperative.

Especially with a weeping, maybe Mafia wife wailing about voudon bitches who hexed their husbands! Carmen was a great actress. In fact, Jessica had never seen someone just change their whole attitude during questioning. But then, she didn’t get to stick around for the whole show, as she was currently being cuffed and led to the back seat of a patrol car. “Lord help me,” she gasped as the kindly officer placed his hand on the back of her head and eased her into the cage of a back seat. “I’m now a statistic!” Who knew a Mafia wife would call in the cops after she did something to her own husband! That bitch was trying to poison her and the not so indomitable don got it instead. If it wasn’t so corny and pathetic, she would have laughed. But her thoughts were carried away as dark, depressing music began to fill the air. “Oh for the love of…” Before she could finish, a man opened the cruiser door and peered in. “Jessica?” he asked. “Do I know you?” She peered at him, trying to remember if she had seen him before. “I am Crenshaw, Ace Crenshaw.” “Bully for you. I wanna go home.” “You can’t go home. We have to take you in for questioning. What were you doing at the Carlieonies’ home?” “I was handcuffed to a chair waiting for psycho bitch to call in the rest of the boys and fit me with cement shoes so I can go and nap with the fishes.” “Being fresh will not help your cute little self.” God, not another one! Before she could scream or cry, there was shouting and a distraught Fabina ran toward her mother, who was currently being offered oxygen by a few paramedics. Too bad the bitch wouldn’t share. Jessica could use a shot of the fresh stuff right about now. “She poisoned your father!” Carmen screeched, and Fabina stepped back, tears running down her face. But she didn’t shoot Jessica an evil look. That look was leveled at Carmen. The violins changed to a rather dramatic chord, and Carmen and Fabina gave each other looks, like a pair of alpha bitches sizing each other up. Then the door slammed and Jessica was given a treat. She got to hear real live sirens in a police car, from the inside, as she was raced to the nearest Prefect City police station.

*** Lock-up was not fun. She went from having that ratty dirty white robe to having an ugly orange jumpsuit with a target on the back. Not an improvement, to say the least. Now she sat in a conference area, in her orange clothing, her bare feet (they let her keep the rollers), and with a major attitude. Detective Ace Crenshaw was leaning on the wooden desk that served as an interrogation table, right in her face, and asking, “Why did you do it, doll-face?” “Doll-face? Isn’t that sexual harassment?” “Are you trying to bribe me with… sex?” Bum Bummm Bum! “What?” “Because if you are, it’s working.” He waggled his eyebrows and growled and damned if she didn’t have Tony the Tiger flashbacks. “What drugs are you on, and when is it okay for a cop to be stoned?” “I find myself drugged by your beauty,” he sighed, reaching out to grasp her hand. “There is just something about you, Jessica, something I just can’t resist.” Jessica rose to her feet and leaned over the table, both palms braced on the rough surface. She got right into his face. “Try harder.” Before he could respond, the door swung open and two burly policewomen arrived to take her back to lock-up. “I believe you, Jessica!” he called as she was cuffed and led out of the room. “I’m going to do everything in my power to set you free!” “Whatever,” she groaned and turned when the two female officers urged her. As the door closed on Ace’s determined, lovelorn face, she caught sight of Fabina, head down, walking through the precinct. She gave a thought to what she was doing there, before she was led down and into a holding cell. “What about my phone call?” she suddenly asked, looking between the two women. “Your lawyer has already been contacted,” she was informed.

“I have a lawyer?” “Satina Hellfritz Screwum from the law offices of Dewey, Screwum, and Howe.” “Uh…” Jessica wasn’t sure what to say to that. “She will arrive tomorrow and will meet you at the Prefect City Women’s Institution.” “Great.” After a small eternity that was actually about twenty minutes, Jessica was led to a van and placed in her own shared cell with her promised roommate, lead member of the Prefect City Broomstick Brigade. “Just lovely,” she murmured as the door slammed shut and she was left alone with the three-hundred-pound six-foot red-haired Haitian woman… with a hungry gleam in her eyes. “Lovely is right,” Big Bertha purred, and Jessica resisted the urge to climb the cell doors in an effort to escape. “Just stick with me, kid, and I will protect you from the riff-raff around here.” Big Bertha grinned, pointing out the riff-raff in question in the holding cell -- a collection of the fifteen scraggiest individuals Jessica had ever seen. They were rough-looking, smirking, overly-butch, and had sawed-off broomsticks and nasty smirks. Plus they were unwashed. After taking in the women, who were calling out things about tossing salad and sweet lips -- and she was sure they were not speaking about the ones on her face -- she turned to examine Big Bertha. Hell, she was clean! “Mommy!” she screeched, and jumped into the giantess’s arms. “I missed you!” A smirking Bertha carried her new baby off to the showers. *** “Those other chicks,” Bertha whispered as she entered the gray tiled area, “don’t know what they’re missing.” The showers consisted of an open stall with several showerheads gleaming wetly along the far wall. There was a row of benches against the opposite wall and a row of circular drains on the floor. Institutional was too exciting a word to describe it. It was at the benches that Bertha finally put Jessica down, only to rip the orange jumpsuit off of her shoulders. Suddenly it wasn’t such a bad garment, Jessica thought. Maybe just a little misunderstood.

But feeling the damp air of the showers caressing her bare breasts was another thing altogether. Time to put up a fight. “Look,” she reasoned. “You don’t want to do this to me. I am all skinny and dull and --” “Absolutely beautiful.” Bertha stepped back from her prey long enough to turn on a few showerheads. Steam almost concealed her return as she began to stalk Jessica. Jessica, of course, had managed to grab onto the edges of her open jumpsuit hoping she could reason with a seemingly immovable object. She lunged left when Bertha slid right and tumbled to the floor. “I like them feisty!’ Bertha chuckled, her thick accent making it difficult for Jessica to understand. “But you’d better not be too feisty. Then I get mad!” She lunged to her feet, arms held out as she tried to corner her skittish partner. “I’ll make you forget all about men!” “Not bloody likely!” Jessica spat, but then she slipped on the wet tiles. “Note to self,” she muttered as her ass hit the ground and she damn near skidded straight for Bertha. “There is no traction when running on wet tiles.” Amazingly enough, she did herself no major injury. Unfortunately, she landed right in the arms of her would-be suitor. “At last!” Bertha crowed. “Fresh meat!” Jessica shuddered as huge, callused hands cupped her bare breasts, shoving the wet upper portion of the jumpsuit to her waist, effectively trapping her hands. “Nice and perky, baby,” Bertha muttered as her head dipped low and she pulled one pert nipple into her mouth. “Oh, God!” Jessica squealed at the powerful suction. “Oh godohgodohgodohgod!” Holding the struggling Jessica to the hard tile floor, Bertha pulled off long enough to say, “Say my name!” “But I like men!” Jess wailed, only to have Bertha laugh. “Honey, when I am through with you, you will never want to look at a dick again!” “EEEEE!” Jessica’s squeal of fear was taken for one of pleasure and Bertha upped the ante. Her hands kneading one plump breast, her mouth made a foray across her chest and up to her neck. “Who’s your mommy?” “Faniqua Jackson, but she’s back in Baltimore!” Jessica wailed, tears of frustration filling her eyes. “What?” “Stop! Get off! I can’t do… woah!”

With a move worthy of a wrestler, Bertha forced both knees between Jessica’s legs and, using sheer strength alone, spread hers wide, creating an area for her body to drop in between Jessica’s thighs. She ground her pelvis against Jessica’s. Her huge breasts pressed against Jessica’s diaphragm, preventing the cursing and swearing that was building up in her throat from coming out. “I bet your pussy is so tight,” Bertha purred, groaning as she shifted her big body against Jessica’s. If she were a man, they would have had a good case of frottage going on, but since the sheer thought of Bertha getting any closer to her crotch made Jessica’s skin crawl, she began to struggle in earnest. “Buck for me, baby,” Bertha growled, nipping at one ear. “I love my fresh fish wiggling on the line!” “Gah!” With the strength of ten men, or one woman scared out of her wits, Jessica scrambled until her bare feet found some purchase on top of a grate. With this leverage established, she bucked her hips as hard as he could. It sent a surprised Bertha flying, to belly flop beside her. It also gave Jessica enough time to slither away from the woman and look around for a weapon. Where was a broomstick when you needed one? But before she could find that, or any other suitable weapon, two other members of the Broomstick Brigade entered. They looked from Jessica, wet and frantic looking, to a prone, groaning Bertha, and immediately stepped back, fear in their eyes. Bertha was not getting up, just about all the air knocked from her body. “You did that?” one of the ladies asked, backing up when Jessica jumped at the sound of her voice. “Um…” Did she do this? Hell yeah! If it would get her away from the broomstick bitches… “Yeah, I did it!” She took a step closer to them and watched in amusement as they backed up. Her breathing returned to normal and her heart stopped pounding as she realized that she now had the upper hand. “I did it, and I’ll do it to you if you come at me again!” “No… ah… we wouldn’t…” one stuttered. “We was just… playing?” the other offered, and jumped when the shower room door opened once again. This time, two prison guards hustled inside, truncheons at the ready, and froze at what they saw. “Skinny Minnie took out Big Bertha?” one asked, disbelief clear in her voice. “Whatever,” the other answered. “It’s the skinny ones you have to look out for. Not enough meat on their bones to cushion a blow. Hey, they get you in the right area and blam! Down you go.” The other nodded, then gestured to Jessica. “Your lawyer and a detective are here to see you. If you

will just follow us?” Nodding, riding high on bravado, Jessica nodded and stepped past the other prisoners, pausing to fake a lunge in their direction and chuckling when they almost ran over themselves trying to leave the shower. “Always the skinny ones,” the other officer intoned, and led Jessica out of the room to get a fresh jumpsuit and paper booties.

Chapter Six

Detective Ace Crenshaw and Satina Screwum were waiting in a conference room, grinning and cheesing. “We are going to set you free,” Ace gushed as Jessica sat in the chair the guards pointed to. Before he could go any further with the self-praise, Satina thrust out a slim arm dressed in a bright red power suit. “Satina Hellfritz Screwum, Esquire. We would have met yesterday had you not been forcibly removed from your premises.” “Um, yeah.” Jessica’s eyes traveled up the woman’s arm, over broad shoulders, and into a stern face with a rather stubborn jaw. Jessica was sure that her long black hair covered a decent set of horns. The words legal shark fairly exploded from her. “I told you I would set you free,” Ace interrupted as Jessica took Satina’s hand and gave it a shake. “The daughter came in and confessed that she saw her mother poisoning the glass,” Satina went on. Thoughtful violin music began to play as she began to tell her tale. “Apparently, Carmen Carlieonie was ex-KGB.” “KGB? Damn,” Jessica grumbled to herself. “What else is going to be tossed into this mix? Demons and vampires?” “When the Iron Curtain fell, she was forgotten. Apparently the Kremlin placed her as a mole in that particular family. They wanted the Mafia drugs and guns, but they ran out of time.” Satina turned and began to pace, her low, sharp pumps making loud clicking sounds on the industrial gray tile floor. “But she committed a cardinal sin -- she fell in love with her assignment. As a result, she married and produced two children with the don. It was her insane jealousy that drove her to attempt to poison you. When Fabio Carlieonie ingested a dose of rare snake venom, Egyptian asp to be precise, her world fell apart. She blamed you and had you falsely imprisoned. If not for her daughter observing her mother tampering with the wine glasses, she would have had her operatives on the inside kill you and dispose of your body.” “Damn,” Jessica breathed. “I guess Big Bertha didn’t just like me for my looks.” “No, she wanted to fuck you for your looks,” Satina informed her in clipped, no-nonsense terms.

“I can relate,” Ace interjected, but was ignored. “But she was going to kill you for the money.” The music stopped, and Satina turned to face Jessica again. “You are one lucky woman.” “Um, can I go now?” “You have a few moments until the judge arrives.” Ace grinned. “You can go and finish your shower now.” “Alone?” Hell, she didn’t need Bertha now. Jessica was no one’s bitch, and she wasn’t about to start now! “Completely alone,” Ace assured her. “And I will take you back to your offices,” Satina added, her black eyes sparkling. “Then you can sign off on your paperwork and get some rest. Crashing planes, facing the Mafia, and prison time all in two days has got to be trying for you.” Jessica nodded. She would have agreed to anything at this point. She wanted food, she wanted a shower, and she wanted to finally do some of the things that soap opera heroines did; facials, massages, shopping, and the dark mysterious handsome hunk. *** The female officers led her to a staff shower where she was allowed to have privacy as she washed away the stench of prison life. It never appeared that bad in the movies! She turned her thoughts to nicer things, and was thinking about the Rock, Jr., when she felt a pair of hands begin to massage her shoulders. “Bertha,” she growled, spinning around, arms posed for combat, broomstick or no. “I don’t have time for this shit!” “But I thought that you would always make time for me,” a dark, velvet and incredibly masculine voice purred. “Rock Jr.!” Jessica crowed, before she threw herself into the man’s arms and was caught up against his gloriously naked upper body. “Actually, my name is Darious,” he corrected. “And we don’t have much time.” “So let’s get started, Darious.” Grinning, Jess leapt into the air and wrapped both legs around his tiny waist. “Have to tell you that there is danger at your cooperate offices,” he said, but Jessica noted that some serious meat was beginning to rise up and buck against her. The thin, wet linen pants he wore did nothing to mask the feel of well-endowed man in heat! “You can tell me about it all you want later. Time to finish what you started. That fine ass is mine!”

Darious gasped at her forward manner, untangling from her and backing up until his back hit the tiled wall. Unfortunately, he forgot her grip on his pants. They ripped with a wet tearing sound, leaving her holding a lump of wet material which she stared at for a moment, then flung off into a corner. Showerheads sprayed their hot steamy water, making his body glisten and shine. “Oh baby,” she purred, her eyes on his rapidly growing cock. Hell, the thing wasn’t even fully erect and it looked like about nine inches of thick prime meat. She licked her lips, eyes gleaming as she stared at the helpless man. “Can’t we talk about this?” he said, sounding a bit worried. “We talk --” she laughed before she lunged, “afterwards!” Then she threw her body against his, grinning at the feel of his slippery wet skin. Her hair tangled in the long ebony locks that brushed his shoulders, and her breasts pressed into his wide spread of chest. One of her legs lifted and she ran her knee along the side of his upper thigh. This man was all man, and exactly what she needed to wash the remaining feel of Bertha from her body. Besides, his mouth had already been between her legs before he ran out on her. He owed her! And since this was a soap opera, no condom needed and no fear of STDs. Things like that didn’t happen in daytime soaps. Her fingers danced over his bare chest, down past the small indentation of his navel, and through the thick pubic hair that covered the base of his still growing cock. “Ohh! Still growing!” Her fingers trailed over the thick veins that lined his meat. He shuddered at the contact, but froze as she fisted him tightly. “This is going to hurt so good!” She gave an experimental tug and Darious almost dropped to his knees, the pleasure was so great. “What are you doing to me?” “Not teasing, like you did to me!” “I will not tease,” he promised, his voice deep and husky. “It is my job to take care of you.” “Then take care of this.” She released him to cup her own breasts, lifting them into the stinging beads of water that sprayed down upon them both. She moaned as she caressed her own flesh, tugging at her nipples before letting her hands trail over her body. “Take care of this.” Her hands dropped low and she spread her thighs, her fingers tickling through her own thin pubic bush to caress lower lips that were soaking with more than water. She gasped, her knees shaking as one finger stroked her own clit before she pulled those dewy lips apart, exposing herself for his edification. “Care for this.” In an instant, he was on his knees, his tongue lashing out to caress her swollen clit. “Oh!” she whimpered, her hands dropping away from her body to tangle in his hair, to urge him closer.

“Just… just like that!” “Mmm.” He buried his face in her pussy, shaking his head from side to side, covering himself in her slippery essence. His hands gripped her ass, one sliding down the crack to gently finger her anus as he munched away. “Eat me,” she moaned. One hand left his hair to tug at her swollen nipples. The world tilted on its axis as she found herself falling. But his hands moved to catch her and lay her out on the shower floor. Once there, he spread her legs as wide as he could, then sent his tongue thrusting into her opening. Her thighs clapped around his ears and she screamed her pleasure. That wicked little finger returned to tease at her rosebud as he pressed his nose against her clit. She bucked and squirmed beneath his assault. “Fuck me!” she wailed, and he nodded against her, but kept right on with the tongue work. He laved her lips, sipping down her juices, and hummed in pleasure. “Now!” she cried, her hands again burrowing into his hair and tugging. “Um hum.” “Darious!” She tightened her hold and yanked, jerking his face up from between her thighs. “Fuck me!” But then he discovered the tempting peaks of her breasts and one nipple was promptly sucked in deep. “I appreciate the… the enthusiasm… but I need… dick!” “Hum.” Taking matters into her own hands, she reached down and gripped his cock, stroking it rapidly until clear beads of precum dripped from the mushroom shaped head. “Oh!” he gasped, pulling away to rise up and stare down at her. “Fuck me now!” she growled, giving his cock one last tug before wrapping both legs around his waist. With an awed expression on his face, he pulled back far enough to stare down the length of her body. All wet and shiny, she was a glossy treat for his eyes. He eyed her swollen pussy, noting the rich pink of the lips and how erect her tiny, milky clitoris was. His eyes glazed over. Almost on autopilot, he reached for his own cock and gave it a gentle stroke, spreading the droplets of his precum over the head with his thumb. Then he braced one hand over her shoulder and lowered his body so he could line up his cock just right. “Darious!” He pushed and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt his hardness part her soft lips, felt himself slip into her and

had to breathe deeply to keep from exploding right then and there. “Mmm,” Jessica moaned, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to force them to remain open to view the spectacle of this beautiful man taking her for the first time. “So big!” He was stretching her. It stung a little, a testament to how long it had been since she last got laid, but it was a good sting. All too soon, that sting was replaced by the burn of desire as he forged deeper into her body. Inch by inch, his thick shaft parted her walls until their bodies were merged completely. With the shower water beating against his back and his nuts resting on her ass, Darious felt as if he had died and gone to heaven. “You’re perfect,” he purred. He pulled back and thrust deeply inside. “Oh yeah!” Jess gasped, her hands flying up to rest on his hips, her nails digging into his skin to urge him further. “Just like that, baby. Just like that.” They took up a slow, steady rhythm, the water beating against them, their moans echoing. Then the music, the slow, jazzy, sexy music began to play. Darious started to move in time, accompanying the beat with an artistic grind of his hips and soulful growls. “God, you fill me!” Jessica gasped, tightening her legs around his waist and thrusting back, trying to meet each movement with one of her own. Soon, they began to move faster and faster until explosion was inevitable. He went off first, his face contorted in ecstasy as his balls tightened and sent spurts of his hot cream deep within her. The sight and feel of his orgasm triggered hers, forced screams from her throat as her inner walls began to spasm and send white-hot fire coursing through her veins. They thrust and whimpered against each other, moving instinctively as they slowly came down from that orgasmic high. The afterglow took them both, and Darious collapsed beside her, refusing to crush her beneath his quivering bulk. Now they could talk, she decided. Just as soon as she got her breath back. Darious must have been in full agreement, because all he did was pull her into his arms and shelter her body with his, preventing the water from hitting her in the face. But instead of words, he smiled, his mouth dropping to place a gentle kiss upon her lips. Words could wait -- now was a time for feeling. And they both intended to use their time wisely. *** “What were you trying to tell me?” Jessica was now happy and sated… for the moment. Darious gave such good loving that she knew she would be asking for seconds later. But for now, she was content to lean against the shower stall and let the warm water stream over her as Darious lazily washed her body.

“Mmm, danger.” He leaned over and began to sip at the water beading up on her shoulders. “Something about some danger and your father -- ancient evil.” “Which one?” She turned her head and glanced over her shoulder at the long hair that lay plastered to his body, framing its dark perfection. “Huh?” “The Egyptian one or the priest?” “Uh…” But before he could delve deeper, his head jerked up and he abruptly pulled away from her. “I have to go. I will be there, Jessica, when you need me. Remember…” “You love me?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Yes!” Well, she thought. At least she had gotten laid first. Then, quick as a blink, Darious was gone, and she was alone in the shower. She shut off the water as she finally heard the guards returning for her. Ancient evil? Must be all these damn plot twists in this soap opera. Suddenly, it was not as fun as it had been, not that it had been a cakewalk up to this point. But she suddenly found herself… lonely. *** The ride back to the corporate offices was uneventful, which was a good thing. At this point, Jessica was ready for the aliens to drop out of space and demand to be taken to Earth’s leader, which would be either her or Darious, or related to her in some way. Soap operas were tiring. And she was really getting sick of this damn robe. After all the Prefect City law enforcement officers had done to her, they still wouldn’t let her keep the ugly orange jumpsuit. So she was back in the robe and heels. Her day was not improving. The first person to meet her at the building’s doors was… Jennifer? The smile was the same, but she looked to be about nine months pregnant and her hair was a muted shade of brown. “Jessica! Jessica!” Yup. No one but Jennifer could squeal her adopted name with such… enthusiasm. “We were so worried about you! Don’t ever do that again!” “Like I had a choice,” Jessica mumbled, but pulled herself from the car and allowed her baby half-sister

to grip her arm and lead her to the elevators. She had to resist the urge to flip off the huge picture of her supposed father as she passed. Sister Jamie was waiting for them as they entered not the boardroom, but the huge apartments. Jamie and her irritating squeeze were there, both looking worried. “Jessica,” Jamie said after Jessica collapsed in a chair. “We were so worried.” “I bet.” Jamie glared at Jessica, then at her boyfriend, who perched on the arm of Jessica’s chair and reached out to rub her shoulders. “Touch me, Junior, and I will break it off!” Jessica snapped. He quickly pulled his hands back. “Just what the hell are you called, anyway?” “James,” he intoned as he moved back to Jamie’s side. “I should have guessed.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “How clichéd can you get?” “But the important thing is that you are alive!” Jennifer was ever the optimist. “When did you get knocked up?” “What? Oh!” Jennifer’s eyes widened for a moment before she settled into a Madonna-like smile. “You never noticed?” “No. And where is the father?” “Oh, Jessica, you are not really observant.” She chuckled. “Whatever.” “My lover, Brad. You just haven’t met him yet. A lot of people don’t like him, because his father was once an evil slum lord who took money from orphanages, faked his death on three separate occasions, and tried to channel the Egyptian god Ra, though he actually got the Greek goddess Hera.” “Um, okay.” “And then he changed bodies with Brad, because Brad is his only son, created a werewolf strain that terrorized Prefect City for months, and brought the ghost of Jack the Ripper out of his proper time line and dropped him here. That one was rough to deal with.” “Wow. I can imagine.” “And then he disrupted the space-time continuum by --” “Okay! I get it! His father is a badass!”

Satina spoke up then, touching Jennifer on the arm. “Brad is waiting downstairs, and now we have to get the paperwork in order. I am sure that Jamie and James will keep Jessica safe and entertained.” Then they were gone, speaking in technical terms as they walked into the elevator car and disappeared from sight. “And I suppose that you are going to kill me now?” Jessica snarled, staring at her sister. “I would never…” Then that damn, tension-building music began to play again. Jessica ignored it as she rose to her feet and faced her younger baby half-sister. “Who,moi ?” Jamie attempted to look innocent. “You were the last person I saw before I went lights out, bitch, and I refuse to take this shit lying down.” Jessica nearly spat the words into the other woman’s face. Jamie shared a look with James, then turned to look at her older half-sister. “Well, if you feel that way, go and get Jennifer. Tell her about your conspiracy theory. Get me kicked out of the building.” This time Jamie looked smug as she all but purred her words. “You think I won’t?” But before Jessica could move, there was a whistling and then a sharp pain in her neck. She twisted and saw James lowering, of all things, a blowgun. He smirked as the world began to swirl. “Oh fuck,” Jessica breathed before her face met the carpet and her lights went out again.

Chapter Seven

“I’m beginning to hate this place,” Jessica mumbled as, with a rush of sound, her consciousness returned. “Not as much as I hate you.” Bumm bum bummm. “And I hate those bass hits,” Jessica added, rolling her eyes. “What are you speaking of?” Jamie walked around Jessica and smiled. “You are about as crazy as that old bastard that spawned you,” Jess spat. “That would be your father as well, Psycho,” Jamie pointed out.

“Which one?” Jess asked, raising one eyebrow. She tried to lift her arms and realized that she couldn’t. It seemed that she was immobilized, tied to a straight-backed chair. “The Egyptian prince or the militant preacher?” “You think you are funny? Well, you won’t be so funny when I make your ass disappear. Don Carlieonie couldn’t do his job properly. Like the old saying goes, if you want to do something right, you have to have your man do it.” She reached out one arm, and James walked over. He paused to pull his Black Widow woman into his arms for a hungry, tongue-dancing, wet kiss. Of course this sent nausea rolling through Jessica’s stomach, but it could have been the drugs that they used. “You know, you guys keep injecting me with things,” she called out, breaking the impassioned moaning coming from the couple in the intense clutch. “You ever think about drug interactions or something? You guys could get unlucky and kill me.” “Drug interaction?” Jamie wrinkled her forehead as she pushed James aside and stalked toward Jessica. “You have more to worry about. Like the fact that because of you, my fortune is lost to me.” “Like I had anything to do with that.” “Your existence threatens mine. My father never married my mother, making Jennifer and I bastards. Bastards, I tell you!” Jamie shouted as she leaned into Jessica’s face. “And melodramatic ones at that.” Jessica’s comments gave her pause, then she grinned, her eyes going crazy. “You don’t know drama, bitch. You try living up to legends, his precious baby Jessica. Millions he spent looking for your sorry ass. Time he spent looking for his perfect baby girl who would succeed him. No matter what I did, it was never enough. I was never enough. So when the old bastard claimed to have found you living in the lap of luxury in some prince’s castle, and raced to bring you home, I devised a little surprise for Daddy.” Dramatic music began to play as Jamie got into her storytelling, relishing each and every acid word as she spat it forth. “The little bomb was not the work of assassins. It was mine. And when it only killed off the old bastard, I contacted the don to finish you off so that your presence would never infect that place. But he failed. So that leaves me to handle this bit of nastiness. You will die, Jessica. You will cease to be and I will run this company in your stead. Jennifer is too soft and you will be too dead. How does that make you feel? Knowing that your hours are numbered?” “Like I want an aspirin for my headache. And after that, I am going to hang my foot so far up your ass that you will be picking these gaudy little rhinestones out of your teeth for weeks. And I will make it happen. Now tell me, how do you feel?” The intensity of her words gave Jamie a frisson of fear, but she rose to her feet and moved to the elevators that faced the open living room. “Watch her, James. I will return after telling the others that Jessica dear is a bit indisposed and wishes to

take a nap. That will delay things long enough for us to hide the body.” Then she smiled at Jessica. “You, my dear, will be having a teensy little elevator accident shortly. So sad, but it will allow me to take over the company and run it the way Prefect Industries should be run.” James lit up at the prospect and actually wiggled his tongue at Jamie. “Wait!” Jessica cried out as she watched the hunger build up in James’s eyes. “You can’t leave me here with him! He wants to fuck me!” “James?” Jamie was incredulous. “James only wants what I want.” “Absolutely,” James agreed with his woman, who blew him a kiss and climbed into the elevator. “Don’t use this car, James. I will rig a delay when I am in the boardroom. The car will not respond until I place the master key back inside.” “Of course, my love,” he purred, but he slunk closer to Jessica. “Be safe.” “As always, love.” She turned and entered the car, whistling as she went. James turned to trussed-up Jessica. He chuckled, licking his lips and rubbing his hands along Jessica’s thighs. “Alone at last, Boo. Now it’s just me and you. I always wanted to try a black girl. And now, I get to get down to some business.” Then his hands were everywhere -- on her face, across her breasts, sliding down her legs… “Enough!” Jessica cried out, desperate to get away from the many-tentacled monster James had become. “Never enough, baby,” he breathed as he began to lick her neck. “Bubblin’ brown sugar. You got me trippin’, Boo. And I want to feel the best.” Then his hands were parting the front of her robe, his mouth suckling at the exposed cleavage. “Now back the fuck up!” Jessica screamed, drawing his attention for a moment. “What?” “What?” Her mind ran a thousand miles a minute. She had to think of something! Then inspiration struck. “Is this how you seduce a sistah?” James backed off and waited for her to continue. “Damn, man. You know what a woman like me likes?” “No. What?” “A forceful man.” As she spoke, she allowed her voice to drop to a low octave, husky and sexual. “And baby, these full lips I got are worth more than looking cute in photos.” She winked and James drooled. “For real?” he asked in his not quite right street slang.

“For Shizie.” She licked her lips at him, dropping her lids to half-mast and hissing between her teeth. “And I have a thing for blond, skinny white boys.” “I’m… I’m skinny!” James informed her of what she could already see, lifting up his shirt to show where his ribs were clearly exposed through his skin. “And I am white. But I always knew that if I could find the right sister, she could show me why once men go black they never go back.” Jessica resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she continued to lead James where she wanted him to go. “Play on, playah,” she urged. “But you know, I can’t get that meat where I want it with my hands tied.” “Where you… want… it?” “Yeah, baby. I give killer head. I can blow your mind so good that you would swear that your name is Dr. Dre and you need to keep both hands strong.” “That good?” “Mother fucker, I’ll make you cry for your mother. But I need my hands to work the base and the balls. Come on, honey, let me go. You are a strong man and there is no way I can escape you. But if I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go with some white meat filling my stomach and bustin’ a nut.” That was all James needed to hear. He unbound her hands faster than she could blink. “I’ve always wanted a black woman,” he gushed as he tossed the ropes aside. “I knew I just needed a chance and I could find out if what they say about black women and their skills were true.” Jessica lapped at her lips and reached for him. “Lose the pants, baby. I want to see what I’m working with.” James dropped his pants, and Jessica had to do a double take. Damn! The man’s cock swung at about eight inches semi-erect! And it was thick! No wonder Jamie kept him around. “You like what you see?” he asked, his khakis around his knees and a pleased look on his face. “I know I’m the biggest man in this building, all prime pink meat, baby. All for you.” He stepped closer, and Jessica tore herself out of her amazed stupor. “Give it to me, big daddy!” she urged him. But then held her hands out as he approached. “Um, daddy, we have a problem.” “Ain’t no problem, bitch. Open up your mouth and let me ride!” His pseudo slang was starting to get on her nerves. “The problem, Lil’ Busta’, is that I can’t get to my knees to take that meat in. I need to be on my knees.” “I can stand on the chair,” he offered, looking distressed at the prospect of not getting any head after she’d pointed out her thick juicy lips.

“Let my legs free and I can get to my knees, baby. That vanilla stick looks ready to explode, and I want to be in on the uptake, if you know what I mean.” He knew, all right. His grin could not be contained as he bent and started to work on her bindings. Within seconds her legs were free and James stood back, cock erect and a big pimpin’ grin on his face. “Give it to me!” “Like you want it, Balla’.” Jessica grinned, before her hand connected neatly with his exposed groin. James let out a shriek as Jessica dodged to the right and tried to make it across the room, putting as much space between her and James as she could. But now, James was pissed off and in some serious pain. He bellowed like an animal and dove at Jessica, hoping to take her down. With a loud squeak, Jessica dove out of the way, ignoring the loud thump of James hitting the ground behind her. Her heart was racing like a hamster in a wheel as she dodged around some furniture and made it to the bank of elevators. Forgetting that one was rigged, she slammed the down button and prayed that it would open. It did. In fact, two of the three elevator doors opened, just as James made another desperate dive for her. Instinct made her sidestep and she watched in horror as James missed her by a foot, but found himself connecting with the metal of the shaft. He fell straight down, his screams echoing in the open area of the apartment, mingling with the feminine shouts from beside her. “No!” Jamie wailed as she saw the love of her life hurtle through the air and disappear into a dark void. Then she turned, leaped from her functioning car and onto Jessica. “You bitch!” she shrieked as the elevator doors closed and the fight music began to play. And, damn, it almost sounded like the Captain Kirk kick-ass music fromStar Trek . Jamie rushed her, screaming, arms flailing wildly, her hands grabbing the rollers Jessica still wore in her hair. “Bitch!” Jess winced as Jamie began a serious bout of hair tugging, her face a mix of anger and loss. As one roller went flying, Jessica pulled herself together, the sharp lingering pain of the hair pull breaking her out of her shock. What the hell was this?Dynasty ? She was not Crystal, Jamie was not Alexis, and this was not an action movie, damn it. But dirty street fighting she could handle. Snarling, she drew back her fist and let it fly… straight at Jamie’s face.

And the fleshly thumping sound her fist made connecting with her right eye was music to her ears. “Come on, skank,” Jess hissed as Jamie flew back, arms see-sawing to regain her balance. “Remember I said I was going to hang my foot up your ass? Well, bitch, the time has come!” Jamie shrieked and attacked again, adding kicks to her wild swinging, but Jessica sidestepped those and delivered a sharp kick to her middle, knocking Jamie to her knees. “Just as I promised!” Jessica’s voice was filled with triumph as she circled around Jamie and landed a sharp blow to her upturned ass. Jamie shrieked. She flew through the air to land on her face, skidding across the carpet. “Tai Bo won’t save your ass now!” Jessica moved in for the kill, but skidded to a halt as Jamie played her final card. “How about… I just… shoot the shit out of you instead?”

Chapter Eight

Jamie approached Jessica, madness in her eyes. “You killed the man I love.” She reached behind her back and pulled out an almost comically large barrel attached to some high caliber handgun. Jamie made a show of reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a silencer which she slowly screwed on, never taking her eyes off her wayward older half-sister. The woman had skills, Jess thought, hiding that huge thing and getting the silencer on without ever looking! “Actually,” Jess corrected as she held her hand palm out before her and took a few steps back, “he kind of killed himself. I never laid a hand on him.” “That is beside the point!” Jamie shrieked, advancing further. “And the elevator thing was your idea.” “Don’t you ever shut the fuck up?” No answer for that one, because Jessica was playing a dangerous game placating the mad woman. It was important to humor the insane, she concluded. You were less likely to get shot that way. “You ruin everything you touch! First my father, then my business, and now my man! You are going to die!” “Look! Over there!” Jessica suddenly shouted. “A unicorn!” As stupid a tactic as it was, it worked. Jamie turned away and Jessica hurled herself at the other woman,

knocking her to the ground and falling on top of her in a cloud of dirty terry cloth and rhinestone shoes. There was an audible pop and Jamie jerked beneath her, then lay still. Jessica rolled off of her youngest baby half-sister and watched as the life drained from her body. “You… you…” Jamie struggled to speak. A bright light focused in on her face, her makeup and features perfect even after the fight, and with her dying from a self inflicted bullet wound. Only a trickle of very bright red blood trailed down the corner of her lips. “Daddy… always loved… you… best.” Her head tilted to the side as she drew her last breath. Jessica took in the sight of the dead woman with no visible bullet wound, glanced back toward the elevator that James had fallen through, and she began to wail. “I want to go home! I don’t like it here!” She stumbled to her feet, backing away from the body, and actually clicked her heels together three times. “There’s no place like home! There’s no place like home!Carter? Phil? Murray! Get your personal paternal desire-granting asses down here and take me home!” Tears rolled down her face as she fisted her hands at her sides and threw her head back. “‘Carter! Fuck you, you stupid fairy! Get your tutued ass down here! I wanna go home!” “Well, you don’t have to yell,” an irate voice said from behind her. “Carter!” Maybe they had come to take her out of this disaster of a wish! “And you really need to clean up your language, young lady.” Carl was not amused. “And while I admire the attempt to actually do something with your hair,” Phil groused, “rollers are not a fashion statement.” Murray said nothing, but made his way over to the bar, stepping over Jamie’s body to do so. Then he snorted in disgust when he realized there was no real alcohol in the place, just colored water. “Screw that and screw you!” Jessica walked right up to Carter and faced him nose to chest, one finger jabbing at his stomach. “I want out of this crazy town.” “No can do, sweetie,” Carter’s rough voice informed her, while Phil made small comments about Jamie’s clothing and hairstyle to Carl, and Murray sulked, sipping on brown water and frowning at Jessica as if it was her fault the bar wasn’t particularly well stocked. “No can do? Well, you had better do something! So far, I have been attacked, knocked out too many times to count, drugged, kidnapped, tied to various pieces of furniture, put into a prison, damn near raped two times, scarcely avoided the Broomstick Brigade, and now almost shot to death. Two people -- no, scratch that. Three people died before me, counting the Mafia don who was trying to get into my pants!” Her tears dried up and her anger began to take over. “I want out of this fucked up wish!”

“Impossible.” Carter patted her on her roller-covered head. She looked up and yes, the pink rollers were back. “Why not? I want out of this wish!” “Well, sweetie, it’s like this.Prefect City is a hit. Every creature from the Chubacabra to the water sprites is eating this thing up. We are a hit! The endorsements are flying in and me and the guys are making us a mint!” “A television show? You guys have turned my life into a television show?” “Not just any television show, sweetie, but the best running daytime preternatural soap opera ever! And there is more good news!” “Good news?” Was there any good news in this piece of trite crap her life had become? “Yeah! It’s sweeps week and we’re killing them in all markets! Congratulations, you’re a hit.” “But… but I just want my life back, Carter!” Tears began to well up again as she stared at her personal fairy. “I want out!” “No can do, sweetie. But if it’s any consolation to you, we are going to toss in more of Darious. The public likes him, and his approval ratings go through the roof. Who knew assassins would test so well?” “Carter!” “Sorry, love, it’s sweeps week. And now that the commercial break is over, we have to go.” “Go? Don’t leave me alone here!” “Got to!Prefect City moves on! Later, ducky.” And with that, all four of her personal paternal wish granters winked out of existence, leaving no traces of themselves. Sighing, Jessica made her way back to the elevators, pressing the down button on the still functioning unit. When the doors opened, she examined it carefully to make sure that the car was really there. Satisfied that there were no alternate universes or portals to the great unknown, she tightened her robe’s belt and climbed inside. She would go and tell Jennifer that Jamie was dead. Hell, it was better than standing over a dead body and moping. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Right? *** Jennifer stood in front of the first floor elevators, a five-year-old child in her arms. It was Jennifer, though a non-pregnant one with light brown hair. But the smile was the same. “Jessica!” So was the voice. “We were so worried about you,” she gushed. “Weren’t we, Jack?” She smiled as she spoke softly to the child riding her hip.

“Um, hello, Jack.” Her face plainly showed confusion as Jessica looked at her ever-changing younger baby half-sister. “Cute kid. Where did he come from?” “Oh, Jessica!” Jennifer chuckled. “You know your own nephew when you see him! You are always such the kidder.” “But you were just knocked up?” “Five years ago, Jess, and it seems like only hours ago. My, how time passes, and how quickly they grow.” Another kiss for the baby, then Jennifer was smiling at her older half-sister again. “Um, yeah.” Shaking her head, Jess figured now would be as good ‘a time as any to tell about the youngest in the family. “Well, there is a dead body upstairs.” “Another one? James just fell from the elevator. His family is distraught. The funeral will be in an hour. I do hope you can make it.” “Um…”One hour ? “Well, the dead body? You see. It’s Jamie.” “What? No! Not Jamie!” Jennifer looked distant for a moment. “Oh dear. This is going to make things awkward for the press conference. Why don’t you go on up and tell Satina. I’ll handle things on this end.” Jennifer turned and walked away, ignoring the people staring at James’ twisted body at the bottom of the shaft. And damned if he hadn’t fallen perfectly flat on his back, too! No signs of distress were on his face, no splattered body parts or bits of brain, and his clothing was amazingly neat and clean. Shrugging, she made her way back to the working elevator and pressed the up button. A few seconds after the doors closed, she was really not surprised when it stopped between floors. “Darious.” She sighed. “Come on out now.” “How did you know I was there?” he asked as he took her into his arms. “Because the sex music began to play.” Sure enough, the small, enclosed space was filled with the sound of a slow, haunting, jazzy beat. “I don’t… Well, as nice as sex is, and I want to have some right now, I have to tell you to beware of the ancient evil.” “Jamie was not ancient, Darious. Annoying and spoiled, but ancient, no.” “That is not… Are you okay? You look… shaken.” “Gee, Darious. I don’t know. I just saw two people die and I am stuck in this stupid city. I just want to go home.”

“I am so sorry for your losses and your experiences, Jessica. I wish that there was a way I could make all of your troubles disappear.” He pulled her to his chest and buried his face in her hair. “You smell so good…” That was all it took. She needed the comfort of his arms. The feelings he evoked were so familiar to her, so stable. They were the only normal things in this world. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in the smooth musculature of his chest. He was so hot, his skin so soft beneath her fingertips. Her hands traveled down over his stomach, pushing his shirt aside as her fingers latched into his waistband. “I want it now,” she whispered, peppering kisses along his chest. “I need to feel you inside me.” Almost instantly, wetness flooded her pussy. His hands, so large and firm, ran down, then up her back, the intensity of his touch felt even through the terrycloth of the robe. She closed her eyes, her breath harsh as his fingers gripped the collar and slowly pulled the cloth away, exposing her rich brown skin to his gaze. “You remain one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever beheld,” he breathed, dropping a series of butterfly kisses along her exposed shoulders. She tilted her head back as his lips climbed her neck and rose softly to her lips. He licked them first, running his tongue over her full, parted lips before he gently pressed his own to them. “Mmm.” Her moan filled his mouth as his hands pulled the robe from her body. It fell to the ground while his tongue penetrated, teasing her tongue into a wet duel. Her hands ripped his shirt from his back, uncaring where it landed. His hands ran down her back, his nails lightly scoring her skin, until they drifted low enough to grip her ass. Her hands forced their way between them to paw at his zipper until his pants drifted to his ankles, taking the thin white boxers he wore as well. His hard cock pressed into her stomach, causing him to hiss and thrust against her. He was so hard and unyielding, and soon he would be buried deep inside of her. “God, I want to fill you,” he breathed into her ear. He pushed her back a little, just enough to cup her pussy in his hands, his middle finger rubbing circles around her clit. “Darious!” she hissed, and her knees went weak. Her body trembled against him, a woman caught in a gentle storm of desire, the quiet fire of his passion filling the void of darkness within her. “I’m ready,” she insisted. One long finger parted her. “Now, please.” Her nails bit into his rounded shoulders and she slumped against him, unable to hold her own weight. She felt the wetness of precum flowing from the head of his cock, painting sticky droplets against her belly, and knew that he was just as affected. Wordlessly, he bent at the knees, gripped the backs of her thighs, and lifted. “Darious, hurry,” she urged, squeezing her eyes closed in anticipation of the thick meat of him forcing his way deep into her tight confines.

“Whatever you wish.” He shifted, lifting her higher until the head of his cock just breached her pussy. “I worship you.” His breath sounded harshly in the elevator car. For a moment, time stood still as the anticipation built. The need to be filled, the desire to feel the long thick slide of him entering her… “G-God, please hurry!” She squirmed in his grasp, trying to force the connection, trying to force him where she needed him most. “Yes.” That one word, and then he was lowering her down, hissing between his teeth as he felt her slide inch by inch down his shaft. “Gah!” His eyes closed, his head tossed as the hot, wet, tight stranglehold she had on his cock sent fire through his spine. Her head was whipping from side to side, her breasts bobbing as she squealed and tried to force him in deeper. This was exactly what she needed! Leaning his back against the far wall to support some of his weight, Darious set up a pounding rhythm, slamming as deep into her as he could. “God, yes! Harder! Harder, Darious!” she screamed. “Fuck me!” Her whole body jerked as the punishing rhythm took her breath away, and she gasped at each deep penetration. A tingling took over her legs. They tightened around his waist, going for more leverage to keep him pounding into her. The wet slap of their bodies was loud in the enclosed area. She shuddered as his huge balls slapped against her ass, straining the nerves there. His hands squeezed her thighs, leaving bruises she was sure, but at this point she didn’t care. Lights exploded behind her eyes, her inner muscles gripped and convulsed around him. She felt the tension in her build and knew that soon she would be coming. “I can’t,” she gasped. “I can’t, I can’t! Oh, Darious!” She screamed as her stomach clenched and the first waves of her release tore through her. “So good,” he gasped, his hands tightening around her thighs. Her inner muscles began milking him, tearing his orgasm right out of his cock. Balls churning, he exploded, sending shot after shot of hot cream deep inside, groaning as the strength left his limbs and he slowly slid down the elevator wall. “Jessica.” Jessica exhaled deeply, going limp against her lover. She struggled to stay in her fantasy, but this unreal reality was intruding once again. “I don’t think I can do this.” She closed her eyes and buried her face deeper into his neck, inhaling his musky scent, struggling to maintain the afterglow as long as possible.

“All you have to do is endure,” his low breathless voice rasped from above. “Endure, Jessica. See this to the end. Great things are waiting for you.” “Great… things,” she muttered and closed her eyes, lethargy taking over. “If I can survive it.” She settled against his body for a quick nap, relishing the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her. Yet it was no surprise when she awoke a few moments later to find Darious and almost all evidence of him gone. She rose to her feet, grimacing at the slick feel of his seed sliding down her legs. “Well,” she muttered as she adjusted her robe and straightened her shoulders. “At least I came before he went.”

Chapter Nine

Well, she was feeling a whole lot better now, she decided as the elevator doors opened onto the boardroom. Satina, still dressed in her red power suit, was standing there. “Jessica. I’ve been waiting for you.” “You and everyone else.” “Pardon?” “Never mind, I just need to use a restroom.” “Of course.” Satina gestured to a door to the right and Jessica made her way there. After taking a few moments with a wet hand towel, she straightened her ragged robe as much as she could and prepared to face the paper signing. Maybe, just maybe, then she could get some peace. She stared into the small mirror and took a good look at herself. Her hair was still in curlers. She would take them out, blink, and the damn things would return like a pack of pink homing pigeons. Her makeup was still perfection, just enough to look natural and enhance her usual prettiness. Her teeth were shining white, like something out of a toothpaste ad or Miami’s Center for Cosmetic Surgery. She was going to soon have wealth and power beyond belief. And all she wanted was her couch, her snack foods, and Darious to come with her to keep her warm. But Darious said she had to see this through to the end, and that was what she was going to do. Mentally girding her loins, she exited the bathroom. “Satina,” she said in her best brisk accountant’s voice. “Is there a place that I can get some decent clothing? And I refuse to go back to the apartments upstairs. There’s a body being removed and I would rather not see it.”

“Jessica.” Jennifer again, and this time from thin air. “The body has been removed and the place is being cleaned. It’s a shame about Jamie shooting herself like that. I wonder what that girl was thinking?” Jessica blinked at her older baby half-sister and just sighed. This time her hair was a combination of blondes and pinks. It was too fluffy and frou-frou, but in some strange way it fit her. Standing beside her was a young man about fifteen years old. “You and me both, Jennifer,” Jess sighed. “By the way, who’s the handsome young man?” “Oh, Auntie Jess,” the teen chided. “You are always one to tease. Like you don’t remember your nephew Jack.” Jack? The five-year-old? Whatever! “You grow so quickly,” she allowed, wondering if any more siblings would appear or if he would suddenly turn into a she. “Satina will take you to my rooms.” Jennifer nodded, as if all her plans were falling into place. “We’re about the same size and I have a lot of things in my closets.” Giggle, giggle, and smile. Jennifer’s clothing, if it in any way resembled her giggles, was going to be too… too… frou-frou. “I bet you do,” Jessica mumbled, shaking her head. “Upper floors again?” she asked as the black-haired, black-eyed lawyer guided her into the elevator, one surpassingly strong hand on her back. “No. Going down.” Jessica shrugged and sighed, resigning herself to wearing some bright, ultra feminine confection. She watched the elevator numbers flash as they sped downward, standing with her arms crossed in front of her in the typical elevator stance. “Five, four, three, two, one,” she said to herself, as Satina remained her usual quiet self. Jessica hadn’t known the lawyer for long, but from what she observed, the lady was usually quiet and reserved. But then something strange happened. The elevator kept on going. “Um, Satina?” she asked after they hit sublevel six. “Is it normal for an elevator to go subterranean?” “Oh,” she cooed. “It is when I am the one riding in it.” “Oh,” Jessica sighed. “Thank goodness. You have lower levels, like the Pentagon? Sweet. For a moment there I was getting worried.” She smiled as the red clad woman smiled kindly at her. “So, where are your offices? Sublevel six, is it?” “No. Seven.”

“Wow.” She smiled, finding something that was almost normal here. “Seven. As in the seven gates… of hell!” Bum bum bummm. “Meep!” *** Finally the elevator doors opened, and yes, it was hell. Jessica peeked out and saw fire shooting out of several well-placed and tasteful geysers. The floor seemed to be lined in brimstone, its sulfur smell giving the space the right hellish touch. And for extra atmosphere, there were demonic wails and screams in the background. Yup, it certainly looked like some level of some kind of hell. Jessica stood there blinking until a rough hand in the center of her back shoved her into the room, her gaudy shoes crunching on the volcanic rock. “Um, why am I in hell? Is it because of what I did to Bobby Brewster in the ninth grade? Look, I never knew that duct tape could rip pubic hair out like that!” “No.” “Um, because I claimed my three goldfish as dependents in order to get that earned child credit income tax break?” “Um, no.” “Is it because I switched my downstairs neighbor’s loud-ass dog’s usual pet shampoo with Nair?” “No, though we all got a good laugh out of that one.” Satina chuckled as she shoved Jessica to a stone altar that seemed to flow from nowhere. “We are here for a greater purpose, Jessica. We are here to use your body as a vessel for the rebirth of our lord in human form.” “Your lord?” “Beelzebub!” Bumm bumm… “Okay already!” Jessica screamed. “Enough with the bass hits! I am in hell for what?” “Ever seeRosemary’s Baby ?” “Uh…” “Guess who gets to play Rosemary?”

“Me, right? It’s me! I know it is! So tell me, is the Egyptian assassin my baby’s daddy?” “No.” Satina grinned that evil lawyer grin of hers. “That would be me.” “You? But I haven’t slept with you and you are definitely not a boy.” “Give it time,” the demon assured, her grin turning into a smirk. “What?” Satina tossed her up on the stone altar and smiled. She was still smiling as she pulled her red power skirt from her body and exposed a growing erection, a huge fucking growing erection. “Usually, I would just cast a spell over you,” Satina informed Jessica as she… he… it… began straightening the tight boots that hugged the slim thighs. “But I find myself unavoidably attracted to you.” “Try and avoid it! Try really, really hard!” Jessica’s eyes were as wide as saucers and her heart was racing as she stared at the demon that wanted to be the father of the lord of the nether realm! Oh, Hell no! She skidded backwards off the altar as Satina approached, hard cock waggling and leading the way. She turned to run, but the damn shoes tripped her up. She landed in some hot brimstone, scorching the skin of her hips as she skidded across the ground. “Damn shoes!” she hissed, reaching out to remove them, but found that they wouldn’t budge from her feet. “What the hell…?” “Hell is good.” Satina stood over her, a maniacal grin on her face, stroking her cock slowly. “You, my dear, are wearing all the souls of those unfortunate individuals that are needed for the sacrifice. When I plunge this cock --” she stroked the thick, fifteen inch thing roughly, “inside your tempting body, you will absorb the souls and give my master life to be reborn!” “I hate to break this to you,” Jessica managed to say as she skittered backwards away from the spawn of hell. “But that will not fit in this coochie!” “Who said it was going in your coochie, as you so sweetly put it? I prefer going the back door route, myself.” Bum dumm, dummm! Jessica froze for a moment, then she began to scream. The sound reverberated around the chambers, drowning out the demonic wails that made up the atmospheric music. She screamed so loudly that even Satina was forced to cover her ears with both hands and close her eyes against the pain. Jessica took that opportunity to rise to her feet and dash back toward the elevator, hoping against hope that it would still be there.

It was, and she slammed her palm on the up button desperately. Finally something went right! The doors almost instantly slid open. But who stepped out of them was more of a shock. It was… “Father?” “Jessica, my daughter!” “Fuck me!” she breathed. “It’s the priest from the painting!”

Chapter Ten

It was. Calder Prefect stood there, alive and in person! Jessica stumbled backwards a bit, still staring at the man. “Jessica, I have come to free you,” he said. “Good, because the lawyer grew a dick and I have souls on my feet that won’t come off, and they want me to be an unwed mother!” Jessica babbled in her fear as she heard the sounds of Satina approaching. She grabbed the priest’s arm. Priests were good against evil, right? “I am here to free you, daughter, by killing you!” Jessica dropped back and stared at the deranged man. Priests were supposed to save lives! “What kind of father are you?” “One that had you, knowing that you were not destined for this world. Your mother was a voudon priestess I met in Africa. I gave up the missionary work to be with her. She divined that you would be special, and we both sought to take you back here, where you could grow up protected and loved.” Sad music began to play, and Jessica chanced to look over her shoulder, searching for Satina. Then she had to hold back a gasp of disbelief. Satina was running at them, there was no doubt about that, but she was moving at a tenth of normal speed. Jessica looked at her father rambling on about ships and storms, down at her own hands that she waved, testing time as it were. But she was moving normally. Her father was moving normally. She looked back at the demon, who still appeared to be running full tilt, huge cock swinging between its legs, but at a fraction of normal speed. “Nooooooooo…” she appeared to be wailing, but that too was a loud, overly deep, drawn out affair. “Pay attention!” her father snapped, and she reluctantly turned away from the spectacle of the slow motion demon and back to the real time one.

“As I was saying, the storm destroyed our ship. Your mother was cast overboard into the briny deep and you, my child, were lost to us, trapped on a piece of driftwood and taken down the Tigris. I was helpless to do anything but watch.” “You could have swum after me, you know.” She felt the need to correct him even as she glanced back at the demon. Yup, still moving at a fraction of normal speed and dragging out that “no.” “As I was saying, you were lost and --” “You could have tossed a life preserver or something.” “I was saying!” he bellowed, cutting off any further comment. “That I watched you carried away and knew you were safer lost at sea. It was Satina --” he gestured to the slow moving demon, “who caused the storm. She wanted you back then. And now the only way to save you is to kill you.” “Wait, you let your heirs hire a demon lawyer for your company?” “Of course. Shrewd negotiators and litigators, demons are. Very convincing, and they work at reasonable rates.” “Oh.” Made sense to her. “So now, daughter,” he intoned, reaching into a sheath and pulling out a huge dagger, “I must kill you to free you from the demon’s clutches.” Jessica looked behind her where the demon was gaining fast, then at her father, who was now moving in slow motion with his dagger in its downward motion, and gasped, “Nuts to this!” She ducked and dodged around the slow motion father and demon and ran straight into the arms of Darious, the assassin. Great! “Assassinate those asses,” she screamed, clutching at his arm. “Um, I can’t, Jessica.” What?“Um, Darious, you’re an assassin!” “Well, about that assassin gig… It was just a temporary thing.” “Then what are you and why are you here?” At this point, the priest and the demon were turning in their direction, and neither looked happy about their slow motion state. “Jessica, I am… an angel!” A heavenly sounding chorus “ahh’ed” and a light began to shine on Darious, illuminating his skin as he seemed to take on a glow from inside. Jessica watched as huge fluffy white wings exploded from his back and a halo formed over his head. “I’ve been screwing an angel?” she asked in disbelief. Well, that would explain the great sex.

Wait! Weren’t angels asexual? She didn’t realize she had spoken out loud until he answered her. “Usually, but I am a fallen kind of angel. When I fell for you, I was given the job of protecting you, my love.” She pointed to the slow motion scourges and snapped, “Protect then, dammit!” “I can’t kill anymore, Jessica. I was an angel of defense and death -- now I am just a fool in love. But I am praying for the best outcome.” He grinned at her. The slow movers were almost upon them, and death started looking real good. “I wanna go home!” she wailed. She turned and raced back to the altar where she climbed on top and made her last stance. “I want these souls off of my feet! I want some real clothes! I want this makeup off and these rollers out! I want to go home! My name is Shaquandra and I want to go home!” She dropped to her knees and began slamming her head against the rough stone of the altar. “Home, home, home, home, home!” she chanted, tears running down her face as the music swelled to a tension-building climax. They were all reaching for her. There was no way out. The priest was slamming the dagger toward her back, the demon licking her chops, the angel crossing his palms to pray. The first hand touched her arm and then… Everything froze. “Cut! Strike the sets!” Huh? Jessica looked up and around to see things slowly disappearing, revealing nothing but a wall of white. “What’s going on?” she asked, tears in her eyes and confusion in her voice. “You! You are what’s going on!” Carter and his three clones marched over to her, furious, wands waving high. “Do you know what you did?” “I did?” “The screaming and crying, the whining and beating your head on the sacrificial altar? You turned our comedy, our beautiful comedy, into a damned drama!” “Huh?” “We’ve been cancelled! Are you happy now? Cancelled!” “Huh?”

“Get out!” he shrieked, face red with anger as he hefted his wand up high. The other three lifted theirs in tandem. “Cancelled!” And then all four wands slammed on top of her head, taking her into the darkness of nothing before she could even say a word.

Chapter Eleven

Shaquandra woke in a rush, her head pounding and the television droning on. She jerked into a sitting position, spreading her snack friends all around her and spilling her medicinal tequila in her lap. “Home?” she gasped, her hands going to her tangled mass of hair and finding no rollers. She looked around at her Switzerland neutral colored living room, and her ugly couch and her disgustingly seventies Laverne and Shirley robe, and began to laugh! She was home! No sex changing demon, no Fathers who were fathers and trying to kill her for her own good, no more assassin lovers who turned out to be angels -- well, she would miss the damn good sex -- who stood there praying over her instead of helping! She was home, gloriously home! And her next act was to reach for the remote and turn off those damn soap operas. No more soaps for her! In fact, no more talk shows, judges’ courts, music videos… hell, she was giving up TV altogether. Think of the money she would save on her cable bill. From now on, she was reading, and reading nothing more exciting than the Sears catalogue. Being lost in furniture and plastic sexless models didn’t sound too bad. “Home!” she sang, springing to her feet and… Her feet! The souls were gone! Those God-awful red stilettos teeming with souls were no longer on her feet. She was barefoot, and badly in need of a pedicure, and that was the way she liked it. “I think I’m in the mood for some music,” she crowed, dancing over to her stereo and hitting the play button. Ludacris blared to life screaming, “Get back! Motherfucker, you don’t know me like that!” “My new theme song!” she sang, catching the chorus. “Make one false move, I’ll take you down. Get back, motherfucker, you don’t know me like that!” She was belting the lyrics out so loudly she almost didn’t hear her doorbell ring. Realizing she had

someone waiting at the door, she turned down her volume and danced to the door. “Yes?” she sang, swinging it open, only to shriek and slam it shut. “Go away!” she screamed. “You are a figment of my somewhat intoxicated imagination!” “Actually,” the deep, familiar, yet muffled voice called through the door, “I’m your new neighbor.” “Darious?” “No, but not too bad a guess. Jamari.” “Jamari?” “Open the door,” he called. “And I’ll even give you a hand to shake.” Shaquandra opened the door very slowly and peeked around the jamb. It was Darious… but he seemed… more three-dimensional. Both men stood at the same height, had the same dark wavy hair, both looked like the Rock, Jr., but where Darious always looked harried and disturbed, this man actually smiled. And he was smiling at her. “We get into our partying, I see,” he joked, and her hands went to her hair and her robe, remembering the state she was in. “Um… well, it was a hard night.” She swung the door fully open and thrust out her hand. She could face the new neighbor looking like a three-day bender gone wrong. Hell, she’d faced demons, and mad priests, and tutu-wearing fairy-flies. This was a cakewalk. “Next time invite me to the party.” He held out the promised hand. “We can get lit together.” “I don’t think I’ll be doing this ever again,” she sighed, shaking her head ruefully. “One trip like this is enough.” “Good,” Jamari chuckled. “I’d hate to date a drunk.” “Date?” Was he as blind as he was handsome? Her hair was a rat’s nest, her clothes were soaked in liquor, and she was sure she smelled like relapse week at Betty Ford. “Yes, date. You’re cute and I think you and I have a lot in common. We both seem to be single and available, and I have that exact same robe, only in black.” Jamari smiled. “I am throwing it into the nearest incinerator after I take a shower,” she informed him, arching one eyebrow and wondering what game this one was playing. “I’ll join you,” he laughed. “And I’ll chuck mine into the flames as well. How about in… two hours?”

“You want a date?” “Hey, I kind of like your style. You seem to be, you know, real. Not like something out of a soap opera.” Not out of a soap opera. “Make it two and a half hours and you have a date.” “Done.” He smiled, making attractive dimples pop out on his cheeks. “Oh, and the mailman dropped this off at my place by accident. I believe it is yours, Ms. Shaquandra Jackson.” He handed her the small box and blew her a kiss. “See you in two and one half hours.” Shaquandra was grinning as she closed the door. Looked like she had a date. Now all she needed was to get hired and her day would be complete. Looking down at the package, she noted it was a small box covered in brown paper and tape. Her name was printed neatly with no return address. Shrugging, she peeled it open to reveal a shoebox. She opened it and dropped it on the floor, her hands clutching her heart. “Lest you forget, darling,” a quiet, rough voice whispered in her ear -- Carter’s voice, “how good reality could be.” Lying on her carpet was a pair of gaudy rhinestone red stiletto heels. From that moment on, Shaquandra decided that maybe life got rough at times, but it was a hell of a lot better than living a lie. She showered, got dressed for her date, and decided to live her life, to play the hand she’d been dealt. It wasn’t a perfect life, but then nothing was ever perfect, including Prefect City.

The End

Stephanie Burke

Stephanie Burke, known to friends and readers as Flash, has a warped, twisted sense of humor, and she isn’t afraid to let it show. From pregnant men to six-foot cockroaches, she’s covered the gamut of the weird, the unusual, and the just plain strange. She has about five million books currently in publication with one house or another, all under the name of Stephanie Burke. She says she won’t use a pen name -she’d have to learn how to spell it. Too much like work. Be sure to join Flash’s “Flame Keeper” loop at Yahoo Groups -- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FlameKeeper/join.