A Fucking Investment Ch. 11

That was my introduction to Aurora Hines. I liked the challenge she represented. I closed the door.

I sauntered back to my place, snaking a wistful arm around Jennifer. She felt my distraction and seemed to delight in it, as a true object would. I looked at Liza. "I am not sure, but I don't think she likes me."

Liza nodded in the direction of the departed woman, where she had stood before us. "That. That is what I came to tell you. She, she has got it into her head that she can stop, stop what you are doing. She is telling the rest of us, the other women of Holdingsfield not to give in to you, not to let you buy them. Everyone knows you are trading money for sex. She is telling everyone you will make prostitutes of them."

I shrugged a little, unwilling to bow away from the truth. "Isn't that what we are talking about? Prostitution? I mean really? You women haven't got anything but your cunts to trade and your men have nothing of interest, not to me at any rate. What else would you call it?"

Liza closed her eyes. "We are not prostitutes. At least I'm not."

Jennifer released me and walked around the bar to return to cleaning up the detritus of breakfast. Liza's eyes followed her. Finally, so did mine, when Liza did not continue speaking.

Jennifer noticed and turned to look at us, finding us both looking at her. "Oh? What? Are you waiting on me to say I ain't no hooker? Forget it. I am doing this for the money!" The lie in her words was so evident, even Liza smiled. That irritated her further.

"We cannot just make hookers of..."

"You are trading sex for money, what else would you call it?"

Liza shook her head. "That is not right. We, we are selling our bodies to you for your use. Which is one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."

"Oh? One?"

"The other is..." She glanced at Jennifer who did not notice, busy putting the bread away.

I raised an eyebrow.

Liza halted and then she smiled a little, eyes twinkling. "I think I have recruited someone for you." She held up her hand. "Whoa big boy, I mean might. I, I asked her to meet me at the mall for a little shopping and told her I had to bring you any time I go shopping." She colored a little. "I told her you insist on buying all the clothes for me or at least approving them. I might have stretched it a little."

I shrugged. "Stretch away. Who are we talking about?" My mind was half on Aurora Hines. What a woman!

"Bethlynn Brazil."

I heard the query in Liza's voice. I remained bland. This told me I had slipped up enough to give her the idea I was checking up on people. That worried me, it would put everyone on guard if that became well known. I mentally shrugged. Broke and on guard or broke and ignorant, they would still be broke. I could still buy them and have them all. "Don't know her. Have we met?"

"Not that I know of." Liza said, still probing. "I told her eleven. I'd meet her at eleven."

The clock said well past twelve. "You're late."

"I can't go without you. You have to take me shopping." She had the grace to grin a perfect shit-eating grin. "I don't have any money of my own."

I almost asked what she was talking about, about all the cash I gave her but didn't. I let it pass. Eventually, I'd find out what she was up to.

"Let me get dressed." I said, did, and we left. We took my car. Liza had walked over. She seemed overly proud riding in my car with me, a cool Lexus. I was renting cars, a different one every few days, just to keep people guessing. Now that it was known I had cash to burn, I needed to burn a little. The old hooptee no longer served and I had no affection for it. So it sat.

In the car, I waited and finally asked. "So? The other thing, the one thing?"

Liza was directing me to the Don Juan Mall. "Oh." She glanced sideways at me. "I don't know if you are going to like it."

"Won't know till you squeak up."

She squeaked, a sort of giggle without permission from the brain. "I have a solution, to the whole 'too many to fuck' problem. You put us on a timer. You own us for so much per day. That way you can adjust the per diem and the whole sex thing, that is additional, above the per diem."

"Good for you."

"Good for you, too. See, listen. I have been thinking since you, ah, demonstrated Mrs. Simpson's position in your household. I think that you are buying the right to own but not buying ownership outright. That just ain't right. Too much like slavery. You, well, you seem to be insistent that you are not allowed to do anything that we don't want to do. So I am thinking, that, so long a we do what you want, you own us and we subtract off a daily amount...I know, how much? I don't know. Yet. But listen. If we refuse you something, then the per diem stops with that day, the day before, no credit for saying no. All you have to do is ask one of us to do something and we refuse and the per diem stops, fuck us or not. If you want to stop paying, then you just ask for something we absolutely don't want to do. Nothing obvious, like killing kittens or something. You can't ask us to violate the law. Something that one of the other of us has done, or will do. As soon as one of us does it, you can ask all of us to do it and anyone who hesitates..."

"The meter stops."

"Right."

I thought about it. "I know this is not making much sense. No one believes I am doing this out of the goodness of my heart..."

"You're not."

I glanced at Liza, still driving.

"I mean, it is for your cock. You are doing it out of the hardness of your cock. You clearly have more money than girls, or maybe the girls you have bore you and this is a complicated way to get pussy. Either way, this is all about the cooze. But it as much about the pursuit of it as it as about having us. You like the chase, I think. I am right, aren't I?"

The truth is that this was the a thing I had been thinking about it. No doubt, I was pussy happy and the process of capturing it, that has all been perfectly delightful. In that moment, turning left into Don Juan Mall, I realized that this was all about getting my sister back, letting her back into the family business and back into the family. I had no idea till that moment that this was what motivated me from the beginning.

"I do like pussy." I agreed.

"You like variety, different pussy."

"Every man likes variety."

"But not every may can satisfy the pussy he has, much less a bevy of pussy like you are aiming to get." Liza snorted. "You claim you want to be on the board and that shit. No one buys that."

"Crap. I thought that made a lot of sense."

Here Liza turned to me. I had parked by now, following her pointing finger. "It does. I think you should. Keep that working. If they don't believe that is what you are after, it will be easier. I have been with you and I know, you love pussy. Here I am, about to introduce you to a 25 year old girl who will adore you and I am nearly 40. What does that tell you?"

"You have a big heart?"

"Or an empty head!" Liza snorted. "No. No, you have a way about you that lets you love me and love Val or Jen and, and, and I don't care. I, I just want to watch. Christ, I wish you had fucked me after you did her this morning. I was so excited watching you do her, knowing how enthralled she was...I could see it in every move she made. She loved having my eyes on her while you did her and she liked having you do her. It was the perfect coalescence of cock and pussy. You do that. I don't know how. I haven't figured that out yet but there is something about you that...that..." Liza snapped her fingers. "It makes Eve Covington endure your libidinous innuendo without blushing or blinking. She fucking likes it and that is something. In there, there is a young, innocent girl waiting for your to take her. She is yours, like a plump plum bursting to be eaten."

"She wants me to go down on her?"

"No. Yes." Liza slapped my shoulder. "Don't be so fucking literal. I am trying to help you out here."

I looked at her. "Why is that? Why are you so easily converted into a willing partner in prostituting all the women of Holdingsfield?"

Liza regarded me for a moment. "Because we fucking need it. I like it here. I like the company, at least the women. You, you want to keep this working, keep us together. I want to help you do that." She scrunched up her nose. "And I come with you. I have to admit, that counts for something. Okay, for a lot. With me, and I suspect, with the others more than they ever want to admit. Not all of us will be like Jen and open up to the pleasure immediately. You are trying to save Holdingsfield and I want to help you do that."

"How do you purpose to help me?"

She grinned. "You do me. Let her watch us. Then you can make your pitch to her."

I sneered. "Sounds to me like you are getting yours. Does she even live at Holdingsfield?"

Liza was caught off guard and her suspicion that I was the man who knew too much, shifted a little. "She is married to a man who is 73. We call him Mr. Viagra. He is a masher. You know, always handling women. Pinching asses and fondling tits, like he was selecting peaches at the super market. He married Bethlynn when she was 22. The rumor was that her father traded her for debt forgiveness but no one knows if that is true or not."

I did. It was. Her father was gone now, her mother was a widow living on food stamps and working two jobs to keep her lights on.

"Anyway, Earl Commodium lost his fortune in a swindle some time after they got married. A Nigerian took him for twenty-million, goes the story. A version of the Spanish hostage. He fell for it hook line and stinker. Now he spends his time down at the park oogling the mothers with their children. He is not a perv, really. He does like to watch but word is that Bethlynn quit fucking him after he lost his money. He cannot blame the economy for his missing fortune. His problem is in the mirror."

I nodded. That all matched my recollection of Bethlynn Brazil's file, though I could not place the name with an image. "Let's go meet your prospect."

"What about the per diem, thing?"

I looked over at Liza. "You and Val came up with this?"

She colored a little. "Just trying to help. With Mrs. Hines working against you, this, what you are doing will be more difficult."

"How much more difficult?"

Liza shrugged. "More. How do you measure difficulty?"

She had a point. We went into the mall and after a while found the young lady in question.

Bethlynn Brazil had really light eyes, like they were gray or something. Against her perfect white skin, it would not have been so striking but for her black hair. Her bangs where raggedly cut and so long that they covered her eyebrows, nearly covering her eyes. Her black hair was long, hanging far below the lower line of her impressive breasts. Her eyes were cool, I could not tell if they were analytical or vacant. That ambiguity certainly worked in her favor. She wore black, to match her hair. Stretch pants and a long black wrap-coat that covered a black halter. The halter clung to her tits like a baby monkey to its mother while she swung through the jungle. She kept the long, cloth coat wrapped around her but when she shook my hand, she released it and it came unwrapped, showing me her impressive breasts. And,yes, I stared.

The one thing Liza had not mentioned that I did know about Bethlynn was that all the assets once belonging to Abe (Abraham Earl) Commodium whom she knew as Earl had been moved into her name. His identity was so compromised, she took back her original name, Brazil, and the assets were now across a very hastily erected legal moat from him. Neither Earl nor the Nigerian could get to them. Unfortunately, by the time the transfer was made, three years earlier, the assets were both ill-liquid and leveraged as part of Earl's efforts to keep his fortunate together. An attorney friend had helped him move them but had taken all the cash the man possessed as fees, all he had left. Some friend!

When I shook hands with the girl, I got the distinct vibe that she fully understood how close she was to joining her elderly husband in the park on a permanent basis. I was wrong. That vibe I got, that was Bethlynn. Something no profile would convey. She was compliant to the point of being immobile. Since she was beautiful, this passivity did not really matter, at least not to the men in her life. At the moment, she was boinking a worthless musician whom I would need to shoo away. If the fucker got her hooked on drugs I'd have him...well, he'd get a heroic wedgie anyway. I am not a thug.

We shopped for awhile. Bethlynn never said a word. Syllables, but not a word. Her eyes, though, they seemed perfectly alive, perfectly aware, perhaps even aware of what was about to happen to her. I was stalling, trying to figure out how I was going to negotiate with a sphinx of this ilk when Liza selected an outfit for herself and demanded that I help her try it on. The ploy was transparent but I had nothing better.

"What about Bethlynn? Shouldn't we find something for her to try on? After all, if I like it on you and have to buy you something, it would be rude not to buy her something." Another transparent ploy, but it worked fine.

Bethlynn picked up a blouse with long sleeves, far less revealing than the twin slingshots she wore currently. It was floral, like an impressionist painting done by someone who liked black and blue-green. The short guy, Degas, that was his name. The imp, the dwarf. Edgar Degas. She apparently liked his colors. I bet the little satyr would have loved her in every way imaginable. I was enjoying imagining loving her myself. Degas surely would have been equally robust with his appreciation. His would have been worth millions. Mine was worth an instant hardon. So far.

The three of us adjourned to the dressing room. I understood why Liza selected this store, The Empire Way; the dressing rooms were plush, like sitting rooms with two lounge chairs and a vanity table with lights around the mirror and a little stool, upholstered in a rich white fabric. It was fashioned for social shopping, a group affair. Ringed stains on the vanity testified to the liberties people took in these rooms. I was about to take liberties of my own. The carpet was white, the walls were white. If Bethlynn hoped to hide in this room, she was shit out of luck. She stood out like a Rorschach blot on a Nun's outfit. Maybe I mean an Abbess, the one that wears all white. My Catholic clothing recognition is worse than my style sense.

Bethlynn seemed to know where her assets lay. The moment Liza closed and latched the door, she dropped the wrap-coat, showing me her tits. They were impressive. The thin black halter showed off her tight little nipples. The girl's lips glistened. She kept licking them. Her skin was alabaster white, like Liza's. There was no contrast there. The stark contrast was the black and the red hair, le rouge et le noir, as it were. My cock was conveniently hard. I had this overbearing urge to begin to explain the situation to this girl but she forestalled me, untying the knot behind her neck and letting her breasts dangle free.

I say dangle, they were more like igloos, frozen in place though they swayed like giant things tend to do, slowly and stately as great cumulus clouds. She stood still and her tits stood stiller, more still? Just as still. The things did not move, even a little, even as she breathed. It was like she was wearing armor. I had the perfect lance for her. I am not above such thoughts, not staring at those tits. God, they were fabulous!

"Joshua? Joshua?"

For a moment, I didn't know who Liza was talking to. I was Alan and this guy Joshua, his life was so far afield from where I lived I felt disembodied.

Liza poked me in the ribs.

I jumped.

"Impressive, aren't they?" Liza whispered, awe in her voice, the same awe that was swelling my cock to the point of pain. Liza ran a hand over the front of my pants. "Okay, honey, you have made your point. You are here to try on the blouse. Shouldn't you wear that with a bra?"

Bethlynn shook her head. She pulled on the blouse. Now, now her tits moved, like hard rubber, they moved, like they really were muscles.

I wanted to touch them, give them a thorough examination to prove they were real. Shit, what if they were plastic? Does a man dying of thirst worry about a little hair in the glass? What if they were silicone? I liked the question because it justified the itch in my hands, my lips... can a tongue itch? Oh, and my cock. I had this vision of my cock sliding between her tits as part of the investigation as to their true nature.

While I stared, she struggled to button up the blouse.

"That's too small, honey." Liza said, talking like a doting aunt.

"Fucking shut up, Liza." I hissed at her. Liza twitched like I had slapped her.

Bethlynn was watching me as I watched her. She had this shy little smile on her face, while her fingers nimbly buttoned the first two buttons at the bottom of the blouse. They were about even with her belly button. She had to pull the cloth tight around her middle to get the buttons to fasten, so yeah, objectively, it was a bit small. Subjectively, however, my cock and my brain, eyes, hands, lips, tongue, a veritable quorum of my voting anatomy insisted it was Goldilocks perfect. With two buttons successfully fastened, the lapels of the blouse flanked each breast, pressing them together; an urge they resisted. The result was a V'd frame around her tits, the blouse formed a scrunched arrow pointing down at her pussy. I stared at this girl-woman. She smiled shyly under my burning gaze. She took her time, buttoning that blouse.

Beside me, I felt Liza's growing exasperation but she forgot something. She was on the menu for a good rogering, not this girl. This girl was appetizer and she was doing her job admirably. Bethlynn had a long torso, her legs were short, a bit thick for her body but her ass made them look normal, swelling behind her with fine, plush curves but more or less straight to the sides, like they forgot her hips or redistributed her wealth from them to her ample, plush and luscious tits. Her stomach was long and lean, forming a rippled transverse between the hips and her breasts. Her shoulders arched backwards, thrusting her breasts forward. Gotta love good posture.

The first two buttons fastened, she gripped the sides of the blouse and pulled them forward and together, wrapping her tits in the loving embrace. She held the two sides together and looked at me, blinking her eyes. My fucking hands were shaking. I moved forward, almost backhanding Liza when she snorted. I pulled the first button, the one just under the lower bulge of her bare breasts, I pulled it, pulled it carefully, tugging against the full thrust of her breasts, pulled against the stubborn resistance of her tits, pulled the poor, frightened little button into the button hole and hooked it. The motion plumped up her breasts as if my hands were planted under them, pushing them together. I thought I could hear the little button squealing with the strain. I so wanted to help.

Bethlynn pulled harder on the remainder of the blouse.

I found the next button, my hands shaking so hard I could barely move them in a single direction. I felt the heat of this woman's body and I wanted her, I had to have her. I heard shuffling behind me. I hooked the button into the button hole, pulling the blouse tight across the crest of her incredible tits. Shit, I was right there, close enough to touch. I didn't. I remained polite, careful to keep the boundaries in place. She closed her eyes, saying tacitly "I'm not watching what you do next." I buttoned the next button and the next, finishing with my hands under her chin. She removed her hands.