The car hummed comfortably.
It did not seem to touch the road. The landscape flashed by. So did age old trees and even older houses. It drove through crumbling villages and past endless knee-high walls. They were meant to protect them from a dive into the lake.
The twilight had a golden touch. The sun had already sunk behind the mountains, but the sky still held on to the light. It painted a myriad of feathery clouds in a shade of apricot.
Angique sat in the corner of the tan leather seat.
She had her legs pulled under her. She wore a black silk dress that clung to her body. It seemed simple. The top was straight with narrow lace straps. Her left leg showed itself almost to the pale top of her thigh. There the dress fell open because of a deep slit. She wore no stockings and had kicked off her backslung heels. They lay on the floor.
Kristie sat next to her.
She held knees together. Her back was very straight. Her fingers played with the tiny purse in her lap. She wore a dress of silk similar to Angique's. But hers was a very light blue and it seemed closed at the throat. When she moved, however, one would get a look into a deep slit.
It exposed part of her cleavage, way down her bra-less tits.
The hem of the dress did not begin to cover half of her thighs. It failed to meet the lace top of her white sheer stockings by inches. She wore patent leather heels in the colour of her dress. And she was extremely nervous.
"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," Angique purred. She laid a hand on her arm. "They will all be very kind, truly."
"I am not used to this, Mistress," Kristie said with a very timid voice. "I don't know a thing about etiquette or how to dine the European way. I'll get drunk surely and that will make me do silly things. I have never worn a dress like this or even shoes like these."
She let out a silent sob. She almost tore the delicate purse in two.
"I am so afraid I will let you down!" she squealed and buried her blonde head in Angique's dress. She sobbed her heart out.
Angique rolled her eyes. She patted the golden curls.
The girl did not stop sobbing. She even started to cry. Angique grabbed her shoulders. She janked her up until the streaked, miserable face was in front of hers. Then she screamed, at the top of her lungs: "STOP THIS, YOU FOOL!!"
Kristie stopped her wailing at once. Her body shook with frustrated sobs. Her eyes opened wide. Her lower lip trembled.
"Cut this out, you sorry little idiot. Would I ever ask anything of you that you could not deliver? Is this how you regard me? How you thank me for taking you away from your miserable life? I hate this, this way you degrade yourself. Stop it! Stop distrusting me, you ungrateful bitch. Look at yourself. Look at your smeared face. Look at the running mascara, the snot dripping from your nose. STOP IT NOW!!"
To underline her words she shook the girl severely. She made her free tits bounce inside the dress. The blonde curls danced around her face.
The girl was in shock.
Her lips moved. They were glossed over with tears and snot. Little squeals escaped her panting chest. Her hands fluttered like pale nestlings not knowing how to fly.
Then she sniffed.
She pulled the back of her hands over her nose and eyes. They left streaks of make up. Her eyes sparkled in a dramatic frame of ruined mascara.
"I…I am so sorry, Mistress," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. It still choked on the afterquakes of her emotions. "I… I let you down…I am not worthy…I…"
The wet slap rang through the car. It made Kristie's face snap aside.
"WHAT did I tell you, you damn nitwit?"
Angique's green eyes blazed. She pushed her face into the girl's.
"What did I tell you not a minute ago about diminishing yourself, you dumb little ass? Not worthy, you say? Do you doubt my judgement, you insolent cunt? Do you think I would even waste a second on unworthy fools? Do you suggest I would choose an unworthy girl to become my creature? Do you think you know better? Well??"
Angique had pushed her face forward with every screaming word. She forced Kristie back into her corner. The girl ended up with her head pressed against the window. Her eyeballs ran amok inside their sockets. They were two panic stricken mice cornered by a bloodthirsty cat. The blush of the slap ran diagonally over her face. She half-heartedly tried to protect it from the fearsome fury.
To her utter dismay she noticed how a gush of urine left her quaking pussy.
A minute of silence passed.
It was the kind of silence that makes holes in time. It was void of more than sound alone. Caught in a halo of panic Kristie imagined that she could smell her piss.
Then she felt two warm, soft hands cup her face. A slow tongue licked the salt off her skin. It lapped up the sweat of fear, the tears of despair. And the mascara of a long since ruined make up.
That was when Kristie broke down for real.
Angique held her tight and allowed her to destroy a priceless dress. The black haired woman shhhh-ed and clucked. She cradled the blonde girl. And she hummed an age-old lullaby.
The crying subsided.
Angique knocked at the window pane that separated them from the driver. As it slid down she asked him to U-turn. He should take them back to the Villa to refresh themselves and change.
***************************
The restaurant lay below the corniche.
It straddled an inlet for boats that had been hewn into the living rock. It went by the un-Italian name of Chez Pierre. The owner was of French origin. The place was the former boathouse of a villa higher up in the hills. It had been enlarged and rebuilt into a modest, but very tasteful restaurant.
The entrance was at the top of a few steps. It was set inside a portal overgrown with vines and bougainvillea. To the right was a spectacular terrace. It stretched out, overlooking the lake below.
Pierre himself greeted them as they reached the steps.
He was a tall dark man. He had a gallic nose and quick, mischievous eyes. He greeted Angique in rapid French. Then he took her pale hand into his. He grazed a kiss over its backside.
Kristie prepared herself for a greeting. She extended her hand. But the man totally ignored her. He lead Angique inside. Kristie hesitated for a second. Then she followed with a mute sigh.
Both women had changed into dresses similar to the ones her emotional breakdown had ruined. Her own was a sky blue silk with a precarious decolleté. It would only hang on to her nipples as long as she kept them excited. That seemed the easiest task of this evening. It would take her the rest of the night to get used to not wearing anything under it at all.
The hem of the dress, like the first one, hardly reached down half her thighs. If she pulled at it enough, it might reach the elastic lace at the top of her white stockings. Which of course was a very unwise thing to do.
Her shoes were the same as before. They had embarrassingly high heels and gave hardly any support.
