Chapter 9: The Party
"You both understand what's expected?" Carmella asked Marcia and Tony Daly as they stood outside the heavy oak front doors of Appleby Mansion.
Their position at the top of the downward curving concrete steps allowed the three of them a clear view of the cars making their way along the drive. The vast array of trees bordering the long drive were decorated with a variety of coloured lights, all adding to the ambience as well as cutting through the looming darkness.
The limos laid on for their most valued clients would be asked to park to the left beside the stables. Valets were on hand to take the keys from the owners of other cars, with the field normally reserved for clay pigeon shooting serving as a car park for other guests.
The open air orchestra was already in full flow and the large expanse of ground close to the house was filled with marquees, each hosting a different theme. It would be the mansion itself where most of the real action would take place, of course. As usual, Carmella was leaving nothing to chance—hence the last minute instructions.
The place was already alive with the hottest and sexiest Appleby models. Their allure would be impossible to resist and the guests each woman was targeting would all provide the Appleby Empire with valuable connections worldwide. Their cooperation would be ensured once the hidden cameras had recorded the compromising evidence.
And in the unlikely event that anyone should show even the slightest inclination of resistance, a dose of Appleby Blush would be available to break resistance.
"I don't think anyone could resist you in that sexy little number," Carmella continued, her approving gaze covering Marcia's body. It was clear she wasn't wearing a stitch beneath the green dress and her magnificent breasts threatened to spill out of a deep V front.
"Definitely fuckable," Tony Daly drooled, adjusting his black bow tie. He looked the business, too, in his black tux.
"Why thank you, Tony," Marcia giggled, glancing at her host. Carmella looked fabulous, too, in her Giorgio dress. The perfectly fitting black strapless number hugged her full curves in a sexy yet classy way. Simple, yet very sophisticated. She didn't need to show flesh to look hot. "I'd say we'd make a great threesome, wouldn't you?" the redhead cheekily added.
"Maybe..." Carmella smiled, idly running her fingertips along Marcia's cute butt, "that would be a reward for a successful evening. You both know what's expected?"
Daly gave one of his self-satisfied smiles. He'd fucked both of the junior cops—and planned on repeating the dose with Kirsten, that hot bitch was special. But adding Sandra Wilson as another notch on his belt definitely made his cock twitch. "I know, Carmella," he said, with that arrogant grin of his. "Just leave it to us."
"We're on top of it," Marcia quickly added, leaning closer to the Columbian woman. Sometimes Daly only though with his dick—Carmella needed more than cocky answers, she wanted reassurance. "Tony will prep Wilson while I'm getting Alice into position. We have the timing off perfectly. Once he gives the signal, I'll take over."
"You're my warm up act," the black photographer laughed.
The redhead sent him a wry smile. "It'll be my pleasure, Tony. When I'm finished, she'll melt into your arms."
"And Alice," Carmella interrupted, her cutting tone reminding them who was in control. "I don't want her to have any second thoughts. We all know how much is riding on this."
Marcia's face snapped to attention. The warning was gentle but very real. Carmella herself was grooming Kirsten for tonight's events and expected Marcia to do the same with Alice. The two cops had a major role to play in more ways than one. But that wasn't a problem, ever since their marathon lovemaking session, Alice had been putty in her hands.
Tonight would be no different.
***
Alice was on edge as their taxi sat in the queue waiting to gain entry to the magnificent grounds. She'd told Marcia she would be there half an hour ago.
She straightened her dress as she shuffled nervously on her seat in the back of the cab. The short, sequined cream number was perfect, even if the plunging neckline displayed an indecent amount of her perky breasts. Marcia might have more curves, but Alice was determined her new lover would appreciate the effort she'd made.
Maybe sharing a taxi with Kirsten hadn't been such a good idea? Her friend's lost earring had cost them valuable time before they'd even started their journey to the Appleby's. The intention was to separate immediately on arrival—despite Sandra closing the informal investigation, it was still important that they weren't seen together.
"What's going on?" Kirsten asked, as if on cue. She peered out of her side of the window. "We're hardly moving."
"Security," Alice replied, jerking her head around as their taxi edged forward. The two heavyset men by the wrought iron front gate were stopping every car and checking each person's name against their list. Where they had a query, they used a handheld transceiver to check things out before allowing the vehicle to proceed.
It took another ten minutes for them to finally get through.
"Looks like we're okay now," Kirsten said, leaning back contentedly in her seat and glancing out of the window as they eased along the long drive. The heavy artillery of security cameras made her feel like they were entering the set of a James Bond movie. Some were fixed, while others were sweeping back and forth across the area in one-eighty-degree arcs.
The heavily-lit tree lined drive was impressive enough, but as the road led to a clearing that swept downwards to their venue for the evening, the imposing mansion below them was something else. They had a perfect view from their elevated position as each new arrival rolled to a stop in the large quadrangle. No sooner had their guests alighted from their vehicles than they were greeted by champagne carrying male servers, immaculately dressed in white tuxedoes.
"Now that," Alice chuckled, pointing at the flotilla of giant Marquees off to their right that were already buzzing with people and sound. "Is impressive."
Kirsten nodded. The scene below them was breathtaking, and so was her expectancy of what lay in store tonight. Carmella had created a wonderfully decadent picture during their discussions and her anticipation of another session with Tony Daly—or maybe Pierre Laroche?—had been growing in her mind all evening.
She looked hot and she felt hot. Wesley Snipes, you don't know what you're missing...
***
