No Controlling Legal Authority

Nancy was waiting for her when she burst through the door. Imogene was wild eyed, half crazed with fright, and she gasped, "Nancy."

Nancy put her hands on her hips and glared at the girl. "Get a grip, honey. It ain't nothing but a little ole cock."

"Nanccccccccy," the girl wailed in mortification.

"It's what the audition is all about, darling; now, you just get your hot little ass back out there and show him how nice you can be."

"Nanccccccy," she wept and pressed her back against the door, barring the way as though she was the keeper of the gates of Rome and all the Mongol hordes were outside clamoring for admission. She glanced around the windowless room, seeking a new avenue of escape, but there was none. Then, she looked toward the expanse of previously blank wall, which had flanked the doorway, and she was shocked to discover that the wall had retracted, revealing a bank of television monitors and a huge panel of switches, knobs and dials. Her eyes swept the monitors, and she recognized instantly the interior of the den, the couch and Archie, who was, at the moment, squirming on the couch, obviously agitated and fiddling with the edge of his towel. She turned, gaping in dismayed confusion, toward her hostess.

"Get going, girl; he can't wait long, and, if he leaves, you flunk. No Cancun for you, sweetie."

"Nancccccccccy, please, she wailed in desperation. Her stomach was knotted like Archie's towel, and she was on the verge of vomiting. "Pleassssssse, don't..."

"Goddammit, girl, I said, `get a grip on yourself,'" Nancy screamed at her, and, without warning, she fetched the trembling girl a lick across the face with the palm of her hand.

"Owwwww," Imogene yelped and hung her head in despair. She pressed her palm against her stinging cheek, and moaned, "Please, please, don't make me; I, I, I can't...."

"Of course, you can, honey. It's just fucking; nothing more. You just lay back with your legs open and let him stick it in you till he cums. If you relax a little, you get to cum, too. That's what I meant by `fun,' darlin; now, get out there and have some fun."

"No, no. Nancy, I can't; no, not like that; not just walk out there and do it."

"Sure you can; there’s nothing to it. You just go do it. He fills you up for a while, and then he's gone. You wash up and it's over; you can forget all about it later, if you want to."

"I, I, I can't...” the hapless girl pleaded.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, girl, of course you can. It's just sex, dammit; it doesn't mean anything. It's just a cock in a pussy with no strings attached. That's the trouble with uptight bitches like you, Imogene; you can't take sex for what it is, you got to gussy it all up with weddings and veils and vows you can't keep but hate yourself for breaking. Forget all that shit, and get your ass out there and have some fun with a real cock for a change."

"Oh, nooooooo, I couldn't, I can't. Rufuuuuuuuuuuuus," she sobbed.

"Rufus? Rufus ain't going to know nothing about it, honey. You're gonna get the fucking of your life, and, when you're done, you're gonna get dressed and go home and fix supper just like you always do, and he's going to come home and hang his hat on the hook and sit down to read the paper, just like he always does, and the world will go on like nothing at all happened. Oh, you might have to put him off a day or two, while your pussy pulls itself back into shape, or else he might get the idea that the garage grew some, while he was out toolin’ around in the family car, but you ought to be able to handle that ok."

Good God, she can't mean it; images careened and collided in her brain chaotically. Conscience and raw desire competed for her devotion and whipsawed her to inert indecision. "It's just sex," she repeated like a cantor intoning encouragement to the converted, but she was raised to be a "nice girl," and her mother really did believe she had remained a virgin till her wedding day. "It's just sex," the cantor's voice rose, singsong, in perfect tempo with the trip-hammer throbbing in her loins, and she chanced a glance at Archie fondling himself on the monitor just behind her. Oh, oh, God, it's sooo, sooo...; I wonder how it would..., if I could..., what he would...? She stared at the image in wonder, and all the while, circling in her mind, like a banner behind a tow plane, were the words of her solemn promise, "...forsaking all others, till death do us part." She closed her eyes, and Rufus appeared to her. Good ole Rufus, loyal, honorable, true to his word and to her; how could she dare to face him across the dinner table with the memory of Archie's presence still throbbing inside her? How could she bare to watch him sop his gravy with a biscuit, while Archie's essence was still dripping out of her open wound? Oh God, what if, she trembled, he wants to feel me there, put his fingers in me while I'm cooking dinner, like he does sometimes when he's horny, and she blanched at the thought, and, covering her eyes with her hands, she cried out, "No, no, please don't make me, please.

"Ok then, fuck you," Nancy spat at her in exasperation. "Get out; go home; be a worm the rest of your miserable life."

"Nancccccy, please."

"Please what, you damn fool? Please forget about it? Get over my disappointment? Not to mention Archie's? Oh, I don't think so. And, what about Maxine and all the trouble she's gone to, huh? She'll be disappointed, too, you know; she was counting on you to come through for her."

"Huh?" The girl was bewildered and uncomprehending.

"Sure she'll be disappointed, and pissed off, too, I expect. I know all about her little talk with you, sister; she thought you were paying attention, said she couldn't wait to have you in the club. When she finds out how you let us both down, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she calls in your account at the shop.

"Wha??? She couldn't, wouldn't...."

"She can, and she will."

"But, but, I owe $5000; I can't pay that much all at once."

"$6300, darling," Nancy corrected her, "You should have thought about that before you decided to let us down. Let's see, now, I figure you have about 45 days. She'll send you a bill calling the account, like you agreed she could do in the contract you signed, and she'll give you ten days to come up with the money. When you don't pay, she'll call her lawyer, and he'll sue you for it. Shouldn't take Judge Holmes more than a week or two, less than that if he's horny, to decide you owe the money, so, there you go, darlin, forty-five days to sweat, and then "your ass is grass and I'm the lawn mower," as they say. How's your sweet Rufus gonna take that, honey?"

"But, but," the girl babbled desperately, "she said she wouldn't ever do that; that it was just some foolishness her lawyer put in there, and he didn't even ask her first."

"Oh, yeah, right," Nancy sneered sarcastically. "Welcome to the planet, Imogene; she's my friend, she'll do whatever I ask her to do."

"Nanccccccccccy, you wouldn't do that; it would ruin us forever."

Imogene's hands were shaking. The enormity of her predicament was quickly sinking in despite the mind-numbing effects of her many martinis. She felt trapped, cornered, like the time she snuck out on a date with Alice McBride's boyfriend, the class valedictorian, and a couple of days later five or six of Alice's girlfriends surrounded her in the girl's locker room at school and pushed her into a corner of the shower threatening to beat her up if she even spoke to the boy again. Her instinct for self-preservation had kicked in, and her dignity readily succumbed to it; she had promised, and she kept her word, even though she could tell the boy was hurt and confused by a girl, who could run so hot one day and so cold the next.

"Remember what Maxine told you?" Nancy asked her pointedly. "`Make her happy, whatever she wants?'"

"Yes," the girl whimpered abjectly.

"Well, what Nancy wants is for you to go out there right this minute and give that boy the best fucking he's ever had. Am I clear on that?"

"Nancccccccy," Imogene whimpered hopelessly; her eyes darted from Nancy to the bank of monitors showing Archie waiting for her to reemerge, and, then, to the knob on the door to the den. She was frozen by fear and indecision. She gulped for air like a dying fish, but no sounds emerged.

"Oh, fuck you," Nancy snarled impatiently at Imogene's unresponsiveness, and she shoved the young woman aside to clear the way to the console. Imogene staggered drunkenly into the wall, rebounded, then collapsed in utter desolation to the floor.

"Archie?" Nancy snapped into a microphone, which was suspended on a cable hanging from the ceiling.

"Yes, ma'am." Archie's voice reverberated loudly inside the small dressing room, causing Imogene to jerk in fear that somehow he had entered the room without being observed and was standing over her at that very moment.

"Get Maxine on the phone for me, NOW," Nancy screamed into the microphone.

"Aw, mom." Archie's voice dripped with disappointment.

Imogene knelt on the carpet wringing her hands. Tears poured down her cheeks and splashed on her bare thighs. A hurricane of conflicting emotions was sweeping Cancun away before her very eyes, her dreams and ambitions were slipping from her grasp forever, and, amid the wreckage, the plaintive cry of an innocent boy, whom she had teased beyond any normal man's ability to endure rose to haunt her. What had she expected when she was rubbing her legs against his knees and wiggling her hips under his hot gaze, she questioned herself? How did she think he would react when she shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and let it slide down her arms to her elbows, completely uncovering her breasts to him? She had been cruel and thoughtless, she chided herself, provoking his lust and stimulating his excitement, thinking only of her own ambition.

"You heard me, dammit. Get her NOW; use her beeper number; she'll know we're having a problem up here."

"But, I want Mrs. Justice, mama," Archie protested. "Can't you make her come back?"

The boy's misery cut through Imogene like a bitter winter wind and wrenched her heart. I used him, she reminded herself; I teased him and used him to get into the club, and I loved watching his reaction, because it made me feel special, pretty, like I really AM desirable. She knelt and wept in self-pity, and struggled to keep her head from spinning. As she knelt, the eye of the hurricane crept over her head, and a single ray of sunshine broke through the clouds befuddling her brain. "It's only sex," she reminded herself, and the new light gave her hope that Cancun might yet survive the storm.

"No, son, I can't make her come back; you know the rules. Now, be a man and get Maxine like I told you."

Imogene struggled to right herself and blinked through her tears to look at Nancy. She was hunkered over the monitor console expectantly, as though waiting for a signal from Archie. Imogene swallowed, gulping the bitter bile that had surged into her throat on a wave of nausea, and tried to speak.

"Nancy, please, don't..." she began. Her hand was outstretched toward the woman in a gesture of surrender.

Nancy looked in her direction and frowned. She studied the girl warily for a moment, then slowly turned back to the microphone and spoke evenly, "Hold on a minute, Archie."

She turned back to the girl and put her hands on her hips, pointedly indicating her displeasure, and spat at her, "Well?"

Imogene crawled across the carpet toward the woman. Her breasts swayed with the movement, but she was incapable of defending her modesty any longer.

"Please," she begged, as she reached the woman and threw her arms around her legs, "I'll do it, Nancy; I'll do whatever you want."

Nancy looked down at the girl and smiled triumphantly. Imogene's face was pressed against her legs, her nose nudging between her knees. She was sobbing, and her shoulders were heaving. She was kneeling in total subjugation to Nancy's will. This is the point they all reach, sooner or later, she congratulated herself smugly; here's where all they need is a little push, and...

"You'll do what?" Nancy demanded insensitively. She made no effort to console the girl or to help her to her feet.

"Whatever you want me to do, anything," Imogene whispered hoarsely, without looking up.

"And, what precisely is that, my dear? Do you remember?"

"Yes," she replied so softly her voice could barely be heard.

"Well?" Nancy's impatience ripped the air.

"I'll make love to him, ah, Archie; like you said."

"I said nothing about `making love' to Archie, you idiot. Love's got nothing to do with it."

"Yes, yes," the girl responded, quickly acknowledging her error. "I mean, I'll have sex with him, I'll fuck him, just like you said. He'll like it, I promise."

"How can I trust you now, Imogene? You let me down once already; how do I know you won't do it again? And, just look at that poor boy in there; you got him so excited and eager, and he was just dying to please you, to make YOU feel good, and what did you do? You ran out on him like some goddamned, teenaged prick teaser and made him feel like a piece of crap, that's what you did. Now, look at him," she demanded, pointing to the screen, "sitting in there feeling rejected with his hottie meter all deflated. I'm telling you, it's enough to make a mother want to scratch your eyes out."

Imogene stared in horror at the monitor, confirming Nancy's report with her own eyes. The boy appeared dejected all right, lying on his back, pointlessly toying with a Rubik’s Cube, with his fallen member lying inertly across his lap like a collapsed Tower of Pizza. He glanced furtively toward the dressing room door, while she was watching him, and a pang of anxious guilt shot through her like an arrow. She turned away, burying her face again.

"Nancy, I, I'll mach ish better for him," she slobbered on the woman's knees.

"You're too late, dammit; he's already soft."

"Bbbbbut," the girl sputtered in protest at the thought of her chance slipping away so easily, "I'll model some more for him, he likes that, I could tell."

"That's not how it works, honey," Nancy said darkly.

"Oh, please, let me try, Nancy; let me go out there and model for him right now, please."

"How do I know you'll keep your word? What's to stop you from rejecting him again and making things worse than they already are? I can't let you go back out there just to hurt him again."

"I promise, please, I promise I wouldn't hurt him again. Please let me make it up to him, and you, please." The girl was begging earnestly, and her hands gripped Nancy's calves for support.

"Prove it. Prove it to me first, before I let you go back out there with him." Nancy glowered down at the abject girl; her hands, clenched into angry fists, remained on her hips.

"Anything, please, I'll do anything you tell me to do."

Nancy looked into the upturned face of the girl kneeling in front of her. She was still beautiful, this newest conquest of hers. Despite the tears and the martinis, the hot lights and the terror, she still glowed with an unmarred, radiant beauty, the woman marveled, and she smiled at her wickedly as her hands dropped to the hem of her skirt.

"Anything?" she asked huskily as her fingers gathered the material into her palms. Archie's problem would just have to wait a few minutes, she thought, at least till she had finished humiliating the weak little bitch and teaching her the facts of life.

Imogene's eyes widened as the cloth slithered up the older woman's thighs, and her imagination raced ahead of the creeping fingers. She clung to Nancy's calves and nodded her agreement, nearly strangling on her response as she uttered the single word, "Anything."

Even before the word had formed on her lips, Imogene realized what this new test of her fidelity was to be, and she bit into her tongue to still yet another protest. A cold shiver of loathsome fear traversed her spine as she reconciled herself to the totality of her capitulation to this crude, harsh woman.

Nancy gathered the material around her waist, while Imogene stared straight ahead and watched the skirt lift through her field of vision. The skirt made agonizingly slow progress, creeping up by millimeters, as though Nancy was relishing every moment. Imogene clung to her as the material slipped up her thighs, higher, higher, tantalizing her with the unexpected, and she caught her breath as the hem reached the top of Nancy's thighs and hovered there briefly. Her eyes swept the twin columns of the woman's towering legs, and, despite her revulsion, she could not repress a twinge of admiration for the smooth shaved, well-tanned surfaces rippling just beyond the tip of her nose. The hem lifted like a curtain rising on a stage and soft tendrils of hair coyly appeared below the retreating fringe. Imogene exhaled, and the curtain rose to expose a narrow wedge of neatly trimmed hairs, which covered the center of the otherwise smoothly shaved mons like a quirky, vertical mustache. Imogene gasped in surprise, and Nancy gave a chuckle in reply.

"Like it, honey? Jolene does it for me. I tried, but I couldn't keep the lines straight, especially way down there, where I can't see what I'm doing, and I kept nicking myself."

Imogene just stared at the woman. Thick, fleshy lips protruded from the thinned thicket of hair and hung like a pair of wrinkled drapes. The hairline extended no more than a half an inch on either side of those lips and bisected the denuded mons like a stripe down the middle of a skunk's back. The patch of hair stopped abruptly an inch or so above the point where the lips emerged, and, taken altogether, the fringe of hair looked like a sort of brown matting surrounding a picture of pouting lips.

"She'll do yours too, honey, if you want her to, and from the looks of things you could do with a good trim."

Imogene blushed furiously at the suggestion that she might allow another woman between her legs for any purpose, and the incongruity of her present predicament with that disposition was entirely lost on her. She fixed her eyes upon the unfamiliar womanhood looming in front of her. She had never been so close to another woman's sex; she had never seen anyone from such short range and in such detail. She, like Tawanda of "Fried Green Tomatoes" fame, had struggled once with a mirror between her legs to get a look at herself down there, but she had abandoned the attempt, when, while trying to throw a little light on the subject, she knocked the lamp over and put a nasty burn on her thigh. Nancy's sex wasn't as ugly looking as she had imagined, only odd, like an oyster with its shell tightly shut, and she wondered what pearls the secret flesh within might cushion. Oh, she was not entirely ignorant, she was a woman after all, and she did have one of her own. She did wash herself and check from time to time for signs or symptoms of things untoward, and sometimes she even allowed herself to console her loneliness with her fingers, and she had felt the tight, wet tissues inside the portal, so she had an idea...

"Lick it," Nancy's voice tore into her thoughts, and, as she spoke, she shifted her weight and moved her feet apart, opening the gap between her thighs.

The movement caused the dangling drapes to separate for an instant, and Imogene glimpsed a bright pink, shimmering line within the folds of flesh. Oh my, she gulped, rocking back on her heels unsteadily. She blinked, half expecting the lips to part on their own volition and suck her in face first like one of those horrid worms in "Dune."

"Well, come on, honey," Nancy snapped impatiently. "Junior can't hang around all day waiting for you to prove yourself."

Oh, sweet Jesus, she thought, leaning toward the heat of the woman's loins, what am I supposed to do now? She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. She was sailing into unfamiliar waters with submerged rocks and ledges all about her. Kiss her, I suppose, she guessed, and her face crept toward the junction of the woman's parted thighs. Closer, and she sensed Nancy's proximity with her nostrils and her cheeks. Perfume and womanly essence mingled pungently, and she knew she was close. She felt Nancy's heat on her cheeks, burning like the warmth from a crackling fire on frostbite, and she realized she was there. Her lips brushed velvet skin, and she battled her nerves for a minute to maintain the contact. She kissed those lips, tentatively, because she didn't know what else to do, and she felt them tremble under her soft caress. Encouraged, she pressed her face into the warm triangle and felt the lips of Nancy's sex flatten against her own. She ground her teeth behind her lips and felt Nancy's lips open to her pressure. She grew bold and planted awkward little kisses up and down the narrow divide between those clinging lips. Her tongue lay quietly within it's bed, for she was again uncertain how best to engage it.