(A companion story to Careful what you ask for)
Caroline, famished after a long day at the fine-art publishing house where she was a Commissioning Editor, finished laying out the trays of the Moroccan takeaway on the coffee table that stood in the angle between the sofa and an easy chair, just as Lorna rang the doorbell. She picked up the bottle of wine from the table and skipped to the front door. She flung it open and theatrically flinging wide her arms shouted her usual greeting, with Lorna making her customary responses with matching extravagance.
"Lornsie!"
"Carrie"
"BIG HUG!"
"BIG HUG!"
"Mwah!" "Mwah!" "Mwah". They kissed cheek to cheek to cheek in best continental style. Caroline held up her wine bottle in expected triumph.
"Safeways 2004."
Lorna played her trump card with a wicked smirk.
"Oddbins 2003."
"Fix! Get inside before I slam the door on you." laughed Caroline.
Lorna draped her black lace shawl over the back of a chair as she looked at Caroline admiringly.
"You look fabulous in that dress Caro'. It's perfect for your figure"
Caroline beamed as she preened and pirouetted.
"Do you really like it Lorn? I wasn't completely sure when I bought it," she lied, smilingly, "so I thought I'd wear it tonight so you could give me your honest opinion."
"Oh well, if it's honest opinions you want, you look like you're wearing a Technicolor bin liner," Lorna giggled.
"Ha! You're just saying that because you're jealous," Caroline flounced and laughed, knowing full well that she looked superb in it.
She was wearing a summer dress in a bright and bold pattern that perfectly showed off her generous assets without being too tight at the top. Below the slightly gathered-in waist was a wonderfully full and floaty skirt that made her lovely legs look almost endless. Caroline was well over five feet ten inches without her high heels and her gorgeously curvacious body and superb legs made maximum use of every inch. Men flocked to her because not only was she beautiful, she knew she was beautiful and was comfortable with her beauty, even though a little part of her remained always sad that the very spectacular beauty of her body itself had ended her dream of being a ballerina.
Caroline's eyes fixed on Lorna's very stylish and sexy black velvety plush high heels.
"Oh Lorn' I love your shoes, Cinderella in High Heels. I wish I had tiny sexy feet like yours."
"You'd never stop falling over My Dear," Lorna giggled as she gave her best friend an affectionate hug.
Just under five feet three inches and with a classic ballerina body, Lorna seemed a not yet fully-grown adolescent girl next to Caroline, her head resting on her friend's dΓ©colletage as they hugged. Although bewitchingly beautiful and with a tempestuous personality that excited and challenged men in droves, she struggled with a poor self-image and was only really happy with herself when she was dancing or in her ballet classes, dressed in a tutu or a leotard with tights and wearing her white satin ballet shoes on her lovely little feet.
Having had hardly any lunch during a demanding day at the law firm where she had just become the youngest woman partner in its history, she hungrily surveyed the evening's offerings on the table.
"Moroccan. Fantastic, I love that lamb and apricot tajine. And what's this?" She picked up the video cassette box, "'Trapped in Her Pleasure Dungeon -- He gets more than a hangover when she offers him a drink.' Date rape in reverse, eh?. Should be fun."
They shared out the takeaway and charged their glasses for the first of several times and settled down for the evening's entertainment, which proceeded with an unbroken accompaniment of cogent and insightful analysis along the lines of,
"Don't let him touch you there, ASSERT YOURSELF WOMAN! Show the little runt who's boss," this from Lorna.
"Get it out. Get it out now." Caroline tried to stand up for the underdog, but was disappointed by the result of her efforts. "Put it back. Put it back."
They cheered as she tightened the dog collar around his neck and tied the lead to the bedpost before picking up the whip.
"A damn good thrashing. That's what they all need," Lorna opined approvingly through a mouthful of tajine. "How I wish I was her, with that ubercreep Howard Prentiss tied to the bed. Do you know, he came up to me after my first partners' lunch and casually suggested that we go away for a 'weekend conference.' He's been trying to get his hands up my blouse since the day I joined Pownalls, and my skirt," she added through another mouthful.
"The trouble is, he'd probably enjoy whatever you did to him," Caroline commiserated. "Oh that's brilliant. Well done girl." She gave her exposition as his bound body squirmed and wrenched in his efforts to reach the high heels that had been placed by his captor on the bed just out of reach of his cord-constrained hands. "That's why she asked him in the wine bar if he liked her shoes. He's going crazy now."
"It's good fun to really frustrate a guy sometimes. Like you know he wants to be completely naked when he's tied up so you make him wear a thong or a g-string and you do it up on him as tight as it will go so it really digs into him up his arse and all around his balls."
Caroline warmed to Lorna's theme. "Or you know he's a tit man so you put a gag on him and then rub your cleavage up and down his face."
"Is Johnny an arse, tit or leg man?"
"Probably a leg man judging by all the stockings and suspenders sets he keeps giving me, although it may just be an easy present for him to get for me because he's too lazy to think of anything else."
"I think Justin would have had to be a combination of all three to get any satisfaction from me." Lorna's downcast expression provoked a sisterly shake of the head from Caroline.
"Why do you always get so down on yourself, Lorn'? You're so beautiful it's sickening. You could be a better Audrey Hepburn than Audrey Hepburn. The phrase 'Elfinly and gaminely pretty' could have been invented for you."
"I'd still like to have a bit of your Jayne Mansfield to even things up a bit", Lorna replied glumly. "And the trouble with watching porn is I feel so bloody horny afterwards. Oh why was I such a bitch to Justin? Where is he when I need him? What am I going to do now, Caro'?
Caroline patted Lorna's knee consolingly. "We need to get your mind onto something else My Girl. It's time you attempted The Challenge."
"Are you sure it's my turn?" Lorna looked at her suspiciously.
"Yes I am and I'm more sober than you so get on with it."
Caroline picked up a sheet of paper previously concealed and clicked on a pen in readiness. To pass The Challenge, Lorna had to remember, in alphabetical order, the names of all twenty-two of the girls who were in their class on their first day at ballet school and drink a miniature of her choice for every name she forgot or misplaced. Fortunately for her liver, she was in top form, intoning the names in her high, piping, clear-as-a-bell soprano with her perfect diction and Oxford English RP accent.
"Let's see, There was Lindsey Adams; that lovely Japanese girl Michiko Ayanuma; Alessandria Bertorelli; Abigail Dale-Hunt; Sarah Danby, "Little Sarah"; Vivienne Drew; Saskia Earle; Emma Garland and Gemma Garwood, 'Em and Gem'; Cheryl Greenwood."
Lorna stopped for a moment as they remembered their friend who had died of leukaemia at seventeen. Then she smiled and continued.
"The one and only Caroline Knight," Caroline bowed theatrically, "Gaynor Linford; not forgetting Moi of course, Lorna MacAllister; Marietta MacIntyre; Sarah O'Connor, "Big Sarah", she grew to six feet by the time she was 18; Gayle Simpson; the Greek twins, Hera and Laodicia Stefaniades; Lorraine Taylor; Alysha Woodville; Imogen Yardley and, last but not least, Miranda Young."
Lorna drained her glass in triumph and promptly refilled it.
"You've been cramming, you sneaky cow," laughed Caroline in mock outrage.
"But of course," giggled Lorna. "The funny thing was, we called Marietta MacIntyre 'Naughty Marietta' when she was the biggest Goody Toe Shoes out of all of us. I always used to hate it that she was always next to me in the register. It was like 'Lorna MacAllister?', 'Yessmiss!', 'Marietta MacIntyre?', 'Yeess Miiiisss' -- simper, simper." Her lip curled in disgust.
"I never understood why they bothered with a register when we all boarded," Caroline digressed. "It's not as if we were in danger of disappearing through a black hole while we were walking the few dozen yards from our dorm to class. She wasn't all that bad though. She didn't grass on any of us after we tied her to her bed and stuffed one of her ballet shoes in her mouth that night. I liked her a lot better after that."