The Commander Ch 06

This is my first erotic story – I welcome all feedback.

---

It was a lazy Sunday morning. Jocelyn had been staying with us since Wednesday night. On Thursday night, Fiona and Jocelyn had blown me away by dressing themselves up, and even doing their make-up, so they were exactly identical – and I really mean exactly. We had such amazing sex that night, and I still have no clue which girl sucked and fucked me, and they're not telling.

I had skipped Jocelyn to be a good sister – to treat her with respect and dignity. So far, so good, Fiona was tickled with how well she and Jocelyn were getting along.

I was watching recorded TV in the living room. "Jet," Fiona called out from the kitchen. I paused the TV. "Jocelyn said she would like a bedside lamp so she can read in there. Do we have anything in storage?"

I had checked Jet's storage room just after Fiona and I returned from our weekend in Paris, and I remember seeing two or three lamps there. "Yeah," I replied, "I'm pretty sure we have a few." I thought for a moment. "Jocelyn," I was now looking at her, "do you want to come down and pick out the lamp you like?"

"Sure," Jocelyn shrugged. I then realized Jocelyn probably didn't care what the lamp looks like, but the deal was done.

"Oh!" Fiona skipped out of the kitchen, "I'll go too – I've never been in the storage room!" she exaggerated a quiver of mock excitement. I had anticipated this eventuality. Before Jocelyn flew up to see us, I went down to the storage room and pulled all the computer equipment out of there. I put it in the trunk of my BMW, and a few days later, when I was checking in on Don's (my old) house, I left all the equipment there. I didn't want to spy on Fiona anyway, and I didn't want her to discover just how creepy the old Jet really was. Clearly I wasn't thinking straight when I did that, because if I had, I could have prevented the scene that was about to unfold in that small windowless room.

We took the elevator down to the garage. I unlocked the storage room and turned on the light. The small table that used to hold the laptop and WiFi hub now lay bare. "Oh!" called out Fiona, "my skis. I wondered where they went." The girls started pawing through things out of curiosity and chatting idly, looking at everything except the lamps.

It was impossible to miss the large wooden box with a padlock on it. Jocelyn crouched down to examine it more closely. "What's in here," Jocelyn asked out of idle curiosity.

"Just personal stuff," I said with the most boring tone I could imagine.

"Open it up," Jocelyn said.

"No, it's ..." I just realized that wasn't Jocelyn who said that. Their voices are so similar, I just assumed Jocelyn was continuing her conversation, but looking at Fiona's face now, I instantly knew she had said it.

Staring hard at me with wide eyes of fury, Fiona spoke again, this time she enunciated each syllable loudly and distinctly. "OP-EN IT." Fiona stood rigid with her fists clenched. Her face was ashen white. She was trembling.

Still crouching at the box, Jocelyn did a double take on Fiona, looked at me, and looked back at Fiona. She didn't need a psychic twin bond to understand something serious was going down right now. Without speaking a word, Jocelyn said everything when she stood up, walked over to Fiona, unclasped Fiona's fist, and took Fiona's hand in her own. Together they stood strong, boring holes through me with matching cold, blue steel eyes.

I had walked myself into this trap. Fiona knew what was in that box. She was the one who first told me what was down here. Fiona probably didn't have the courage to face this alone. During this past week, Jocelyn had proven to be a dependable ally, and now the united sisterhood was staging a showdown over the atrocities committed by the old Jet. The problem is, I was going to be the one to answer for them.

None of the ironies escaped me. I was the one who pressed Fiona to invite Jocelyn up here. I was the one who skipped Jocelyn into being a decent, loyal sister to Fiona. With Jocelyn still under my skip, I suppose I could have then ordered her to turn against Fiona, but that would have created more problems between Fiona and me than I knew how to count. I saw this situation unfolding in one of two ways – good or bad – and all my secret powers were useless to influence which outcome prevailed.

Without a word, I pulled my key ring out and unlocked the padlock and opened the box. Fiona broke away from Jocelyn's hand and in two strides was at the box. She instantly recognized the implement of her torture, reached in, and pulled out the white cattle prod, spun around, and thrust it toward my face.

Fiona sob screeched louder than I thought possible "HOW'D YOU LIKE IT IF I SHOVED THIS UP YOUR ASS AND PULLED THE TRIGGER UNTIL YOUR EYES POPPED OUT, YOU FUCKING PIG ASSHOLE FUCK!" She stood there without breathing. Her face went beet red – the cattle prod shook violently in her hand – her eyes shifted wildly side to side.

Suddenly Fiona dropped the prod, covered her face, and collapsed to the floor in a sitting position, and began sobbing inconsolably while she rocked back and forth.

"Oh my God!" wailed Jocelyn, both hands to her mouth. She rushed to sit on the floor beside the endlessly sobbing Fiona and hugged her, joining in her body motion. They gently swayed to the same silent tune.

There was nothing I could do or say that would help this situation. This had to run its own course. After watching the girls weeping together on the floor for five minutes, I stepped outside and closed the door, and sat on the hood of my BMW. I think half an hour passed before I heard talking sounds from within the room. I couldn't make out the words, but I moved to the back of the BMW just the same, in case they opened the door and accused me of eavesdropping.

They must have talked in there for over an hour. I eventually stepped into my car and sat in the driver's seat. When at last the storage room door opened, I stepped out of my car. Both their eyes were puffy and red with crying.

"We're going upstairs to change." Jocelyn was speaking for both of them. "Then we're going out. You're not invited."

"I know," I said. "I'll stay here, but I want you to promise me one thing."

Jocelyn stared at me silently.

"If you discover you have been drinking, call me or a call a cab."

Again without a word, the two girls walked to the door, and disappeared into the vestibule to call the elevator. I went back into the storage room, put the cattle prod back in the box, locked it, and turned off the light before I locked the door. I left the building through the garage pedestrian door, and walked the neighborhood streets aimlessly for about an hour. I wanted to give the girls space while they changed, redid their makeup, and came back down to the garage to Fiona's car.

When I returned to the condo building, I went back to the storage room. Fiona's Mercedes was gone. I randomly picked out a lamp, locked the storage room up again, and went upstairs to watch some recorded TV.

I killed time as best as I could, but I couldn't take my mind off Fiona. My logical side was telling me this was a good development. Fiona needed to go through an exploration phase before she could come around to accepting me, and this was the catalyst to do just that. The emotional side was worrying this was the snowball that starts the avalanche, and the girls were out there right now cataloging every sordid thing Jet ever did to Fiona, and they were reaching the conclusion that no amount of love or money could ever set that right.

I tried reading my Harry Bosch novel, but I just couldn't keep Fiona out of my mind long enough to absorb the story. I found myself reading the same page five times, and I still didn't know what it said, so I put it down. I had no more unwatched recorded TV shows, so started channel surfing live TV. I must have dozed off, because I awoke when my cell phone chimed in 12:30 with a text message from Fiona that both relieved and frightened me:

NOT COMING HOME 2NITE - AT HOTEL

I was mildly conflicted about this whole situation. On one hand, I knew I could just skip Fiona and force her to bury her bad feelings about the old Jet, but on the other hand I had already crossed a line where I would no longer do those things to Fiona. Skipping Fiona would be a betrayal to the pledge I made to myself in Paris, and to Fiona. In a tribute to my growing moral backbone, I reaffirmed my commitment to Fiona and decided against even thinking about skipping her out of this problem. I turned off the TV and went to bed. By now I was emotionally exhausted, so sleep came easily.

"Jet" I heard Fiona call to me in a distant dream.

"Jet!" I wasn't dreaming. Fiona was waking me up. It was morning. She was shaking my shoulder. "Jet, wake up."

"What time is it?"

"It's seven. Jet, you have to get up." There was an urgency in her voice.

"What's so important," I asked as I swung my legs over and planted my feet on the floor.

"Jet, we need to talk to you." My heart stopped. 'We' means Fiona has arrived at a decision, and she needs back-up to deliver the bad news. The united sisterhood is about to render their final verdict, and it's lights out for Jet. I really thought the logical side would win out. I dropped my head in despair.

"Jet, PLEASE!" Fiona whined. For the life of me I couldn't understand why this won't wait to a more civil hour.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I complained as I stood up. That reminded me of a novel I read when I was a kid – I forget which one – about a guy who is on death row in a Russian prison. His neighboring cell mate advised him to be sure to go to the bathroom just before the moment of execution, because after you're dead, the body relieves itself. Deny them that indignity.

"Okay," she conceded. "Please don't take too long,"

"Quite right," I observed. A speedy execution is always best.

After I washed my hands, I walked out to the living room in my house coat. Fiona and Jocelyn were sitting beside each other at the dining room table. They looked anxious.

I sat down across from them. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Jocelyn. Now I was getting pissed. She knew exactly why she was there, and she's starting to break my balls over it. Maybe this is what Fiona was worried about when she warned me about Jocelyn's character.

I resisted the temptation to return a sarcastic reply. "Look," I said. "Let's just do this."

"Jet," Fiona started, "Jocelyn is in big trouble. She needs our help."

Total reset. I tried clearing my mind, but it wasn't working. "That's why you're here – I mean, part of this discussion – because you're in trouble?" I stammered to Jocelyn.

"Well, I didn't really want to, but Fiona kind of made me," she confessed.

"Okay," I said to Jocelyn. Turning to Fiona, "Before we get into this, tell me. Where do we stand?"

"What do you mean?" Fiona asked genuinely.

"Yesterday you left in a terrible state and you didn't come home last night. I am just trying to figure out what is happening to you and me – to us."

"Oh you thought ..." Fiona realized something, and then scrunched her face with a perplexed look, "... what did you think?"

"He's trying to figure out if you're dumping him," Jocelyn interjected.

"Really?" Fiona asked inquisitively. She really wasn't getting it. "But, if I was dumping you, why would Jocelyn be here."

"Back-up," I observed flatly.

"Oh my God!" smiled Fiona. "That's so cute!"

"Okay, so ..." I hesitated, looking at Fiona, "... we're good?"

"Is the old Jet back?" Fiona asked flatly.

"No," I declared firmly. "Not even a little."

"Then we're good."

I closed my eyes and exhaled softly. Then I looked at Jocelyn. "Okay," I started over. "What's going on?"

It took me well over an hour of questioning, clarifying, cross referencing, and backtracking to take in the whole story. In short, Jocelyn's ex-husband, Ted, had a gambling addiction. Over the course of three years he wiped out their bank accounts, forged her signature to mortgage the house to the brim, and drained their retirement funds – all behind Jocelyn's back. Jocelyn's first clue that anything was wrong occurred when her credit cards were declined after Ted had maxed all of them out.

Jocelyn saw no end to Ted's madness, and she was being dragged down with him. Three months ago, when Ted was out, Jocelyn hired a locksmith to change all the locks and put bars on the windows. She then had a lawyer draft separation papers. The divorce is still pending.

Jocelyn distanced herself from Ted as quickly and as far as possible. She disconnected the house phone and bought a new cell phone. That's when Fiona found out about the impending divorce, when Jocelyn called her about why Jocelyn had a new phone number, and not to tell Ted. I am guessing Jocelyn did not tell Fiona about the financial disaster, because later, when Jocelyn was bragging about all her house upgrades when we picked her up at the airport, Fiona didn't seem surprised or confused. It sounds like those house upgrade stories were just a fabrication for Fiona's benefit.

Jocelyn had not seen or heard from Ted for two months until one day, about a month ago, the police knocked at her door, saying they were investigating the disappearance of Ted. Over the next two weeks, Jocelyn learned through the police that Ted owed loan sharks, and worse, got involved in drug trafficking. Ted was an airline pilot, and so he had certain privileges that make drug smuggling easier.

It seems one of Ted's drug shipments went missing, and so did Ted. Ted's airline employer called the police after he didn't show up for three days and they couldn't reach him.

A week after the police visited Fiona, she received a phone call on her new cell phone from a blocked number. The man did not identify himself, and said Ted owed him over a hundred thousand dollars, and as Ted "is no longer with us" – Jocelyn remembers the man using those exact words – they are now collecting from Jocelyn, Ted's wife. She told them good luck – she has no money – and then hung up.

A week after that – two weeks ago now – Jocelyn found an envelope wedged in her front door when she got home. Inside was a picture of a stripper with Jocelyn's face clumsily Photoshopped over the original face, and the hand scrawled message read something like "there are more ways to pay a debt than using money – or would you rather be with Ted?"

She called the police right away. They interviewed her in her house and took away the picture and envelope in evidence bags, and Jocelyn hadn't heard from the police until yesterday. A police officer phoned Jocelyn's cell yesterday afternoon, while Jocelyn and Fiona were out drinking, and asked her where she was. She explained she was out of town at her sister's place, and the police officer said that's good, because their investigation has led the Police to believe Jocelyn's situation as a credible threat.

I stopped Jocelyn right there. "Are you certain they used the words 'credible threat'?" I asked Jocelyn.

"Yes, pretty sure," she answered. "Why?"

"Because," I reflected solemnly, drawing on my former life as a security professional, "that is code among law enforcement agencies. It means you are in grave danger." Fiona raised her hands to her mouth and her eyes darkened with fear, but she didn't speak

"Go on," I asked Jocelyn to continue.

"Well, that's about it," concluded Jocelyn. "I just got that phone call yesterday. That's all Fiona and I have been talking about since midnight."

"You've been up the whole night?" I followed up.

"Yeah," Fiona answered. I thought for a long while without speaking. I knew lots of people, but not as Jet. I needed an angle.

"What should we do," Fiona asked shakily.

"First," I declared definitively, looking at Jocelyn. "Give me your cell phone – right now." Jocelyn went to her bedroom and brought her purse back out. She handed her cell phone to me. I took the battery and SIM card out, and stuffed the phone, card, and battery in my pocket. "I'll get you a new one," I offered.

"Two," I continued, "Jocelyn does not go back home." I paused. "Not until the threat has been neutralized."

"For how long?" Jocelyn asked.

"I mean it", I asserted. "Not until the threat has been removed. Weeks, months, years, forever. Who knows?"

"You just want to do three-ways every weekend!" she smiled, injecting some badly needed humor.

"Aw shucks," I play acted, snapping my fingers, "you saw right through my brilliantly devilish plan." Fiona smiled.

"So now what?" contemplated Jocelyn.

"Temporarily," I ventured, "we put you some place safe – somewhere no one will think to look for you." I was thinking of just a place.

"I can stay here," Jocelyn started, but then corrected, "well, not necessarily here, in your condo, but I can stay away for a few weeks. But eventually I have to get back. There are some things I will have to do."

"I know," I agreed. "Ultimately, you may have to sell your house."

"Well, the bank is going to take it over anyway," Jocelyn sighed.

"I'm sorry, Jocelyn," I offered, "I have been focusing on the security side of things, but I guess you have basically already told me. You're out of money?"

"And to think," Jocelyn stewed, "four years ago we owned our own house free and clear, we had no debts, and had a sweet retirement fund." I was trying to imagine how that was possible at Jocelyn's and Ted's age. Maybe there was an inheritance involved. I didn't pursue it – it was irrelevant.

"Jet," Fiona interrupted my thinking, "can I talk to you?" Fiona and I left Jocelyn at the table and went into our bedroom. I knew what was coming.

She closed the door. "Jet, I have no right to ask you this, but ..."

"What do you want?" I interrupted.

"I want us to help her." She paused. "No. That's not right. I am asking – begging – you to help her. I know it's not my money. It's not our money. It's your money. I'll rip up the new prenup if that makes a difference. I'll get a job. I will ..."

"Stop!" I said softly, gently taking Fiona by the arms. "You will not rip up that prenup. That is yours. You don't need to get a job. I have enough money to handle this."

"So you'll help?"

"Whatever it takes."

"It could get expensive – if her tastes are anything like mine ..."

"Fiona, what would you think of me if Jocelyn was hurt, or worse, because I didn't do everything I could?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you so much," she hugged me.

"I guess we really should set some limits on her spending," I reflected. Fiona pulled away and nodded. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was too choked up to speak.

I waited for Fiona to recompose herself, then we returned to the dining room.

"Jocelyn," I said as Fiona and I sat down, "do you have a valid separation agreement with Ted?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I need a copy of that. Can you ask your lawyer to send you a copy here?"

"Well, I'll ask, but I still owe him money, so I don't know how helpful he will be."

"That won't be a problem," I assured her. "We'll call him today and straighten that out."

I thought for a moment before continuing with Jocelyn. "This is what we're going to do. First," holding up one finger, "you will stay with us until we can find you a safe place of your own. Second," with two fingers, and so on, "we are going to take care of your mortgage, your credit cards, your lawyer, and anything other financial things that are on fire so you don't lose your house and you don't ruin your credit rating – any more than it is already. Third, we will find you a longer term accommodations. All that should happen in the next two weeks, I'd guess."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly, waiting for the "but".