A Tangled Web Between Two Stones

A Tangled Web Between Two Stones

By Daphne Rivers

(

Author's Note: All characters are over the age of eighteen. All characters, situations, locations and details are fictional. Any resemblence to real life is completely coincidental.

)

1

Natalia Stone weaved her Land Rover Range Rover in and out of traffic on Julington Boulevard. It was noon on a Friday and the three lane road was dense with traffic. Everyone was driving the speed limit, which infuriated Natalia, who considered five miles over the limit a snail's pace. Her destination was the only one that mattered; every other driver was an incompetent inconvenience.

"I'm sorry, I thought we were out here driving!" she screamed. "Not to pussy-foot around on the goddamn streets like a shitty amusement park ride!"

Her hands gripped the steering wheel in a deathgrip. Her tense knuckles were white. Her rage was hidden behind tinted windows. Every driver around her was oblivious.

"Do I need to get out of this fucking SUV and drive your car for you?!"

She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her Louis Vuitton sunglasses looked back. She searched for stress-induced wrinkles. She checked her rouge lipstick to see if it had smeared. She remained, by her standards, immaculate. She blew herself a kiss.

These idiot drivers were going to cause her to pop a blood vessel. She needed a distraction. She turned on her radio. She opened the audiobook app on her smartphone and hit play. She was a few hours into a spicy romance novel. She liked the silky husky feminine voice of the narrator. She was sexy and calming.

The book,

The Queen of Heartbreaks

by Sylvia Silksong, was a loose retelling of Snow White from the evil queen's perspective. The evil queen was deliciously sinister and she ruled her kingdom with a kinky iron fist. Every man in her kingdom was her property. The lines between punishment and reward were blurred for the servants of her kingdom, including her beautiful petite step-daughter, the Princess White Snow.

"

The Princess, delicate and morose, slowly stepped into the Queen's chamber,

" said the narrator. "

The Queen sat on her throne, her powerful fingers stroking the ornate golden head of her staff, atop which was adorned with a pure crystal orb. Her eyes watched Princess White Snow like a leopard watches prey enter its hunting grounds.

"'What beckons you into my chamber, child?' asked the Queen with malicious glee.

"'You do, my queen,' said Princess White Snow. 'I received word of your calling and without delay came to your chambers, as requested.'

"'Does my audience displease you?,' asked the Queen.

"'No my Queen,' said White Snow. 'It is an honour always to be in the presence of your majesty.'

"'Then why do you grace it with a scowl of discontent?' asked the Queen.

"'I mean no disrespect or impudence,' said White Snow. 'But my Queen, on this eve I have been aged eighteen for a fortnight.'

"'Yes?' said the Queen, a fire growing in her eyes.

"'By the gods of time I have been bestowed the crown of womanhood,' said White Snow.

"'Druther no more and make haste to your point,' said the Queen.

"'You declare me a child,' said White Snow, 'when I have bloomed beyond the title. Mightn't your words declare me so when addressed?'

"The Queen's eyes narrowed.

"'You dare tell your Queen what words she may speak?' asked the Queen.

"'No my queen!' said White Snow. 'I wouldn't commit such vulgarities against you. Still, I stand before you a humble princess, but a princess nonetheless. I have known in previous years that such a title is bestowed with respect. How can the Kingdom grace my visage with respect if my Queen refuses the same?'

"The Queen rose from her throne. She approached Snow White with a floating gate, her luxurious black dress pooling behind her like a shadow.

"'Respect?' asked the Queen. 'You request respect while refusing me the same? You choose to address the throne without humility and in the same breath speak of the gods that have placed me upon the throne?'

"'No my Queen,' said White Snow.

"'I hear your words, dripped in venom as they are,' said the Queen. 'So be it. I have heard for too long in these hallowed halls of the fair Princess White Snow and her beauty. You declare womanhood? So be it, I say. Let us see.'

"'See, my Queen?'

"'But of course, dear,' said the Queen. She smiled and her fanged canines glistened under the candelabra alight with green flames. 'The Queen must oversee every nook and crevice of her Kingdom. You proclaim yours are matured. I shall be the judge.'

"The Queen released her staff and it stood as if held by an invisible hand. She placed her long pale fingers on White Snow's shoulders. She ran her long black fingernails up White Snow's neck, tracing her jugular vein which pumped with terror. One powerful swipe of her claw into the babe's perfect flesh would extinguish her flame and render her a lifeless corpse. Instead, the Queen placed her clawed hands into White Snow's modest bodice, between skin and fabric. She tore the garment into, revealing the pure milky skin of White Snow's breasts.

"'My Queen?' trembled White Snow.

"'Do you resist me out of fear or insolence?' asked The Queen.

"'I resist you not, my Queen,' said White Snow, her eyes cast down at the Queen's hands.

"'Prove it,' said the Queen, 'and release yourself from the bondage of your rags. And pray no sudden movements, lest my wrath you want to endure.'

"'Yes my Queen.'"

The narrator described White Snow's disrobement and the revelation of her perfect body. As the Queen's hands wandered White Snow's body--pinching her nipples, slapping her ass, pulling painfully on her pubic hair until the girl begged for mercy--Natalia's hands did her own wandering. Natalia wasn't usually into sapphic fiction, but the mix of taboo subject matter, the power dynamic between the characters, and the narrator's breathy delivery had her aroused.

"Damn this is a good story," said Natalia. "Fuck that little bitch."

Natalia pulled her miniskirt up her thighs and adjusted her ass in the seat. She cursed herself for wearing beige pantyhose as she stretched the nylon with her hand. She rubbed her labia with her middle finger, feeling the edges of her manicured acrylic nails softly scratching the delicate flesh. A gentle warm-up. She rubbed her clit with rotations in a quick rhythm of triplets; one-and-a, two-and-a, three-and-a...

"

'You've known not the touch of a man?' asked the Queen.

"'No, your majesty,' answered White Snow.

"'And the touch of a woman?' asked the Queen.

"'Not a once,' said White Snow. 'My body is as pure as my namesake, untarnished by a man, unblemished by a woman.'

"'Unblemished?' asked the Queen.

"The Queen seized White Snow's shoulder in her cold claw. The princess felt her step-mother's nails dig into her, the tension of which would soon break skin and draw blood. The Queen raised her free hand to White Snow's face. The long nails magically retracted. White Snow watched with incredulity. The Queen lowered her hand. With a gasp from White Snow, the Queen pushed two of her fingers into White Snow's sex.

"'Is that a blemish?' asked the smiling Queen. 'Or a blessing?'

"'I... I know not!' whimpered White Snow.

"'It seems I shall continue,' said the Queen, 'until you grant me an answer.'"

"Oh, you dirty bitch," said Natalia Stone, moaning as she penetrated herself.

"

'Pray give me mercy,' whined White Snow. 'Tis an unseemly act!'

"'You have begged for my affections,' said the Queen. 'And once bequeathed you call them unseemly? The dear Princess White Snow is a fickle fairweather maiden. Declares herself a woman yet acts like a nun in a convent. This is my mercy!'

"Small beads of sweat rested on White Snow's brow like morning dew on a flower.

"'Let us taste the teasing tramp's feigned terror,' said the Queen. She placed her tongue on White Snow's cheek and licked the darling young woman's perspiration from her skin. Even her sweet sweat held a youthful vigor that enthralled the Queen with feverish lust and jealousy."

Natalia felt her juices drip down her fingers as she fucked herself. The audiobook narrator moaned in-character and Natalia felt an orgasm nearing. She no longer cared about the obnoxious traffic. She no longer cared that she would be late to her appointment with her hairstylist. She was the evil Queen punishing a nubile young woman, playfully teasing her innocence with her magical fingers. She closed her eyes, ushering her orgasm closer.

***

Preston Grant drove his red Toyota Camry in the right lane of Julington Boulevard, looking for the entrance of a strip mall with a men's clothing store. He needed a new dress shirt and tie. He had a big night ahead of him, and he wanted a fresh look to make a good impression. He examined his haircut in the rearview mirror. He had it cut the day before and was still unaccustomed to the new requirements of styling it with mousse and paste. It looked fine. Not as good as the hairstylist had done, but adequate. He considered maybe stopping by the stylist this afternoon to have her style it. On average he was well-kept but relaxed about his image. Today he was anxious for perfection.

The noon traffic was awful. Aggressive drivers were everywhere. He had never understood what compels people to drive like assholes. There are many things in life worth being assertive for, but driving is not one of them. Driving fast will never save you more than sixty seconds of your drive time. If you want to get to your destination at a reasonable time, then depart at a reasonable time. Preston was risk-averse in his day-to-day life. He was apt to stay on the safe side of life, a character trait that had been criticized by his friends and family. His girlfriend, Juniper, was especially vocal about taking more chances in life.

"It's like you're content to live a half-lived life," Juniper had said one afternoon. "Haven't you ever heard of 'The Road Less Traveled'?"

"It's actually titled 'The Road Not Taken'," Preston answered. "Funny thing is, most people misinterpret it. '

And both that morning equally lay / in leaves no step had trodden black.

' So both paths are actually the same. The only difference is the narrator had to choose one, you know. So when the narrator is saying he 'took the one less traveled by', really he's just convincing himself that the one he chose, by choosing it, was the exceptional one. So it's more about how we shape the narratives of our lives based on our choices, rather than actually addressing how we make choices. I read a pretty good book about it. I can let you borrow it."

Juniper, nonplussed by his answer, did not want the book. She ended the conversation by rolling her eyes. The day after this conversation, Preston received a box of books at his apartment. A passive-aggressive gift from Juniper. They were self-help books about being assertive, making choices that matter, and being willing to take more chances. The box also contained a copy of the memoir 'Yes Man' by Danny Wallace, which felt like a gag, considering it was a movie tie-in version with a frolicking Jim Carrey on the cover. Preston felt slighted by the gift but chose to relent and give the books a try. They made up most of his reading for the past few months and he was trying to implement one piece of advice every day. He was currently half-way through

Grasp Life By The Testicles!

. Despite the vulgar title (and the ridiculous gimmick about when to 'Tighten The Grip' or 'Hold 'Em Gently'), it had proven helpful so far.

Preston saw the plaza signage with the men's clothing store name. He turned on the right turn signal and slowed down for the entrance. The speedometer lowered from 40 mph with a steady crawl. He was about to turn when he felt the impact.

***

The impact threw Natalia's body forward. The seatbelt dug into her trapezius and chest. Her sunglasses flew off her face and broke on the dashboard. She opened her eyes and saw the crushed front of her Range Rover kissing the crushed back-end of a little red car. She removed her fingers from her cunt and adjusted her panties and pantyhose and skirt.

She watched the driver of the car get out. He was a young man in his twenties. He rubbed his neck and shook his head. He walked up to her SUV. She didn't roll her window down.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice muffled through the glass.

She nodded her head yes.

"I can't see inside," he said. "The windows are too dark!"

She rolled down her window. He could see from her expression she was in shock.

He pulled out his smartphone and started taking pictures of the accident. He walked behind her vehicle and took a picture of her license plate. Natalia watched him, unsure what to do. He walked back to the driver's side of her SUV and pointed at the parking lot of the plaza and said something about trying to drive the vehicles out of the road. She nodded. She was feeling anxiety and adrenaline and her body moved as if on autopilot.

He got in his car which was able to drive. She put her SUV in gear and followed the red car into a shaded part of the parking lot, away from other vehicles and the buildings, and parked along a row of tall hedges. They stepped out of their vehicles. Natalia's legs were shaky and her steps were unsure.

"Lady, what the hell happened?" asked Preston.

Natalia was starting to come to her senses. Following him might have been a mistake.

"What did I do?" she asked. "What did you do?!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You slammed on your brakes in front of me!" she said, raising her voice. "What are you, a fucking idiot? Brake checking people on a busy road!"

"Are you kidding me?" asked Preston. "I was turning into this parking lot. I had my turn signal on and everything. Weren't you paying attention?"

"Of course I was! I saw the whole thing! Mostly your dangerous driving."

Preston thought the woman was acting hysterical. She was defensive and accusatory despite being completely at fault. It was delusional behavior. Her expensive luxury SUV and her nice clothes and jewelry gave him the impression of a woman not used to taking responsibility for her failings.

"Okay lady," he said. "Just hand over your license and insurance card."

"Absolutely not!"

"What?"

"Who do you think you are? Some sort of cop? Give me your license and insurance."

"Look, I've got a busy day," he said. "Neither of us want to make this complicated, so just work with me here."

"I'm not listening to you," she said. "This is your fault."

Preston was learning that this woman was insufferable.

"Fine! That's fine," said Preston. "I'll call the cops. They can review the footage and write up the accident report and I'll still get your information."

The threat landed.

"Footage?" she asked.

"Hell yeah," he said. "I've got a dashcam system. Front and back. I captured everything in high definition. And with the timestamp, the cops can grab the footage from the traffic signal cameras. It's all recorded."

Natalia's hateful expression sank. She was fucked.

This was her third accident in twelve months. In the previous year she had incurred five. Her wealth mitigated the financial burden of paying for the tickets and her insurance covered the damages for the accidents that went reported. However, she hadn't been able to bully her way out of the last few accidents. The points against her license were accumulating. Her insurance rates had grown astronomically. If this young man called in the accident and provided incriminating footage of her, she would lose her insurance and license. The situation was dire.

"Young man," said Natalia, her tone softening. "Let's not get hasty."

"Oh, that got your attention," he said. "You'll hand over your paperwork?"

"Why do you insist on such drastic measures?" she asked. She replaced her worry with a mask of calm composure and softened her eyes. "What if we came to our own compromise? Do you want to sit here while men in uniform bully us both with their condescension?"

"Huh?" The change in her demeanor made him wary.

"What I mean is," said Natalia, "I don't like the police. And I like dealing with my insurance company even less."

"That's unfortunate--"

"It is unfortunate," interrupted Natalia. "But I believe you and I can come to an agreement without their interference."

"Oh I'll bet," he said. He was hiding his unease behind sarcasm. He watched her closely.

"Your car is certainly damaged," she said, "but it can clearly drive. To me that seems like cosmetic damages rather than anything more severe."

"I'm not a mechanic, but--"

"And I can afford to pay the damages, whatever they are."

Preston checked out Natalia. Her outfit alone would cost him multiple paychecks, and that didn't include the bracelets, necklace, rings or diamond earrings.

"I could write you a check," she said, "and that could be it."

"A check?" he asked. He thought,

Who carries checks around with them these days?

"That's right!" she said. "The damages couldn't be more than, say, two thousand dollars, could they?"

"I dunno, I'm not a mechanic," he said. "How can I possibly know you're good for it?"

Natalia was outraged by the comment but brushed it off with a haughty laugh.

"Good for it?" she said. She shook her left wrist at him, jangling a gaudy bracelet. "This bracelet alone is worth more than your little car."

Preston was offended.

Don't back down

, he thought.

"Maybe you're used to throwing money at problems, lady, but this is serious stuff. What if the damages are worth more than two thousand? What if I've got whiplash?"

She was losing him.

"Then I'll give you a blank check," she said. "You take the car in the shop, and when they give you the total, you put the exact amount down."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked. "Bullshit. As soon as you drive off you'd call your bank and have them cancel the check."

"I would never!" she said, although her confidence faltered.

"Sure you wouldn't!" he said.

Natalia could see Preston would be difficult to shake. Despite his soft face and slight build, he was proving to be obstinate. She reached into her SUV and retrieved a checkbook from her purse.

"Look, I'll sign it here in front of you," she said. She placed the red leather checkbook on the SUV door, flipped it open and signed the first check. She showed it to him. "A blank check. You can fill out the total."

"And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Look young man," she said.

"Stop calling me young man," he said. "I'm twenty five. I'm not old, but I'm not a kid."

"Okay then. Look. I give you the check. If I check my account and see that you've taken advantage of my goodwill, then you'll be busted for fraud. And if I let the check bounce, you have footage of the accident. So we're in a Catch-22. It truly is easier for me to just pay the bill rather than get any more involved in this mess."

They stared at each other.

Natalia took a good look at Preston. She saw a foolish brat, but she also found him handsome. He was of average height, probably five foot eleven. Clear skin. Thin frame, though athletic, like a runner. Modest pecs. Youthful, vivacious. She could sense his hostility and a hint of intimidation. She had the abstract thought of breaking him, dominating him. She couldn't clearly define the thought but felt a new sense of excitement.

"Or maybe there's another way," she said absently. "No, nevermind."

"Now what are you on about?" He couldn't tell if this was another put-on.

"I was just thinking," she said. "You seem like a nice young man. But hostile. Tense. I can't help but wonder if maybe money isn't the only solution to our problem."