Corrupting Power
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The Seven Secrets of Mr. Magpie - Part 3
🕑 Added 2022-09-02 21:16:44 +0000 UTCPart Three – A Girl
Remember how I was telling you that I had gotten out from underneath the oppressive thumb of Uber and their shitty business practices? Remember how proud I was that I gotten away from the dumpster fire they kept foisting onto those of us desperate enough to drive for them?
“You looking for Sheila?” a gorgeous blonde in a tiny black dress asked me, her date holding the door open for her.
“I am if you're looking for Raf,” I told her. “Hop on in.”
Yeah, well, sometimes desperation gets the better of us. The water heater at the house had crapped out and I found myself suddenly very desperately needing a few grand to cover the check I'd just written for its replacement. Oh, I had the money, sure, but it was going to tap into most of my fallback money, and I still needed to pay for minor quibbles like, y'know, food. So I decided to do a weekend ferrying drunks around, hoping like hell I'd catch a few majorly long drives to make up for the insane amount of money Uber was taking from the fare, not to mention the stupid price of gas.
It was the fall of 2015, and the presidential primaries were looming close. At this point, I figured I still had another month or so before the third thing from Mrs. Choi popped up in my life, but this was the one that made me realize how the system was built.
Between the first and second secrets had been seven months, but between the second and third, there was only a six-month gap. After the events I'm going to relay to you, I'd figured out that the fourth secret would come five months later, the fifth secret four months after that, the sixth secret three months after that and the seventh and final secret around two months from then. That meant I was going to be through Mrs. Choi's presents within 27 months total, or two and a quarter years.
But, of course, I didn't know that when I went out driving that night for Uber. I assumed there was still a month before shit would get crazy. Maybe that's why it all caught me so off-guard.
Sheila, the blonde who slipped into the back of my car, was heartbreakingly gorgeous. 5'11” (and that wasn't including the four-inch heels she was wearing), just a little bit tan, with Midwestern blonde hair, dressed in a daring little black dress that had one of the most daring cleavage dip lines I'd ever seen, plunging down almost to her navel, offering more than generous eyefuls of firm, youthful tits straining against the black fabric that was clinging to her flesh. She also had ridiculously long legs, almost on display up to her hips, the center of the black dress hanging low, but the sides having slits in them that nearly reached her waistline, offering a virtual smorgasbord of exposed tanned and muscular flesh. Her lips were painted a lustrous hue of red more brilliant than the stop lights I'd spent most of the night staring at. Her winter blue eyes were ringed with smoky makeup that gave her almost a femme fatale feel, although the smile she was offering me was definitely pure black widow vibes all the way, and you know what? I wouldn't have minded just one bit being her prey, if that was what it took to get her to show me just a little bit of affection. She had to be an actress or a model or just someone who traded on those looks for a living, because I was certain I was far from the first man whose heart had been trampled on simply by seeing this magnificent creature.
The guy who got in next to her I immediately wanted to beat the shit out of.
“C'mon, buddy, let's get this show on the road,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Seatbelts,” I told him, tapping two fingers to my collarbone, as if to reaffirm that I wasn't driving anywhere until he had a seat belt on, as the blonde dutifully pulled hers on, clicking it in place.
“Man, fuck that,” he growled in a drunken slur at me. “I ain't putting on no fucking seat belt.”
“Put it on, Roger,” Sheila said to him, her voice full of unspoken threats that carried the weight of a thousand fists, and just like that, he was doing his best to pull the seat belt to click it in place. “Two stops okay?”
“It's your nickel, lady,” I told her. “As long as the meter's running, she goes where you tell her to, long as it's not down to Los Angeles or anything.”
“Nothing that far,” she said with a smile, as Roger shifted and sort of slumped back into the corner of space between my seat and my rear passenger door. “Up to Fairfield then down to San Ramon.”
We were in downtown Oakland currently, so while it was a bit of a drive, longer drives were generally better and considering this was during surge pricing, I was happy as hell to make that kind of a haul of this lady's wallet. “Sure, I can do that. It's probably faster, though, if I do San Ramon first then Fairfield.”
“It's fine. I prefer sticking to the order I've chosen, if you don't mind,” she said with a soft smile, placing one of her hands on my shoulder. At that point, she could've told me to drive the car off the Bay Bridge and I probably would've done it. Her touch was so kind and gentle. I was starting to wonder if the lady herself was made of the kind of magic Mrs. Choi had been throwing around. “How's your night been so far, Raf?”
“A bit of here, there and everywhere,” I told her, “but a handful of fun stories. I started the evening by taking five guys over to the City for a bachelor party, but man, had they picked the diciest strip club in SF to go to, so on the way over, I was able to talk them into changing to a better place, so they'll have a nicer evening, even if it costs them a little more.”
“That was kind of you,” she said to me, that warm charm lingering on her face. “Where did you end up sending them?”
“Centerfolds,” I told her. “The rates are a little bit higher but the girls have always seemed friendlier, nowhere near as pushy, and they know how to handle first timers better than most of the other strip clubs around there.”
“Wise man,” she said. Sheila glanced over and scowled at Roger. “If you throw up in this car, I will make your life a living hell. If you think you need him to, ask the driver to pull over.”
Roger nodded, his eyes clearly out of focus. “I'm good. Imma be good,” he mumbled, telling me that he wasn't going to be good at all. I made it a point to stay over in the slower lane, so in case I needed to haul ass to pull into the emergency blowout area.
“What else have you had walk through your doorway tonight, Raf?” she asked, as I was happy to have the attention turned back on me and away from Drunky McDrunkerson.
“Couple of college girls going out on their weekly bender. Some kids who needed a lift home from Homecoming. And a stoned guy who just needed a lift to and from the 7-11, but ended up buying like half the damn shop. He ended up giving me an entire bag full of 3 Musketeers. You want one? I'm not kidding, I've got like twenty-something of them.”
She laughed, and it was the greatest melody I'd ever heard. “No thank you, but at least he brought you some to share, I guess? He get you a drink as well?”
I nodded. “Bought me four Orange Vanilla Cokes, but I only drank one. The other three are in the trunk right now. I'll have'em later.”
“Pull over,” Roger said suddenly, and I immediately slowed and brought the vehicle off the road and onto the edge of the concrete. The vehicle hadn't even reached a full stop when he pushed the door open, turned his head and started puking out the side of the car. I'd need to stop and check the door itself and door frame, but it looked like he got almost all of it out of the vehicle, so that was something. While he was doing this, Sheila hopped out of the backseat, walked around the car and moved to get in the front passenger's seat, making sure I got a damn good look at as much of that exposed cleavage as she could give me when she did. After four or five heaves, Roger wiped his mouth off with the sleeve of his expensive silk shirt and then pulled the door shut again. “Thanks. Go.”
I brought the vehicle slowly back up to speed, having to watch carefully that no vehicles were in the slow lane to accidentally slam into the back of us. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing most people were on the lookout for on a Friday night after the bars closed, so I had to be on my toes and make sure nothing went sideways. “This what you do full time?” she asked me.
“Nah,” I told her. “I'm a 3D modeler and animator for videogames, when there's work to be had, but the last several years, the market's been going through something of a rough patch if you're not already established at a studio. I do this as a side gig to pick up a little money here and there, although it's mostly just short-term gain at a long-term loss.”
“If that's true, then why do it?” she said, turning a little bit, folding one of her legs up so I could see pale flesh almost all the way up to her crotch, the flap of dress covering just the smallest amount of her thighs, leaving most of the beautiful canvas of skin exposed to my casually glancing eyes.
“I'm not exactly at a place where I can shrug off sudden unexpected misfortunes in my life, and when my boiler broke down, I had to find some way to cover the fucking thing. That means picking up a handful of weekends doing this and trying not to pay too much attention to how much the mileage is racing up on the car.”
“I think we have all gone through phases like that in our lives, Raf,” she said with a smile, one of her fingers reaching out to draw along my forearm resting on the center console. “Things where we feel like we don't have control over anything or anyone. But you'll get through it, like we all do. And you will be stronger for it. I felt that way until I got out from under my father's thumb.”
“So what do you do for a living, Sheila, if you don't mind me asking?”
“Why would I mind?” she replied, licking her lips just a little bit. “I'm... an event planner, of sorts, as well as a kind of talent scout. I organize... very specialized parties... for very wealthy clients who are willing to pay quite a sizable amount for, shall we say, unique experiences.”
“Normally I'd complain about how vague you're being, but that much money, I imagine people are also paying for their discretion,” I answered with a laugh, which she joined in with.
“That they are, Raf. That they are.” Up close, I could see she had a small mole of skin between her eyebrows, but somehow the minor blemish just made her more beautiful, as if it was an establishing piece to assure the viewer that this was, in fact, a real woman, and not someone who'd just walked out of their dreams. “But I have a reputation of being able to deliver an incredibly specific service, given enough time and patience. And that's made me wealthy enough that I don't need to be concerned with money too much.” Behind us, a cop lit up his flashers and pulled in behind me. “Are we doing something illegal?”
“No, but I'm taking it a bit slow because of your friend in the back. I'm sure it'll just be a minute,” I said, bringing the car back onto the shoulder as the police car pulled in behind us. I had my Uber tags displayed, but I'd been told by a cop not too long ago that apparently drunks were trying to slap on Lyft or Uber stickers onto their windshield while they were drunk, thinking it would provide some level of protection.
The spotlight was shining into my side mirror, keeping me engulfed in the light as a pair of officers got out of the car, one moving on the passenger's side, the other moving along the driver's side towards me, as I rolled the window down.
“How's it going tonight?” the cop said to me, shining a flashlight into the car, checking out Roger's semi-unconscious form before turning the light onto Sheila then me.
“Not too bad, officer,” I said to him, trying to be as warm and friendly as possible. “Was keeping the speed a little low in case I had to pull over again for the guy in the back to puke some more. That why you pulled me over?”
“That and you've got a taillight out,” he said to me. “License, registration, proof of insurance?”
I sighed and nodded. “Reg and insurance is in the glove box. Can I open it?”
“Slowly,” the cop responded. I'd been through all of this with one of my white friends once, and he'd just immediately gone for his registration, but the first time I tried that, I heard the cop's hand resting on his sidearm, like I was going to draw down on him or some stupid shit like that. The joys of being anything other than white in this country. I took the registration and proof of insurance out of the glove box, and then fished out my driver's license, as the cop took all three from me, his partner still keeping a light on Roger in the back seat. “Stay here. I'll be right back.” He headed back to his car, leaving me and Sheila sitting basically alone, with the cop's partner on overwatch.
“Why'd you ask if you can open the glove box?” she said to me.
“Because while being brown isn't as bad as being black in this country, it's still not as easy as being white,” I told her with a sigh. “Did you see the taillight out when you walked up on the car?”
“No, but I wasn't paying much attention to it.”
“Shit. Okay, yeah. Sorry about the hold up.”
“No no,” she said, reaching over to squeeze one of my hands. “For all the shit the night's given you thusfar, you're being remarkably calm about it.”
“No sense in losing my damn head over it,” I told her as I saw the cop starting to walk back.
“Alright son,” he said, despite the fact that I was probably slightly older than he was, as he handed me my paperwork along with a ticket, all of which I put into the glove box. “I've written you up a fix-it ticket, so as long as you get it repaired and show it to an officer in the next 30 days, there's no fine associated with it. Thanks for your service in getting drunks home. We truly appreciate it. Have a good night.”
“Fuck you PIG!” Roger drunkenly shouted from the back seat, as I reflexively winced.
“I'm gonna let that slide, sir, but if you repeat that kind of behavior, I'm going to take you downtown for drunk and disorderly,” the officer said to Roger, who just stuck his tongue out in response. “I dunno how you do it, brother, but you have the patience of a saint.” The cop patted me on the shoulder then gestured for his partner to head back to the car.
I slowly brought the car back onto the highway and brought it back up to speed, because I could hear Roger fidgeting in the back seat again. The fact that he'd just verbally assaulted a cop didn't bode well for the rest of my night, I figured. It was closer to three than two in the morning now, and I still had plenty of driving to do.
Most of the rest of the drive up to Fairfield was pretty quiet, with Sheila preferring to keep quiet and just look out the window, although she did her best to make sure her thighs were always front and center for my eyeline if I ever looked over in her direction.
The address she'd given me was one of a stripe of fifty or so nearly identical McMansions, each of which ran probably a couple mil, but with no real soul or personality to them. There was a bright red Jaguar out in front of this one with custom vanity plates that read “RGRSRYD” which made me hate this prick even more.
“Okay Roger, you're home now,” Sheila said. “Time for you to get out of the car and head into your home.” She reached behind her seat to grab his leg and shake him from his slumber, forcing him to wake up suddenly. “You're home, Roger. Up and at'em.”
He sat upright suddenly, and took several seconds to figure out how to unlatch the seat belt, the dumb ass. Once he got that done, he was able to get himself out of the car easily, although closing the door behind him took notably longer. I was looking forward to pulling the car back when I realized he was trying to open the front passenger's door. “C'mon Sheila, gethafuck outta tha car,” he shouted.
“I don't think so, Roger,” she said to him through the glass of the window. “Now go into your house and go to bed.”
With a speed that made even me a little nervous, there was suddenly a switchblade in his hand, snapped out and at the ready, as he tapped the point of it against the glass. “Opena fuckin' car, you fuckin' whore,” he snarled. “After how much I fuckin' paid for dinner tonight, you fuckin' owe me... now get outta fuckin' car or Imma cut you.”
I could hear Sheila's breathing get quick and shallow, and by this point, I'd fucking had it. This guy had been making my night a living hell for nearly an hour now, and while I'd like to think of myself as a patient man, even my patience has limits. I put the car into park, killed the engine, reached into the door's little well pocket and grabbed my ballistic baton.
“You don't have–”
“I got this,” I said to Sheila, as I opened my door, stepped out of the car and snapped my ballistic baton into the extended position. “Shit, at this point it'll be therapeutic...”
For those of unfamiliar with a ballistic baton, it's a collapsible metal billy club used by security guards and bouncers all over the place. I think you're supposed to have a license for them in California, but fuck if I was gonna let that stop me. It makes a very satisfying SHUNK sound when you extend it, and usually that's enough to give somebody second thoughts about getting in my way. Not Roger, though, who seemed confident that even in his inebriated state he'd be able to do more damage to me than to himself with that switchblade.
“C'mon you fuckin' towelhead,” he spat at me. “Come get your medi–”
Funny thing about drunks – they tend to talk a lot of trash, and never ever expect someone to hit them while they're doing it, which is why I cracked him across the face with the end of the baton, watching him whip around, clinging onto his switchblade, but nearly falling onto the ground. He didn't seem to want to go down lightly, though, and regained his wits, the smack across the head probably having sobered him up a bit, adrenaline coursing through his veins now.
“Takin' cheap shots, huh? Yeah, about what I expec–”
I mean, fool him once, shame on me, fool him twice, shame on him. If the moron wanted to keep monologuing me, I was going to beat the shit out of him for free while he was doing it. This time I followed up the blow to the head with a smack into his forearm, hitting him strong enough to make him drop the switchblade.
At that point, I could do whatever I wanted to, so I gave him a couple more strikes across the ribs, making the guy double over in pain, as he started to vomit onto his own sidewalk. I moved over to where he'd dropped the switchblade and kicked it as far away as I could before moving back over to Roger, who was groaning and whimpering.
“Next time you decide you want to get drunk and be an asshole, Roger,” I said, looming over him. “Do everybody a favor and stay the fuck at home.” I crouched down so I could collapse the baton back into its smaller form by hitting the narrow tip of it directly down onto the concrete. Then I stood up again, got back into the driver's seat of my car, started the engine up and pulled the vehicle containing myself and Sheila away.
“You... you truly didn't have to do that, Raf,” she said to me after a couple of minutes of us driving, like the shock of it all had been too much for her to say anything up front. “He could've seriously hurt you.”
“Drunk like that's more likely to hurt himself with a knife than he is hurt anybody else, but he still might've put his hand through the window, and then we've got ourselves a much bigger problem,” I told her. “Besides, you called for the car, and he's too drunk to remember the plate on the car, so the minute he got out of the vehicle, he officially became somebody else's problem.”
“What if one of the neighbors had a doorbell camera or something?”
“Then I'll happily use the footage on my dashboard camera to show that he pulled a knife on me and threatened both my passenger and myself, and I was clearly defending myself,” I told her as the car moved back onto the highway. “Guy's lucky he's just gonna be ending up with a few bruises. I should've broken his fucking arm for drawing a knife on me.”
I drove in relative silence for the next ten minutes or so before she spoke again. “So Raf, I've decided I'm in your debt for your behavior tonight, and I've been trying to come up with an appropriate compensation for it.”
“You really don't have–”
“Now while your service tonight has been exceptional, it's not entirely enough to cover one entire use of my services,” she said, just talking right over me. “But if I were to get a chance to enjoy my skills as well myself, well, that might be around an even exchange of debts. So tell me, Raf, are you straight, gay or bi? No judgment, no matter what your answer is.”
“I'm straight,” I responded.
“Would the presence of another man put you off? Or could you handle a second man in the bedroom as long as he didn't get intimate with you?”
“I mean, as long as he respects that I'm straight, I guess I'm not bothered by it.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Then I think we have an accord. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”
“I'd been planning on driving for the night,” I told her sheepishly.
“If I paid for your water heater, would that free up your evening?”
“I, uh... I guess it would?” I said. “Isn't that going to muck up our ledgers?”
She laughed, as if I suggested that adding a drop of water into the ocean was going to cause tidal waves across the planet. “My dear boy, men and women across the globe typically pay hundreds upon thousands of dollars for a single use of my services, more commonly millions or tens of millions, but I've rarely been able to indulge in my own services myself, simply because I haven't seen anyone worth going through the effort for. For you, though? I think you will be my exception. We'll have two encounters, one for you, and one for me. I'll even let you have yours first, as I feel perfectly comfortable that you won't renege on our deal, and it'll take some time for me to line up what I will need for our second encounter, whereas what you will require I already have on hand. It was originally supposed to be for Roger, seeing as he paid for it, but since his threats of violence violate the contract, he's forfeited his payment, so you can reap the benefits instead.”
“What exactly are your services?” I asked her, almost not sure I wanted her to tell me.
She laughed once more, shaking her head. “Oh no no no, my sweet summer child, to tell you would ruin the surprise of it. And it's been far far too long since I've been able to surprise someone with this. In the circles I run in, everyone knows exactly who I am and what I offer. But you? Your eyes will be the size of your headlights when I arrive tomorrow night. What part of the Bay do you live in?”
“Far northeast San Jose,” I told her. “Almost on Mount Hamilton. I inherited the house from my grandfather.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Far from prying eyes. The address?” She took her cell phone out from her pocket, opening up a contact for me as she dutifully typed my name, cell phone number and address into the contacts screen. “Very good. I'll handle the rest for my part tomorrow then. It's up that private road here,” she said, gesturing to a pathway that I probably would've missed if she hadn't been pointing it out. The Uber app just wanted me to stop and let her out here, but I moved up the private road before stopping at a gate. She handed me her keys. “Wave them in front of the box.” I took them from her, reached out my window and gestured with them at the callbox and sure enough, the gate beeped and started to open as I handed her back her keys. “Up to the front door, if you please.”
I rolled the Civic up the long driveway and saw a much more elegant mansion waiting at the top of the hill, refined and restrained, but with a certain sense of classical identity, lots of soft light and cast shadows around the relatively modern looking structure. While Roger's McMansion had oozed schmaltz, this was pure class all the way. “Quite the pad you've got,” I whistled. “Your services buy you all of this?”
“Mmhmm,” she agreed quietly. “And in just four years of operation, too.” I brought the car up to the base of the steps, and shifted into park. “I'll tell you all about it tomorrow when we see each other again. I will be at your place at seven o'clock sharp, so we can have a bit of time to go over the rules and sign the paperwork before the fun starts. You do not need to dress up, but I would appreciate it if you would shower beforehand. Cleanliness is next to godliness and all that. Also eat beforehand. I'm sure you have questions, but they can wait. It'll all make sense tomorrow, Raf, you'll see.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek before pulling back just an inch or two, then turned my head and dipped down again to kiss me once more, this time full on, a lustful almost hungry sexual passion burning in there, our tongues briefly touching before our lips parted once more, and that wild, almost incorrigible smile danced across her face once more. “I've chosen well indeed,” she purred. “This'll be fun. I'll see you tomorrow, Raf. Be ready for my arrival. Until then, good night.”
She slipped out of the car and headed up the steps, that dress flicking left and right, and I couldn't take my eyes off that amazing, toned ass of hers until she was practically at the door, when she looked back over one shoulder, winked at me, and then disappeared into her house.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
I ended the fare, which had turned into a couple hundred dollars, and then turned the app off for the night, before making my way back down home.
Getting to sleep that night was a major bitch, and I woke up relatively early, as if the idea of sleep was anathema to the experience I was expecting, but I didn't even really know what I was expecting, so I mostly just kept myself busy around the house.
Around six o'clock, I ran out to Mod Pizza and picked up a personal pizza for dinner, because I didn't trust myself for my cooking, and about 6:30, I hopped through the shower, drying my hair out almost right up until seven. I threw on a good t-shirt and some black slacks and tried to be patient, but let me tell you, that was a fucking challenge.
As promised, at seven sharp, there was a ring on my doorbell. I moved over to the front door and opened it to see Sheila waiting there, dressed a gray shirt with a faded red Coca-Cola logo on it that was tight enough I could make out the outline of her bra on through it and a pair of dark blue denim jeans that were slung low enough that I could make out a bit of her tanned stomach in a crack of exposed flesh between the bottom of the shirt and the top of the jeans. Her blonde hair hung loose down to her collarbone, dark brown at the top but near platinum at the tips. She was wearing some makeup, but it was far more casual than last night, the lipstick a soft shade of pink. She looked like the quintessential Midwestern girl next door dream girl.
“Hey Sheila,” I told her.
“Nope,” she giggled at me, and I realized that her voice sounded slightly different, as she walked into my house and I saw that standing right behind her... was her.
Again.
“That's Annie,” Sheila said to me. She was dressed the exact same – t-shirt, jeans, light makeup. She had her hair the exact same. I was seeing double. She grinned, pointing a finger at my face. “And that's the look worth too much to pay for. C'mon.”
She moved into the house and as gobstruck as I was, I closed the door shut and moved into my living room, where the two identical women were sitting next to each other on the couch, both smiling and waving at me.
“I know what you're thinking, Raf,” Sheila said to me. “But I assure you, Annie and I aren't at all related. I'm from California and she's from Arkansas. I'm also a couple of years younger than she is. Come, you can read through the paperwork and sign where you need to while I tell you a little bit how Doppelganger Dreams came to be. And I got you a cashier's check for ten thousand for your water heater. I figured that would cover it. I wasn't really certain how much they cost.”
“That'll more than cover it,” I said, taking the check from her, folding it and putting it into my pocket. “Tell me about this... whatever this is.”
Both of the women smiled at about the same time, and the sensation of seeing double was almost disorienting. “About six years ago, just before I graduated from college, I was at one of my father's dreadfully boring parties, and I found myself talking to one of his older, wealthier friends, whom shall remain nameless. The man in question, whom I simply call Mister X, had a new girlfriend, a woman half his age clearly looking to peel off a bit of his cash in exchange for her company, but Mister X seemed happy with the arrangement. And as a tossed off remark, he said to me, 'What I wouldn't give to have two of her, just for one night.' Well, I responded to him, 'Well, what would you give for that?' And the challenge was set. You see, Raf, you may not know this, but every person in the world is said to have between two and ten near doppelgangers scattered across the globe, but because the world is so vast, we never really get the chance to meet any of them. I, however, have built a business model around fulfilling that particular fantasy, and it was all born from Mister X's tossed off remark. As it turned out, thirty million dollars was what he would give for that particular experience, which I split three ways with his existing partner and the woman I found to be her double.”
Annie had reached forward and was lightly dragging her fingertips across my thigh, not pressuring, merely promising allures to come.
“Over the past six years, I've provided this service say forty or fifty times in total, a once in a lifetime encounter, never to be repeated. A woman wants to see what it would be like if she had two of her husband or boyfriend. A man wants that identical twin fantasy but better, because they're not related, so they'll usually play with each other in addition to him, unlike real sisters, who would never entertain even the notion of such a thing. In one case, I actually had a doppelganger each for both a wife and husband, and that was a little foursome they'll never forget,” Sheila said with a little giggle.
“What the contract all about?” I said, looking at the five-page document she'd slid in front of me, trying to read through it, but the pair of perfect angels in front of me was making it very difficult to concentrate. “There's a lot of dense legalese here.”
“The long and short of it is this – you're welcome to take as many pictures and videos as you like of tonight's events, but anything explicit is for your eyes only. Anything that's risqué but doesn't contain nudity, you can show those pictures to whomever you like in a one-on-one encounter, but you cannot post them to social media of any kind, nor show them to groups of people. This allows you to have mementos, ones that I can use to advertise my brand, but also keeps our privacy respected,” Sheila told me.
“That seems fair.”
“You cannot bruise, injure or wound either of us, not that I expect you to, and you cannot force us to engage in any sexual activity or activities which we might find unappealing, although you'll find that there's very little we won't do. This is more for your comfort, when we're in the other half, just so you know. Also, Annie isn't going to talk almost at all tonight. The voice is the one part of the illusion that's almost impossible to get right, so to bypass it, it'll just be me talking.” She licked her lips a little bit. “Also, I'm going to be referring to her as 'me' all night long, to further reinforce the fantasy that it's just me, only me, here with you, and I'm somehow inhabiting two bodies. While I know you're straight, I'm bisexual, as is Annie, and the idea of making out with myself, well, it's always been a delight I've been looking forward to,” she said, leaning in to kiss Annie, like a mirror image of a woman, mouths pressed against each other in a wanton kiss before pulling apart again.
“Damn.”
“Indeed, Raf,” she giggled, one of her hands on Annie's thigh, the other tapping the paperwork. “The last part of the contract just has you assuming liability for anything that happens to me or, well, also me during our encounter tonight, and sets the expiration period of our encounter at seven am tomorrow morning, although we reserve the right to be a little lenient with that, if we want to sleep in. If you don't mind signing for your girl here?”
Three for a girl...
I wondered for half a second if I was getting in over my head, then decided, fuck it, yes, I was definitely getting in over my head, but this was the kind of life experience that I simply couldn't pass up on. I picked up the pen, initialed in the three places I was supposed to then signed the contract. Sheila smiled, taking the contract and pen and tucking them into her oversized purse – they both had identical purses, even. Annia even had the same mole right between her eyebrows. The two of them stood up and pulled me to my feet, as Sheila squeezed my ass a little bit. “Lead me to the bedroom?” she said to me. God, it was weird, her saying 'me' instead of 'us' but I realized I was going to have to get used to that.
I slipped an arm around each of their waists and moved to lead them down the hall then up the stairs before heading back down the hall again to the furthest, deepest corner of the house, the master bedroom, a large and truly decadent room for a California house, but my grandfather Arturo had liked a lot of room. Once we were in the bedroom, Annie reached into my pocket and pulled out my cellphone, leaning her head against one of my shoulders while Sheila leaned her head on the other, as Annie snapped a selfie of the three of us. She didn't just take one, but a dozen or so, as the two of them struck various poses, from flirty to coy. Then she set the phone on a timer, dashed over to place it on top of my dresser, then sprinted back, so I would have a full body shot, both of the girls thrusting their tits out on display beneath the matching Coca-Cola shirts.
“Give me just a minute, Raf, although you can get started,” Sheila said, reaching into her purse to take out a series of GoPros, turning them on and scattering them around the room. “All of this footage will be given to you, naturally. I want you to be able to watch all of this any time you like, otherwise it wouldn't be much of a gift now, would it?”
Annie moved to push me over to the edge of the bed, shoving me to make me sit down on the edge of it as she dropped down onto her knees in front of me, her hands reaching up to unbutton my slacks, dipping in to fish out my cock, as I felt Sheila sliding up onto the bed behind me, a GoPro in her hand, as Annie moved to wrap her lips around the head of my dick and pushed her face down deep onto it, practically inhaling my shaft.
“Mmmmm,” Sheila purred against my ear. “I'm such a good little cocksucking whore, aren't I? Look at me go.”
Her other hand reached down to brush some of those blonde locks out of Annie's face, making sure I could see those blue eyes looking up at me adoringly.
“Tell me I'm a perfect little dick sucking slut, Raf. Tell me you love how my tongue feels against your balls,” Sheila laughed along my neck.
“God, you're fucking good at this,” I said, entirely uncertain how I was supposed to be talking my way through any of this, but deciding to just go with the flow. “I can feel your tongue against the base of my shaft when you push your mouth all the way down. You're not even choking on it.”
“Of course I'm not,” Sheila said to me. “The girl next door in your fantasies growing up never choked, did she? Of course not. She was that perfect mesh of innocent and carnal, virginal and pure, right up until she decided to have her way with you, and then whorish and slutty down to her fucking core. I know how I look, Raf. Like the sort of small-town girl who grew up just down the street, who was something of a tomboy until she came into her own sexuality in high school. Probably a cheerleader or an actress in the school play, or maybe both. Too tall and lanky for the boys up until that last year in high school when these tits of mine suddenly filled out, and then right away all the boys were fighting to get my attention, but I didn't have eyes for any of them, did I?”
Annie reached down and pulled her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside, exposing a rather basic navy-blue bra that looked like it struggled to contain her breasts, her body bordering somewhere between a B and C cup, and she'd chosen to go for the B cup and have it be almost bursting than a C cup and have it a little loose. When she did, Sheila also took her shirt off, revealing a perfectly matching bra.
“We'd always been making eyes at each other in math class,” Sheila said to me, her hands reaching down to pull my shirt up and over my head, casting it aside. “You'd always been too shy to ask me out, and I'd always thought you wouldn't want anything to do with a beanpole like me, but now, well, now I had these huge fucking tits, and I thought to myself, 'maybe I can get him to notice me now' so I started wearing tighter t-shirts around you, sitting next to you all the time, and yet you were always a perfect gentleman, no matter how furiously I was trying to get you to look at my tits. My luscious, gorgeous tits. These tits,” she said, as both her and Annie reached back to unhook their bras in the back, pulling them off, tossing them aside, as four marvelous breasts were exposed to me.
I glanced over at Sheila, then back at Annie, and sure enough, they were identical in every regard. Small pink aerola, not much darker than the rest of her flesh, with thick, swollen nipples jutting out like tiny pencil erasers.
“God, I've got great tits,” she said to me, reaching forward to pinch one of Annie's nipples hard enough to make the girl moan, her blue eyes rolling closed for a moment, making her push her head down as far as she could onto my cock, feeling the head of it pressed against the back of her throat. “I can't wait to watch them jiggling when you're fucking me.”
Annie's fingertips started to cradle my balls, grope and rolling them between her slender fingers as she started to bob her head quick and ferociously, going from tip to base again and again, turning her mouth some each time she pushed down or pulled up, to make her tongue drag twisting lines along the length of my shaft.
“Fuck, you're good at this,” I whispered. “I'm not gonna last long.”
“You don't have to, dear Raf,” Sheila purred at me. “Give me that first load of hot fucking jizz. Hold my head down and make me take all of that fucking spunk you've got stored up. Give it to me! Let me fucking drink it!”
I'm only human, and my body was overwhelmed with sensations, so I started to flood Annie's mouth with shotgun blasts of hot fuck cream, feeling her moan eagerly over my shaft while doing her best to keep a seal on, her lips preventing any of my sauce from dripping out, before the spasms stopped, and she pulled her head off my dick with a pop, keeping her lips together as Sheila slid from behind me to move down onto her knees next to Annie, and then kissed her, the two of them sharing one of the messiest snowballs I've ever seen, my jism smearing all over their faces, even as they were licking it off each other.
I'd just cum, but I gotta tell you, I was fucking hard again in seconds.
“God you taste good, Raf,” Sheila said to me. “Even better when I'm tasting you off my own fucking whore face,” she said, giving Annie another lick before sliding her hand down Annie's stomach. “But you're just getting started, aren't you? Because once you'd gotten a taste of farm girl blowjobs, you wanted more, oh you wanted oh so much more. Which was good, because I wanted to give you more. I wanted you to stop seeing me as little girl Sheila who you'd played Little League Soccer with for a couple of years, but as wanton woman Sheila, who wanted to fuck you so hard your balls ran dry, who wanted to ensure you didn't have any sexual fantasy left unturned. I didn't just want to be your girlfriend, Raf, I wanted to be your slut, your fucktoy, your cum catcher whore who never ever let you go home if there was still jizz to be drained from your balls.”
The two of them stood up from the floor and both started removing their shoes and jeans at the exact same time, almost like a rehearsed dance move but mirrored, Annie lifting her right leg while Sheila lifted her left, although maybe it was the other way around. When Sheila wasn't speaking, it was very easy to forget which was which. Beneath the jeans, they both had on matching navy-blue panties, not exotic lingerie, but the kind of panties that fell right into that girl next door fantasy they were selling me. And they were quickly shucked anyway, leaving them both completely naked. Each of them had a small triangle shaped thatch of dark brown hair above their pussies, and it was meticulously matching, the two of them impossible to tell apart.
They pushed me over to the leather armchair I had in the corner, the one my grandfather had left me that was perfect for sitting and watching television in, but it was clear the girls had different things in mind for me, because as soon as my ass hit the leather, one of them was crawling up and into my lap, sliding one leg over one of the chair arms before repeating the process with the other, her toned ass brushing across my upper thighs until my stiff cock was resting against her pelvis.
“Do you remember the first time we fucked, Raf?” Sheila said to me, establishing she was not the one in my lap, but standing right behind her. “I told you my hymen had broken when I was doing gymnastics, but that I was still a virgin, and I wanted you to be my first. My parents weren't home, and I knew we only had a couple of hours, but I couldn't wait, I needed it, needed you so fucking bad, so I convinced you to get naked and sit my father's chair, knowing you'd think I was just going to blow you again, but then I stripped down too, and moved to sit in your lap,” Sheila said to me as Annie's hips started to undulate a little, letting the bottom of my cock rub against the outside of her wet slit. “And once I did, you knew we were going to fuck, but instead of just charging in, I remember you asked me if I was okay with this, if it was what I really wanted.” I couldn't tell where Sheila was pulling this fantasy history from – it certainly wasn't from my personal past, but maybe it was from her own, or maybe she was trying to invent some sort of shared history that we could have had – but it was still incredibly hot, wherever she was drawing it from. “It was so sweet of you, which made it even better when I just pushed my virginal pussy down onto your cock.”
Sheila had adjusted Annie and before I knew it, I was sliding inside of Annie's cunt, and she couldn't help but let out a furtive moan, a shiver running up her spine, her head tilting to one side in the moment of it.
“God, I remember how fucking full I felt. I knew you had a big dick but I hadn't realized how it was going to tear my poor little pussy up, but I fucking loved how it made me feel, like I was being pried open and turned into a woman in front of your very eyes. My cunt was clinging onto your cock, so fucking snug and tight, and when I drew my hips up for the first time, Jesus, it was like nothing I'd ever fucking felt before, like I was touching God.”
One of Sheila's hands had slipped down and was rubbing her fingertips against Annie's clit while her other was smoothing over my neck and shoulder, as she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine over Annie's shoulder, Annie's face nuzzling in against us until Sheila broke the kiss to allow Annie to join in, kissing both Sheila and myself in a wild three-way lip lock.
Sheila's fingers dug down hard on Annie's clit, even while Annie started to bounce in my lap, the angle not letting her draw up or down too much, but it wasn't going to matter, apparently, as Sheila's fingers were doing more than their fair share of work.
“I remember feeling that orgasm threatening to destroy me, to break me in fucking half but not being able to look away from it,” Sheila said to me. “And when I came, Jesus, I was one fucking loud bitch.”
Whatever Sheila was doing to Annie's snatch, it set her off harder than almost any woman I'd ever seen, her body contracting all around me as Annie looked upward and started with a whisper and ended with a shout, “ohfuckohfuck shit shit shitshitshit I'm cumming ohfuckingJesusshit fuck FUCK FUCK FUCKING CUMMING FUCK ME FUCK!”
I could hear the difference in the way they spoke, but it was such a hot moment that I didn't give a shit, instead feeling Annie's cunt trembling around my dick in delirious shakes and shivers before her body slumped forward against mine, Sheila's fingertips moving up to rub some of Annie's pussy juices along my lips, letting me taste her.
“Fuck I'd never cum like that before,” Sheila said to me. “But I wanted more. I wanted to be grabbed and rammed and plowed and fucked like a bitch in heat, like some desperate slut who just needed dick inside of her, over and over again...”
Sheila moved to pull Annie off of my cock and back to her feet, but Annie must've really cum very hard, because her legs were unsteady, wobbling a little like she could fall over at any moment, so Sheila moved to lay her down on her back on top of my bed, her calves hanging off the edge of it. As I started to stand up, I watched as Sheila pushed Annie a bit further up and onto the bed, and then crawled over top of her, on her hands and knees straddling Annie before reaching back and giving her own ass a slap with one of her hands.
“I was ready for my first-time doggy style,” Sheila said to me, looking back at me. “And I didn't want it gentle. I wanted you to fucking rail me. I wanted you to hammer that dick into my tiny little cunt until it was fucking sore and you'd stretched it to a mold of your exact fucking size. I wanted you to grab a fistful of my hair with one hand, one of my hips with the other, and fuck me like you goddamn meant it, like you fucking owned my tight young snatch.”
I'd learned how to grab hair before, so I lined up the head of my cock first, making sure it was pressed against Sheila's pussy, Annie's body beneath hers, and pushed the first inch or so in, so that I wouldn't slip out. My left hand moved to the base of Sheila's neck as I spread my fingers wide and pushed them up into her hair before grabbing a fistful of it, my hand on her right hip yanking her back as I cranked a hard tug on her mane of blonde hair while thrusting my hips forward, barreling that cock of mine into her flagrantly wet twat, feeling her gush and drip all over my shaft as I started to clap those cheeks, making her booty jiggle and wobble each time I smacked forward, her voice getting a little whiny and nasally even while she kept on talking.
“Fuuuuuck it felt so fucking good, getting drilled, getting pounded, getting filled full of your fat fucking dick over and nnnhhh over again...”
I could see Annie's hands were starting to make their way around Sheila's body now, and the two girls were even kissing every now and again, although the coarse thrusts I was giving her were making it difficult for their lips to remain together for long. Each time I pulled on Sheila's hair, I felt her squeeze down a little bit harder on my cock, clearly a sensation she loved feeling, so I lifted my hand from her hip and reached forward to slide my fingertips across her exposed throat, giving it a soft and very cautious grip, which made her tremble hard, maybe even setting off an orgasm, I'm not entirely sure. I was clearly nervous about it, but when I felt a hand on my wrist, maybe Annie's, maybe Sheila's, I couldn't quite tell, pressing my hand more strongly against Sheila's throat, I gave it a bit more force, the filthy noises from Sheila's mouth only getting more energetic.
There was a tapping on my wrist, and I let my hand slide from Sheila's neck, as she clearly had more to say.
“Fuck, I think I'd cum three or four times before I felt you starting to get close, and that was when it dawned on me... I hadn't made you wear a condom... I was letting you fuck me bareback... and that thought, as dangerous as it was, turned me the fuck on even more. God, I knew what we were doing was risky, that if you knocked me up, my daddy would be on the porch with a shotgun and you'd have nowhere to run, but fuck, I knew I wanted it too much to stop. Shit, I wanted you to breed me, to put a baby in my belly, to show every fucking stupid boy in school that you knew how to fuck a woman proper... that you wouldn't let her away without marking her fucking cunt with your cum... C'mon, Raf... nut me up... do it... creampie your little bitch... fucking squirt it in me... I'm gonna fuckin' cum with you... cum on... cum cum cum cum cum CUM CUM!”
Whatever she wanted, she was going to get, and I gave her long blonde hair a sharp yank right at the moment I felt my body fire off, making sure her spine was bent and that my cock was as deep as I could get it stuffed inside of her cunt when I started blasting more of my spunk inside of her, my balls doing their best to wring themselves dry as they painted the inside of her womb with as much cum as I had left inside of me, setting her off on another loud and squealing orgasm, no words this time, just an ear-splitting shriek of pleasure that slowly died down into the most wanton sexual moan I'd ever heard.
I released her hair and her face slumped forward against the mattress for a moment before she started giggling with a sort of deranged hopped-up sexual energy, eventually looking over her shoulder at me. “Fuck, it's not even really my turn and I'm fucking enjoying this,” she said to me, licking her lips. “But I wasn't done yet. Oh no.”
At this point, I was a little exhausted, feeling like I'd just run a marathon as my softening cock slipped out of Sheila's pussy with a sloppy wet splorching sound, my cock dripping from pussy onto Annie's tummy beneath her, pooling in her navel.
“You see, I wasn't done claiming my man, or making my man claim me...” Sheila moved to climb off of Annie's form, as the two of them both grinned at me, licking their lips. “We had one thing left to do, and I was going to be damned if I didn't make you own every part of me before I was through...”
Sheila moved to roll over and slipped beneath Annie, cradling her torso between Sheila's legs, as she stroked Annie's face, both of their eyes deadlocked on me. It was remarkable about identical they looked to one another, even like that, but I couldn't take time to appreciate the view because Annie lifted one of her legs up, reaching down to hook her fingers behind the back of her knee, then doing the same for the other, but once she had her legs up like that, Sheila took over holding them before Annie's hands dipped down and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, pulling them apart, exposing that cotton candy pink asshole of hers to my view, it clenching and winking at me a little bit.
“I wanted to tell my girlfriends when I went back to school on Monday that not only wasn't I a virgin anymore, there wasn't any part of me you hadn't fucked,” Sheila said to me, her fingertips squeezing Annie's thighs tenderly, as Annie bit her bottom lip at me cutely. “I knew I'd already slicked up that dick of yours with my pussy juices, and that you'd just pop right in, even if you were fucking huge, because I wanted it. I wanted to be your anal whore, even if it was just for one night...”
My erection had returned as quickly as it had disappeared, and without even consciously doing it, I found myself lining up the head of my dick against that pucker and pushed right in, seeing Annie's blue eyes rolling back into her skull as she let out a bestial groan, less human and more primal, sounds ripped from her ancestors, as she gripped hard onto her own skin, one of Sheila's hands moving down to massage and stroke against Annie's clit and pussy.
“God, it felt soooooo good taking your dick in my cute perky ass,” Sheila purred at me. “Just look at how much my face scrunched up, how big you fucking felt, barging your way into my back door... I'm such a pretty little butt slut for you...”
The look on Annie's face almost made me think she wanted me to stop until I felt one of her hands reach and grab onto my hip, yanking back on me, like she'd sensed I was going to pull back and instead wanted me to go deeper.
It was insane how tight she was, so while I was thrusting as best as I could, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold out particularly long. The fact that I'd cum twice already was probably all that was saving me from a quick finish.
My hips pushed my cock in and out of her clenched ass, both Sheila and Annie moaning and whimpering, the two of them even kissing every so often. “I'm such a good little slut, aren't I?” Sheila said to Annie, who only nodded in response. “God, I love getting fucked in the ass. Split me open and paint me up, Raf. Let me feel you creaming in my virginal asshole, planting your flag and your seed. Please? Cum for me?”
Both of them were biting their bottom lip in a perfect emulation of each other, and I was almost afraid I was going to see triple, so I started thrusting faster and faster before finally my body could resist no longer, and my head leaned back as I spewed what little jism my body had left to give into Annie's asshole, feeling her writhe and squirm as I did, like the sensation of feeling me spurt into her colon was giving her another orgasm.
We sort of laid there in a lump of spent human flesh for a couple of minutes before I stood up, pulling Annie to her feet, followed by Sheila, the three of us heading in to take a much-deserved shower together, letting the hot water steam up the mirrors.
“You better not be too exhausted, Mister,” Sheila told me while we were toweling down. “We've got at least a few more rounds in the morning after we've had a good night's rest.”
“I'll do what I can,” I laughed, “but double your pleasure, double your exhaustion.”
That made both girls giggle, and it was easier to tell them apart when they were both making noise, Annie's voice (and laughter) a little higher in pitch.
After I'd toweled off, Sheila took her phone and started taking lots of pictures of my naked body, from all sorts of angles, from my body hair to my build to even taking a few videos just capturing how I walked. I also watched as Annie reapplied a bit of makeup, adding the mole back between her eyebrows that had washed off in the shower. As much of doppelgangers as they were, there were still a few minor details that had needed to be added to complete the illusion, and watching her reapply it make me appreciate the level of craft they had gone to in ensuring the duplication was perfect.
The three of us climbed naked into the bed, but Sheila affixed her phone to a selfie stick before she did, and for the next twenty minutes, she captured an endless number of images of the three of us from all directions, in a variety of poses, although I think my favorite is just the one where the two are resting on either of my shoulders, bodies spooned up against mine, my arms wrapped around them, looking like the king of the world.
And Sheila was right. I would pay my half of it five months later, even if it was a hell of a thing for me to have to do. Talk about your fucking head trips...
Comments
Andrei
Damn. You know, this service, it would be a pretty incredible story of its own, something that follows that service, the doppelgänger search and then the scenes.
BTK
Yeah, I could see how people would pay a fck ton of money for that. In my opinion, that is One of your top 5 erotic scenes, wow!!! So good!!
